After some time to allow the crowd its titillating moment, Kargallen called the people to order, silencing the crowd with a loud cry, “The sentence is verified. The man, Shukan, is a minor criminal. He has been shown to be a thief. I stand witness to his failing. Who stands witness?”

“I stand witness.”

“I as well.”

“I come forth as witness.”

The elders all came forward to stand witness as well as dozens of the villagers. Garnedell stepped forward as well, proudly and loudly claiming to witness as well. As the clamoring came to an end, Kargallen called the crowd to order once again and continued the Ritual of the Damned.

“We have witnessed. Shukan stands convicted as a minor criminal. We call the Shrine Priest Darnua to witness Shukan as thief.”

Garnedell watched as Darnua stepped forward with a stately heaviness that was greatly at odds to the man’s normal drunkenness, a hint of his once mighty stateliness shining through the man he had now become. Darnua raised his arm with majesty, and his voice droned out in a powerful call, “I, Darnua, Priest of … the god, witness. Shukan is a thief.”

Kargallen raised an arm, attempting to match Darnua’s solemn gravitas, “So witnessed. Shukan is a thief as witnessed by a Shrine Priest. Do we have an account of his thievery?”

People stood in silence for a moment, and a subtle sense of unease fell on the crowd. Kargallen quickly glanced at Garnedell, hinting with his eyes. What does he … Why is he looking at me like that? Garnedell cocked his head with some confusion, going over what Kargallen had said before realization flooded over him and he quickly stumbled forward, desperately trying to remember what to say.

“I, uh… Garnedell, uh… in service to my master, give… um… account of Shukan’s thievery.”

Kargallen waited for a moment, almost as if he were waiting for more, but then realized that Garnedell was a bit on the spot, feeling overwhelmed by such proceedings. He smiled a bit, offering Garnedell a respite and a hint, “And what was stolen, young Apprentice Garndell?”

“Ah… uh… we are uncertain of the exact numbers, but close to two thousand cores.”

When he revealed this, the crowd around them gasped in shock and dismay, fear flickering in many people’s eyes as they looked to Joe. The wealth of such was unimaginable. To have lost such wealth would bring disaster on an entire region. Garnedell looked to Joe as he said this, but his master simply stood there, watching Shukan carefully, unconcerned. The crowd, however, shifted in fear and no small despair as they awaited his master’s judgment. The village had no possibility of repaying such a loss.

Kargallen responded with little reaction, face stone and unwavering, although the other elders standing at Kargallen’s side actually jumped, body twitching at the shocking number and the Priest Darnua turned his face towards Garnedell, then Joe, as shock flickered across his face before fading as quickly behind his mask. After allowing calm to restore, Kargallen raised an arm to call for order.

“People of the village; Shukan, witnessed minor criminal, and Shrine Priest witnessed thief; stands accused of thieving just under two thousand cores. How will we account for his theft?”

Cries of dismay swept through the crowd, the previous shuffling of the crowd now overwhelmed with an almost near panic. There was little they could do. The value of Shukan was in no way equal to the loss of the adventurer, and while tradition demanded the thief take punishment while the goods were returned to the victim, Shukan had consumed everything. There was nothing to return. The people feared the foreign adventurer's retribution, and there was little they could use in their defense. They had no capability to repay him

Several cried out to outright give the thief to the adventurer, tradition be damned. With the return of goods lost, criminals were often sold as slaves and the proceeds given to the village to recompense any lost work or skills because of the criminal’s removal from the village. If the goods could not be returned, the value of the lost goods was deducted from the sale of the criminal with the remaining going for the good of the village, hopefully to bring in any skills lost. Garnedell sighed. There was little they could do. Shukan’s value would bring only a pittance, a tenth of a tenth, even after his consumption of all those cores and his greatly increased strength.

After the dismay had passed, and people noticed the foreign adventurer’s unusual calm, the people got to the business of making their choice, the panic and dismay settling to people wrestling with finding a solution. Although some suggested greedy alternatives, those few were quickly shouted down and the consensus was to give all they could to cool Joe’s anger.

With consensus agreed, Kargallen raised his hand and gave consensus, “We are in consensus?”

“Aye,” the crowd shouted in reply!

“Consensus is given. We give Shukan, criminal and thief, as slave to Joe McCol…?”

Garnedell leaned forward quickly and whispered into Kargallen’s ear, “McConnell!”

Kargallen nodded in quiet gratitude and continued, “… McConnell to do as he wishes.” Kargallen then looked to Joe, as was appropriate, but gave a side long quick glance to Garnedell, hinting. Garnedell quickly got the hint and stepped up to Joe’s side to speak quietly to him.

“Shukan, the thief, has been given as to you to do as you will,” Garnedell looked up at Joe.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

Joe glanced at him with a bit of confusion and replied too quickly for him to understand. Garnedell considered for a bit before replying carefully and quietly for only Joe’s ears, not wishing to embarrass him due to his lack of speaking ability.

“Slave. He… work…”

Joe showed understanding, but then a bit of disappointment and shook his head no.

Garnedell tried again, “Sell him. Money!”

“What? No… bad thing slave. I not do!” his master replied brokenly, his eyes widening in shock and dismay.

Why does he seemed … appalled? Is he appalled? Joe quickly shook his head and waived away the offer, walking away. It was Garnedell’s turn to be shocked, quickly walking after Joe and trying to convince him, but his argument rebuffed with an even harsher rejection. Garnedell worried but there was little he could do. When he turned to look at Kargallen, his composure was long gone with a face pale in fear. Garnedell shook his head sadly and Kargallen’s heraldic cry afterwards quavered as badly as a grandfather’s on his deathbed.

“Shuka… the slave Shu… The gift of the slave Shukan has been rejected. He will receive his punishment!”

The crowd moaned in dismay even as all the elders paled in fear. It was unlikely that the village could ever raise the necessary funds to repay the foreigners loss. Shukan raised his head for the first time, fear coming over him even as he began babbling and desperately calling for leniency, falling to his knees and calling out to Joe. However, Joe had turned away by this time and refused to reply, his rejection of Shukan absolute. The Shrine Priest was the only one not to fear Joe’s wrath, although he did not seem concerned for the village either. The Shrine Priest only seemed to watch Joe carefully with a shrewd look even as the rest of the crowd despaired.

Kargallen turned in the crowd, searching through till he found one of his apprentices to call to him, “Boy! Go to my shop, return with that ridiculous great axe hanging over the door.”

“Yes, master,” the apprentice replied solemnly.

As the apprentice turned to the smithy, the crowd opened for him and he was back within a breath or two. The crowd shifted in fear, despair now firmly settling over the village like a shroud. Silence soon overcame all else for there was little they could do. The apprentice’s return with the great axe did bring some life back into the crowd, but then silence returned as the smith took hold of the great axe. This whole time, Shukan had been begging the foreigner, but the man offered no response, his back unturned and decision resolved.

Kargallen came forward with the axe then spoke the command to control the criminal collar, “Submission, prisoner Shukan.”

Shukan then struggled, his entire body turning red while he grunted with the effort while the criminal collar forced him to bend forward, arms behind him and head pressed to the ground. Kargallen came to stand beside him, then sighed before raising the axe and bringing it down without any fanfare or ritual. There was nothing to say and no need for such ritual for an obvious criminal. The death was anticlimactic. The axe fell under its own weight, little effort from Kargallen needed, with only a slightly wet snick of sound, Shukan’s struggles ended with a roll of his head.

The foreign adventurer stood coldly, unmoved and unconcerned, his back to Shukan in total rejection.

* * *

When he had been told that he could take the thief as a slave and sell him, Joe had felt a natural abhorrence flood him, and he quickly rejected it, turning to reinforce his rejection, Joe had maintained his ambivalence to the entirety of the proceedings not wishing to have anything to do with slavery, even of criminals. His mind struggled to rationalize and understand what was happening, even to figure out what he could do in this situation so alien and utterly reprehensible to him. He found himself paralyzed with uncertainty.

However, only a few seconds after turning around, the crowd had grown quiet and Joe turned around to check what was happening, and he saw the thief’s head roll to his feet, the arterial spray from the thief’s neck still painting the ground of the plaza a brilliant red in sharp contrast to the drab surroundings.

The absurdity of the situation, the red pool spilling out from the severed neck, and the absolute silence of the crowd left Joe so unnerved he froze. After a few moments, his jaw clenched and he turned to leave. I think I’m going to be sick! When he saw the crowd, he noticed the silent children standing in front of their parents, watching, eye’s unconcerned. How!? This, more than anything else, staggered him, and he put his head down, leaving a bit quicker than before. I need to get out of here!

Violence hadn’t been absent from his life. He had practiced it every day and had received his fair share of such, but his fighting had always been mostly fisticuffs where bruises were the extent of the damage, although he’d given out a few broken bones and dislocations. Severed heads and limbs were new. At least, severed heads and limbs of humans were new. He had seen death before and seen the corpses of animals often; even the death of humans, while not common, wasn’t unknown to him. But the sudden graphic intensity of the moment was too much, and Joe left firmly.

He didn’t run, but he didn’t wait for anyone and disappeared into his room to recover his equilibrium. He ended up staying the whole evening and simply fell asleep, unconcerned for cleanliness or his friends. The next morning found him better, but he only ate his meal and disappeared back to his room, ignoring Garnedell.

His head tried to wrap around everything that had happened, and the epiphany that hit him was almost overwhelming. Holy shit! I’ve been sheltered! Joe considered the statement before closing his eyes with some despair as the idea percolated. He had always found his ‘first world’ friends a bit odd, sheltered in a way, especially those born and raised in the city. Their understanding of violence, meat, and death somehow muted or just down right absent. When they learned what violence actually was, they seemed overwhelmed, sick and physically shocked, unable to respond to or deal with the event. Even the death of a small animal or road kill left them physically ill.

The revelation left him confused and uncertain of how to respond. While he had agreed with his parents about how over-sheltered some of his first world friends were …some of them didn’t even know meat was a dead animal!…, He wasn’t sure that he liked the idea of letting children see beheadings and hangings. Although now that he thought about it, such things were very common only a couple centuries ago for his ancestors. He wouldn’t be surprised if even his great grandparents or great great grandparents had watched a man die while they were children. I don’t …

It took him most of the morning to come to grips, his mind spiraling around the issue repeatedly without any resolution, but around noon, he took a meal and felt centered enough to return to the field. He couldn’t afford longer in any case. He collected his weaponry and left the inn, turning to the forest. He had gotten so used to fighting alone again, that he almost forgot about Garnedell but found him on his way out of the village on their favorite knoll practicing diligently. Joe smiled at his avid efforts, and Joe called out to him.

“Hey, Garnedell! Go out forest. You ready?” Joe spoke in the local language easily enough.

The kid looked up, then smiled, a hint of concern or worry flickered over his features. Joe said nothing, not wanting to worry him so just smiled bigger to help the kid calm down. He waved out to him and headed into the forest.