It was quite easy, easier than Tyr had expected, that's why he'd brought his little army in its entirety into the Krieg. Thinking he'd have to fight their own forces, or the powerful adventurers that had made this state famous. The adventurer capital of the world where the few mithril ranked warriors and mages might be found. Largely unnecessary in the modern era but strength was strength, and titles like that were only ever earned. The blood made them better but even Tiber who'd taken most of all was only platinum ranked at best, about Tyr's equal if not for his lack of sustainability.
It had unfortunate diminishing returns, and eventually it would just kill them.
Tyr had done his best to prepare.
And then the day had come, and those same adventurers that might've been so great a threat, had begun beating seemingly random people to death and slaughtering nobles alongside the blackguard. Apparently things in the Krieg had been bad for some time, profligate nobles and all sorts of degenerate activity happening in the light of day. Men and women who'd been abused by their untouchable overlords, forced to bear witness to crimes, slaves and employees rising up against their masters.
They took this gift of freedom they were offered and threw a red party in Tyr's honor.
Even now, one could hardly turn a street corner without seeing graffiti bearing his name, as if to exalt him. Tyr had become some odd symbol of freedom fighters all over the region, a real celebrity, and not a single person had stepped forward to challenge him directly. Which was... Sort of a shame, he wished they had.
The council that ruled the city wanted it to end, but the adventurers were mostly concerned with the fairly large bounties appearing all over the city. Dead, alive, it didn't matter to either party related. The council would offer a measly sliver of their net worth to the man who killed them, resulting in a bloodbath that scattered the legion of private armies into the hills, with many of them killing their own employers. Slaves threw off their collars and strangled them to death, it was a mad house for just a single day and night – and all was calm. A purge, and they celebrated him for it, there was beauty in the carnage, but there was also the grim knowledge of what humans were capable of.
Tyr was a cold man much of the time, a murderer, red stained and gray – but this served as a reminder that he was simply different from nobody else. What would happen when lawful convention was removed?
This. This is what happens, even if it was a net positive, wreaking justice, it was still a wreaking. And a city drowned in blood.
“Alright.” Tyr clapped his hands, rubbing them together in anticipation of ending this and doing something... Better. Different. More necessary, he was bored but put on an excited, almost manic mask. “Let us begin.”
“I demand a trial!” One of the men shouted. Not everyone was so blatantly guilty, some were gray enough to the point where even he wasn't sure what to do with them. But nobody cared to speak on their behalf, so it could go either way. For example, the man speaking was a benefactor of multiple clinics that tended to people at very little or no charge – but he'd also participated in tax evasion and hiring highwaymen to harass the caravans of his competition. Which, in a city of trade, was an act generally frowned upon, and he'd injured quite a few people. “By what right do you claim to judge us?”
“Me? By what right, are you serious?” Tyr spread his arms wide in a gesture of mock innocence. “I'm just a mediator for my military allies here in Kriegstad. You see, as the High Sorcerer God Emperor King Dominator Grand Chancellor Glorious Leader of shining Amistad, I could not conscience refusing my good friends when they asked me to help clean up this cesspool of theirs. No offense, Dominic.”
“None taken, your majesty.” Dominic Thadwick was the 'first seat' in the oligarchical council that ruled Kriegstad and though the others were in attendance, it was just good manners. Nobody seemed to mind, he wasn't deep in the trading game like the others were, coming from a military background and serving as the Oberst of the Krieg. Overst? It was a difficult local dialect to understand at times, their brand of Common with such liberties taken. It was the equivalent of the commander of the state's proprietary military, and he served on the same level of authority as a count. He was enjoying himself for the first time in a long while after having watched his beloved city turn into, as Tyr had correctly surmised, a cesspool.
The coronation, nor the treaty were finalized just yet, but it was just a matter of time for someone that no blade or poison, nor magic, could kill.
Assassinations were troubling like that, you had to actually kill the guy to ensure he didn't take the crown.
Granted, Tyr might just have to fight a few archmages and he wasn't so absolute in his confidence in beating them, but he had a plan for that too.
“I would, however, recommend that your majesty confer with your advisors before deciding on such an... Eclectic name.” Dominic cleared his throat politely, a very prim and proper man with a ramrod straight back. Another fan of the waxed mustache, stretching on as wide as his whole head – ears included, healthy chops connecting it all to his hair. He was a strict adherent of the law, and had been exceptionally forceful when insisting that they obey at least some semblance of due process.
In that, he had impressed Tyr quite a bit.
The question of 'or what?' had been asked, and the man had drawn a sword and pointed it right at his neck. Insisting that the law was sacred, and he'd defend it with his life. No fear in him at all, and so the 'random' killing had stopped and they'd made a proper spectacle of it.
An execution was fine, and he'd give Tyr his right of weight, but it would be in view of the public from here on out. Not in some dark alley, these people would be accused and a punishment would be agreed upon that fit their crimes.
“You can just call it shit, Dominic.” Tyr replied sourly, he'd thought that one wasn't so bad. Certainly better than 'Grand Overlord'. “Remember what I said about diplomatic speaking?”
“Yes... Er, Tyr.” The man seemed uncomfortable with simply using the first name, but at least he did it. It made things easier, and faster. “It is very shit, as you say. Perhaps Kaiser would suit you best. Something simple, not like the ridiculous march boyar's with their hundred titles.”
Tyr waved the man's critique away with a snort, there were petty duchy's and baronies all over the marches and Dominic seemed to have some personal vendetta against them. Either that or he was just too nationalistic for his own good. “I think king will do just find in that case, nice an simple, and it'll make the churches mad that I don't follow their crowning customs--”
“I'm still here!” The same man kneeling on the ground piped up again, so Tyr rattled the tip of his boot against his skull and sent him flopping about. Trussed up like a pig, there wasn't much more he could do than sprawl and wiggle around, groaning in pain.
Tyr pointed at them all and looked toward Martin Klaus, the man currently serving as a similarly pointed finger. Towards wrongdoers and where many of them had squirreled themselves away.
The man was vicious with his intelligence gathering and had dirt on several hundred nobles beyond anything Tyr would've ever imagined. From the big and small, even recording their bowel movements. “Pick a man, or a woman as we have two fine not-so-young widows with us today, and I'll kill them. Kinda bored of this, to be honest, the glamour has worn off and I'm hungry.”
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“Why me?” Martin raised an eyebrow, Oberst Thadwick didn't seem surprised however – everyone here was deserving of execution in his mind but some had value enough to perhaps lessen their punishment. Tyr was just setting an example here, he didn't see these people as necessarily deserving of death. Dominic was one of those black and white conservatives who wanted to cut the hands off of every thief.
“Why are you even doing this? They have broken the law, but none of them are exceptionally bad, per se... But, if I had to, it'd be the man with the red--” Tyr didn't bother using his sword, his boot flashed out again many times faster than before, wreathed with lightning, punting the skull clean off the man's body. On the stage, the red spray of arterial blood heralded shouts of terror as he soaked the other nobles beside the headless corpse. Dominic raised his eyebrow but Tyr was quite certain that quiver in his mustache was a noble attempt to refrain from laughing. It wasn't every day you got to see a primus kick a man's head off...
“The red cloak!” Martin shouted, nearly drowned out by the thousands strong crowd that had come to watch the executions. Cheering, of course, because why wouldn't they...? Then again... It was a truly magnificent punt, one worthy of the blitzball pitch, the head was long gone wherever it had went. People with their hands held high, roaring in excitement and watching it sore off into the distance.
Which, in reality, some liberties in point of view not withstanding... Was smashing into a cabbage cart several hundred meters away, resulting in the recently expatriated man that owned it shouting in grief. The world was a cruel place and escaping that simple truth was simply impossible.
“Not the red hair!” Martin's eyebrows were as high as they could possibly get, pointing out another man.
Tyr shrugged. He didn't care about their laws, he'd cut the real sickness out of the wound that was Kriegstad and fed on how pleasurable commuting that justice had been. He was now more or less targeting those who had betrayed their countrymen for promises of benefits from Hastur. Picking out spies and destroying as many links in Hastur's chain as he could.
Baccia had long been preparing an annexation of the Krieg and rumor had it that they were more prepared for a proper siege than anyone expected. Their Cassus Belli being the profligacy as well, the churches and therefore many powers of Milano backing them in the process, all an excuse to take a single city. Tall walls and magic wards were all well and good but the church had some weapons in their vaults to shock and awe. In any event, killing a traitor was well in line with their laws, and it felt nearly as good as anything else. Even if it was 'small time'. “He was a slaver, right?”
Martin nodded, calming down and wondering where that head had gone. “They all are, everyone here is or was in recent memory. Including me...”
He was pensive for a moment, Tyr standing there with brow furrowed. He'd wanted to keep a few alive for information or a future opportunity to break them and gain more from the affection of a very nobility-averse populace. Viva la revolution. But in the end, with an approving nod from Alex first, and Dominic second, he snapped his fingers and lit them all ablaze. Fire hot enough to melt their clothes and burn their bonds, while balefully remaining on their skin just at the right temperature to send them flailing about maniacally, stark naked and lit up like so many human torches. No slow deaths here, Tyr didn't have much mercy left in him these days. “I guess I changed my mind.”
“Very good, your grace.” Dominic nodded respectfully. He wasn't a big talker, and had much to do – leading the council back to the keep while their functionaries busied themselves with ensuring that the screaming madmen didn't run straight into the crowd, or a building. Long sticks or the blunt ends of spears throwing them backwards. It was almost odd. To most people, seeing a man catch aflame would be... Bad? Scary? Sad, even? But they really seemed to be enjoying themselves, laughing and cheering at the light show. Whether it was a sign that humanity was inherently cruel and unjust... Well, the proof was in the pudding, as they said in Milano.
Or was it Lyra...?
“Sorry you had to see that.” Tyr spoke to the others, surprised to see that they weren't staring at him all ghastly like. Alex, while wild and rebellious at times, was always dedicated to lawful procedure. And this was lawful, Tyr would repeat that, the punishment for treason was death. Even Micah seemed to be fine with it, as soft as he was. A bit green in the face and taking the opportunity to look away – but no protest from him.
“The law is the law.” Brenn answered for them, the staunchest of them all, though it clearly made him uncomfortable – he was making an active effort to stare at the burning men. To ingrain it in them, honoring the process as best he could in line with his oath to always uphold justice. “Traitors, slavers, and worse. What you did was significantly less cruel than what official Krieg custom does to their ilk.”
“Oh?” Tyr arched an eyebrow at that, what could be crueler than slow roasting someone to death? “What would they normally do?”
“The rats exchange, they call it. A rat begets a rat, and so begets more of their kind. Traitors are tied to a chair and a bucket containing several starving rodents is adhered to the flesh of their stomach. After that, they take a torch and slowly heat the container up until the rats do anything they can to escape the flame. The only direction being... Well, you get it.” Brenn looked a bit sour describing it. There was a lawful execution, a hanging, beheading, etcetera, and then there was just needless cruelty. Tyr's way was cruel indeed, but it was a minute of suffering at most compared to something that took hours or days to kill a man. Sometimes they would heal the punished and start again from scratch until they were drooling lunatics.
Tyr, on his part, didn't understand how anyone could think him a monster. How angry Alex had been at him for killing men, all because he effectively didn't 'ask for permission' first. A backwards way of thinking.
“That's disgusting...” Tyr scowled, it pleased Brenn a great deal to see that his friend was clearly so disgusted at the savage practice. “And barbaric, but very creative. I don't think I could ever do that to something, there's got to be a limit. No animal deserves that kind of treatment. It would be far more humane to blood eagle them and feed them healing potions to keep them alive and cognizant throughout the process. Eighteen hours or so should do, what the hell did the rats do to bother anyone?”
“...” Brenn's bright expression crumpled instantly.
“Indeed...” Tythas grimaced, still unsure if Tyr's idea of cruelty gave only face to the rats and not the people they'd be clawing through... Even though he held disdain for these sorts of things, he couldn't help but hate anyone willing to betray their own country and capitulate to another. One of the many reasons Amateus had fallen were because of defections like this. Tyr had been a bit anxious of their reactions, but didn't want to let them leave his sight just yet, not while one of them could awaken again at any moment. He wanted to watch.
But ultimately, and to summarize, Alex saw a fair judging of the law, Sigi thought they deserved it, and Astrid was vividly watching the flames flicker around the fallen corpses, resisting the attempts of perplexed mages trying to douse it. For more than a few of those present, Tyr was primus, and primus' were the ultimate authority in all the world. Even a prince who had lost his right of succession, now that he was pending a real crowning as the king of a nation... It wasn't unconscionable to see him do these things, public executions were very common. He'd asked, and listened to their feedback on how to handle it. Sans the creative liberties of stomping of heads and the thing about burning them alive, the changes in Tyr were mostly positive.
Again, just with a backwards way of thinking.
He wasn't so jittery anymore, not for the time being, and was quick and efficient with how he doled out various punishments. Some for those who'd been allowed to live were a little odd, however. Typical punishments for crimes not related to the 'flesh', violent crimes, would see perhaps fingers removed. Tortured a bit or jailed, nothing deserving of execution.
But Tyr had exonerated some on very specific conditions that nobody present could possibly fathom. Almost universally commanded to give remuneration, with Tyr effectively extorting them of the oddest objects imaginable. Some of it was a little high, by standard, but considering the context of people being slaughtered in mass it was the best they could hope for.
One man had been tasked with delivering 56 bushels of corn, 140 bunches of radishes, 30 bushels of tomatoes, and 19 kegs of any variety of human ale into a designated spot deep in the forest. A long way from any human villages, he was supposed to leave them at a monolith marked with an 'X' and just... Leave. After that, he was forgiven of all crimes, and his criminal record expunged.
“Let's go home.” Tyr concluded. “Or whatever Amistad is supposed to be to us.”