Chapter 7 Execution
You’re taller than I am. What’s happening? Nothing yet? You’re taller than I am. What’s happening? Nothing yet? Oh, that's disappointing. Well, there’s still time. The Magi said my siblings were Rebacks. My father is part Reback, you know. Anyway, they were taken and used by the prince's tutors and servants at the castle. I’m not a Reback. They took pieces of me to check. I’ve been certified and everything. — Prince Eater #34
Summoned from his watch, Alec stood with the other Royal Archers, his mind racing over everything that had transpired and worrying about whether he no longer had a future with Jon. Sergeant Isla MacDonald marched into the leaky wooden barracks and barked, “Listen Up! I’ve received orders directly from the Most Revered. Prince Jon is waiting for us in a field close to SnakeIn. We are to assemble a firing party and complete his execution.”
Alec stopped breathing. When his lungs forced in a loud gasp, he blurted out in disbelief, “Execution! He’s…he’s a Prince of the Realm. And our friend, Isla. Why in the world would we be sent to execute him!”
“Another word, Mulrian, and you’ll be in the dungeon with the other criminals,” the sergeant snapped. “It is enough for us to know that Prince Jon has been declared a traitor by the Most Revered.”
“Yes, sir.” Alec choked out, as stoically as he could. He remembered how as a student loose strands of Jon’s long blond hair blew sideways on gusts of winds, his brow creased with focus, and his clear blue eyes flinted like steel as he refused to kill a trapped, defenseless animal. Now, Jon was the one trapped and defenseless. The Grays Commander had discarded Jon far from anyone who cared for him, whether friend or admiring citizen.
Accepting Alec’s submission, the sergeant marched back in front of the assembled archers explaining how she knew Jon’s general location and what her plan was for them to proceed. Finishing her instructions, she headed toward her office but paused just outside the door. She turned back, strode the length of the barracks purposefully, and stopped directly in front of Alec Mulrian where she added with a smirk, “I’m not satisfied that you will obey my direct orders, Corporal. Or should I say, Citizen. You have put your friendship ahead of the Crown. You no longer have a right to be one of us. Take his officer’s designation and get his possessions together. Mulrian is leaving now. The rest of us will head out when Second Sun rises tomorrow. Without Mulrian. If I see you there, Alec, you’ll be arrested for treason.”
As the Royal Archers shuffled and glanced between one another, Sergeant MacDonald strode back to the door of her office. Turning she added, “I said take his designations. Mulrian’s been insubordinate one time too many. He’s done.”
“He’s our best archer,” Archer O’Leary objected. “And you have to expect that someone who grew up with the princes would care about this. Sir, be reasonable.”
“I’m drumming him out,” Sergeant MacDonald repeated. “Not just out of the Royal Archers but out of the Kings Soldiers completely.”
As archers reluctantly moved to follow her orders, some flinging Alec’s possessions into saddle packs and a duffle bag, others carefully removing the Corporal’s insignia, Archer O’Leary countered, “You don’t have the authority to do that, sir. You don’t even have the authority to demote him the way you just did. I’ll help the others get him packed and situated out of concern for him, but I am reporting you to Captain Brady and the commander the moment I know that Alec is safely away from you.”
“You leave with him, O’Leary. You’re done, too,” MacDonald snapped.
O’Leary shrugged and turned to his fellow archers, saying, “You take good care of Alec’s things. This isn’t the last of this. The captain’s door is always open to me.”
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“Go ahead, O’Leary,” MacDonald jeered. “Go ahead, run off crying like a baby. Brady’s a loyal patriot. He’ll kick your ass halfway to New East Anglia.”
“We’ll see to your things, too,” another archer offered.
O’Leary strode from the barracks determinedly and MacDonald leaned with satisfaction against the doorframe of her office. “To answer your question, Citizen, Prince Jon is a coward. He ran tonight rather than face the Ritual. His duty is to undertake it. Ours is to obey.”
“The Most Revered is wrong. He wasn’t running,” Alec protested, his voice unnaturally cold. “Now, I wish that I had gone with him when he asked me to.”
“The Most Revered is never wrong. She is the Voice of the Divine Universe. You’re as much a disgrace as Jon. Get out, Alec,” Sergeant MacDonald directed. She moved forward as if to strike Alec, but three of the Royal Archers blocked her path. “Her exact words at the funeral were that the great and noble hearts of Prince Reginald and Prince Ethan are now linked with the universe to strengthen and herald the rise of the true Chosen, the rightful Holy Prince. Too bad Jon is a coward.”
Once his possessions were gathered, Alec shouldered his packs, tool trunk, duffle bag, and crossbows, and then walked past the row of hushed Royal Archers. One by one, the Royal Archers snapped to attention and saluted smartly. Nodding in satisfaction at her success when Alec vanished through the door without looking back or speaking, Sergeant MacDonald rotated toward the archers with her hand raised to return their salutes only to discover all of the Royal Archers standing with their backs to her.
Alec’s mind tumbled with questions and theories as he tried to sort out all that was happening. He knew that the Commander of the Armored Grays controlled Holy King Harrison’s elite, hand-picked, personal militia. Even the Most Revered could not dictate their obedience. Because of that, Alec reasoned that the decision to forsake Prince Jon originated from Jon’s father who apparently lacked the fortitude to witness his son’s murder even though he was willing to leave Jon exposed to the elements and predators. No, Alec corrected himself. The king did not discard his son. The Most Revered attacked a member of the royal family whom she couldn’t control. Alec had seen for himself that any time the king tried to refuse the Most Revered, the pain left from his own Ritual incapacitated him until he relented or lost consciousness. When the latter happened, the Most Revered didn’t even pretend that her orders came from him. Anytime the king was unable to rule, the country was hers to command. The king was unconscious when Ava Most Revered pronounced Jon’s death sentence. Furthermore, she never issued an explanation about the devastation at Prince Reginald’s Ritual.
MacDonald and the Royal Archers did ride out after the Second Sun had fully risen the next morning. Alec, however, rode out immediately after he’d been chucked from the barracks. Among the possessions his friends packed on his behalf were two items of special significance to him. One was the dried bloom of a pressed moonflower that one of the archers had wrapped gently and enclosed in a hand-carved wooden box that Alec had never seen before. The other was a bottle of fine Western Brewed Whiskey that the archers had set aside to celebrate the promotion that Captain Brady promised Alec. He held the bottle out in front of him as he approached the gate’s sentry.
“Good evening, Barry,” Alec called jovially.
“Evening, Alec,” Barry Cavendish greeted from his station by the gate. “Sorry to hear you had some problems with MacDonald. Everyone’s seen how she targets anyone she’s afraid could surpass her. Hopefully, the commander or the King will set things right in the morning.”
“Let’s hope so, Barry,” Alec agreed. “Listen, for now though, I’m using my freedom to get together with that dark-haired beauty we met at the pub the other night. Remember?”
“I do,” Barry answered. “Fancied you for sure.”
“I didn’t ask for permission to leave,” Alec confessed. “But then again, I’m a civilian, so I don’t need to ask, do I?”
“No, you certainly don’t,” Barry agreed. He reached out one hand and folded eager fingers around the bottle of Western Brewed Whiskey. “And I don’t see why I need to mention to anyone that you left. Don’t see a reason to even remember.”
“Thank you, thank you,” Alec said gratefully. He dipped his head respectfully, then shook it sadly, and added, “This is something I need tonight after all that’s happened.”
Barry chuckled as Alec mounted his horse. The sentry looked around idly and remarked, “You know, it’s funny. The wind tonight almost sounds like someone’s talking to me. Never heard anything like it before in my life.”
He laughed as he entered his small gatehouse to fish-out glasses for the whiskey, and by the time he returned, Alec Mulrian was gone. Setting down the glasses, Barry faced the direction his friend had ridden and saluted.
©2022 Vera S. Scott