With our mission completed, we returned to the guard station, then finished giving our report to Commander Bolton in his office.
“I see. So the Ninth ended up killing off the men they chased, huh...” The commander let out a sigh upon hearing that bit of information. “For cryin’ out loud... I said to arrest ’em. Did a battle break out or somethin’?”
“Not at all. The men who surrendered were slain on my orders.”
“What?”
“Criminals like them do nothing but disturb the public order of the royal capital. There is no reason for us to let them live.”
For just a moment, Commander Bolton looked absolutely dumbfounded. He probably hadn’t expected that kind of rebuttal. However, he quickly regained his composure.
“You don’t get to make that decision. Neither do I. The law does that,” he countered in a stern tone. “And remember, this city’s pretty much half hooligans to begin with. If we started legalizing vigilante killings, we’d lose what little order we have here.”
The commander then turned to look at the other members of the Ninth behind Leobolt. “And what the hell were you guys thinking? You didn’t think twice when Leobolt said he wanted to kill a bunch of guys who had surrendered and weren’t putting up any kind of fight?”
“No, we...”
“Lemme guess, you didn’t feel like you could go against your sergeant’s orders, right? For cryin’ out loud, if someone’s asking you to do something excessive, you gotta put your foot down—commanding officer or not!”
“You’re misunderstanding, sir,” the men of the Ninth responded. “We actually agree with Sergeant Leobolt’s line of thinking.”
“Huh?”
The ash at the tip of Commander Bolton’s cigar dropped impotently to the ground.
As the men of the Ninth stood there stoically, Leobolt spoke up.
“Commander, may I make a suggestion?”
“What is it...?”
“I’ve heard there is a prison here in the royal capital that holds criminals. From what I understand, several hundred prisoners are incarcerated there.”
“And what of it?”
“Why not execute them all?”
The instant he said those words, a chilling silence fell across the room. All of us, including the direct recipient of the suggestion, were completely aghast.
“Whoa, slow down there, pal. What are you talking about...?” the commander asked.
Leobolt had spoken in a gentle tone, yet the words that had come out of his mouth were beyond cruel. Our dubious stares did nothing to break his cool, composed demeanor.
“Think about it for a moment. Whose money is being used to guarantee meals for those prisoners? It comes from the taxes paid by the people of the royal capital, does it not?”
“Yeah, that’s right...”
“We are using taxes paid by honest people who have committed no crimes to feed dishonest criminals. Do you not find that strange?” Leobolt pointed out in earnest.
“So you’re saying we should just execute ’em all?”
“Yes. Doing so would benefit the capital as a whole. If the tax money used to support them was freed up, it could even be reallocated to the Guard Corps. Not only would it serve to increase motivation for our guards, we might also be able to attract more skilled personnel. In turn, I believe that would benefit the citizenry at large as well.”
“I get your point,” Commander Bolton said with a nod. “You might be right about all that stuff.”
“You see? In that case—”
“But there’s no way in hell we’re doin’ it.”
Leobolt’s eyes widened in astonishment.
After summarily cutting him off at the knees, the commander put out his cigar in his ashtray and brought a fresh one up to his mouth.
As an extended jet of smoke blew outward, Leobolt frowned in annoyance. Then, making an effort to suppress all emotion in his voice, he inquired in a low tone: “May I ask why...?”
“First of all, I don’t have the right to make that call. I’m Commander of the Guard Corps—my command starts and stops at ordering my men around. What, you think I can just blow a whistle and order the execution of every prisoner in the capital?”
“Then perhaps you could discuss it with the higher-ups?”
“Sorry to break it to ya, but I’m not gonna do that either. Reason being, I don’t agree with your line of thinking.”
“Are you saying my idea is flawed...?” Leobolt asked sharply. His voice was full of obvious displeasure.
Commander Bolton smiled, giving Leobolt the kind of look one would give a rebellious child. “Hey, Leobolt. Tell me, what do you think the point of prisons are?”
“To take criminals off the streets, and to restrict their freedoms.”
“Yeah, those are two things. There’s one more reason we have prisons, though: to rehabilitate criminals so they don’t become repeat offenders,” the commander said. “Obviously, the guys who commit the worst crimes don’t get that option. They get the punishment they deserve: execution. But for the ones with lighter offenses, we should give ’em a chance to fix themselves up. It’ll be better for the capital in the long run if those rehabilitated types get released and manage to find jobs here.”
“And that’s why you think we should let them live?”
“You got it.”
Upon hearing that reply, Leobolt spoke out in protest. “I don’t believe there is any need to give second opportunities to those who have committed crimes. They have lived their lives without ever putting forth any honest efforts. Many of them will most likely return to a life of crime if they are released from prison. And even if some are successfully rehabilitated, any profit they bring to the capital would be quite negligible—hardly sufficient recompense for the expenses paid. It would be even better for the capital to put the money spent on prisoners toward a more effective purpose. Our limited resources should be allocated more wisely.”
“Ah, I see. I follow your train of thought now,” Commander Bolton said, then let out a long sigh. “Leobolt, you are a talented man, without a doubt. You’re sharp as a tack and strong as an ox. I bet you wouldn’t have a hard time doing any job you set your mind to. Heck, you’re already an indispensable part of our forces here in the Guard Corps. The people of the city really love having you around too.”
“Thank you for saying so.”
“But you know, when it comes to life circumstances and inborn talent, not everybody in the world pulled quite as good a hand as you did.”
“What exactly are you trying to say...?”
“I’m sayin’ it couldn’t hurt for you to be a little more forgiving toward others,” the commander said. “Long as they didn’t commit some fatal mistake, they should get a chance to start over. The world’s a healthier place when even the people who screw up can live out their lives, right?” A relaxed smile appeared on his face. “Keep in mind there are more people out there who’ve screwed up than people who haven’t. You’re gonna have a hard time in life yourself if you can’t forgive the little things.”
Standing up from his seat, Commander Bolton walked over to Leobolt, who squinted and tensed his face, but the commander merely gave the stiffened man a lone pat on the back to send him off.
“Good effort out there on your mission today. Go get a nice, long rest.”
With those words, he crossed in front of the rest of us and left his office.
Leobolt sat there staring intently at the commander’s back as he left. He just kept on staring, even after the door had closed and Bolton was long out of sight.