The prisoners formed a line before the stone circle. The child farthest to the right was brought out to the front. He seemed fearful, though he didn’t shed a tear. No doubt this was what was expected of a great lord’s son, and I was impressed. How would I have fared at his age? I’d been quite the brat, so if I had been in his shoes, I was sure I would have been bawling my eyes out, rolling and kicking on the ground.
A bearded man behind Thret whispered something in his ear. The lord silently shook his head, and the man backed off. Then, Thret drew his sword and assumed a stance, his face expressionless.
The onlookers waited for what was to come, all eyes gathered on the two brothers in the center of the stone circle. With his overseers thus distracted, an elderly man escaped from the line and leapt forward, hands still bound. He was quickly seized and thrown to the ground, but even then, he attempted to crawl to Thret.
“Lord Thret! Lord of Kerulgarz! Our merciful lord!” he pleaded. “Harlest is innocent! We propped him up and put words in his mouth! The responsibility lies with me! Please, I beg you, spare my grandson—spare your brother!”
Here was the ringleader, an influential lesser lord who had put his grandson on a pedestal and raised a flag of rebellion. Everyone returned their gaze to Thret, wondering how he would react.
“Silence, impudent fool!” Thret exploded, then launched a powerful kick into the face of the man who groveled at his feet. “Do you think that will work on me, after all you’ve done? If you had won, did you have any intention of sparing my life?”
Thret’s face conveyed a terrible mix of sorrow and wrath.
“O-of course, I—”
“Why did you raise an army without one word to me? Why spread vile rumors that I’d poisoned Worren?!”
Just as the prisoner opened his mouth to justify himself, Thret kicked him in the stomach, causing him to choke. Still, he continued to speak through all his coughing.
“Y-Your Excellency… Please… Sh-show mercy. Your hands must not be sullied with the blood of your own. This is the final advice from someone bound for the grave…”
“As if you have any right to advise me! Whose fault do you think all this is?”
Smacked by the flat of Thret’s sword, the old man’s jaw shattered. Now he could no longer protest nor even make meaningful sounds.
“This one hangs. He doesn’t deserve the Garden of Warriors.”
Thret pointed toward the stables, and the prisoner’s face went pale. The castle servants scrambled into action, swiftly preparing a platform of wood and lashing a rope to the stable’s eaves. When the impromptu gallows was ready, soldiers dragged the struggling old man toward it.
“No, not yet.” Thret’s voice was cold as ice, and he looked to the skies for a moment. “He must first witness the conclusion of what he’s wrought.”
By the time Thret’s eyes returned to his young brother, he had stifled his emotions once more. “It’s time,” he said softly, holding his sword aloft.
Harlest looked him in the eye. “I won’t resent you,” he said. With that, he bowed his head, presenting his neck. The six-year-old was surely trying to be as dignified as he could, and considerate toward his older brother.
How foolish, I thought. It’s going to have the opposite effect.
Thret was frozen now, tears in his eyes.
In the corner of my eye, I could see the bearded man from before approaching Thret with a hand on his hilt. There was no way around it; I would have to play the villain. I extended a spear of light to keep the bearded man where he was. He looked at me as though he wanted to say something, but I shook my head and urged him to stand down. Then I turned to Thret.
“Sir… You’re keeping them waiting.”
Thret could have left this to his court executioner from the start, but now that he had already drawn his own sword, he could no longer back down from his duty. He glared at me through teary eyes. I know, his expression seemed to say. Then he dropped his gaze and took the swing. It was a clean cut. With a powerful slash like that, he wouldn’t have given his little brother a second in which to feel pain.
The rest of the prisoners were then dragged before Thret in turn and executed without further incident. Meanwhile, a single body swayed from the eaves of the nearby stables.
The bloodstained ceremony transitioned into a banquet. A fire was lit in the center of the castle’s grand hall, and a large cow was roasted whole upon it. Chicken, pork, venison, and wild boar dishes covered the tables, which were arranged in a circle around the fire, and there were heaps of apples, grapes, and some fruits I’d never seen before. There weren’t any chairs, and the feast was held buffet style.
Wine barrels filled the spaces between the tables, around which gathered the lesser lords and their attending subjects. All the feast’s participants seemed overtaken with the urge to drink themselves out of their minds.
Thret stood before the flames, a drinking horn in hand, and spoke some opening words.
“Gentlemen… The battle is over! We’ve all shed blood, and many courageous warriors have fallen, but now we move forward. Meager as it is, I’ve modeled this banquet after the feasts in the Garden of Warriors. In that garden, we are not divided into friend and foe. It is said that there, fallen warriors laud each other’s exploits while enjoying endless feasts.”
I figured the Garden of Warriors he referred to was something akin to Valhalla.
“Tonight, think of this hall as the realm of the dead! Wash the grudges away with ale, and pray they don’t follow you back to the mortal plane. We are whole once more!”