"By decree of the king, let all cells be opened and all crimes be pardoned. All should live their final days in freedom. What harm they may do is inconsequential in the face of the Mad Moon."

-Royal Edict #11, "On forgiveness of debt and pardoning criminal elements"

Gaspard kicked at the creature's body, just to be sure it wasn't just playing dead. The multiple bloody wounds were reason to suspect it was truly deceased, but Gaspard wanted to be sure. He'd seen too many corpses jump to their feet in the past few days to believe it was that simple.

After a thorough kicking, Gaspard finally accepted that the creature would not try to eat him and stepped away from its body. He sheathed his sword and put his hands on his hips as he looked up and down the street. It was refreshing to know that someone else in the city was taking the initiative to slay the beasts that prowled the streets. Once Gaspard had crossed every name off his list, he desired a break, if not retirement. One could only slay so many monsters.

With one final look to the dead beast, Gaspard turned to continue on his path. The center of the city, and the palace, awaited. The royal palace, and therefore the king, was the closest stop on his list. He could cross off another name and then make his way to the astrologer's residence.

"You are headed to death."

Gaspard drew his blade again, turning his gaze back to the corpse of the monster. It had not risen, but a new figure now stood beside it. Somehow, Gaspard had not heard their footsteps, and it baffled him that someone in full carnival regalia could move so silently. His black and white outfit had ribbons of every color dangling from the sleeves, and he even wore a porcelain mask with a single painted-on tear. The new arrival gestured broadly towards the city center as he spoke.

"I awoke not far from the palace," he explained. "That day was not the first time I have slain man or beast, but even I found myself challenged to slip from the jaws of the beasts that hunt there."

"I have cut a path through this city already," Gaspard said. "I shall endure."

"If death is what you seek, by all means proceed," the masked man said. "I shall watch from a distance, and upon your death, avenge you, provided that whatever slays you is not too large or frightening."

Gaspard looked over his shoulder. The man bowed deeply.

"My apologies if my manner disturbs, good sir. I am quite mad. Not by way of moonlight, mind you, but by birth. Or by way of neglectful childhood, should you ask the philosophers, or by way of devilish influences should you ask the preachers."

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Gaspard turned around, mostly because he was uncomfortable having his back to the madman.

"I'd heard the king had ordered the asylums emptied, but I didn't think anyone would be fool enough to turn the key," Gaspard scoffed.

"You wound, good sir," the madman said. "My comrades and I enjoyed the Lunar Carnival on our best behavior. Except for Maximillian, who attempted to gnaw the face off of a young man. He only got a bit of the cheek, mind you, and that same man was dead not an hour later regardless. Moon got to him."

"Somehow your words offer no comfort," Gaspard said.

"Then take comfort in the fact that we find ourselves in the same profession," the madman said. He gestured to the corpse at his feet. "We both have an interest in killing beasts."

On that, Gaspard did agree. He'd rather let the madman face the jaws of the lurking beasts. He had only a few targets left before he sought what little peace he could find, and he would rest easier knowing someone else was culling the monsters of the city. The madman tilted his face, regarding Gaspard with the empty eyes of his mask.

"Though you seem to have a higher purpose than mere violence," the madman noted. "I can see it in your eyes."

"And you know this from a glance at me?"

"Quite so," the madman said. He gave a flourishing gesture towards his own hidden eyes. "I have seen that look before, you see. It was during my time in the asylum. There came to be, in the room next to me, a man accused of most heinous crimes. I shall spare the gentleman the more impolite details, but suffice to say that he was rather unpleasant to a number of young children."

"Choose your next words carefully," Gaspard cautioned.

"Oh? Ah, I see. Fear not, the gentleman is not being compared to the criminal in question. Allow me to continue, I pray," the madman said. "You see, the criminal was also a rich man, and with his connections he saw that the punishment for his crimes was time in the asylum, a rather comfortable arrangement in comparison to the pits below. The point of comparison for you in this story, my friend, is the guard who took umbrage with this deceit."

The madman clasped his hands together as Gaspard relaxed his grip on his sword. The madman took a deep breath of satisfaction as he recalled the stories end.

"There came a day on which that guard took hold of a metal rod and marched his way down the hall to the criminals room. I saw his face as he marched, and I must say, the look in his eyes was the same look which is in yours even now. The look of a man on a grim mission to right a wrong."

Suddenly very conscious of the way his eyes looked, Gaspard squinted. The madman nodded, satisfied that his story had reached it's mark. He took a deep bow.

"I imagine the gentleman has made the obvious assumption, but for my own pleasure I will clarify that the criminal met a rather gruesome end," the madman continued. "Why, for days afterwards I could taste blood in the air. And the bloody footsteps the guard left behind as he walked out, oh my, I imagine the stains are still in the ground to this day."

Gaspard grimaced and backed away from the madman. He did not appear to notice Gaspard's slow retreat, and continued to reminisce about that gory day, whispering of blood and viscera in wistful tones.