With the threat of dwarvish reinforcements out of the way, Jon turned his attention back toward the true target of their visit: the Warden. For the longest time he’d thought that the Shaw situation in Dalmarin had been fairly unique, but it only took a handful of villages not so different than this one when he and Rian were just starting out for him to see the truth: His father was just as complicit in the system as any of them.

He’d let himself believe that Shaw manor was somehow more different, and more noble than the other demesnes that the kingdom below had carved the world into, but the truth was that the only thing that separated the house he grew up in from the one here in Khornim was that his house was covered in a veneer of pleasant childhood memories, and the one here was covered in soot.

It turned out that every small town big enough to justify a rail line running through it looked a lot like this one. They all had an overseer, and he always lived in a house nicer than the rest of his fellow men, lording over them like he was somehow better than the rest of them because the dwarves had put him on a pedestal.

That’s why Jon was here - to tear that pedestal down.

As he approached the Manor house, two shots rang out, followed by the crash of glass as someone jumped through a second floor window and landed on the lawn below. Between the fact that the man wielding a sword didn’t have a scratch on him from the glass, and the size of the impact he made as he landed on the soft grass told Jon all he needed to know. The man was an earth blood who’d decided that it was better to fight than surrender.

Jon could respect that, but that wouldn’t stop him from killing him. The skin of a good earth blood might turn a blade, but he had yet to see one that could stop a bullet.

Jon raised his brand to fire on the noble that was still rising to his feet, but it turned out he didn’t have to. No sooner had he done that, then Rian jumped out of the window like a shot, and somersaulted as he hit the ground to avoid breaking his ankles. As he rose he tossed his spent brand aside and pulled out the long stiletto he favored. He’d spent a troubled youth getting very good at knife fighting, and he had the scars on his arms and chest to prove it.

“You think you can take me with that?” the earth blood laughed, taking a step towards his friend. “Well, go on then, take your best shot.”

The noble spread his arms wide, encouraging his assailant to get close enough that he could squeeze the life out of him. Rian responded with a few clumsy feints, but they were entirely for the benefit of his attacker. “The best way to stay breathing long enough to become a great knife fighter is to convince your opponent that you aren’t,” was something that Rian had told him not long after they had met, and it was a lesson that Jon had taken to heart ever since.

No one had taught this noble that lesson though, because he charged heedlessly. A steel blade might cut his skin, and it might not, but even if it did, it wouldn’t be deep, and as soon as he’d taken his opponent's blade he’d be able to beat him to death at his leisure. Because of the obscene strength that the earth bloods and stone men shared, Jon had a private theory that they were intertwined somehow, but Kaspov had laughed that off, and Jon had no way of proving the point, so it was just an idle curiosity of his in moments like this.

Rian didn’t give the man a chance though. Instead, he steped back enough to avoid the bear hug, and weaved aside from the series of blows which followed that were meant to disarm him. He was a patient fighter, and right now his goal was to frustrate his opponent into making a fatal mistake. Between his dodging and his insults he seemed to be doing a pretty good job, too.

“Wasn’t I supposed to be dead by now?” Rian asked laughing. “What's the matter? Get stage fright?”

“By the Gods I’ll kill you,” the noble roared, charging Rian again.

This time he didn’t dance out of the way. Instead, he stepped forward just past the man’s outstretched arm, bringing Rian inside the nobles guard. This caught him completely by surprise, and Rian’s stiletto embedded firmly in his right eye socket. Due to the speed and strength of his opponent, the blade quickly vanished up to the hilt, and the noble dropped to the ground dead, still looking surprised. He'd trusted his skin to be tough enough to be armor, but even armor had weak points.

It was only once all that unpleasantness was done that Jon walked up to congratulate him. “I trust you didn’t just kill the Warden before we could make an example of him for the good people of Khornim.”

“Course not,” Rian quipped as he rolled the body over to retrieve the blade before he rifled through the pockets to see if there was anything worth stealing. “That was just the son. Everyone else is safely inside. I’m sure that they’ll have the noose set up in the town square before we even finish gathering the evidence against him.”

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Jon nodded. It was a familiar rhythm they’d established. If the man was merely slightly decadent they’d banish him to the capital and let him flee with his family and the clothes on his back. If he was real scum though, his family would be forced to flee alone after he’d received the punishment he deserved.

Sadly, more often than not they were not worth sparing. It was tough to say which sort of town Kohrnim would be. It was certainly run down enough to show a real sense of malfeasance, but that could just as easily be a byproduct of the industrial activity that was a constant source of misery in these people’s lives.

Jon’s open mind lasted just as long as it took to walk in the front door and start looking around the Warden’s manor. Though not quite as lavish as the Burton’s place, the interior of the large home was utterly spotless in a way that the town would never be. That was a strike against the bound Lord he saw being led away. It wasn’t enough to condemn him of course. That verdict would have to come from his people, but in Jon’s mind that one detail was enough, because anyone that insisted their own home be this clean while the world around them slowly decayed into filth knew how the world should be, they just didn’t care if it didn’t affect them.

His men spent the next half a day talking with the locals, and fended off one attempted assault by the dwarves with a fusillade that they couldn’t hope to reply to with the dozen men they’d sent down to investigate.

The villagers took some time to open up about their grievances, as they always did, but even with the differences caused by the smelter and the proximity of so many dwarves, it wasn’t long before a pattern of behavior emerged that was all too familiar to Jon. Last year it was tax increases, and the year before it had been low prices, but this year, what they complained about more than anything was the behavior of the local Warden’s son. He sounded so much like Marcus that Jon wished that he had shot the man in the back when he had the chance.

He couldn’t turn back time though, so he left Rian in charge of the interviews and his men in charge of the station to loot it of any supplies worth taking. He then went off to have a conversation with Lord Falcott himself, where he had been tied to a pole in the town square to await his date with destiny.

“I’ll bet you never thought that things would end like this, did you?” Jon asked as he studied the man. He held himself stiffly despite standing there in torn finery. That at least spoke well of him to Jon. Though most would never measure up to his father, he appreciated nobles that would stand with dignity until the very end.

“I will not be spoken to this way by ruffians. You can tell your commander that—” the older man barked.

Jon quickly shot him down though. “I am the commander of these ruffians, though if it’s alright with you, I’d like to skip the part where to accuse me of being a bandit. Bandits would hardly have so many brands, now would they.”

“It is not unheard of for bandits to have a wand or two…” the Warden started, but quickly dropped that point because even he could see how ridiculous it was. “Khornim is not a rich community. I don’t understand what you think you’ll achieve by sacking the place. There’s no one to pay any generous ransom for me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“We aren’t here for your money,” Jon declared. “That will go back to the people you’ve stolen it from.”

“What then?” Lord Falcott asked, “You’ve already taken my son, are you going to kill my wife and daughter next?”

“You should thank your son actually,” Jon said with a grim smile as he leaned back against the barrel behind him. “Compared to his black deeds, you come out looking halfway decent. I think you’ve got a pretty good shot of getting out of this with your skin intact.”

“What?” the warden gasped, going pale. “Those rumors about Justinian have no basis, do you understand that? None whatsoever!”

“I’m sure my father would have said the same thing about my brother,” Jon nodded. “Right up until the night that he was killed by him, I mean. If your completely innocent son's dark deeds had no basis in reality then why would so many of the village girls agree on so many of the lurid details?”

“They-they’re just saying what you want to hear,” The Lord barked defensively. “They’ll say anything with a brand in their face.”

“Maybe,” Jon said, “Or maybe evil wears the same face in all the little towns between here and the white city. Maybe the whole kingdom is full of big fish in little ponds that have forgotten that power and duty are two sides of the same coin.”

“This is outrageous,” the warden roared, struggling at his bonds for the first time since the conversation began. Since he was probably as earth blooded as his son had been, Jon stayed ready, but he doubted the man would break free. “You have no right to judge me. If I have broken the law the king has but to demand it and I will step down at—”

“I won’t be the one to pass the sentence on you, your Lordship, that will fall to your people,” Jon said solemnly. “I’m just observing patterns and trying to understand the reasons behind them. If you’ve done right by the men and women in your charge, then you have nothing to fear.”

He left him there fuming after that exchange. Getting them angry gave him a small insight into the person they really were deep down, and all he saw was the same thoughtlessness that had pervaded the nobility of the realm.

That was a second strike as far as he was concerned. As Jon walked back to Rian he wondered if he should put his thumb on the scale and help the townspeople come to the right decision in this matter.

He wouldn’t of course. It would be wrong to sway their decision like that, but he wanted to. Parasites like him that ruined so many lives shouldn’t be given the benefit of the doubt.