Chapter 146
The Regrets of Childhood's End
While Merida was fuming on the other side of the door, one of the Dark Elves waiting outside noticed a familiar figure sitting on a wooden box, her face slightly sickly. In her hand was a half-drunk mug of wine to stave off the cold.
Arryn, why are you here? You still haven’t recovered from your earlier mission.
The False-Tongue commanded it. The Dark Elf slowly moved her fingers in gesture. She said that I must regain the trust of the Bone Eater if I want to live.
That’s bullshit. We all know that that mission is a suicide mission anyway. The fact that you and Leyn managed to return to us is already a miracle.
Doesn’t matter. She’s always wanted me dead because other than her daughter, I was the only one with the bloodline of the Chief.
Another Dark Elf tapped on both of their shoulders and gestured while shrugging. At least dying on the battlefield is better than being eaten by the Demons.
This sobering idea quickly put a damper in the room. But they all knew that it was a real possibility. Seeing this, Arryn smiled and gave the two Dark Elves a reassuring pat on the back.
Rest up so that we can do our job tomorrow. We’ll share my hidden stash of liquor after this mission.
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Anticipation. Hope. Anger. Happiness. Sadness. Impatience.
Today, Greyvault was a cauldron of such emotions. And though it was a macabre event, stalls had been set and the whole city was in a festive mood. The smell of baked goods and sweets filled the main street. For many, this was an occasion.
And for some, it was more complicated.
While Harrison was making his round to ensure everything went smoothly, she spotted Jack’s wife standing in front of the hanging platform. Her son was leaning against his mother’s stout legs. He was clearly bored and cranky, yet his mother did not budge. The two had stood where they were since morning.
Harrison tried to coax her to take a rest, if not for him, then for her son. Her answer was, “Today my husband’s killer is going to hang. He will see the end of the man who took away his father.”
Seeing the stout refusal of the woman to relent, the man ruffled the hair of his old friend’s son and set off. He then told his aide to buy them something to eat.
“At last. Today…we can leave our suffering behind us.”
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When it was nearing noon, The people slowly began to gather in front of the hanging platform.
Connie walked onto the raised stage amongst the murmur of the crowd. Each creaking of the wooden steps of the hanging platform beneath her shoes made their anticipation grow stronger. Once she reached the top, she placed her arms behind her back and greeted the townspeople.
“Good morning, people of Greyvault. Today, I will not speak too much. For today is not my day. Today belongs to you, the people,” she began. “for on this day, we will sentence the men that had taken advantage of your for too long, to their deaths.”
She then bellowed. “Bring up the condemned!”
Moments later, two men whose faces had become the nightmares of the people were taken onto the platform, escorted by two stern-faced men. They were led by Martell, who was in his best clothes today.
Their limbs were bound with thick iron that forced their arms to hand loosely from their shoulders. They were both clothed in simple clothes made of rough hemp.
The moment the people laid their eyes onto them, shouts of profanities, hate-filled screams, and sobs of sorrow filled the square. Some people began to lose their emotions and started to push towards them. Thankfully, members of the Town’s Guards were ready to stop them from advancing.
Martell led them to the noose, his face did not budge even as they begged for their life. He had heard them many times and had grown weary of it.
Martell had taught Connie the proper procedure for the hanging. She followed his instructions and asked them if they had any last words.
“Please! It’s not my fault!” Jeremy Hills begged. Snot and tears dirtying his face.
As for James, in despair, he let loose all his hate and anger towards the townspeople and the girl who had taken everything away from him. “How dare you jeer at me, you lowborn shits!” James Hordin screamed. “I curse you! You little bitch!! You whore!!”
Connie did not grow angry from such name-calling and simply sighed. After this, she was supposed to recite the text written by the officials of centuries ago just for such an occasion. But she chose to forego it.
And the words that she said after that would stay in the minds of the townspeople and become a curse that would be used to scare children long after.
“You will hang today for your sins and wrongdoing. For the lives that you had taken, and the dreams that you have shattered,” Connie spoke. Her voice was cold and emotionless. “I have prepared for you the coffin in which your body shall be buried. And in the darkness, the worms shall feast on your rotting body. The people will remember you, but no tears shall be shed for you. None shall grieve your passing, and none shall pray for your soul.”
Nick and Davis walked over to the criminals; put a shroud of black onto their heads and tightened the nooses on their neck.
“For indeed, you are nothing. And you will return to nothing.”
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Connie glanced at the sun glaring at them from above, then nodded at Nick.
The scruffy man pulled a simple lever and a trap door opened under their feet. Their fall was clean and their death happened within seconds. Seeing this, the people cheered.
Connie watched the process with mild interest before taking her leave of them.
For today, the day belonged to the people.
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After the execution was over. The cleanup was given over to Harrison and his people. As for Connie, she was having lunch with her companions in a tavern which she had rented for the afternoon. For she was tired of all the attention she was getting.
The wine was weak and watered, but the meat stew was warm and hearty.
“I’ve never actually seen a hanging before. Not even in my old life,” Connie said as she spooned the stew into her mouth.
“You haven’t? I thought you’ve lived long enough to see most things,” Illumca said.
“Our type of justice was usually executed through a swift separation of the body and the head. Because most Cultivators, even if they can’t fly, they can still float.”
“Hm, well…hanging might not be fast or glamorous, but it does have drama. I’ve read that deserter from the army were usually hanged and left to the elements for weeks as a show of force.”
“That they did. The Frontlines is not for traitors and weak-hearted men,” Nick said.
“We don’t do hanging in the Grasslands. Heads on spikes are the best way to show force,” Akula joined in.
Nick tilted his body sideways as he looked at the Centaur. “You say you want to be a hero, but you are surprisingly morbid.”
Akula looked back at him as she folded her hand together. “The best way to prevent further evildoing is to stop evildoers from doing evil, no? It’s simple.”
Connie chuckled at this gory verbal exchange between the two very different people when a female Beastfolk came before her. She had never seen this person before and was quite wary.
“Good afternoon, Lady Steelheart. If I may,” the Beastfolk curtsied while holding the edges of her coat. She had a grace that did not fit her rough exterior. “My name is Henri-Artur.”
“Oh, it’s you!” Martell exclaimed. “Where have you been? You kind of left in the middle of everything.”
“A Minstrel has a lot of things to do,” the odd-eared Beastfolk smiled. “As it so happens, I am here because have information…about the people after you.”
Connie's eyes narrowed and she put her spoon down. "Elaborate."
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After some time, the self-proclaimed Minstrel finished telling them what she had and was now being eyed with suspicion by Connie.
“How do you know this?”
“Let’s just say that as a Minstrel, one needs to be more resourceful than others. I have certain Skills that had helped me survive this long.”
“Hmm…you just happen to help the Resistance. Then you just happen to help my companions. And now you just happen to overhear about a plan to assassinate me?” Connie steepled her hand together. “How convenient.”
The two were smiling, but their eyes, locked onto each other without moving, showed otherwise. “I understand your skepticism. But I assure you, I have nothing to gain from tricking you. In fact, you may take my life if you find me lying!”
“…what?” Nick exclaimed after a sharp intake of breath.
“Yes, you may burn me, behead me, ooh…perhaps hanging?”
Connie pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “Why are the people around me all so…abnormal?”
“Pot, meet kettle,” Illumca commented. “But if she is right, then we might be able to get this over with fast.”
“Correct, however…you might find that fighting them will be hard for you.”
“What do you mean?” Illumca asked.
“You’ll see,” the Beastfolk answer was cryptic.
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The night grew dark, but the festivities in the square had not died down. A large bonfire had been made before the hanging platform. Men and women were dancing around it, the smell of ale and roasted meat filling the air.
Connie was enjoying the night air with a cup of wine in her hand in the same tavern she rented that afternoon, away from the crowd. The tavern owner had been told to leave his place of work for the night.
She took a slice of hard cheese from the plate before her and took a bite, letting the sharp tang of the cheese to linger on her tongue. Cheese was a peculiar food that she had started to grow a liking to. She never even thought that milk could turn into something so different in shape and texture.
As she was enjoying herself, she suddenly raised her cup and spoke loudly. “Why don’t you all come out and join me?”
Figures clad in black came out of the shadows. The dull glint of weapons reflected the small candlelight by Connie’s side, the only source of light in the tavern.
With a signal from the figure standing behind them, the shadows wordlessly attacked Connie.
However, she deftly evaded each attack, all while taking bites of her cheese.
One of them slashed at her with a short sword, but she leaned back while hooking the attacker’s leg with her foot, tripping him. In one smooth move, she jumped over the shoulder of another and landed gently on the table. One hand on her cheek.
“You know, this ambush does not have the same meticulousness I saw in the Greyrats’ organization. This is sloppy. Hurried. Unfinished.”
Seeing that they were losing even with an ambush, the Assassins hesitated to move.
“Or perhaps the strategist and the executor are different people?” the edge of Connie’s lip curved slightly before turning into a frown. “Well, enough games. Let’s see if you can dance in the darkness.”
With that, Connie blew the candle out.
“By the way, I can’t see in the dark. So, this is your chance to off me,” a burst of bright laughter seemed to bounce from everywhere.
The Assassins did not waste a chance and quickly attacked where Connie was, but their swords met with steel.
Then, a childish voice rung from above them, and a pair of eyes the color of unripe hazelnut opened and saw them, clear as day.
“My Mistress can’t,” Martell said. There was then a muffled scream and the sound of steel cutting flesh. “But I can.”
There was a muffled scream and the sound of a body falling.
Seeing that the situation was already hopeless, the Assassin who was leading the charge quickly made a decision and kicked the tavern door open and let the light in. Quickly the Assassin made a hoarse cry and gestured roughly with both hands. As soon as they saw that, the rest of the Assassins scattered.
“What a spoilsport,” Martell complained with an exaggerated groan.
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With difficulty, Arryn managed to get out of the tavern safely. But when she turned around, she saw two of her men being struck down by a Centaur in a blue coat. Another was being crushed by a shield coming down from above.
Shit, they are destroying us! She thought. She cursed bitterly at the irony of being ambushed by the ones they were supposed to ambush.
Despite this, she knew that at least one of them had to return. Arryn then made her way across Greyvault, jumping from rooftops to rooftops.
Suddenly, she saw a flaming butterfly flapping its wings right next to her. It then exploded with a loud sound. The blast threw Arryn barreling down the roof, onto a balcony, and down onto the streets.
“Cough!” Arryn felt her insides shake. The wound she had suffered from the infiltration mission to Courandhel opened from the shock, and blood quickly seeped out from her shoulder. She struggled to get up. But before he managed to do so, she heard a shout.
“Fireball!”
Another butterfly appeared before her, and she quickly jumped back. The blast, however, propelled her back and made her roll a few meters away.
“Gagh!” Arryn felt her bones creaking. An ember had caused her mask to catch on fire and she quickly discarded it. It was then that she heard a shout that caused her heart to tremble.
“Arryn!!”
The Dark Elf Illumca walked slowly towards her while being surrounded by crimson butterflies, illuminating her body. Her every step echoed in the empty street.
“Are you going to abandon them? Arryn?!” Illumca bellowed while she threw fireballs after fireballs at her. “Are you going to scamper away with your tail between your legs, like that time when you turn away from me?!”
Arryn hid behind a parked wagon but was immediately routed out as Illumca cast a Firewall Spell that threatened to fry her whole.
“We were sisters once! And now look at you! Running away in shame! Have you no words to say to me, you coward?!”
Illumca? Is it possible? No…there was no other explanation. Why else would she call me with such pain?
Arryn could not utter a word, for her tongue had been cut. Even if she could, she would not know what to say.
Any attempt at reconciliation was futile now. The words that should have been said went unsaid. And Arryn knew that it was far too late to make amends.
But she had to protect the Clan, even if she had to dirty herself. It was her father’s dying wish.
She had to fight.