Stay of Execution

A follow-up to 'The Imperial Advance'

Governor Macarius Manasses turned to the crowd. "You all see them now, and they have claimed themselves guilty. I leave the choice of sentence to you, the city they have terrorized for 10 years. Judge them as you see fit."

The crowd before him didn't move at all. Not one breath came forward, and surely not the expected cries for execution. The Governor scanned the crowd, looking for the picked men he had placed in the silent masses, but could see none. Where the hell had his men gone?

The oldest man of the prisoners behind him on the Gallows, who had spoken for the group and declared themselves guilty of terrorizing the city of Ravensclaw of the Imperial province of Ravenwood. "Expecting an outcry, were you, Governor?" Despite the politeness of the older man's words, the disdain the terrorist had for Macarius was plain. "Expecting people loyal to you, and to Adrulf Osbern-"

"YOU WILL ADDRESS THE EMPEROR WITH PROPER RESPECT!" The Governor twisted around at the name of his Lord, the man who had raised him to an Officer of Ademar. "He is His Imperial Majesty Casimir to a plebeian like yourself! Sergeant Josiah! 5 lashes!" Macarius smiled as he heard the whip unfurl and saw it rise like a striking cobra before slipping back, hearing the fabric and skin split just ahead of the resounding Crack of leather. He savoured the ringing in his ears as it set off that distant hum of battles gone by, mingled with the scream of the oldest man as he fell to his knees, with tears already in his eyes.

The second lash was already on its way as the man dared to speak once more, the smell of blood now reaching Macarius, "To call for-" Crack! "-nnghh, our execu-" The third lash was coming now, the dead-level cross line of the Five-pointed star of Ademar, the standard punishment for disrespect of his Majesty. It struck home, the self-satisfied smirk of Josiah telling Macarius that bone had become visible on the man's back. "-aggh tion should-" Crack! and the right-side diagonal had appeared as the terrorist's eyes bulged, but still he spoke, "-nnnhhh Ravensclaw not bow-" Crack! as the last crimson line appeared the whip wrapped once more around Josiah before he resumed his stance as Executioner. "- To your will? A shame they couldn't speak, isn't it?" The terrorist's breath came shaking from his chest between each word, struggling against Josiah's artwork adorning his back.

Governor Manasses appeared to brush off the remark, unwilling to acknowledge the truth in this criminal's words. However, still, he scanned the crowd as surreptitiously as he could, finally seeing his men standing together. Shoulder-to-shoulder as though they were close dressed on parade. No, they were slumped together and tied to each other by rope, their fronts soaked in blood.

William watched as his local despot turned back to the crowd, his back on fire as he felt the blood pooling at his bound wrists. He knew the wounds would heal, had seen others 'given the Star', but nothing he'd been told prepared him for the misery that it entailed. William was glad to say what he had wanted to. He could see Manasses boiling in silent rage as he couldn't inflict any punishment that the crowd didn't proffer. He laughed in his throat at that quirk of the Empire he despised, as their own rules trapped them in unwinnable positions. The crowd was, however, blessedly silent today. However, he wondered if it was honest as he pondered if Matthew had been allowed to 'assure' the crowd's silence. He didn't have long to wonder before something else caught his eye, a shadow in the windows across the square, and without thinking, he cried out, "SNIPER!"

Everything slipped into slow-motion as the crowd whirled, dove, split and ran in whatever directions seemed best to each person. Several screams rang out as the slowest or smallest were crushed under the panicked mass. The Governor's head snapped to the correct spot as the powder flash of an antique hunting rifle lit the window, and he dove to the flagstones before the gallows as the shot rang out. The bullet sliced down much of his leg, a shallow wound, enough to slow Macarius down, but it didn't hinder the firing squad or the Sgt commanding them.

"AIM! FIRE!" the harsh bark behind William snapping reality back to its usual speed as five Ademarian rifles fired back at the offending window. "Johns, Colton, Peters, keep firing. Pedersen, Whitney, with me!" the Sergeant took off at a sprint as three stayed on the gallows, firing shot after shot from their levered weapons into the building, unconcerned with the thinning crowd near it, or the brass covering the platform. The shots ended as the Sgt, Pedersen, and Whitney reached the building, but as they kicked in its door, another noise came from behind William. The wet gurgle of men choking on their own life. It seems he wasn't to be left as a martyr in his people's plight. He felt the bonds at his wrist loosen as a blood-slicked knife slid against his skin, several hands lifting him up as the world darkened, his wounds the only part of himself that felt warm. Something was very wrong, he thought, his mind sluggishly drawing the words forward as the edges of the world faded rapidly from his sight.