When Lack'nul finally woke up, he was covered in various bandages and wrappings. The guard captain tried to sit up, only to fall flat when shooting pains in his gut made it seem like he was being stabbed again. As he laid back down with a groan, a familiarly deep voice beside him caught his attention. "Easy there, boss. You took quite a beating on that front line! You've earned yourself a bit of a rest!"

Lack'nul opened his eyes to see Orth'kun sitting next to him. The oversized argu'n was passing the time by carving a stick into a tiny spear, though judging by the pile of shavings next to the guard, he'd already done this to several sticks, all of which must be no more than tinder by now. The larger guard grinned down at his friend. "You know, I was jealous of you for the first half of the fight. Sitting back and waiting while others fight isn't really my style, but looking at you now, maybe I got off easy..."

The guard captain grunted in annoyance. "You think? I'm fairly certain I got stabbed and slashed more times in a few minutes on that line than in my entire career until now!"

Orth'kun grinned. "Yeah, good thing that armor really worked! But you'll need to get some new stuff made. The shredded remains the healers pulled off you aren't even fit for rags at this point, what with all your blood soaked into them and all..."

Lack'nul tried not to think about how he could still feel so many of those wounds and grinned instead. "Well, I'm guessing we won if you're sitting here?"

The larger guard barked out a laugh. "Oh yeah, pretty handily too! When all was said and done, we only lost a couple hundred of our warriors, whereas they lost almost half of theirs. According to the workers you fought beside, you're more than a little responsible for keeping their casualties so low. The way they're talking, I doubt you'll ever have to buy yourself a drink as long as you live! Speaking of, I got your dinner ready. Jack said there was a good chance you'd be waking up about now. That guy really is some kind of wizard, huh?"

That confused Lack'nul. Why would his dinner have anything to do with drinks? He doubted he was in any shape to be downing much alcohol at the moment. Then he saw the bowl of some sort of disgusting-looking glop the larger guard pulled out from beside him. The guard captain raised an eye ridge. "And what is that? Some kind of poultice you gotta apply to my bandage before I get to eat?"

Orth'kun laughed, and not in a comforting way. "Yeah, you wish! Jack said that given all the poking and prodding he did in ya and all the medicines he poured into ya, you wouldn't be able to eat solid food for a day or two. On the other hand, your broken body needs energy to recover, so he basically had some meat diced, minced, and mushed into this disgusting-looking mess. Apparently, I'm supposed to make sure you eat every last bite!"

Lack'nul glared at his friend. "You know, I don't take advantage of being the guard captain all that often, but if you try to force-feed me that mess, I'm going to make sure you're stuck cleaning the waste pits for a month!"

The larger guard laughed. "Oh, come now, I know you better than that. It'll last a week, tops! Besides, it's the least I can do for the hero of the line! Now open up, so this isn't any harder on either of us than it needs to be!"

-

As Jack walked into the improvised cell, which was really just a tent with a bunch of guards inside and out, he noticed B'arthon sitting in a comfortable chair and drinking some kind of beverage from a mug, looking like he was waiting on some reports rather than his execution. As usual, S'haar was a half step ahead of the human, ready to translate for Jack or destroy any threat as needed. The noble looked up at his two visitors and raised his mug in acknowledgment, only slightly slurring his speech enough to indicate a mild intoxication. "You know, this is the first time I've ever been executed, but I have to commend the service around here. I expected to be chained to a stake, not to be given drink and comfort. Though I admit, the wait is not entirely pleasant. In an odd way, I'm eager to be done with this!"

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S'haar answered him, her gaze calm rather than cutting as was usually the case when dealing with nobility. "Well, a few would prefer you be chained to a stake, but your honorable behavior earned you a bit of leniency. Jack's people even have a tradition of a 'final request' when it comes to executions, which I suppose is kind of why we're here. You wanted to speak with Jack again?"

B'arthon sat up, setting his drink aside and seeming to sober a little. "Yes, I suppose this would be a fitting final request of a sort." He then turned his attention to Jack, "I heard about your sister, I fear an apology will sound hollow, but just so you know, I am sorry."

Jack had no idea how to respond. Theoretically, it would be best to accept the apology and move on. He was about to be executed, after all. It's hard to pay a higher price than that. Still, another very large portion of Jack wanted to scream and shout at the noble. He just led a thousand of his men to their deaths with the intent to kill or enslave a thousand more, yet he has the gall to apologize for the death of one? Instead, the human remained silent.

After a moment of awkward silence, B'arthon realized he wouldn't get a response, so he reached for his side instead. S'haars had her sword half drawn before the noble pulled out a familiar small pyramid and held it out to Jack. "This was Vox'thon's case. She's no longer in there. Apparently, she was injured while attempting to attack Lady Angela, and to the best of my understanding, they probably died together. So now, this is just a reminder of who she was. It would be a waste to burn it on a pyre with me, so I figured I'd entrust this to you. You're the only one I can think of who might understand it well enough to have a use for it anyway."

That silenced the various shouting voices in Jack's mind as he reached out and took the device. It was much heavier than it looked, not surprising with all the hardware that Angela probably crammed in there, but there was another weight, a sense of loss that echoed Jack's own.

Jack looked closer at it for several moments before meeting B'arthon's gaze and nodding in acknowledgment of many unspoken things. "Thank you."

B'arthon nodded and sat back, reaching for his drink again. "I have surprisingly few regrets, but her loss is one of those. The poor girl deserved better than that... Better than me."

They waited in silence for several moments as the mood turned dower. When it became apparent B'arthon had nothing else to say, S'haar spoke. "I think it's time. Are you ready?"

B'arthon tilted his mug and drained the rest of the contents before standing up with only a slight wobble. "As ready as anyone can ever be for death. Lead the way."

S'haar and Jack walked out of the tent, followed by B'arthon, flanked by four other guards. They made their way up to the top of a hill, where almost every argu'n still present at the camp awaited.

The noble turned and looked at the crowd, some of whom jeered but most of which waited in silence. Then B'arthon turned to face his executioner.

S'haar drew her sword and held it ready before asking a question inspired by her time with Jack. "Any last words?"

The noble thought for a moment before speaking aloud. "I know you think I'm a monster, and in a way, I am, but there was a reason for every monstrous thing I did. I hope you'll continue to prove me wrong in the coming days and years. Take my father's empire, my empire, and turn it into something remarkable!" He then waited at ease, staring back at S'haar rather than turning his back. It was clear that he wanted to see his death coming.

After a nod of respect, S'haar struck. With one swift strike, B'arthon's head and body fell.