He squinted, watching the shift of grey overhead, the great bulb of the sun glaring through the clouds. It shone high, marking the time barely past midday. Could well clear up for the night yet.
” So, you’ve found him. Poor bastard. ” Syr Hoffren’s voice came from somewhere behind his shoulder, drawing his eye. The man’s face was scrunched, the many scars about it drawn tight as he came to stand alongside, one hand on his hip as another rested on the hilt of his sword.
” You figure? ” He hummed, genuinely curious, his stare shifting back to whom remained suspended some five feet from the ground, at the end of a rope. By the look of it, the drop had been plenty enough to break his neck instantly. Syr Hoffren shrugged.
” Sure. ”
” Hmh. Find out what his crime was? ”
” Theft. ”
” And the squire? ”
” Accessory. She’s locked up somewhere — I’d wager the castle, since the Lord made the ruling. It’s all very official-like. ”
He bobbed his head once, a low hum rumbling in the chamber of his mouth. Heartfelt displeasure. The mud underfoot squelched as he turned on heel, laying his look on the surrounding buildings. Most were squat, undecorated things, but a select few stuck out as freshly whitewashed, striking a sharp contrast against the ground that’d turned black with rain. Somewhere, a set of vibrant shudders clacked shut.
” Think it was rightful? I can’t claim having known Syr Nevala very well. ”
” He did commit arson once and we’ve all killed, so— ”
” Theft starts to seem like lack of commitment in comparison. ”
” Sure. But suppose he did do it. What then? ”
” The squire is collateral. We’ll have her released— ” Oliver slung a nod at the hillbound castle, its form reduced to a grand shadow by distance, the air above town thick with moisture and smoke. Billowing like fine gauze.
” And get Syr Nevala taken down. Three days ought have been plenty for the crows. ”
Syr Hoffren chuckled at that, a dark and humourless sound.
” Hang a knight of the Order for theft — ” The man grumbled, yet staring at the dead. ” Sounds like a grudge to me. We’ll have to beg and I’ve such bad knees. If they’ll even let us in—”
The rope creaked. So well did their fellow knight blend into the monochrome of the town, drained of all except his undershirt that now clung to grey skin, soaked. It had all happened so fast— or had the word just traveled slow?
He was moving before he had properly made up his mind, knife flashing white as it came loose from the sheath at his belt. Syr Hoffren rose a brow, watching him march up the scaffold.
” The sentence was fifteen days, Oliver. ”
” That’s fine. He won’t know the difference. ”
” The Lord will. We’ll get arrested. ”
” Surely not. You are just an innocent bystander. Vouch for me. ” He flashed a mirthless smile, examining where the rope was tied overhead. A bit of a reach—
Having remained behind and indecisive for it, Syr Hoffren spat, grimacing.
” And wait in line amongst other petitioners while you get invited to the castle? Fuck if I will. ” Already mid-stride, he approached the hanged man from below. ” You’re my superior — I’ll say you made me do it. ”
” That worked well for the squire. ”
The man huffed out a mock laugh, pulling the body to the side by the leg. Above, Oliver reached for the rope, securing it in hand. A call echoed just outside the square, but for the moment none joined them where they laboured.
With neither hurry or actual force, he put the knife to work.
” So, you’ve found him. Poor bastard. ” Syr Hoffren’s voice came from somewhere behind his shoulder, drawing his eye. The man’s face was scrunched, the many scars about it drawn tight as he came to stand alongside, one hand on his hip as another rested on the hilt of his sword.
” You figure? ” He hummed, genuinely curious, his stare shifting back to whom remained suspended some five feet from the ground, at the end of a rope. By the look of it, the drop had been plenty enough to break his neck instantly. Syr Hoffren shrugged.
” Sure. ”
” Hmh. Find out what his crime was? ”
” Theft. ”
” And the squire? ”
” Accessory. She’s locked up somewhere — I’d wager the castle, since the Lord made the ruling. It’s all very official-like. ”
He bobbed his head once, a low hum rumbling in the chamber of his mouth. Heartfelt displeasure. The mud underfoot squelched as he turned on heel, laying his look on the surrounding buildings. Most were squat, undecorated things, but a select few stuck out as freshly whitewashed, striking a sharp contrast against the ground that’d turned black with rain. Somewhere, a set of vibrant shudders clacked shut.
” Think it was rightful? I can’t claim having known Syr Nevala very well. ”
” He did commit arson once and we’ve all killed, so— ”
” Theft starts to seem like lack of commitment in comparison. ”
” Sure. But suppose he did do it. What then? ”
” The squire is collateral. We’ll have her released— ” Oliver slung a nod at the hillbound castle, its form reduced to a grand shadow by distance, the air above town thick with moisture and smoke. Billowing like fine gauze.
” And get Syr Nevala taken down. Three days ought have been plenty for the crows. ”
Syr Hoffren chuckled at that, a dark and humourless sound.
” Hang a knight of the Order for theft — ” The man grumbled, yet staring at the dead. ” Sounds like a grudge to me. We’ll have to beg and I’ve such bad knees. If they’ll even let us in—”
The rope creaked. So well did their fellow knight blend into the monochrome of the town, drained of all except his undershirt that now clung to grey skin, soaked. It had all happened so fast— or had the word just traveled slow?
He was moving before he had properly made up his mind, knife flashing white as it came loose from the sheath at his belt. Syr Hoffren rose a brow, watching him march up the scaffold.
” The sentence was fifteen days, Oliver. ”
” That’s fine. He won’t know the difference. ”
” The Lord will. We’ll get arrested. ”
” Surely not. You are just an innocent bystander. Vouch for me. ” He flashed a mirthless smile, examining where the rope was tied overhead. A bit of a reach—
Having remained behind and indecisive for it, Syr Hoffren spat, grimacing.
” And wait in line amongst other petitioners while you get invited to the castle? Fuck if I will. ” Already mid-stride, he approached the hanged man from below. ” You’re my superior — I’ll say you made me do it. ”
” That worked well for the squire. ”
The man huffed out a mock laugh, pulling the body to the side by the leg. Above, Oliver reached for the rope, securing it in hand. A call echoed just outside the square, but for the moment none joined them where they laboured.
With neither hurry or actual force, he put the knife to work.
