The Land: Predators

by Aleron Kong

  Richter grabbed Paulen by the front of the shirt lifting him up slightly. Then he began to punch him in the face. The first punch broke his nose, the next dislocated his jaw and the third fractured the eye socket and detached the man’s retina. The rapist descended two more levels into his own personal hell. Blubbering snot mixed with blood began to fill Paulen’s lungs. With a sneer, Richter looked at the blood on his split knuckles and wiped it on the man’s shirt.

  The chaos seed dropped him and straightened up. He looked around at his people again. “You have a simple choice. You can stand with me and grow in power. More importantly, you can make your life and power mean something. Or…” he pointed the sniveling wretch at his feet, “you can stand against me and the ideals that the Mist Village embodies, and you will be brought low. Either way, you will still serve this village.”

  Richter summoned two mist workers. The level eight humanoids coalesced into being, standing cold and emotionless. He gave an order to one of them and pointed at Lieb, “Pick that man up and do not let him escape.” The construct did as it was bid. Even if the rapist had been at full health he might not have been able to resist the prodigious strength of the summoned creature. Mist workers were slow and plodding and so were practically useless in a fight. In terms of raw Strength however, they were impressive. Lieb blubbered in the worker’s grey arms like an abandoned baby. No fight remained in the man.

  Richter accessed his interface, adding the man to a short list of people. A Mark appeared on the condemned man’s chest. Then he looked at the other rapist. Paulen had finally screamed himself out. Blood and drool ran down his chin from the left side of his ruined mouth, and his eyes pleaded for mercy. He found none. Richter gave him access to the Dungeon as well, and had the other mist worker pick him up. Neither men received immunity from the Doubt debuff.

  The chaos seed looked back out at the crowd, “Hear my judgment,” he boomed. “I, Lord Richter of the Mist Village, by right of my Mastery of this Place of Power and the covenant I have made with the people who reside here, do pass the following judgement. For the crimes of rape and murder within my domain, I hereby sentence these two men to death,” he paused poignantly, “by Dungeon.” Paulen started screaming anew through his gag. Lieb just lay on his back, trapped in a world of pain. Richter ignored both of them. He had weighed the pros and cons of declaring the Dungeon’s existence, but keeping it secret was impossible. The villagers already knew and the freed captives had transported with the damned thing. The meant they probably all knew. If some of them decided to leave the village and spread that information, so be it. Richter was beginning to realize that the time for hiding had passed.

  That was a concern for another time though. There was still work to be done. “They shall be thrown inside to feed the creatures that dwell within. More than that, their names are never to be uttered again within my domain. If you must speak of them, simply call them ‘the forsaken.’”

  A distant crack of thunder accompanied his pronouncement. Richter looked up towards the heavens, wondering if the Universe itself was agreeing with his decree or perhaps levying judgement against him in turn. Richter had well learned the power of words in The Land, but he had not spoken idly. Anyone who betrayed his hospitality and trust would suffer.

  Though he had taken some small enjoyment from the pain of the two rapists, he was now sickened by the entire affair. With a dismissive tone and an errant wave of his hand, Richter gave a command. “Take them to the Dungeon and throw them through the portal.” The stress of the situation affected Richter more than he knew, and his stress level was rising high. Some of the guards did not move as quickly as he wanted. His next word cracked like a whip, “Now!”

  Some of the guards had been staring at their lord in shocked immobility. The unfettered violence and rage had shaken them. The snap in his voice, however, shook them out of their torpor. The mist workers were already leaving the stage. Caulder barked an order and a strike squad accompanied the constructs and their burdens away from the stage. The villagers they had to pass through parted before them. Just before they had left earshot, the second man must have worked his gag partially free. Some of the villagers could still hear him clearly despite his ruined mouth, “Pbwease. Pwbwease don kil mi!”

  If Richter heard, he gave no sign of mercy or remorse, neither for condemning the two men to death or the pain he had extracted from them before his pronouncement. He just pointed to the other twelve men and women awaiting trial, “Bring them here.” His voice was detached, merely a craftsman moving onto the next task to be completed. All twelve of the remaining accused shared one emotion and one thought. The emotion was fear. The thought: that their lives had been better under the goblins, before they were “rescued” by the remorseless demon who now held their lives in his hands.

  CHAPTER 41 – Day 143 – Kuborn 33, 0 AoC

  Congratulations! You have reached skill level 2 in Unarmed Combat. +4% to unarmed combat damage. +0.2 to natural armor.

  Congratulations! You have reached subskill level 2 in Pressure Points. +4% to spotting pressure points. +4% to magnitude of effect.

  Richter read and then dismissed the prompts he had earned from his punishment of the two men. He absently noted that he had been neglecting this area of his training. The bonus to natural armor, meaning his skin, was enough of a motivation by itself to level his Unarmed Combat skill. With clinical detachment, he resolved to make it a priority in the near future.

  His mind was wrenched from consideration of his skills by that strange feeling again, like when he was about to enter the Dungeon. It vanished before he could pinpoint a direction. Richter looked across the crowd, but didn’t see anything new. He turned his attention to the accused. All twelve of the remaining men and women had been brought onto the stage. They were not kneeling. Instead, they faced the crowd in a semicircle, with Richter in the epicenter, the conductor for the performance that was about to ensue.

  Richter went through the same process as before. He announced to the crowd what these twelve men and women were accused of doing. Then he went down the line, one at a time, and asked how they responded to the charges. All of them showed some degree of fear, but the answers varied. Some merely stared back, others sobbed, and some loudly protested their innocence. One man looked like he was about to confess, but a quick elbow from the woman to his right silenced him.

  None of that mattered. What was important to Richter was that the forms of justice were being followed. This entire trial was a tool he was using. It was to establish to all present that his village was a lawful place. He had already decided what he was going to do before the “trial” started. While the accused spoke, the other freed captives grumbled and a few called out from the crowd in the same choruses as before.

  “Liars!”

  “Murderers!”

  “Traitors!”

  The passion of the crowd did not reach the nearly “mob” level of before so Richter felt no need to curtail their emotions. If these twelve people were guilty of the crimes they were accused of, then they deserved far worse than a few angry shouts. Once the last woman had had her say, Richter asked again, “Will anyone here speak on their behalf?”

  Unsurprisingly, no one raised their voice. He looked at Hisako to see if the Hearth Mother had anything to add, but she just gazed levelly back, neither encouraging nor condemning. That banished his last bit of self-doubt.

  Richter turned to the twelve and raised his voice. “I, Lord Richter of the Mist Village, by right of my Mastery of this Place of Power and the covenant I have made with the people who reside here, do pass the following judgement. None of you are my subjects, nor have you, to my knowledge, performed acts within my domain that merit punishment. If what is said about you is true, however, you have broken basic laws of decency.” There were calls of agreement from the other freed slaves. Richter let it go on for about half a minute before raising a hand for quiet.

  “Despite this, and despite the hundreds who seem to b
e speaking against you, I will not sentence anyone to death or other severe punishments based solely on the words of others without proof.” More rumblings came from the former slaves. “But,” he stated sharply, raising his voice, “I also will not ignore the accusations of so many. So, you will be given a choice.”

  Richter looked around at the twelve accused sympathizers, his gaze steely and implacable, “My truthsayer, Sumiko, will return from her Trial soon. Anyone that wishes to prove their innocence will be kept in comfortable confinement until then. After she proves the truth of your words one way or another, you will be freed, or disciplined, accordingly. That is the first option.”

  More than a few looked off in the direction the two rapists had been carried away in. There was no question what the consequence would be if they were found guilty of rape or murder. They all stayed quiet to hear the other options. “Two, you may admit guilt now. I will take your willingness to confess into account.” Still silence reigned. “Three, my guards will escort you to the edge of my domain. Make no mistake, if you choose this option you will be forever banished from my lands. If you are ever found here in the future, you will be killed on sight.”

  No one spoke until one man, the one that had caused the largest uproar from the other freed slaves when he had proclaimed his innocence, protested, “Travel through the Forest of Nadria is a death sentence!”

  Another spat, “How would we even get through these cursed mists.”

  Richter barely noticed the defensive enchantment anymore because of his immunity. It was just a faint haziness that followed the circular boundary. To them though, he knew it must almost seem like the world ended in a wall of swirling white. This was something he had already taken into account, however. “You will be led away from the village by my guards. After an hour, I will give you immunity to the mists for five hours. That should be enough to get you safely to the boundaries of my realm.”

  “What if we cannot move fast enough?” one woman asked.

  “Then you will die.” Richter might as well have been discussing the price of bread. “If you try to return to the village, you will be killed. If you meander, you will still be in the mists when your immunity expires, and the monsters of my domain will feed upon you. I am not without sympathy, however. If you choose exile, you will each be given provisions to sustain you and daggers to protect yourselves. The kingdom of Yves is two weeks travel west. You will be able to make your own way from there.”

  More of the twelve began to object so Richter just raised his voice and said, “Remember that you may avoid the dangers of the forest by simply waiting to speak with my truthsayer.” He made eye contact with each of the men and women, but few could even keep his gaze.

  To the last man and woman, they all chose the third option. Richter told Caulder to prepare a contingent of guards to escort them away from the village. He wanted them gone within the quarter hour. The sergeant marched off to do just that. Once they had departed, amid cursing and weak promises of retribution, Richter addressed everyone else gathered. “My villagers. I am sorry that you had to witness this ugliness. Please go on about your day, safe in the knowledge that any who harm us will suffer ten times over. We leave within the week for battle. Go prepare.” His villagers filed away.

  He also spoke to the freed captives who had just watched the punishment of the men and women who had made their horror-filled lives even more unbearable. “To the rest of you, I will say the same thing I said last night. If my truthsayer tells me you are not a danger to this village, you are welcome to stay. If you do, I will never give you false promises. I will not promise your safety or your success. What I do promise is that come what may, I will stand with you. I promise that as I rise, you will rise with me. Now please, find what comfort you can in that, and go with my hope that you will now rest easier than you could before. Your children will be returned to you within the hour. I appreciate your understanding in that I did not want them to witness what just happened.”

  Everyone began to disperse. Terrod posted guards around the cleared area that the freed prisoners could easily move about in, an area now much smaller than the night before. Richter walked up to Gila and, as softly as he could manage, apologized for the loss of her brother. He asked his name and found out that the brave young man had been called Yowic. She mumbled a thank you and retreated to be with the rest of the former captives.

  Richter felt emotionally exhausted, but he knew it still wasn’t done. He had a short but intense conversation with Alma. The dragonling mentally voiced her assent and assurances before launching from his shoulders and flying west.

  Hisako walked up to him before he left the stage. Without preamble, she said, “You are a hard man, Lord Richter.”

  “I did what needed to be done,” he responded firmly. That was his initial intention anyway. After he spoke, even he noticed his voice was aggressive and defensive.

  “I do not judge you,” she told him in a level voice. “We will both need to be strong to face what is coming.” She turned and strode away with Yoshi in tow. Before the sword adept had taken two steps, he stopped and nodded once to Richter. It was the acknowledgement of one hard man to another, and it somehow made the chaos seed feel better. He was not as unyielding as he wanted his people to believe. He did not regret the deaths of the two rapists, or any of his other decisions. In his heart he knew they were necessary, but his hands were starting to shake now with repressed emotions and stress. Still, it felt good to have the respect of the adept, a man that he in turn respected.

  Richter left the stage. Despite everything that had happened, it didn’t change the fact that there was still so much work to do. Randolphus followed him, “Where are you headed now, my lord?”

  “I will do some more enchanting before we go into the Dungeon today. The way I’m feeling, I think hitting monsters very hard with sharp objects will do me good, but first I want some time to myself. I still feel like garbage from what I was drinking last night. That,” he waved behind him, “did not improve my mood.” His tone made it clear that he did not want to gab and share his feelings, but Randolphus still followed silently behind. Just before they got to the smithy, Richter turned to his Chamberlain, his Companion, the Spy, and asked, “What is it that you need to say?”

  “I agree with your punishment of the first two men. It is good to make an example in a way that others will remember. You are also to be commended for showing mercy to the other twelve. It will endear you even further to your people.”

  Randolphus stopped speaking, but in a way that it was obvious he had more to say. “Spit it out,” Richter said quietly. He didn’t even have the emotional wherewithal to be irritated that Randy hadn’t finished his thought.

  The chamberlain continued, unperturbed. After nearly a century of serving different rulers, he was well used to the variable natures of those in power. “I believe the twelve that you freed are a danger to us, my lord. It is my belief that they were rightly accused and were informers for the goblins. Such people are inherently untrustworthy. They do not know much, but what they do know about the village is enough to bring death to our doorstep. If they come into contact with one of our enemies in Yves, the village could be put in further jeopardy. Even their knowledge of the Dungeon would be enough for a noble to march an army here. We are only two weeks’ journey from my former country, even less by boat. As we have already learned, the mists are not a perfect defense.”

  Randolphus paused momentarily, but then continued without prompting, “You said that you wanted my honest counsel, my lord. I believe letting these people live is a mistake. That error is compounded by then letting them go free. Most will probably die in the forest, but if even one makes it to civilization, it could spell catastrophe. I understand your desire for fairness and justice, but I would suggest that the appearance of justice will suffice in this case. If you will permit me, I can follow the guards unseen and handle this problem. As far as any in the village will ever know, the twelve will just h
ave left. The villagers will still believe your anger is tempered with mercy, and the danger will have been removed.”

  Richter looked at his chamberlain. The Spy wasn’t being overly cryptic and… he was a Spy. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to get what he was saying. Randolphus was making excellent points while showing that he fully understood what Richter’s motivations and goals had been in the trial. Despite all of that, Richter shook his head.

  “I do appreciate your counsel, Randolphus. You know that I respect you, but I do not want you to follow them. I have already dispatched Alma to monitor their progress. They will not be a danger to us.”

  The chamberlain’s face tightened momentarily with indecision. He was a consummate professional, and noble by birth and rearing, if not by title. As such, he followed propriety almost to a fault. In this case though, where the lives of everyone in the village could be put in jeopardy, he decided to abandon protocol and push the issue. “My lord, I did not mean that they would pose an immediate danger by returning to the village, I meant that they could tell others important information about our village. Despite the mists, they have seen many things. The only danger is not from Yves. They could be captured by bugbears, goblins or kobolds once night falls. You stole something of immense power from the Ash Stalker Clan. They are one of the largest goblin clans in the entire River Peninsula. They number in the tens of thousands, if not the hundreds of thousands. I could never get accurate reports and the goblins are prolific breeders. The green-skins are a naturally divisive people, but for the affront of taking the Bloodstone, they would unite and wash over this village in a wave of blood and blades. Again, my lord, I urge you. Let me deal with this threat.”