Copyright Nicholas S. Casale 9/29/2020

Ashur, the planet of rust-colored clouds, moved to cover the entire sky, casting its shadow over the bright face of the moon world of Eos. The daily, ten hour eclipse had begun once again.

While most folks would have treated the vanishing light as a cue to go indoors and get to bed, the creaking of wagon wheels told of travelers on the road.

Three giant swine pulled the wagon, their tusks protruding upward from their mouths. The road before them was illuminated by the glowing insects trapped within a glass lantern, which hung from the yoke between the two swine. In the driver’s seat sat two men. The taller of the two wore a wine-colored cloak with his hood up. His skin was forest green and his eyes gold and piercing. Scarlet stubble clung to his square jaw, and his sharp nose pointed straight ahead, down the road. His neck was wide and his shoulders broad, hinting at the great strength of arms he possessed. Beside him sat a shorter man, barely more than a boy, in a white, padded coat. His hair was a tousled black mess upon his head, and his skin was white as ivory. Both men rode in silence, despite the whines and pleas from the third man they kept prisoner in the cage in the back of the wagon.

“Please, show mercy!” cried the prisoner. “Say something! Where are you taking me? I don’t deserve this!”

The younger man in white had reached the end of his patience, and so he lifted the quarter-staff he’d long kept at his side, aimed the end whereupon he’d affixed a gel-like zalp, and poked the prisoner with that end. The zalp’s defense mechanism activated when it came in contact with the prisoner, sending electric shocks through his every nerve. He twitched and flailed in the cage for a moment, before collapsing against the bars of bone, breathing heavily.

The man with dark green skin smirked and shook his head at his young companion. “Now, Joren, was that entirely necessary?”

The younger companion shrugged and said, “It got him to shut up, didn’t it? Come on, Sir Edric, don’t tell me his silence isn’t a comfort.”

Edric, the older companion, nodded. “I suppose it is, but it seems you’ve missed the point of my lessons. Your emotions are for you to control. They are to be tools used to your advantage. If someone else can control your emotions you can never truly disarm them. Anger, sorrow, fear, and joy, you must be the one to use these to your own advantage, not to arm your enemies.”

Joren glanced back at the prisoner, who was still breathing, though clearly stunned from the shock he’d received. “I think I wielded my anger pretty well to silence the thief.”

“Yes, you silenced him,” said Edric. “But to what end? Beyond annoyance, what harm did his endless pleading really cause?”

“I…” Joren hesitated and pushed his brows together in thought. “Well, the noise could have attracted predators. Darkcreepers or howlers.”

Edric chuckled. “You’ve read one too many of those adventure stories. Most beasts in these parts are afraid of people, and are sure to keep their distance from us. So, again, what purpose did silencing the prisoner serve?”

After a pregnant silence, Joren finally said, “Peace of mind.”

“Which you couldn’t achieve without silencing him because?”

Joren sighed and hung his head. “Because I let his whining control my emotions.”

“Exactly,” said Edric. “In the service of justice, we cannot be so easily swayed. The life of a knight justicar is difficult enough when sometimes the criminals we’re sent to collect are telepaths who can implant thoughts in your head.” He lightly pressed his finger to Joren’s forehead. “We cannot afford to crumble before simpler manipulations.”

The prisoner shifted in the cage and spoke in a weak voice, “All I stole was a loaf of bread. Is this something really so terrible that justicars should be sent to track me down?”

Edric shook his head. “It’s not about the crime you committed, lad. I was sent to retrieve you because you fled the law rather than cooperating. If you wanted leniency you should have turned yourself in and pled your case before a judge and jury.”

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“I was starving!” the prisoner whined.

“Then you had an understandable motivation to steal,” said Edric, still refusing to look back at the prisoner. “But if I were to let you go that would hardly be fair to all the other people who’ve faced hunger and decided not to steal, now would it?”

The prisoner grumbled angrily and kicked at the bars.

“Hey!” Joren scolded. “Be grateful that you were caught by Sir Edric and not another justicar. Justicars have the right to execute whatever judgments they see fit when they catch their quarry. Any other justicar might have decided to cut off your hands so you can never steal again.”

“But what good would that have done anyone?” Edric asked rhetorically. “No, I have a much more fitting punishment in store for you.”

The wagon passed between fields of wheat, all blowing in the wind and shimmering with what little light reflected off the clouds of Ashur. Ahead of them lay a farmhouse made from the exoskeletons of many enormous decapods. Through the windows were visible the faint glows of bug lanterns, indicating that the residents were still awake.

Edric stopped the wagon ten strides from the front door and dismounted. “Joren, wait here with the prisoner.”

“Yes, sir,” said Joren.

The front door was wooden and affixed to it was a metal ring with a bulb at the bottom. Edric held the ring and used it to knock on the door four times.

After a short wait, a bald man with a scraggly black beard answered the door. His head rose only to Edric’s chest, so both he and Edric arched their necks to meet each other’s eyes. Edric pulled back his hood so that the shadows no longer hid his face, revealing a mane of curly, scarlet hair atop his head.

“Yes?” said the farmer.

“Good eclipse to you and yours,” said Edric with a slight bow. “I am Sir Edric of the Knights Justicar, and I was hoping you could assist me.”

The farmer’s eyebrow raised in confusion. “With what? Not many runaways coming through these parts these days, most hide in the cities.”

“How right you are,” said Edric. “But, as you can see,” he gestured back toward the wagon and the cage on the back, “I’ve already caught the fugitive I was sent to apprehend. Actually, I was hoping you might be willing to help me with his sentencing.”

“Oh yeah?” said the farmer, leaning to one side to get a better look at the prisoner. “What’d he do?”

“Stole a loaf of bread, as a matter of fact,” said Edric. “Which is why I bring him to you. I’d like to sentence him to a year of service upon your farm where he will learn all the hard labor that goes into growing and harvesting wheat. After that year is done, I would ask you to take him to a mill to work for another year, where he will learn how to turn wheat into flour. Finally, he is to be taken to a bakery, where he will learn how to bake bread. Once all that is done, he will have far more respect for all that goes into each loaf, and hopefully will come to understand his own sins and in the process learn skills that will take away his need to steal to survive.”

The farmer frowned and crossed his arms. “You want me to take a thief into my house? What’s to stop him from stealing from me?”

“The knowledge that if he does,” Edric turned toward the wagon and raised his voice to ensure that the prisoner could hear him, “I will track him down and sever his hands.” He turned back to the farmer. “Also, you are fully authorized to put shackles around his ankles, lock him in the cellar at night, or any other measures you feel may be necessary to ensure that he does not steal from you and flee. If he disobeys or defies you, you have permission to beat him as long as you do not cause him any permanent injury.”

The farmer twisted the end of his beard between two fingers, considering it. “Interesting… Do I get paid for this?”

“Not in gold or silver,” said Edric, “But in labor. In exchange for food and lodging, you will get a laborer to work your fields, one you need not pay because it is part of his sentence that he should work for you.”

“But at the end of the year,” said the farmer, “I hafta find a mill that’ll take him in.”

“I don’t imagine it will be too difficult,” said Edric. “But, when that year is up, if he says he’d rather stay here with you, and you find that you like the work he’s done, then you are permitted to keep him here, on your farm, for as long as you and he both see fit. The way I see it, if he’s working here he’s less likely to steal again.”

The farmer pulled so hard on his beard that it appeared it might almost be about to rip right off, but then released it. “Fine. I’ll take the thief off your hands, sir…”

“Edric.”

“Sir Edric,” said the farmer.

“Much obliged,” said Sir Edric. “I feel the need to warn you, though, he is likely to run away if he gets the chance. When I caught him, he was trying to join the crew of a Shell so he could leave Eos and travel to some other world with the merchants.”

“So… definitely keep him in shackles,” said the farmer.

“At least at first,” said Edric. “It’s not difficult for me to track these fugitives down, but I prefer that there be no need.”