Untitled

Harvest

 

“Just stay awake Lance, we’re almost there.” The wheat fields were rustling in the wind, the time for harvest had passed by and left them where they stood. It was a pleasant and calm smell, but the blood still seeped through the air. “It’s just over this hill. Sister Arianne will patch you up just fine.” Farren, his horse, was winded and tired, barely putting one hoof in front of the other. He had been riding all day, but he would die if he stopped. There were no clouds in the sky that day either. The ground was so dry that every step kicked dirt into the air.

“Can you see it Lance? We’re back! We made it. I’m going to run ahead now, but I’ll be back for you.” Applewood was a remote farming town. Maybe a hundred people lived there and worked the land. When the King had raised arms against the Taul, he had taken every man and boy of age, leaving it defenseless. The elders and the women were expected to take care of the land as the men fought the war on Lhoryn land. He could still remember the day he rode out of Applewood with the militia in tow. He had promised them that they would be safe from the war.

Victoria rushed down the hill ahead of him, galloping on the stolen mare as fast as she could. She rode down without a look behind. The villagers could see them now, most likely, hopefully. When he was sure Victoria wouldn’t see him, he slumped over and rested. Farren’s mane still smelled of ash, but was soft enough.

The bandages around his body were old and covered in blood. He had taken an arrow to the calf, a hound had bit into his shield arm, and one of the slavers had broken an obsidian dagger into his back. He had vowed to safeguard everyone back, but if he had followed with them he would have succumbed to his wounds. The others would hopefully make it.

If he hadn’t been tied to his saddle he would have fallen by the time Sister Arianne rode a cart up the hill to him. Farren was grazing on the side of the path, oblivious to Lance’s condition. “Get him off that horse, quickly!” Hands quickly untied the straps holding him down. He slid off the saddle and dropped into a strong chest. The man’s great arm wrapped around him and carried him to the cart. “You take care of his horse, I shall see him to the temple.”

The reins snapped as the dull sky began to roll by again. The one armed man was riding Farren back and keeping pace with the cart. “Lance, Lance, can you hear me? Where are the others. Where are the others you said you would save? Are they alright?”

“Walking. They’re walking. I couldn’t stay with them. They should be fine…” Lance answered. A small black bird soared through the sky over him, so far away he couldn’t tell if it was a song bird or a crow.

“You mean you left them on the other side of the border?”

“Calm down, the man is nearly dead. Do you really think he had a choice?”

“Please, please just let me rest. It’s been so long since I’ve rested,” Lance pleaded with them.

“No, no resting for you, knight. Not till I’ve fixed you up. And you had best start praying to our God Huoron.”

“I think he’ll be more occupied with the others. I’m safe in your hands now, aren’t I?” Lance responded. The soft road gently rocked the cart as it rolled down the hill to the pace of the horse.

“I only have second hand learning from Master Petra. If you want to live it is my position that you should start praying.”

Lance laughed till the effort was too great. Before he knew it, he was being lifted onto a soft, cotton bed. A bottle of wine was put to his lips and the work began.

---

Two nights later the feast was held. Lance Ritter, Hero of Applewood, Knight of Lhoryn Honor, was seated just to the right of the head of the table. Franz Huor, Mayor of Applewood, sat next to him at the head of the table. Victoria Dais sat closer to the roasting hog than them, as was her due as the daughter of the local merchant. Sister Arianne was across from Lance, tending to him and Master Petra in her old age.

Wine was flowing and the roast hog was smelling up the long hall. The town had been reunited and everyone was celebrating. “To Sir Ritter! Hero of Applewood!” Franz shouted out, thrusting his drink into the air. “Hero of Applewood!” the entire village cheered. Lance smiled and lifted his own drink as high as he could before his wounds tied him back down. Everyone roared and drank as they waited for the pig to be served.

“You’re still not healed. You should not drink excessively Sir Ritter,” Sister Arriane urged as he sipped his wine.

“If I don’t drink, then who’s going to keep the pain away, you?” he replied with a lewd grin.

“I am a priestess and the one who saved your life,” she shot back, her face flushed. Franz roared in laughter, slapping Lance on the back, directly atop the stab wound. Lance groaned and rested on the table as Arianne laughed to herself.

“It was a jest, not a dick. Don’t take it so hard,” Lance replied, swirling his drink.

“Sir Ritter, you have bestowed upon us a miracle. We are at your service and you shall always be welcome. Drink and be merry till you are sated, even beyond if you want. We shall treat you until your wounds heal and you return on your path,” Franz said. He had a great smile on his face, bursting from behind his grey beard. Ages ago he had fought in the King’s Army, just as Lance had, and it had cost him his right arm.

“You should know as well as I that when you fight for the King, you don’t get to nurse your wounds. I’m more than used to riding while injured. I shant be here long. Or maybe I should milk you for all the hospitality you are worth? I would never have gone there if you hadn’t lied to me,” Lance replied, the swirling red far more interesting than the dark glare coming from Franz.

“I am sorry, you know that. It is a blight in the eyes of Huoron to lie to a knight still possessed of honor. But if I hadn’t, my people would have been killed.”

“So where did she go? Where is my son?” Lance demanded, slamming his drink on the table.

“Calm yourself, please. The people wish to see you as a hero. She and your son went to Crystal Harbor some weeks before we were attacked. I’m sure they are fine,” Franz explained. The both of them drank deeply to wash the lie away.

Sister Arianne was smoothing her robes down in preparation for the pig when the ruckus began to turn angry. Lance tried to ignore it and focus on the food he had been given. The server, a fat and happy farmer’s wife, had given him slices of the tenderloin and the cheek. It was an Applewood delicacy to baste the pig in a mulled apple vinegar as it roasts, creating strong and crispy skin that Lance found completely overpowering.

He was just about to force himself into eating it when someone started shouting, “Don’t you dare give him any!” Lance dropped the pork back down to his plate and eagerly leaned over to watch. Victoria was one of the first to jump up. She was easy to spot because her father had been able to acquire a beautiful silk dress for her from Crystal Harbor. The other women of the town were in drab weaves of cotton barely suitable to wear into the temple.

“Grudges, they never go away do they?” Franz commented. He toasted the burgeoning fight and drank. “All they ever are is a contest to see whose pecker stands taller.

“They end when one side is dead, because a dead man’s dick does not stand,” Lance said. He pushed off of the table and stood to see over the heads of the spectators.

“You going to go break that up then?” Franz asked. The two men were at each other’s throats and the townsfolk were cheering them on.

“Something like that.”

“This man is fucking scum and shouldn’t be allowed back in the village for what he did! He’s a betrayer, a back stabber, and unworthy,” the one man spat at the other. The other was cowering from him and would likely collapse if released.

“Howard, calm down, please! You’re scaring everyone. What’s done is done, you can’t change anything now,” Victoria pleaded as she tried to pull him away.

“That’s not how justice works lass. If you don’t make them pay then you don’t stop others in the future,” Howard growled back.

“Please, I had no choice! I would have died had I not helped them.”

When the war had been won by the King, it had cut off the slavers. They had a full load of chattel and nowhere to sell them. Of the forty slaves they had captured from Applewood, four volunteered to help. In exchange for keeping the others in line for the slavers, they were treated preferentially. Axel, Ben, Egon, and Oswin all betrayed the others to save themselves.

A bottle cracked on the other side of the table. Egon screamed as the broken shards were thrust into his throat. Blood sprayed across the feast table as his assailant pushed him to the ground to stab again and again before someone could pull him off the blood choked corpse. “Kill them all! They deserve to die!” the assailant roared as he was forced from the hall.

The furthest feast table was overturned as Ben and Oswin fled for their lives. Franz was pounding on the table, demanding order from the screaming chaos. “You’re killing him!” Victoria shrieked as Howard lifted Axel into the air by the neck, pressing his thumbs into his throat as Axel kicked and thrashed to escape the old farmer’s grasp. Just as Axel’s eyes started to roll back, Lance smashed the heel of his boot into Howard’s calf and dropped him to the ground.

“Drop him,” Lance commanded as he slid boot knife under Howard’s chin and grabbed him by the hair with his other hand. Howard spat on the ground and dropped Axel to the ground, gasping for air and clawing at his bruised neck. The dogs were barking and howling in the night. He almost slit the man’s throat when Axel continued trying to breathe through his crushed windpipe.

“Stop this nonsense! This is a sensible village. Bring everyone in front of me. Now,” Franz roared, pounding on the table with his tankard. Victoria was crying on the ground next to Axel.

Lance shrugged and let go of Howard, shoving him to the ground towards Franz. The men outside began to scream as Franz marched over to Howard. “Lance, you have to do something out there or they’ll kill each other!” Sister Arianne pleaded as she ran up to him.

“I’m heavily injured and unarmed. Just what do you think I can do?” Lance responded, flipping his knife around to point the handle at her.

“You’re a hero, aren’t you? You saved everyone and now you’re just going to let this happen?” Victoria asked, tears streaming down her face. She was squeezing Axel’s limp hand.

“Hero? I’m a knight,” Lance answered with a snort. “Did you know him?”

Victoria nodded and slowly set his hand back down. “He was my uncle. The only reason he became an overseer was to help me.”

“That’s what trials are for, for when there’s more to the story.”

“Howard, for the crime of murder, to which I and everyone else here is witness, I do hereby condemn you to death,” Franz announced as Sister Arianne kneeled down next to Axel. She carefully closed his eyes and straightened his body for rest, as Lance grabbed himself a drink and wandered to the door.

“But you have to understand! He was scum. He betrayed all of us. You would have condemned him to death yourself,” Howard pleaded.

“And you aren’t me. You are just a man, and now you aren’t even that. You are a wretched and cursed demon who wears the skin of a man I once called friend,” Franz said as Lance closed the door behind himself.

They had armed themselves with sickles and other tools to hunt down Ben and Oswin. Blood was in the air, stirring up the hounds. Two more men would soon have their lives ripped out and laid bare on the ground. Lance stretched and tested his shredded back as he watched the beasts of men hunt each other. Then he drank.

---

“Howard Cromwald, son of Hughes Cromwald. You are found guilty of the crime of murder against Axel Wilhart, son of David Wilhart. The punishment is death by hanging from the neck,” Franz announced as he rolled the scroll back up and set it aside. The dawn sun was deeply enriching the rolling wheat fields around the gallows. The land he and the men had fought to protect, that had sheltered a band of slavers till after the men had returned. “Sir Lance Ritter, Hero of Applewood, and myself, Franz Huor, Mayor of Applewood, both stand as witnesses to your crime and to your punishment. Do you have any last words?”

“I should have killed them before we got back to Applewood, when Sir Knight was busy dying,” Howard said just before the hangman forced a bag over his head.

Franz sighed and unrolled the next scroll. Only the families of the involved were in attendance, along with Sister Arriane. The other villagers wouldn’t have anything to do with the affair. “You’re a bastard Howard,” a man growled. He tried to step forward but Victoria tugged him back.

Franz cleared his throat and continued. “Abraham Cromwald, son of Hughes Cromwald. You are found guilty of the crimes of murdering Ben Hardwood, son of Franz Hardwood, and Oswin Kettlebock, son of Goswin Kettlebock. The punishment is death by hanging from the neck. Sir Lance Ritter, Hero of Applewood, stands as witness to your crimes. Do you have nay last words?”

“He watched me kill the two of them, and now won’t even watch me die. Some Hero,” Abraham spat before he too had a bag forced over his head. Lance glanced over his shoulder at the five men standing on the gallows. They were healthy and proud, facing their fate. Nothing compared to the sniveling cowards and deserters slowly starving to death in the wastes of the war, the ones he had been the hangman for.

Franz continued from the next scroll. “Adam Snow, son of Mark Snow. You are found guilty of the crimes of murdering Ben Hardwood, son of Franz Hardwood, and Oswin Kettlebock, son of Goswin Kettlebock. The punishment is death by hanging from the neck. Sir Lance Ritter, Hero of Applewood, stands witness to your crimes. Do you have any last words?” Adam spat and held his tongue before the hangman covered his head.

“Hughes Grimm, son of Johan Grimm. You are found guilty of the crime of murdering Egon Himmler II, son of Egon Himmler I. The punishment is death by hanging from the neck. Sir Lance Ritter, Hero of Applewood, and myself, Franz Huor, Mayor of Applewood, stand witness to your crime. Do you have any last words?” Franz asked as he rolled the last scroll up and tucked it away. When Hughes merely glared back, Franz nodded and the hangman put the last bag on. “May Huoron have mercy on you.”

“You didn’t have mercy on us,” Hughes said.

“This is the law of the realm Hughes. This is the way it must be.”

“Did you think no one knew what you did? You sold us out Franz.” Lance turned around to appraise the masked man.

“Your chance to speak your words is over,” Franz commanded as he waved for the hangman to move to the lever.

“This is all your fault Franz. I heard what the slavers spoke of. You cut a deal with them,” Hughes said.

“Stop speaking these vile lies before your death. Huoron will scorn you for such treachery,” Franz growled, stepping forward and wiping his brow. “What are you waiting for? Hang them.”

“Hold. This is justice, not cruelty Franz. Let the man say his last words, I shall hear them,” Lance said as he looked to the hangman.

“Justice is what they did to those creatures they slew!” someone jeered as Lance walked before the gallows.

“Axel was my brother and one of your best friends you monster!” the man next to Victoria shouted.

“Father please, don’t start anything more,” Victoria pleaded with him.

“Cease this. The quality of the dead is not for us to judge. We can only judge the actions of the living. These men took action of their own accord and slew their fellow man. If their actions had deserved death, justice would have been found in the eyes of everyone. What they did held no justice, but revenge. What they did was murder, and they shall be held accountable for their actions,” Lance explained.

“Thank you, Sir,” Victoria’s father mumbled as his jaw quivered and tears spilled from his eyes. Lance swept his gaze across the silent gathering, watching their eyes.

“I was drunk and angry, what I did was wrong. I acknowledge this,” Hughes announced, clearing the silence from the gathering.

“Hold your tongue or you’ll bite it off,” Franz commanded as he marched up to the gallows.

“I said I wanted to hear his words Franz,” Lance growled as he grabbed the mayor by the shoulder and pulled him back.

“And who are you to give me orders? I am the Mayor of Applewood!” Franz shouted as he smacked Lance’s arm aside.

Lance took a deep breath and looked at his arm. He snarled and lashed out, striking the back of his hand into Franz’s jaw, reeling his head around. “I don’t take orders from liars. Hold your snake tongue else I rip it out.” Shocked mutterings swirled about the gallows as Franz and Lance stared at one another.

“No one should take orders from him. He doesn’t deserve to be mayor any more. He was entrusted to protect the people of Applewood, and uphold the King’s justice. But he cut a deal with the slavers.”

“He lies! I would never do such a thing. He’s just saying this to prolong his execution,” Franz shouted, frantically looking between the gallows and the villagers.

“What evidence do you have?” Lance asked, stepping forward with his hand on the pommel of his sword.

“Just what I heard Sir Knight. I could hear the slavers talk after they let me be an overseer. It was a garbled mess of languages, they were probably shippers, no one else is fluent in ten languages but not a single one of ‘em. When I was in the war against Taul, fighting with you, I picked up some words. That, along with the Nornish they used, was enough for me to figure out a few things,” Hughes explained.

“Hughes has no ear for tongues, do not listen to these lies,” Franz insisted, grabbing onto the back of Lance’s coat.

“Didn’t any of you find it curious how they took us unawares? Thirty men, all trained for combat in the war, all caught with our breeches in knots. There should have been a night watch, but there wasn’t. We had all turned in for the harvest, and someone told every one of us that others would manage the night watch. Franz sold out the village to the slavers, he struck our guard from us and let them in. All for a sack of gold.”

“He lies. Kill him and end this wretched…” Franz growled as he struggled for words.

“What? You got something to hide Franz? I should have been on duty that night you know, and you told me to sleep,” a man shouted from the crowd.

“If what this man says is true, there will be evidence. Let him down from there till this is cleared or you will lose everyone’s trust Franz,” Sister Arianne explained as she walked up to the gallows.

“Stop,” Lance commanded as he pulled out of Franz’s grasp. “Hughes Grimm, do you have any other evidence for what you say?” he asked as he walked up the steps.

“If I did, I would have brought this up sooner than the gallows,” he answered.

“This gold you speak of, do you know where I can find it?” Lance asked as he stood in front of the condemned man.

“Afraid not, he’s smart enough to have hidden it away.”

“So the only evidence you have is hearsay?”

“Aye.”

“Do you swear on the fate of your soul that what you say is true?”

“Aye, I do.”

“Then may Houron judge you justly for it. Your words have not fallen on deaf ears. Hang them.” A moment later four ropes snapped taught as the men gasped for air, in as much torment as Axel.

“So you do believe me then? Thank the Gods,” Franz said as he watched Lance walked back down the steps. Sister Arianne was aghast, watching their legs twitch and kick.

“His words did not change the past, not even the Gods can do that. It had to be done.”

“Then what about Franz then? Did his words count for nothing?”

“If you people want anything to come of those words, you have but one course before you. Find the truth. If any of you have a problem with my actions, challenge me now, or hold your tongues.”

“Get out,” Franz commanded. “Get out of my village. I revoke our hospitality, I revoke your title. You are not welcome here any longer. You are not the Hero of Applewood.”

“I never was,” Lance said before he pushed through the silent crowd.

---

“Please, you have to come back,” Victoria said as she ran in front of Farren.

“No I don’t,” Lance replied as he guided his horse around her.

“You cannot just leave us like this.” She had to pull up the hem of her dress so she could keep pace with Farren. It was another exotic dress, Lance had seen a handful of lesser nobles wearing similar fashion during the King’s tourney.

“Where the hell does a farm girl get dresses fit for nobility? That honestly interests me more than your dung heap of a village.”

“My father is the only merchant we have. Since mother passed away he dotes on me a little. Now will you please come to your senses?”

“My senses have never been better. Do you know anything about a woman who left with a bastard son about a year after the call to arms? I’ve been looking for her because the bastard is mine.”

“I’ll tell you if you promise to help. Because I do in fact know her.”

“You know I could just force you to tell me, right?” Lance commented as he looked back across the wheat fields at Applewood, and beyond to the hilltop gallows. Sister Arianne was likely still attending to the deceased.

“You’re not that kind of man,” she declared as she grabbed Farren’s reins and stopped him.

“Says who?” he snarled as he snapped the reins from her hands.

“I could tell by how you held yourself when you gave that speech this morning. You’re a man of conviction, someone to be respected. And you hate Franz. Don’t you want to find out if he did it?” Victoria asked.

Lance stopped Farren. “Why? So I can watch him be lynched by his own people? Is that a fire?” he asked as he stared at the rising smoke from Applewood. “Ha, looks like the lynching has already started.”

“I don’t care what you or the mayor say, I know you’re a hero,” Victoria said before she took off running for the village.

Lance sighed. “Farren, talk to me. What am I supposed to do? You’re smarter than these farmers.” Farren shook his head and started walking forward, but Lance groaned and turned him around. “Animals are so much simpler.” When he finally returned to the village, everyone was pulling water from the well to throw on the burning feast hall. The roof had already collapsed onto the inferno. Screams of the trapped and dying were all that could be heard over the crackling as ash mixed with dirt in the air.

“What happened?” he asked as he dismounted.

“It was an accident I’m sure. They set up a bit of a man hunt after you left, many of them believed that not one person was on the night watch when the attack happened. I think it was the Huon lad that came forward as the night watchmen,” Master Petra said as he slowly walked up next to Lance, leaning heavily on his cane.

“Where is Franz? Was he trapped in there? Why isn’t he helping?”

“Franz? Franz you say. The Huor boy right? Last I saw he was still in the mayor’s house,” Master Petra responded as he stared blankly at the rising smoke.

“Right, you mind watching my horse for me? He’s trying to escape this hell hole because he’s smarter than I am,” Lance said as he thrust the reins into Master Petra’s skeletal hands and marched off. Several villagers shouted at him to help with the fire, but there was nothing he could do. The mayor’s house, Franz’s house, was atop the only other hill in the village and overlooked the fire in all its colors.

        “I thought I told you to leave Applewood,” Franz said as the door to his home slowly opened. The stale odor of mead wafted out with him.

“You’re busted now. No use trying to hide,” Lance responded, pushing his way in. The room was the kind of mess that a man fearing for his life would make. The hearth was smoldering darkly and hadn’t been cleaned out for days. Smoke loitered in the air, staining the windows and blackening everything else. Above the fire pit was a crude relief of Huoron, a strange chimera of deer and fish. Hardly a god worth respecting, but next to it was an old and worn greatsword. The gleam of its steel still pierced through the ashes to speak to him.

“There has been far too much blood spilt over this, and you know it as well as I do. People need to move on.”

“People need closure, an end to the lies they’ve been ensnared by. You know how it is, you’re just unhappy because they’re coming for you. Not to mention everyone loves a bit of blood sport unless you’re some kind of coward,” Lance said as he ran his finger down the edge of the greatsword.

“I’m not a coward. I made the right choice. Sacrifices have to be made,” Franz said as he stumbled forward, knocking around empty tankards scattered on the floor.

“Oh believe me I understand. Compared to what I did in the war, what you did was nothing. I’ve sent dozens if not hundreds of men to their graves. I tried to keep track, but in the mud of war, one corpse looks like another. I would have made the same choice in half the time,” Lance answered as he popped the greatsword off its hooks and took it into the air.

“Then why do you stand there and judge me? You side with all of them against me, do you not?”

“I’m not judging you. There is no judgement to be made because I already know what happened. All the men were out on the war and the slavers showed up. In exchange for not ransacking your village and killing everyone they couldn’t enslave, losing a few of their own in the process of course, they came to you for a deal. Maybe they already had someone of yours, or you are simply weak willed, but you capitulated soon enough, and helped them into the village,” Lance said.

“Weak willed? If I had rallied a militia, we would all be dead right now. You fought them yourself, you should know.” The greatsword was an old style, but well balanced and well taken care of. It would still make a fine blade if it were sharpened again. “Don’t you agree with me?”

“Oh certainly. Without proper weapons or armor the rabble of your town would have been cut apart and then this speck of a farming settlement would be gone. Would probably take months for word to reach a lord, and then it would be all too late. They would have been too much even for me except they kept sending scouts out and I kept killing them. By the time I bothered with a proper assault there were only five of them left.”

“Then tell me; what are you doing here?” Franz asked as he grabbed Lance by the breastplate.

“I’m here because the people of this village expect me to do something. They believe that it’s my duty to save them and bring justice.”

“And because of that you sit in judgment of me?”

“I sit in judgment of you not because I have the position to do so, but because I have the power to do so. The system has failed because you are the system and you will not judge yourself, so I must do so.”

“Then you’re going to kill me? Cut me down like the dogs of the Taul slavers?”

“No, of course not,” Lance said as he pushed Franz away. “They were unarmed.” He tossed Franz the greatsword and drew his own blade.

“You expect me to fight with this? It’s decades old and hasn’t been sharp for ages. It’s just an ornament, a symbol of office,” Franz said as he stumbled back, letting the tip of the greatsword flop to the ground.

“You’re the one who let it grow dull. I wouldn’t be here if you were the kind of man to keep it sharp, now would I? Now come, that is your weapon, and this is mine, but you will never be able to cut me with that," Lance said as he beckoned Franz forward. His own blade was down, leaving him exposed.

“My life is forfeit now. You’ll kill me, or the men outside will.”

“May as well find some honor then.”

Franz gritted his teeth and pulled the greatsword up in both hands. He tried to swing down in the haphazard manner of an untrained boy with a sword thrust into his hands. Lance lunged forward and lashed his hand out, catching the base of the blade and stopping it. The old steel locked into his glove, without cutting. He smirked and stabbed forward as Franz tried to fall back. The old mayor fell to his knees as the steel slid out of his abdomen. The knight met his gaze for a moment, and struck his head off.

Lance marched out of the building with the greatsword in one hand, and the head in the other. The fire had been put out, but the building had collapsed, killing those within. The men and women of Applewood were gathered in prayer around Sister Arriane. Only one person noticed his approach, Victoria, and tears were running down her face. “They killed my father Sir Ritter. They killed him in the fire.”

“Then mourn him well, and don’t look to me for help. Justice has forsaken this place,” Lance said as he tossed Franz’s head to Sister Arriane. She screamed and nearly fainted before finding her composure. Men cheered for him, others scorned him.

“Good job, you killed the bastard. I should have never doubted you,” a man said as he walked up and grabbed Lance by the shoulders with a smile.

“Take your hands off of me you cretin. You have dishonored yourself and me,” Lance said as he shoved the man back and slammed the tip of the greatsword into the ground. He let the blade stand and stepped back. “What has happened here is an abomination of justice. I killed Franz for abandoning his duty to his people, to all of you. I was forced to because in this town there is no honor, no duty, no sense of right and wrong.”

“What are you talking about? All of us knew what they did was wrong. They lied to us, abandoned us, and would have killed us,” the man said.

“You’re a monster, John! My father just tried to calm everyone down, so it wouldn’t be revenge, and you killed him!” Victoria was nearly hysterical, and no one could meet her eyes.

“No man should take justice and retribution into his own hands, that leads to nothing but blood. That is why I hung the men this morning, and why you all deserve to die as well,” Lance said, his eyes seeking out every shamed face. “Their blood is on your hands. The blood of your neighbors, your friends, your family.”

“What about you then?” The sullen eyes of shame rose together to meet him. The villagers began to huddle together and close around the outsider.

“Me? I murdered your mayor and by your laws should be hung from the neck until dead,” Lance said as he pointed to the greatsword. “I invite you all to punish me for it. Hold up the justice of Applewood. That right there is your power, and this is mine,” he said, drawing his sword. “Franz tried to kill me with that, turns out he couldn’t even cut me with it. Maybe one of you will do better, but every living being has the right to defend its own life by any means necessary.”

“But you’re a knight, you’d kill any of us who raised a blade against you. None of us stand a chance,” John said as the group forced him forward.

“Well that’s more or less correct. But not all is lost. Many of you fought in the war and have killed men before. While I am still recovering from injuries. This is as fair as you’ll ever have it.”

“Sir Ritter, please stop this. You bring blood and shame in the sight of Huoron. Do not incite any more violence, and let the healing begin,” Sister Arianne said. The crowd split apart in an instant so she could stride forward.

“You’re talking to the wrong man Sister. I’m not the one who started this, who killed old friends over new grudges,” he replied.

“You are a knight of honor. It is your duty entrusted to you by the Gods in the sight of men to do good. If you fall to sin then how can you expect anyone else to uphold honor?”

“You’re just looking for an excuse for base behavior, to blame it on someone else. Look amongst yourselves, your own number. Victoria’s father didn’t fall to petty vengeance, he stood the same as any of you, so what excuse do you have?” Lance asked. “Now challenge me or let me leave, I will never return.” He walked up to the crowd of people and watched them shrink back.

Someone reached forward and pulled the greatsword from the ground. Lance turned around to stare at the challenger. Victoria held the blade up, struggling against its weight. “What are you doing?”

“Put that down before you hurt someone,” John sneered at her. She took a deep breath and steadied her arms as she stared him down.

Lance pulled out his dagger and held it out to John. “Have fun killing each other.” Lance smirked and dropped the dagger to the ground. He turned and marched away as they tried to talk Victoria down, tried to get her to lower the sword from the killer’s throat. He ruminated on the dagger as he had left behind. The Lord that had knighted him had given it to him at the ceremony. It was meant to remind him of his duty. In all the years it had never actually drawn blood.