The Honor of Duty

by A. R. Rend

  “Phillip, we can… we can fight this and-”

  Phillip held up his hand to cut Mildred off.

  “I will see this through and come out the other side. I know my goals, and I know their goals,” he said with an easygoing smile as he started to walk to the door.

  I must not confess, and they wish me to confess.

  My victory is assured so long as I never do that.

  Now I need only wait for them to present an opportunity for me to defeat them.

  Opening the door, Phillip found himself staring at several of the countess’s guards in full armament.

  “As the grandson of the Duchess, I would please ask that you allow me to walk on my own,” Phillip said. “I give you my word as a Curis that I will cause no trouble. Grant me safe conduct with my dignity intact and I will see that my mother learns of your generosity.”

  In that single declaration, in mentioning his grandmother and mother, Phillip spent all the currency he had on these guards. He wasn’t going to hold back and he planned on making sure that everyone knew who he was. There was nothing to hide or sandbag with, either.

  “Of course, Master Rias,” said the guard in the lead, bowing her head to him. “Thank you for your cooperation. We’ll be… we’ll be taking you to the sheriff’s holding cells.”

  “As you will it,” declared Phillip and left the home, closing the door behind himself.

  “No, sir. Not as we will it at all,” muttered a second guard.

  Smirking at that, Phillip nodded his head at the woman who’d spoken.

  “Please lead the way, Captain,” Phillip said, noticing the rank of the woman in the front. The two at her sides were lieutenants.

  Putting one foot in front of the other, mustering all of his courage and trying to hammer it into place, Phillip walked with the three guards.

  He kept his chin up, his shoulders squared, and his back straight. As if he were going out with his own guards and would be returning in no time at all. That this was nothing more than a distraction at the moment, and while annoying, it would pass.

  He was the grandson of the Duchess. One of the only grandsons she had, in fact. His mother was a general of such worth that she commanded the royal armies instead of the queen.

  On top of that, he was the husband of Alice Rias, a known and unexpectedly feared entity in the city.

  If he couldn’t walk with his head held up, he couldn’t imagine someone who could.

  It felt as if he’d been led through the city on parade. That hours had passed as he marched along and that every single citizen of the city had seen him. As if there weren’t a person who wouldn’t be aware of his moving with the countess’s guards.

  Unwilling to bow his head, Phillip did his best to harden his mind to it. Despite feeling the shame of countless gazes on his person.

  Finally, he was brought to the sheriff’s office and escorted inside.

  Looking up from what looked to be paperwork, Sheriff Halis seemed rather surprised.

  “I told you to bring him in under ch-”

  “We would not do that,” declared the captain before the sheriff had even finished speaking. “It stated no-where in the writ that he was to be shackled, chained, or bound. Only arrested. He offered his noble family’s name as collateral and I accepted it.”

  Ah. It would seem I owe the captain.

  “Thank you for that, Captain…?” Phillip asked, stepping up beside the woman and looking into her helmet.

  He couldn’t see much of her face as she had attended to the situation with her visor down.

  Phillip wasn’t certain but he got the impression she didn’t want to be associated with the event.

  Lifting that visor, he found himself looking into a face that was oddly reminiscent of Mim’s. With similar features and facial shape.

  “Captain Bux,” said the woman with a pained smile.

  “Captain Bux, I’ll remember your courtesy after this. I’ll remember all of it,” promised Phillip, turning to look at the sheriff. “Well? You’ve had me falsely arrested. Shall we continue with this farce?”

  Growling, Halis waved a hand at him and several of her people wordlessly took him into custody. The three guards from the countess turned on their heels and left quickly.

  They don’t want anything to do with this at all.

  But the countess signed her name to this action.

  So… what’s going on?

  Confused, Phillip let himself be dragged to a cell and roughly tossed inside.

  Twenty-Four

  Several hours passed with Phillip left to himself.

  Or at least, mostly left to himself.

  The cells around him were filled. Most of them with more than one person in fact as if it was over-crowded. People who eyed him a way he was not accustomed to at all.

  Thankfully he was alone in his cell, which was a small mercy. He couldn’t begin to imagine what kind of difficulties he’d be undergoing if he weren’t alone.

  Unfortunately, Phillip had been forced to relieve his bowels into a nasty bucket in the corner of his cell. Even as quite a few women watched him do so.

  It made him cringe with shame just thinking about what had happened.

  If I’m able to repay the sheriff for this… I shall endeavor to do so. This… this is truly… despicable.

  The stomp and thump of boots caused him to break away from his angry thoughts. Bringing him back to where he was in the here and now.

  Looking toward the entrance of the holding cells, Phillip could hear the boot-steps approaching him. Whoever it was, seemed to be heading straight for him.

  Unable to remove the frown from his face, Phillip reached up and smoothed his hair back into its normal position.

  Or at least tried to.

  He also adjusted his clothes and then straightened his tunic out.

  Several women with truncheons in hand stepped up to the front of his cell. They were all dressed in what Phillip could only assume was the uniform for deputies. It seemed to be common amongst them all so far.

  “Prisoner, you will come with us for questioning,” demanded the deputy.

  Smiling, Phillip sighed and then stood up. Walking over to the cell door, he waited.

  “As you like. I’d like to ask though, do you agree with what the sheriff is doing?” he inquired, looking to the three women.

  The one in the lead nodded her head firmly while the two behind her looked rather uneasy.

  “Of course I do, you scumbag. Murdering bastards like you should be hung immediately. Questioning you like this is pointless when we should just be killing you,” stated the deputy.

  “I see. Thank you for answering,” replied Phillip with a nod of his head toward the deputy. He wasn’t about to reveal anything to anyone. Even if it was the promise of revenge.

  Right now, his goal was to endure and outlast.

  Eventually the sheriff would be forced to release him or act. The simple reality was Alice, Lenore, or even Mim, would eventually come back and likely raise a stink.

  Provided he never revealed anything, or confessed to anything, there’d be nothing that they could hold him to. Other than a suspicion without proof.

  He was high enough in power and connections that the sheriff had done what she did. To go about it in a round-a-bout way that required the countess signing off on it.

  And even then it was obvious the guards of the countess weren’t influenced by the situation.

  Sheriff Halis was walking a tight-rope.

  Phillip just had to wait for her to fall and to provide her with nothing.

  The cell door clacked and was opened with the turn of the key.

  “Out, prisoner,” demanded the lead guard.

  Doing as ordered, Phillip exited and stood near the guard who had made the command to him.

  She prodded him in the side with the truncheon, pushing him toward the entrance.

  Glowering at her, Phillip started moving toward what he believed she wanted. Si
nce she hadn’t said anything he had no idea in truth. All he could do was go with it.

  Exiting the cells, he stepped to one side and waited. He wasn’t about to move beyond this point.

  For all he knew they were hoping he’d continue on so they could somehow charge him with something else. Like an escape attempt.

  “Go on,” demanded the guard.

  “Where? I don’t know where I’m going, or where anything is,” asked Phillip. He wanted to scream or shout at the woman, but that would only invite problems.

  Likely violence.

  Or worse.

  As if realizing that he was right, or that he wasn’t going to do something stupid, the lead guard huffed. Then she started leading the way, the other two guards waiting on each side of Phillip.

  Finally.

  Catching up to the guard, Phillip got behind her and stayed only two paces behind her. His goal was the same as it had been.

  Confess to nothing, reveal nothing, get out as quickly as possible, with as little damage to himself as he could manage. Anything and everything beyond that was a luxury.

  Screaming, shouting, or being overly rude, wouldn’t do him any favors.

  He was led to a small room and pushed through the open door.

  Inside he found a room with six or seven people in it. All were seated.

  In front of the sheriff was a table.

  “Prisoner, go stand over there,” demanded the sheriff in an almost bored tone. As if this were the last thing she wanted to do and had no time for it.

  Phillip walked over to the indicated spot and stood there, folding his hands in front of himself.

  “You’ve been found guilty of murder. Please sign this document and we can move this along,” Halis said blandly and pushed forward a piece of paper as well as a quill nib and ink-pot.

  Quirking a brow at that, Phillip wondered if this was some sort of trick to get him to sign. According to the arrest paperwork he’d been given, he was not yet guilty.

  Arrested, certainly, guilty, not yet proven.

  Walking over to the paper, Phillip began to read it.

  “Sign it already,” demanded the sheriff.

  Rather than doing that, Phillip instead continued to read.

  While worded oddly, as if it were a proclamation of guilt, he found that it was a written confession. Or so he believed after he managed to puzzle through half of it and being forced to re-read several sections.

  “Stop reading it and sign it already!” shouted the sheriff.

  “I’ll do no such thing,” said Phillip with a sniff and then looking to Halis. “This is a confession. And I’m not guilty of the crime you have written here. There’s no reason for me to sign a confession that’s a lie.”

  Looking around the room, Phillip stared into the face of each person present.

  By and large, he recognized most of them as he’d seen them once already. They were all deputies for the sheriff. This was a room full of witnesses that would say whatever she wanted them to, he imagined.

  “Sign it!” screamed the sheriff.

  “No. It’s fraudulent,” Phillip declared in a neutral and normal tone.

  “Make him sign it,” the sheriff said, gesturing at one of the deputies.

  Laughing, Phillip watched as a deputy came over to him.

  “And just how are you going to accomplish that? Any signature you force me to make will be held up against any other signature I’ve ever made in a flash,” he said, feeling his heart beating incredibly hard in his chest. “That’s all the proof I’d need to have you executed for malfeasance to a noble. Everyone else involved would likely get a brand though not an execution.”

  “MAKE HIM SIGN!” shouted the sheriff at the top of her lungs.

  The deputy looked far less sure of herself now, however. She stood next to Phillip, staring at the sheriff. She clearly didn’t want to do what she was ordered.

  “Fine! I’ll do it,” growled the sheriff, getting up from her seat.

  Coming around to the other side, she snatched at Phillip’s right hand and then forced a quill into it.

  Relaxing his fingers, the quill wouldn’t stay where she’d put it. It simply fell into the webbing of his hand.

  “Mmm, as if I’d assist you in this,” said Phillip, peering at the woman.

  Grabbing his hand entirely in her own, she clamped her fingers down around his. Using both her hands, she forced the quill nib into the ink-pot then to the paper.

  Grinning, Phillip jerked his hand to the right and left a long ugly line of ink across the whole thing.

  “Ah, sorry. You’re holding me so tightly, it hurts and feels like my hand is breaking. I can’t quite control it,” Phillip apologized, not looking to antagonize her at the moment.

  Screaming wordlessly, the woman pulled Phillip’s hand through the ink and began to force him to write a P. He didn’t resist her and allowed her to write the P quite easily.

  Succeeding, she started to move it through an H.

  Only for Phillip to dig the quill in sharply as it slid to the right in the middle of the H. Ripping audibly, the corner of the paper tore off.

  Phillip said nothing, he just stood there, looking at the paper. He managed to not even smile.

  Then the sheriff punched him across the face and sent him crashing to the ground. His temple smacked and bounced off the stone at the same time.

  Unsure if it was the floor, or the punch, Phillip couldn’t clear his thoughts.

  He’d never been struck before.

  Everything spun around him and his eyes wouldn’t focus on anything.

  People were yelling and speaking loudly now.

  Unable to do much, Phillip lay there in a heap, trying to get his brain to turn back on. Except he couldn’t even really understand what’d happened to him either.

  Someone tried to pick him up and get him to his feet.

  They wouldn’t work for Phillip, however. Which meant the second whoever it was tried to get him to stand, his knees buckled out from under him.

  And that made his head swim violently. The world was spinning with far more force now and he couldn’t quite keep even the simplest of thoughts.

  Pitching forward, he began to throw up violently. Emptying up his stomach’s contents.

  The room around him went silent. That or he couldn’t hear them anymore over the sound of his retching. Either way Phillip had no idea what was going on anymore.

  Then he blacked out.

  Several times he woke up for brief periods.

  Where his head felt like delicate and brittle glass that’d been cracked. Seconds away from shattering apart.

  He was fairly certain he was back in his cell again.

  As well as the fact that someone had come and checked in on him. Peeling his eyelids open and peering into his eyes.

  It was mostly a blur.

  The third, or perhaps the fourth, time he woke up, he felt more normal. That he wasn’t going to just pass right back out.

  All he could taste was vomit. Not to mention all he could smell.

  Unfortunately his head was pounding and the right side of his skull felt like it’d been smashed in.

  Groaning, Phillip turned his head partially to one side.

  Then promptly started to dry heave. His stomach doing its best to push up the contents once more.

  There was nothing to throw up. He was empty.

  Only to pass out again.

  ***

  Phillip came to sitting in a chair.

  The light he could see through his eyelids was far too bright and his skull felt heavy and empty at the same time. His thoughts were sluggish and he just wanted to lie back down.

  Groaning, he just let his head roll to the other side, away from the light.

  Someone grabbed him and held him upright.

  “The hell did you do?” asked a voice.

  “She punched him to the ground,” said a different voice.

  “I only hit him once,” said th
e sheriff.

  “You punched the grandson of the Duchess?” asked the first voice again.

  “He… wouldn’t sign and-”

  “You tried to make him sign,” said the second voice. “When he didn’t want to.”

  “You… tried to force the grandson of the Duchess to sign, then punched him out to the point that he started vomiting all over everything, and threw him back in a cell. Where you left him,” said the first voice. As if the whole thing was too far-fetched to believe. “You’re on your own. I want no part of this. If anyone asks me what I know I’m not going to lie either.

  “I won’t swing for you, Halis, you fool. Fend didn’t deserve this kind of loyalty. Especially when you can’t even prove he’s the culprit.”

  “He’s the culprit, and he’ll confess it,” promised the sheriff. “I have a witness now. I’m going to have them testify shortly.”

  The sound of boots leaving the room was loud as what Phillip assumed was the first voice leaving.

  “I’m doing the same. I want no part of this,” said the second voice, leaving the room as well.

  Growling, the sheriff muttered something under her breath. It was followed by the sound of a door opening.

  “Get in here. Bring the witness. Let’s get this over with,” declared the sheriff. “I’ve already got his damn prison transport ready and they’re waiting.”

  Once more the sound of boots came, though this time it sounded like a great number of people all entering whatever room he was in.

  “Alright, sit down,” commanded Halis.

  “We’re here to witness testimony against the prisoner. Then his confession to the crime,” the sheriff proclaimed. “Hurry up and tell everyone what you saw.”

  A woman cleared her throat and then started to speak.

  “I saw Phillip Curis enter Fend’s house with her. He never came back out,” said the woman. “Then his guards came out and left. They came back with deputies.”

  “And there it is. As simple as that,” Halis declared. Then he could feel her breath on his face as she leaned in close to him. “It took me a while to find a witness, but I’ve got you, Phillip. You bastard, I’ve got you.”

  Damn. I didn’t think anyone actually watched me go in.

  Lifting his head partially, Phillip let out a panted breath.