CHAPTER NINE: Justice of a Sort

The city's main jail, much to Carter's surprise, was located at the center of town in one of the busier commercial areas. He had thought a medieval dungeon would be located somewhere more out of the way, but after thinking about it he had to admit that it did make sense. Building the jail nearest the place where the criminals would be most likely to congregate would make the police's job of incarcerating them much easier than having to drag the caught bad guys all the way to the outskirts of town, especially since the law here didn't have any convenient squad cars to transport them in.

Carter followed the teenage guardsman into the large brick building making up the jail. At the entrance he was met by another guardsman, this one older and wearing a red sash over his jacket, most likely a way to denote his higher rank. After performing a stiff bow in greeting, the older guard led him deeper into the facility. Carter walked through several sets of corridors until they finally came to a small door. Beyond it was a spartanly-appointed office, one that held only a desk and a few chairs. Here, Reeve Lannok was seated, waiting for him.

"Ah, Ser Lee. Welcome!" Lannok stood up from the desk and gave Carter a deep bow. "I see you are looking much better. I do hope that you had a good rest. I know the accommodations were likely not what you are used to, but unfortunately, it was the best we could scrounge up at short notice."

The older man noticed that the bandages which had been around Carter's hands were gone. "Ah, you are already healed, I see. I suppose you have had a priest tend to your wounds?"

Carter looked down at his undamaged hands. "Um, yes. I did so last night." The lie tasted sour in his mouth. He hated lying to Lannok, who had been nothing but kind to him, but from the man's words, it was obvious that spontaneously healing from wounds was not a common occurrence.

"Well, Ser, you needn't have gone through all that trouble. I would have happily offered the services of good master Poxis. The gaol has a healer on staff and he would have been most honored to have treated you. If you wish, I could have him look over your healing to make sure nothing else is amiss. I can not testify as to the talent of the priest who healed you, but I can assure you that Curate Poxis is quite good at his craft and he is in excellent standing with the Benevolent Church."

"I see." Did priests in this world act as doctors and treat injuries? "I have no problem seeing him." It might be a good idea to get a checkup from the healer to make sure his injuries truly were healed.

"Excellent. It will be done." Reeve Lannok then motioned towards the door. "In the meantime, if you follow me, I shall take you to our prisoner."

Carter nodded and followed the Reeve and the older guardsman out the door. "I'm surprised you managed to catch one of them so quickly."

"Well, the man definitely made it easy for us," the Reeve said. "He made quite the scene at the Angelissa when the management there told him that this 'Laura' woman you told him to speak to didn't actually exist. We had many a witness that night to account for his description." The Reeve chuckled. "Then, the fool stopped at a tavern not two blocks away and proceeded to drink himself to a stupor. Our men found him half unconscious on the floor of the establishment."

Carter snorted in amusement.

The two men lead him past a large set of thick doors. This led to a set of stairs leading downwards. Carter and the lawmen descended two flights of steps until they reached an area that was obviously a holding pen. There were several doors made of sturdy wood and inset into the door at head height was a barred window. Inside the doors were small cells approximately eight feet by seven feet long. They were barely larger than Carter's walk-in closet at his home. The cells were lit dimly with several candles set inside sconces along the cold brick walls. Within the nearest cell, four men were waiting for them. Three of the men wore the yellow and green tabards of the city guard. The fourth man Carter recognized.

Although he was seated on an uncomfortable-looking bench against the wall of the cell, Carter could tell that his figure was tall and lanky. His long hair was a mess and his beard was stained with dry blood from a split lip. His face bore several cuts and bruises, and his rough clothing looked even more disheveled as they were wrinkled and torn in several places. It was very obvious to Carter that the guardsmen had been very rough with the man during his incarceration.

Guff looked up as Carter and the Reeve entered the cell, bloodshot, beady eyes widening upon seeing him.

"He one of them?" The Reeve asked.

Carter nodded, looking the prisoner over. "Yep. They called him Guff."

"No! The squint's crazy! I never saw him in my life!" Guff began shouting, but then one of the guardsmen next to him lashed out with a beefy fist. It connected with the lanky man's jaw, the sound of the impact loud in the small cell. Guff grunted in pain, his head knocked back by the punch. He moaned for a second before blood dribbled out of his mouth.

"You best learn to know how to address yer betters, scumshite!" The guard who struck him snarled.

Carter watched the guard casually assault Guff in front of him with a conflicted eye. As a citizen of the United States, he was well aware of what constituted police brutality. He had seen enough news videos to see what a thug with a badge and a little bit of authority could do when he thought he could get away with it. Punching an unresisting prisoner in the face was definitely over the line. And yet… he wasn't in America right now, was he? This wasn't the 21st-century USA he was familiar with, where both law and society would condemn such acts as abhorrent. This was a completely different country in a completely different world. Should he judge these people's actions the same way he would judge a regular person from his own world?

Then, a flash of memory entered his mind, and all sympathy for the man before him vanished in an instant. He remembered Tessi and Bralo Morrassin's desiccated corpses; remembered the role Guff had played in their horrifying ends. He remembered Weasel's words, as the man bragged about what they had done to them.

"Are you certain, Ser Lee?" Lannok asked, all but ignoring the brutal assault on his prisoner.

"Yes, I'd recognize one of those bastards anywhere," Carter told him.

The Reeve nodded. He then turned to Guff and leaned closer to the bandit. The older man's bearded face looked satisfied, his lips twisting upwards in a sardonic grin. "Well, there we have it. You know what's in store for you now, don't you, Mr. Guff? Punishment for theft is the removal of a finger. With all the things you've stolen, something tells me you won't have that many left when all is said and done."

Guff flinched and the Reeve leaned even closer. "The punishment for rape is castration. I'm sure someone in your line of work has heard of the little tool we use to perform such punishments, eh? It's a novel machine invented in Dralov. We wrap these little hooked chains around you, nice and tight, then clip the chains to weights on the other end of the machine. Flick the switch, the weights come down, and POP! It twists you right off!" He and the guards began to laugh. "The folks in Dralov are a strange bunch, but they are quite inventive. Wouldn't you say? Especially when it comes to instruments of torture."

Guff was weeping now, his sad pathetic sobs shaking his thin shoulders. The Reeve's deranged grin disappeared and a stiff, serious look appeared on his face. "And then, we come to the last. Punishment for murder. Usually, it would be a simple hanging. But, because of all the other unpleasant activities you were involved with… well, that makes you a very special case. Do you know what we do to special cases?"

The Reeve waited for Guff to answer, but the bandit looked like he was too busy soiling himself to do so. "Well, we have this special machine, you see." He looked back at Carter and mimed surprise. "Oh! But where are my manners? We are in the presence of a Gentleman. I'll spare you the details." He suddenly narrowed his eyes at Guff, a sinister grin appearing on his lips. "Just know that the machine hails from Dralov, as well."

Guff whimpered.

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"All that awaits you, Mr. Guff. Unless, of course, you cooperate." Lannok leaned back and crossed his arms. "Prisoners who cooperate with us show me that they are repentant of their heinous actions. Repentant prisoners get mercy. Now, if you were smart, you'd tell us where the rest of your confederates are. Right now."

Guff looked pale, snot and tears covering his sorry face. He seemed ready to squeal, but at the last moment, some measure of steel set up within him. Whether it was loyalty to his cohorts, fear of his leader, or just plain old stupid bravery, Carter couldn't tell. But Guff clammed up real quick and shook his head.

"I-I swear, milord! I'm tellin' you the truth! I'm innocent!" The man cried.

Lannok sighed, his mouth grimacing in disgust. "Still want to sing that song, do you? Fine, then. We'll see what you have to say after a few hours in Mr. Griddey's tender care." He patted the large, muscular guard who had struck Guff earlier.

Griddey grinned sadistically, showing off crooked yellow teeth.

"N-no! Please, Ser! I don't know nothing! I swear!"

The Reeve had already turned away from the cowering man, then motioned for Carter to leave the cell. "Now then, Ser Lee. Shall we get your injuries seen to?"

As soon as he and Lannok exited the cell, there was a loud thud followed by Guff's pained cry.

"Sure. Sounds good," Carter told him.

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"Amazing," said the portly man in beige robes as he examined Carter's hands. "Whoever healed you, good Ser, is most definitely an expert. He sealed up the cuts so quickly, and with so little scarring! Usually, such work would take two or three rituals to complete!"

Curate Poxis was the healer assigned to the gaol by the Church and used his knowledge and abilities to attend to both prisoners and members of the guard. He had his office on the first floor of the building, the room filled with comfortable furniture as well as books and equipment that aided him in his job. Reeve Lannok had taken Carter here to have his recently healed injuries checked on, whereupon the Curate became quickly excited.

"Please, Ser, you must introduce me to the one who did such a wonderful job," Poxis begged. "I would love to exchange information with such an expert in the field."

"Um, well," Carter blanched. He really had no name to give him since the injuries had healed on their own. Telling the truth now would only lead to bigger questions being asked, and something told him that Curate Poxis was the type to poke and prod along with questioning. So he lied. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I forgot his name. He was a priest, a patron at my inn who was just about to leave when he saw my injuries and offered his help. I think he left last night as soon as he healed me."

Poxis looked disappointed. "Oh, pooh. I really wanted to speak with him. Tell me, what did he look like? Age, height, weight? Please be as descriptive as you can!" The priest pulled out a notepad and paper from within his robes.

"Um…"

"Curate, please!" Reeve Lannok interjected. "The Gentleman is a busy man, he has other more important matters to attend to!"

Poxis shrugged, putting away his notes. "I suppose. Alas, my curiosity must remain unfulfilled."

"Sorry," Carter muttered.

"Thank you very much for your time, Curate," Lannok said as he began to lead Carter towards the exit. "Please return to your duties."

The priest bowed low as he and Carter left the office.

"Please excuse Master Poxis," the Reeve said as soon as the door of the Curate's office closed. "He is a very talented healer, but tends to let his, er, enthusiasm get the better of him."

"It's alright," Carter told him. "I don't mind."

Suddenly, a loud, pained wail erupted from a nearby room. The agony and despair within the scream caused Carter to flinch. Lannok looked towards the door that the noise had originated from and shook his head sadly.

"That's the door to the morgue," the Reeve told him. "We transferred the Morrassin's bodies there last night. We called Denton Morrassin this morning to identify them for us. Denton, he's the eldest son of the family. Poor lad. Lost his father last week, and now finds out his mother and younger brother are also dead. Terrible, simply terrible."

The door to the morgue suddenly opened and a young man emerged. He was in his early twenties, with brown hair and dark blue eyes. The resemblance to his brother was uncanny, as Carter thought he looked like an older version of Bralo. The young man looked shaken, his shoulders trembling and his face wet with tears. He glanced around before spotting the Reeve and Carter standing in the hallway nearby.

"I…" Denton started, but a sob broke out, swallowing his words. The distraught young man quickly rushed away, heading down the hall and towards the exit.

"Simply terrible," Reeve Lannok repeated as he watched Denton go.

Carter could only agree in silence.

After a few moments to collect themselves, the Reeve led Carter to the jail's entrance. They were met by the same teenage guardsman that had escorted Carter there earlier in the day.

"Ah, good. There you are, Rann," said Lannok. "Ser, this is Guardsman Second Class Tonval Rann. He'll be your escort while you're here in Culvert's Rock."

Carter looked surprised. "Escort?"

The Reeve nodded. "Yes. You are still my guest, as well as a witness against those bandits. Until they are all caught, your safety is one of my prime concerns. Rann here may be young, but he is one of my best men."

Rann turned red, obviously happy to hear such praise.

"I assume you wish to head to the capital," Lannok said to Carter.

"The capital?"

The Reeve nodded. "Yes. To see the Lacotia embassy. I suppose you wish to inform your government of the sad affairs of your abduction, as well as the death of your entourage. It shames me that such a grievous event happened on my doorstep, but I assure you and your nation that we in Culvert's Rock do not take such things lightly. Those ruffians will be caught, I give you my word."

Carter nodded. "I'm sure you will succeed."

"Thank you. In the meantime, I must ask you to remain in the city until they are. You are our only witness, after all, and only you can identify these men."

Carter nodded. "Of course. I'm in no hurry to get to the capital; I can wait." The truth was, he had no intention of going to the Lacotian embassy at all. Not only was he not Lacotian, but visiting them would ruin his fake identity as a Lacotian "Gentleman," which was something he couldn't afford to do. It was too useful a disguise.

Lannok looked relieved. "I once again thank you, Ser, for your cooperation. I know you must have business elsewhere. Many in your station would not opt to aid us in such matters as trivial as this, so you have my sincerest thanks."

"It's quite alright, Reeve Lannok," Carter smiled. "I'm just glad to help."

The Reeve bowed low again. "Excellent! Well, where are you off to now, Ser? If you're hungry, I can recommend some excellent restaurants in the Merchant's Quarter."

"Oh. Thanks, but I'm not hungry." He was still full from the meal he had at the inn earlier. What he really needed was some supplies and identification. He needed more clothes as he couldn't just keep wearing his suit everywhere; that would just end up ruining them, and he needed the outfit to keep up his disguise as an aristocrat. He also needed some official documentation; somehow he doubted the driver's license in his wallet would be taken as proof of his identity around here.

"Actually, Reeve, I need to go shop for the things I lost during the attack. Clothing, supplies, and all that," Carter said. "Also, is there anywhere I can go to get some documentation for myself? I'm afraid the bandits destroyed all my official paperwork."

"Ah yes, I can see why you would be concerned." The Reeve rubbed his beard as he thought for a moment. "Well, the embassy at the capital is the only place I know of where you can replace your authentic credentials. But as for right now I can write up an official letter recognizing you as Ser Carter Lee, Gentleman of Lacotia. It will work anywhere within the city and surrounding areas and should get you inside the capital with no problem."

"That sounds great!" Carter told him.

"Excellent. I'll have the letter written up and delivered to your lodgings before tonight. As for replacing your supplies, I suggest perusing the shops at Finan's Circle in the Merchant's Quarter." Lannok turned to Rann. "Can you show him the way there?"

The young man smiled. "Of course, Reeve! I know this city like the back of my hand!"

"Good lad!" Lannok smiled before turning to Carter. "Was there anything else you needed, Ser Lee?"

"Uh, no. That was it. Thank you, again. You've been a great help." Carter smiled and held out his hand.

The Reeve looked surprised at the gesture. He quickly took Carter's hand and shook it, his grip firm and tight. "It's the least I can do, Ser Lee! Please, enjoy your time at Culvert's Rock! The greatest city in the Western Empire, if I do say so myself!"

And so Carter's second day in an alien world continued…