Yander left them to execute his command duties. The first of his tasks was directing the camp setup. At his orders, the first thing erected was Augustus’ tent. It had lavish accommodations and was the largest at the base camp. It had a drawer for his clothes, a soft bed, a small kitchenette, and even a separate receiving room. On the floor, there were elegant rugs, and there were tapestries of woven wool hung for decorations.
After touring his tent and seeing the men still busy at work, Augustus went for a walk. With Heratio by his side, he trailed down an obvious path further into the island, hoping to get a glimpse of the village.
Before long, they were overwhelmed by a rotten stench. It was strong enough to taste, causing Augustus to gag.
“Look up there,” said Heratio, pointing.
There hung three dead bodies. Nooses were around their necks and they were strung up on the thick branches. The flesh still rotting, a maggot fell and landed near Augustus’ feet. The blood drained from Augustus’ face, and he gave in to the unsteady feeling in his stomach. He vomited, nearly getting it on his own shoes.
Heratio placed his hand against Augustus' back and pushed him forward. “Just hold your breath and keep walking,” said Heratio.
“Those bodies aren’t two years old,” remarked Augustus once they were away from the horrible stench.
“I’d say those corpses are a few weeks old if I had to guess.”
After more walking, they came to the clearing surrounding the native village. They watched it at a distance, hiding within the tree line. He could Marcus and the men from the crew of The Killian distributing the tools among the native people. And a distance from the village, standing in a field of grass, were the children Augustus saw earlier. They held bows haphazardly as if barely trained, aiming them at the people of the village. They were standing guard in case anyone should act against Marcus.
“It’s starting to get late,” said Heratio. “We should head back before it gets dark.”
They returned to camp just as the sun began to set. Augustus sat by the campfire, among the crew of The Scarlet Wind. He watched the crew talk and laugh, and he sat quietly with his thoughts weighing heaving in his mind.
“Heratio, will you do something for me?”
“It depends what it is,” said the smiling Heratio.
“I want you to take a few men and cut down the corpses out there. Bury them in the dirt.”
“I can’t just leave your side. What if something were to happen while I am gone?”
“I’ll be fine. I will stay awake, sitting right here, among the crew of The Scarlet Wind until your return. We needn’t worry about them. I’m confident they wouldn’t raise a hand against me.”
“Very well.” Heratio bowed before leaving his side.
He watched as the lit torches faded into the Jungle. They didn’t return until deep into the night when the fire was tended only by a few stranglers yet to go to sleep. Heratio's hands were covered in dirt, and his face worn with fatigue.
“Thank you,” Augustus said to Heratio and the men he recruited. “Have your dinner first. Then we will go to sleep. It’s been a long hard day, and I don’t think tomorrow will be any easier.”
When it was time to sleep, Augustus fell into bed exhausted. Although his body and mind were tired, sleep didn’t come easily. Thoughts raced through his mind. He played out scenarios, making plans and anticipating what Marcus Dayton might do.
In the morning, a portion of the crew of The Scarlet Wind and the crew of The Killian left the base camp carrying the bundles of pelts down the trail, back to the ships.
Augustus and Heratio stayed at the camp. Augustus felt the ramifications of all the hiking he had done the previous day. His abdomen and legs felt sore. After all, he hadn’t gotten much use out of his legs while they were sailing on the open ocean.
They washed, changed into clean linens, ate their breakfast, then sat under the tarp by the firepit. A flash of rain came down while they waited, stopping just as quickly as it started. It didn’t last long but was hard enough that the ground was mud by its end.
At lunchtime, the hikers returned. The men weren’t as encumbered as on the first trek to the base camp, as they needed to conserve their strength and energy so they could make two trips per day. All carried less cargo except for two individuals, one carrying twice the cargo one would expect with a bag strapped to his back and his front. The other carried no cargo but had Castor riding on his back. The sight of which had Heratio in a laughing fit.
"Well, aren't you an old-looking infant?!" Heratio managed to spit out in between his gasps of laughter. "Maybe master Augustus should ask for the same service on the way down!"
"It was the rain. It came out of nowhere. I slipped and ended up hurting my ankle." Castor rolled his eyes.
"This poor guy. You're a better man than me. I would have left him." He patted the shoulder of the crewman of The Scarlet Wind carrying Castor. His laughter began to die down. Heratio led the kind soul willing to carry Castor into Augustus' hut and helped lay him down in Augustus’ bed. Another man followed and placed a chest strapped to his back on the ground next to Castor.
“Thank you two for carrying my things and my attendant,” said Augustus to the crewmen, palming them a couple of coins. Once they left, he turned to Castor. “How is your ankle?”
“It’s not terrible. It just hurts to walk on.”
Augustus felt the ankle with his hand. He wasn’t a surgeon, but he had read a book or three on the human body. Enough to be able to tell nothing was broken. “Stay in bed for the day.”
"Thank you. I swear the rain was so sudden…" Castor just looked defeated, trailing off in a mumble. “Wait, how was your talk with Captain Marcus?”
“This expedition has been a success. A profit is all but guaranteed, and with it a title, as planned, to hang upon my name like a fine painting over a fireplace. Augustus the trade explorer, the one who opened the trade route to the Maysian isles,” said Augustus with a neutral tone, despite how joyful the words seemed.
“There’s something else?”
“An opportunity has presented itself, and now, as I sit here, I contemplate seizing it.”
Castor shook his head. “I know that look, Augustus. You’re about to take some unnecessary risk–You’ve grown too bold of late. Ever since your father started to acknowledge your worth.”
“Yes, what I plan might involve some risk. That just means I’ll need to be careful. Lay all the groundwork to make sure things turn out the way I want. Risk is just the result of improper preparation. This is an unfortunate situation; I was hoping to have you help me take care of some things. But events such as this one can’t be helped.” Augustus patted Castor on the shoulder and repeated his advice. “Get some rest.”
Next, he went through the chest, looking for the bundle of letters. He left the tent with them in hand and set about laying his groundwork.
Every time he came across a member of The Killian’s crew, he would sit and talk with them as he flipped through his bundle of letters to find the letters addressed to them. He made sure to talk to them, ask them questions about their families, about their friends in Venocia, and about what they would do with their pay when they got back home. The lower-class sailors were all eager to have the ear of a member of the Castellian family, hoping to make a friend that might help them to some loftier position. He made a conscious effort to keep a friendly demeanour. Something people often claimed he lacked.
“Do you know much about the people of this island?” Augustus asked after finishing his conversation with Gregor. He was ecstatic to receive his letter and particularly thankful towards Augustus.
“I know some.”
“I wanted to learn about their culture and governance. Do they have a king?”
“Not one that sits on a throne or anything. I think one of the old ones was the boss before we came around.”
“How many of them are there that you know of?”
“In this village, I’d say about a hundred.”
“Just then, you said this village, right? Are there more villages?”
“Yeah, there’s a few of them. At least five tribes, I believe. We don’t know much about the other tribes or how many people are in them.”
“Interesting. Do you know the relations between the tribes? Do they communicate often?”
“I honestly don’t know. In truth, you’d be better off asking the captain. I’m sure he’d know.”
“I will. In any case, thank you for indulging my questions,” said Augustus with a friendly smile, putting an end to the conversation.
Despite that statement, he made no effort to contact Marcus Dayton. Instead, he gave Marcus' large hut a wide berth and timed his movements to avoid him.
With all the men at work through the day, he sat with Heratio in the mostly empty camp. “Heratio, what are your thoughts on Marcus Dayton? How do you think he would respond to a harsh reprimand?”
“You mean a reprimand out here? I don’t think any man your father trusts would raise a hand in the open against a member of the Castellian family. Although, from other things I’ve heard about Marcus, he might be an exception.”
“What things are you referring to?”
“Things better left unsaid. Nothing but rumours among the servants about Marcus and your brother. Things that if I repeated, and your father found out I said them, would become a problem for me.”
“I would like to hear it. I’m in a delicate spot, so I need all the information I can get. Speak the rumours here, so far away from my father’s ears. I promise I will not tell him what you’ve said.”
“I’m sorry, Master Augustus, but I refuse.” Heratio looked away from his master, refusing the eye contact that Augustus attempted.
“It seems both my attendants have disappointed me today.”
Three nights passed, with work being done each day and the stockpile of pelts at the basecamp becoming smaller and smaller until there remained a small enough amount to be carried on a single trip.
Augustus woke to his fifth day on the Maysian island. His mouth was dry and his bladder was full from the previous night’s drinking to celebrate an end to a successful expedition.
The captains, with Augustus observing, had decided on those that would stay on the island, managing the outpost and stockpiling resources for the next ship to arrive. Now that the route was a proven resource, the Castellian family would be sending ships in quick succession. The ones who knew they would have to stay drank heavily and roused the others to drink in sympathy. Even Augustus joined in, attempting to show his companionship and solidarity with the crew.
Marcus, during the meeting, even volunteered himself to lead the outpost, even though he had already been away from Venocia for so long. He, too, drank, celebrating with the crew he would be parting with.
After drinking and emptying his bladder, he spoke with Castor. “How is your ankle feeling today? Will you be able to make the hike back down to the ships?”
“I’m sure I will be fine. I will just make sure to be more careful if it rains.”
“Did you prepare the letter, as I asked?”
“Yes.” Castor, who, now recovered, walked over to the desk and produced a sealed envelope. “And your magistrate robe is in that chest.”
“Heratio, we are going to gather everyone for a meeting during breakfast. Before that, I need you to hand this letter over to Yander. I would prefer it if he only had just enough time to read it before the meeting. You will tell him that he should read it immediately, then come back to stand guard for me. During this meeting, I want you to be particularly aware and ready to protect me.” Augustus handed Heratio the letter.
Augustus changed into a particular set of clothes, different from his red and white ceremonial clothing and his cheaper hiking clothing. It was a simple white robe, a cheap colour of linen, but still, it was regal in its own way.
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As he waited in his tent for breakfast time to arrive, Augustus’ thoughts were of his father. Remembering when they would play Stixis and Giovanni would lecture on strategy. One particular lesson came to mind. When you are losing, you must gamble to win, look for some opening to gain an advantage and put all your weight into it. But when you are winning, instead of going for the kill immediately, don’t. Instead, search all avenues they could use to gain an advantage and dismantle each one. Slowly circle them until there is no escape. Only when the noose is tightened around their neck do you strike.
Castor, who stood by the entrance watching the camp, said, “They are gathering for breakfast. It’s time.”
Heratio left the tent to deliver the letter and returned a short time later.
“It looks as if everything is ready,” said Augustus with a big sigh. He felt his nervousness but breathed in and out rhythmically to calm himself. Everything would be fine, he told himself. “Let’s begin this.”
The three left the tent together. Heratio had his hand perched on the hilt of his sword, eyes intensely aware of his surroundings. On the other side, Castor held a box filled with his scribe instruments. The men were gathered, all ready to eat in the makeshift outdoor cafeteria. To one side was a clearing that could be easily viewed from the tables and chairs. Augustus walked there and looked over the two crews.
“Good morning, everyone!” Augustus said with a voice that would carry. It was loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “There is something I would like to do before we say our final farewells. Marcus, Yander, please join me over here.”
They both made their way over from the crowd, Marcus wearing a confused look. Augustus raised his right hand, causing silence to fall over the crowd. They all were paying close attention.
“Thank you for joining me,” continued Augustus. “It has been five days since I arrived here with the crew of The Scarlet Wind. And now we are so close to departing, one last hike and then we are off, at least that is for most of us. As I’m sure you’ve heard, some will be staying to oversee the operations here. I know this is a terrible task, to be so separated from your families, doubly so, since some who are being asked to stay have already spent so long away from their families. But I assure you, all will be well compensated, and for every greater hardship, a greater reward awaits. I look now at your faces, and I can see most of you nodding. To see such unwavering trust in the Castellian family that we will pay our debts and reward our employees. I know is a result of a reputation we have built over generations. It warms my heart.”
He looked over at Marcus. “I would like to thank Marcus Dayton for volunteering to stay,” said Augustus. The crowd applauded but was cut off when Augustus raised his right hand again. “I would like to, but I can’t.”
“What is the meaning of this?” Marcus Dayton said angrily.
“Since I have arrived here, I have been dismayed and unsettled by Marcus Dayton’s actions. Actions for which he must be held to account.”
“Silence!” Shouted Marcus. “What game are you playing, boy? If there is something you wish to say to our crews, it should be said to its captains in private first.”
“This is no game. I am doing my duty, and with my authority, holding you responsible for what has transpired here.”
“Enough of this. You have no authority here! Do not mistake the respect we show you for authority over us. You may be from a great family, but you are here only as an observer. Unless you have a letter from your father, you do not have any right to give orders here. Do you have that letter?” Marcus regained his composure, but his eyes betrayed the fury he was holding back.
“Unfortunately, I do not have that letter,” said Augustus.
“Of course, you don’t. I know your father. I’ve eaten at his house, and I taught his son Master Giovannus. He would never put his trust in you in these matters over his trust in my demonstrated and proven skills.” The crowd was transfixed as if they were watching a theatre play.
“I don’t have that letter–” Augustus began to speak but was sharply interrupted.
“Enough! I will hear no more of this.” Marcus shouted with a rousing inflection. “My men and I will be insulted if this goes any further!” Augustus knew what he was doing. He was trying to speak directly to his crew and incite their loyalty. A loyalty that was built up over two years, in close quarters, away from home. It was a dangerous loyalty that Augustus had tried to neutralize over the past few days, using his infamy and charm, and most importantly, the promise of money.
Augustus looked at Heratio and said, “Silence him.” In a flash of gleaming light reflected off his blade, Heratio unsheathed his sabre and put it to Marcus’ throat.
"If you speak again, it'll be your last words," whispered Heratio, just loud enough that Augustus could hear.
Some members of The Killian's crew stepped forward; others shouted. Augustus looked at their faces. They were angry and confused. That had been anticipated. Augustus tried his best to exude confidence from his posture and facial expression. Now, the man before The Killian's crew couldn't be the friendly young man they talked casually with earlier or even a representative of the Castellian family. He needed to become the unflinching, unwavering face of the laws of Venocia. The embodiment of duty and service to their city that his magistrate position represented.
"Silence!" Shouted Augustus, piercing through the chattering of the crowd. He nodded to Yander to speak.
"Indeed, Master Augustus is here as an observer, representing the Castellian family, and normally he would not have the authority to give orders. But he has other authority, not granted to him by being a Castellian but granted by being a magistrate of Venocia."
"Thank you, Captain Yander DeMerio. You are exactly correct. As I was trying to say, before I was interrupted, I do have authority as a magistrate. I have the authority—nay the duty, to enforce and adjudicate the laws passed by the Senate of Venocia. Laws that I now say, here before both crews, that you have broken."
Marcus could hold his tongue no longer. "You a magistrate?! You are nothing but a boy! Enough of your childish game!" He spat with visible fury.
Heratio smiled. His bluff had been called. He knew better than to kill a high-ranking vassal of the Castellians without Augustus' express orders.
“Despite my youth, I am a magistrate. I assure you that. Look at the very robe I wear,” Augustus said while turning himself to put his clothing on display. A simple white robe, one that didn’t presume wealth, meant not to differentiate its wearer from the common people of Venocia via status and family but still meant to signify the wearer’s role. On the chest was the seal of the city of Venocia, stitched in blue thread. “This is the robe of a magistrate, is it not? Why would I have this if I was not a magistrate? Do you think I put together twigs and stone and laboured night and day to craft this? Does anyone here think that?”
“I vouch for the validity of master Augustus’ credentials. I have seen them myself,” Yander said with a queasy look on his face. The letter that Castor had made, and was given to Yander before this meeting, was stamped with the seal of the magistrates. A seal that should only be in the possession of a magistrate.
“Look at it this way. If I am not a magistrate, all you would have to do once you return to Venocia is petition the magistrates' office and declare your testimony that I presented myself as a magistrate and used the authority of a magistrate. An investigation would ensue, and with the number of witnesses here, they would put me to death. So, you should all see, for me to lie here about this wouldn’t make sense. I would not risk my life.”
The crowd nodded, and Marcus’ rage quelled. They were convinced.
A man from the crowd spoke, “And what law has our captain broken? What do you enforce?”
“Venocia has been blessed with over four hundred years of peace, but that was no accident, no luck of good fate. We have an army but, still, it can't compare to those of our neighbours. They say the streets of Venocia overflow with riches, although that is an exaggeration to be sure. We do have wealth that others covet. Why has our great city not burned, our coffers emptied, and our women not raped in the streets? If it would be so easy, why has no one done so? And how did we get those riches? Not by military conquest. Instead, it was through trade and that relies on trust and mutual benefit. Thus, Venocia has passed laws limiting aggressive acts against foreign powers. Venocia must be particularly careful not to give any nation casus belli because, we know with certainty, they would act on it.” said Augustus to the crowd. He then turned to Marcus. “Will you deny in front of this crowd, some of which were present at the incident, that you attacked and killed multiple of the Aluheyan people? Will you deny that you also recruited some of them to help you oppress the Aluheyan people? Will you deny that you forced the Aluheyan people to labour for you under threat of violence? You may speak now.”
“They attacked me first! And they wouldn’t constitute a foreign power! We could crush them if we want to--” Augustus lifted his palm over Marcus' face to indicate silence.
“The law is the law! It makes no exception for them attacking you first. Your duty was to retreat. You chose your greed over your duty to Venocia. The Aluheyan people, regardless of your perception of them, meet the definition of a foreign power. Whether or not they could end up a threat to Venocia directly is irrelevant to the law as it is written.” Augustus looked at the crowd to speak directly to them. “If I ignored this, once word got out of what transpired here, and it certainly would get out, the Castellian’s enemies in the Senate would use this incident to make my family pay a hefty fine. My father would view all of you as the source of that fine. He would not only withhold any bonus pay, but he would also withhold any other payments you were due for failure to execute the mission responsibly. As would be within his rights.”
The crowd became eerily quiet. To the crew of The Killian, the expedition represented over two years of their lives, a hefty investment that was now at risk of being a total loss. Augustus looked at them, making a conscious decision to have eye contact with one after the other in turn. He needed to make an impression on these men. Then he continued, “But do not worry, for your bonus pay is not yet forfeited. In fact, you are quite fortunate. As a magistrate, I can punish the perpetrator and, in doing so, also declare that the responsibility solely rests with the person who was punished. Although a higher magistrate could, in theory, overturn my ruling and dole out more punishments to those involved, it would be much, much less likely than if no punishment was even given out. I can pretty much guarantee that, as long as no one petitions that the matter be reinvestigated, the higher magistrates will consider the matter closed. So, if this trial proceeds and is completed, you can rest assured that you will have your pay when you return, in full.”
“Master Augustus,” said Castor, tapping on Augustus’ shoulder. “I believe it is now time for Marcus to be allowed to defend himself.”
Augustus nodded. “Marcus Dayton, I will now allow you to defend yourself. You may speak.”
“I can see what you are doing,” he said not to Augustus but to the crowd. “You're not so subtle threat that if they don’t do what you say, they will be punished. Your manipulations are as obvious as your lack of sense. Listen to me, men, if something were to happen to me, do not think Giovanni, my friend and Augustus’ father, would be so kind to those who allowed it to happen. I have broken bread with Master Giovanni on many occasions. Why? Because I have made him countless coins. I opened the trade route to the north, a significant source of income for the Castellian family. I am the tutor of Giovannus, his beloved son, his favoured son, and the future of the Castellian family. This boy here before you is nothing, the third son, the weak one.”
“Ah yes, you have been gone for so long you didn’t know. You didn’t know that I was a magistrate, and you didn’t know that my father had a falling out with Giovannus. He is no longer the presumed heir. The presumed heir is, in fact, me.”
Marcus looked around at the crowd and saw the crew of The Scarlet Wind nodding, confirming Augustus’ words. He dropped his head in defeat.
Yander spoke the crushing blow. “It is common knowledge in Venocia. Two years ago, Giovannus and his father had a falling out. It wasn’t too long after you left on this expedition, as a matter of fact. Augustus is now the favoured choice for head of the family and presumed heir.”
Augustus looked out at the crowd, now confident in his victory. The crew of The Killian had the same defeated look as Marcus. Marcus looked, and with some hesitancy, he tried to speak but was cut off by Augustus.
“–Nothing you have said has any legal merit. Will anyone in the audience speak on his behalf?” Marcus looked out at the crowd in desperation, but no one spoke up. Augustus could see how crushed Marcus felt as if a dagger was plunged into his heart and twisted. His crew had abandoned him. “Then we are done here. I sentence you to be hanged until dead.”
Marcus jerked and shouted at those last words like a wild animal desperate to survive, but Heratio quickly kneed him in the groin from behind. Marcus fell to the ground, and Heratio and Yander got on top of him. They beat him while he continued to struggle. Eventually, he just stopped trying. His breaths were deep and depleted. They tied him with his arms behind his back.
Augustus watched the crowd. No one made any moves, and there were no shouts of protest. He pointed out a random group of souls from The Scarlet Wind’s crew in the crowd. “Prepare the noose. We will hang him immediately!”
They went straight to work getting the rope ready. The audience parted as Heratio and Yander dragged Marcus through them, his legs kicking up a dust cloud in resistance. The two of them sat him against a tree, making sure to hit him whenever he got too feisty, as the men from the crowd swung the rope over a large branch and tied it off on a solid root peeking up out of the dirt. Heratio placed the noose around Marcus’ neck.
“Any last words?” Heratio asked.
“I don’t want to die!” Marcus said. Tears ran down his bloodied face.
“Do it,” Augustus said in his loud authoritative voice. Heratio and Yander tightened the noose then went over to help heave the rope. Up he went into the air, his legs flailing wildly. The men tied off the slack. It was done, soon it would be over.
Augustus had never seen someone die before but, even as the men in the crowd had to look away in disgust, Augustus kept his eyes open and locked on Marcus. Augustus knew he had to have the resolve to watch what he had ordered, staring with confidence. What surprised him was how long it took. Marcus could still take incredibly shallow breaths. Still, his face slowly turned purple and his wild legs moved less and less. The whole time Marcus was looking straight at Augustus. His eyes could almost communicate telepathically crying out for help.
Everyone was silent as a chill crept over the onlookers, despite the heat. Yander stepped forward. "I'll now list off those who will be staying, although I believe you all already know who you are." First was Juan, the first mate of The Killian. He would be in charge instead of Marcus this time. One by one, they came forward, none surprised as at some point either Yander or Marcus had taken them aside and told them they had to stay.
Augustus then addressed them. “To those who stay. You must work to correct Marcus’ mistakes. Free the children to go back to the village and give them gifts, or do whatever you deem necessary to repair the divide between Venocia and their society. When we reach Venocia, I will instruct my father to send another ship immediately, and when they arrive, if we are on peaceful terms with the natives, we will abandon this basecamp, and all of you will come home. I thank all of you for your loyal service. You have my guarantee you will be well compensated for your service.” After that, the group split in two, the smaller group that stayed just sat there in a daze as everyone else headed down the trail to the two ships.
During the hike, Augustus, Castor, and Heratio separated themselves from the main group to converse. All speaking in hushed tones as they continued moving forward. “Although I still think you took on more risk than was necessary, I must say, Master Augustus, that was amazingly well done,” said Castor gleefully.
“Yes, well done. Though I wish you would have just told me to slit his throat rather than have him hanged. My hand will be bruised up in the morning,” said Heratio, opening and closing his fist and wincing at the pain it caused.
“Thank you and sorry, Heratio. Hanging was more powerful for what I needed. By giving them ample time to act and incentivizing them against it, I made them complicit. If we slit his throat, that could build resentment that would boil over into mutiny. I needed to minimize that possibility. In order to not view themselves negatively, they are forced to see it as Marcus being the one who betrayed them.”
“I did notice that you forgot to mention that they had the option of petitioning the magistrate’s office to overturn the ruling, which could result in you being the one put to death. After all, such are the risks of carrying out a death penalty on a foreign shore where there are no checks on a magistrate’s power,” Castor added.
“I guess I did forget to mention that I would be killed if the ruling was overturned. But I do remember mentioning that the ruling could be overturned.” Augustus nodded.
“However, you only put it in the context that if the ruling were overturned, the punishment could be revised to include all those here as responsible. That would only motivate them not to file a petition.” Castor smiled proudly at his student.
“I guess you’re right.”
“A more tempered ruling, and safer for you, would have been to take him alive as a prisoner back to Venocia. Why didn’t you? He didn’t really have a legal defence,” Castor said inquisitively.
“Why leave an ally of Giovannus alive when I could leave him dead?” Augustus said.
When they reached the ships, Augustus found Yander and made a request. “On the way home, I’ve heard there’s a place to capture giant turtles that are supposed to be quite delicious. How about we stop and try to capture a couple?”