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Post subject: Under Western Eyes
 Posted: Jul 13, 2012 - 11:53 PM
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Royalty
Joined: Mar 18, 2008
Posts: 2094
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At first it was the smell. A putrid smell of death brought from the north wind. Then she saw the pole, the impaled body of the brigand. "Death to the Black Hand", or something like that, scribbled in a large sign near it. The day Maralians had became worse than lizard men.
"Farookh will be executed" the rumours said. "Sumac will probably be executed as well". There were doubts about Abadonna, but his fate looked grim. "They tried to kill the King". She felt nauseous.
Traitors? Yes. Cowards? For sure. People she had thought to be wonderful before, and grew gradually disappointed with? No doubt. People who would not hesitate killing their friends in order to have a moment of glory? That had been proven more than once. But who was Mirith, then? In which aspect was Mirith better than any of them? Than any town of torturers, any town of executioners? Why had she left Marali, and how would she be able to remain in Mirith after the murdering?
"Are you not angry with them? Are you not certain that the FU should pay for their decisions?" She was. Above all, because she knew that their main figures were anything but stupid. Quite the contrary, she knew them perfectly able of reasoning and making deliberate choices. Therefore, if anything was still valid, she would expect them to be aware of the consequences. How many times before had she even trusted them as eventual trigger of a necessary change? Disappointment over the choices and methods, yes, but not doubting their faculties for a second.
"Do you prefer people to rot for life in a cell?" She certainly did. "Is that not humiliating?" It is a price to pay. "I thought you didn't like humiliation". I do not. "Then why?" Because it is reversible. Because murdering cannot be punished with further murdering. Because the King must set the example of clemency and civilisation.
She could feel it in her blood. If a man was executed by Mirith, she would leave the town forever, and that was her only choice. Even if that man had tried to kill the King in the least noble way. Choosing carefully her words, for she did not want it to sound like a misplaced ultimatum, she grabbed a quill and opened a new letter.
"To the Vicereine Ciddia Tigg,
I apologise in advance for the informal tone of the present missive. Beyond legal procedures, it is a matter of heart, and a sense of human kinship that guides my words todayÖ"
She continued. Without rushing, she rolled the parchment as she finished, and handed it to Mattias, hoping it was not too late. |
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Post subject:
Posted: Jul 14, 2012 - 04:11 PM
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Royalty
Joined: Mar 18, 2008
Posts: 2094
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"If we go around asking people if they want to join the rebellious faction and make a coup d'Ètat, how many do you think will join?" asked one of her guild mates one day. What started as a bet, soon proved to be a depressing experiment: everyone would be up to killing a king, as long as they were not alone.
The conversation at the bank oscillated between the eventual return of the Blood Cult and Sumac's treason. "Cassandra - is it true?" asked Dester. The wizard was starting to dread the conversation. "Sumac, the King? There must be a reason. Sumac is not mad", continued the ranger. Of course he's not mad. What was she expected to say? How could she justify the unjustifiable? "But what if he sees something nobody else can? What if there has been something off about the monarchy?" the ranger insisted.
And about the Senate, and about the legitimacy of people fighting the Black Hand, and about the fairness of the Lizards taking Welif, andÖ Which reason could it be that had always seen Sumac trying to step over the rest? "Sadly, I think it's just chaos for the show, without a cause or an alternative, just to change the status quo". That was the only attempt of a justification she could come up with, that would give Sumac the benefit of sanity.
"What do you think Mirith will do if they catch him?" asked Serancha. There was what she thought they would do, and what she wished they would not. As a member of the Vanguard, she probably should keep her mouth shut, in both cases. She spoke her mind, though, aware of how Mirith would be criticised whichever the choice. If those that attempted against the King's life could get away without the heaviest of punishments, Mirith would be seen as weak, and no future bandit would be deterred. If Mirith was harsh, her enemies would shout for the generations to come about how they had murdered the poor elements of the Underground. They would probably even claim they were innocent and right.
The discussion continued comparing the habits of the cities. "Marali broke that covenant - but there is not point in dredging up old bonesÖ Mirith (I hope) will lead by example." So she hoped as well. She confessed the hard position Mirithians against the execution would be left in, if the King decided otherwise. "Perhaps that was Sumac's endgameÖ force the issue", suggested Dester. What irritated her the most was that perhaps that was right. Or perhaps Sumac was indeed mad, and willing to be hung just to serve as an example. Of what? For whom? Sadly, he had forgotten to make that clear to everyone around.
And now Mirith had to clean up his mess. With this, we are wasting precious time we need to find the Sceptre. Sumac was not the least informed ranger spending his time at the bank steps. He knew perfectly well why Galandir was still the King, and that it could not be otherwise until the sceptre was reassembled. He knew well that Tigg was acting, effectively, in the King's place, until the pieces could be recovered. He had even been involved in the recovery of one of the pieces, without ever showing the wish to hand it to Mirith. "I do hope Mirith has the good sense to have a trialÖ" said Dester, before leaving. The wizard nodded, tired.
There is something very appealing in chaos, but why would anyone want to leave Mirith vulnerable to be taken by the Hand or any other enemy at this time? Galandir might not be your friend, but he has never been against you. |
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Post subject:
Posted: Jul 19, 2012 - 11:19 AM
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Royalty
Joined: Mar 18, 2008
Posts: 2094
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There is more glory in being executed than in spending a few years in jail.
The man spat on her face. The man she hand never seen before the attempt against the King, but whose life she had just managed to save. Farookh, of the Foehan Underground. The new group of friends Sumac had found. What was he expecting her to do? Have him flogged? She watched him opening his arms to receive the eggs thrown by the King and a few willing citizens, as a martyr in a romantic book. She wanted to turn her face, but she could not. Humiliation was not her strong suit, but an egg thrown by a visibly ill man was better than a sword dropped on the neck of a prisoner, and the crowd loves blood. If death is really what you want, go find it yourself, without dragging Mirith with you, tainted hands.
She could only be glad it was not Sumac. She used to love Sumac, and something deeper than the facts prevented her from hating him. Even if I did. She wanted him gone now. In another town, hiding in a cave, forgotten, left alone by the Scouts of the Kingdom. Free, not forgiven, but free. But she was not a fool and could understand clearly why that was not an option for Mirith. He would kill you too, if he could. Punishing her prisoners with death should not be an option for Mirith either. Not even if they were the Twins.
Some people were born to serve, and will gladly take any order coming from their authorities. Their dilemma, eventually, is between serving a friend or a King, and they will try as much as they can to never have to choose, to look good in both sides of the fenceÖ and to support the upper hand, if things get to that. Servitude was not in the wizard's blood, that she had in common with Sumac. And you will always follow the first fool you call friend if you need to choose. However, she was learning something with the spectacle of a senile Galandir. She was finally learning discipline. She was learning how to swallow in solidarity with those who were obviously weakened, how to carry on with her party when conditions are less than ideal. Even if the party is the court of Mirith. There was the line between rebellion and narcism, between servitude and commitment.
So she played her role. "You fooled the King" asked Nafets firmly, when she told him how the execution had been stopped. She glared at the cleric. Why would she pretend it had been otherwise? The Vanguard was caught by surprise by the real state of the King as well, and was now being asked for explanations. She had fooled him yes. Fooled him into believing that it was all a party and the jester, even if bad, should be spared. The executioner danced, the guards cheered. Everyone contributed to the farce that saved the rogue's life. Only a voice in the crowd seemed strangely disappointed with the lack of execution, yelling that jail was inhumane.
She had never thought that her duties to Mirith would include walking the King by the hand, as a child. And now Nafets wanted to keep the speech of delusion, as if the population of Mirith had not seen enough. More than ever, an execution in Mirith would be the execution of Mirith. Know forever as the day a mad King had killed an innocent man, forgiven in the pages of the history books when the King's madness had given his movement an apparently just cause.
When Nafets finally went back to the King's rooms, she felt more tired than ever. She was thankful to a man in the crowd for understanding that the King was not malicious, and realising the urgency of helping Mirith finding the sceptre. All governments in Oberin were old. Galandir was not necessarily worse than the senators, more worried about baking and gardening. Galandir only had the misfortune of being handed his sister's head.
A new generation of rulers was needed, be it by the superstition of the glowing sceptre in Mirith, by declaring Vaup dead in Marali, or by democratic means in Andris, whichever way was considered valid and preferred by the population in each town. But not the tyranny of random attacks. Not the rebellion that seeks nothing, proposes nothing, builds nothing. The idea that one has to destroy everything to start building again had always seemed to her the most demagogical and stupid idea ever. |
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