His words did nothing to slow the momentum of what was about to happen.
Would amagviswatch, or would she close her eyes?
If I watched, I would probably faint, and that was definitely something themagviswouldn’t do.
The masked guard raised the ax, lined it up with the man’s wrist, and swung. I shifted my eyes to my feet. Heard the impact. Saw the spray of blood.
There was silence for a moment, and then came the same kind of soul-churning screams I’d heard day after day with Koerlyn. Nausea hit, and I fought it down, even as the noises continued. This man deserved this. I couldn’t lose it.
There was another thud. Another spray of blood.
And the screams got louder before they abruptly stopped after the crack of a fist on bone.
“Remove him and the hands and send in the next,” Harthon calmly directed, and I looked at him. The cold smile was gone, but he appeared completely unphased, his body relaxed.
When he wasn’t fighting any enemies, it was easy to forget that he was…ruthless. There was a reason he had such a fearsome reputation, and it wasn’t due to exaggeration.
The man deserved it, I reminded myself, glancing at the blood covering the ground before setting my eyes on those opening doors.
Hopefully, the next man wouldn’t.
The next person to enter, though, wasn’t a man at all. It was a middle-aged woman wearing a stained burlap dress and a white kerchief in her hair, her blue eyes so wide with fear that I could see them from where I sat. She cradled a sleeping baby in one hand, while her other held the hand of a toddler. The little boy, not older than three, struggled to keep up with her pace, his oversized tunic dragging on the floor and tripping his feet every few steps.
Her hurried steps hitched as she took in the pool of blood, but she continued forward, her hand white with strain around the child’s hand. She stopped just short of the blood and bowed.
Considering the lack of chains and guards, it was safe to assume she wasn’t a criminal, but rather someone hoping to appeal a dispute.
Thank the Domus.
“Bow,” she whispered to the toddler. Clueless, he stuck his free hand in his mouth and looked around.
“Bow. Just like we practiced,” she said with a little more force, and the boy finally caught on and slung his head down.
“State your matter,” Harthon ordered. He addressed her with the same tone as he had the criminal, as if there was no difference between the two.
The boy kept his head down, like he intended to bow forever, while the woman slowly lifted her chin. Her face was tired and drawn, and her chin trembled with nerves before she forcibly set it, steeling herself.
Still, her voice shook. “Princeps, I am seeking your pardon for a fine that I cannot afford,” she forced out, meeting his eyes for only a moment before staring at his feet.
“And what is the fine for?”
Her throat rolled over a nervous swallow. “I didn’t pay last year’s taxes. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I couldn’t.”
“So you have yet to pay both last year’s taxes and your current fine.”
Her skin paled a shade at his hard statement, but she nodded shakily.
“Do you know why we require taxes?” Harthon articulated carefully.
“For protection and the state of the Territory, Princeps.”
“Do you think these things are important?”
Her lip wobbled just as her baby shifted, those little hands curling into her burlap neckline. “Yes, of course, Princeps.” Her voice had grown quiet.
“Then only a very, very good circumstance could be considered an acceptable reason to neglect your civil responsibilities. State your reason.”
For her sake, I prayed to the skies that it was a sound one.
