It had been a rainy morning - one of many that Castella endured in the late spring.

But that wasn’t going to stop Jerith and I from working on the SUBAS. We were traipsing through town, with absolutely no goddamn care in the world. Nobody had died (yet), no monsters had attacked (yet) and nobody’s fiancee was pregnant. Yet.

As we walked through the streets, a commotion in the western market square caught our attention.

Remember how I said that Castellans were a “two eyes for an eye” people?

See, the western market square doesn’t have a fountain in the middle. Instead, it has a raised platform. Where punishment takes place. As we bumped our way through the rowdy crowd, I caught sight of a chained, shirtless man being led to the platform by a couple of armed guards.

Jerith didn’t want to stay and watch, but the word ‘murderer’ floated into my ears from one of the spectators, and I couldn’t help but wonder. I’d heard what a few of the punishments were in this city, but I had no idea what the punishment for killing somebody would be - after all, you can’t just kill someone twice, right?

So I stopped in my tracks, and Jerith reluctantly waited with me.

We didn’t have to wait long for the main event.

A man with a large scroll took the stage and read off the name of the criminal and his crime. Stabbed a man to death in a drunken tavern brawl. I heard that the authorities sometimes let a crime like that go if both people clearly wanted to fight, but in this case the victim was just some unlucky guy who cut in front of the wrong psychopath. Multiple witnesses. When the bartender himself testifies that you’re in the wrong, you know you’re fucked.

But officer, it was the booze that made me do it! Arrest my beer!

A likely story.

Once the situation had been described in appropriate detail to bring the crowd up to speed, the criminal was made to kneel. He wasn’t blindfolded or anything, so I got a good look at his face.

Let’s just get this over with, his stony, irritated expression seemed to say.

The executioner agreed, and drew his blade. A knife, similar to the murder weapon described. Then, with a pause for dramatic effect, the blade plunged into the man’s stomach. He doubled over in pain, making sick choking noises, but the guards held him upright as the executioner continued stabbing. Before long, a puddle of blood and viscera formed on the platform. Guts hung out all over the place. The man’s face twisted into an expression of wordless agony as the life drained from his twitching body. After a moment, he had all but stopped moving, except that his eyes still blinked and darted about. He was, for all intents and purposes, dead.

They call this place the Red fountain for a reason.

Then another man stepped forward, an older gentleman wearing clean white robes trimmed with red. With his well-groomed silver hair and dignified bearing, he seemed a bit out-of-place for such a grimy setting.

He put his gloved hands right on the ruined stomach of the criminal who had just been slain, and a soft pink light radiated from his hands.

---

 

I have several good ideas why that scene popped into my head when I caught sight of Sylvana.

“Hi Sylvana.” I greeted her.

“Well?” she demanded, graciously reminding me that I’d been asked a question.

“Stella and I used to train here, yeah.” I answered.

Also, how are you doing? You’ve been missing class. Are you okay? Is there anything I can do for you?

Nope, can’t ask any of that goody-goody shit now. This bitch came here to fight.

“What kind of training?” she asked.

“Ice magic. With that dagger our class used that one day.”

Slowly, excruciatingly, I brought Sylvana up to speed on how I knew Stella, from even before our time in Apis. One. Question. At. A. Time.

But even after all that, Sylvana didn’t seem to be satisfied.

“So this whole time, you were just training partners, right?”

“Yes! That’s all!”

“Then why was she crying when she left?”

“I don’t… Probably something that I said.”

“I’m sorry babe, but we can’t keep seeing each other like this - Sylvana will get suspicious!” she said in a deep voice.

“That’s not it at all! I don’t even like her! As a person! And I just told her that. And that’s why she’s crying.” I fumed.

“Why would you- never mind.” Sylvana said, still not satisfied. “What I want to know is… what I came down to ask you is… why did you disfigure those boys?”

“Huh?”

“You don’t even remember?” Sylvana asked incredulously. “In the Coliseum! With your shield! And your bare fists! You just pummeled away like they didn’t feel pain!”

“What’s your point?” I snapped. “They got healed, right?”

“Yeah, because I healed them myself.” Sylvana said. “All the other healers were out of power, so I had to step in. If I hadn’t, their faces would’ve been broken and scarred for life.”

“So what? It’s not like I did anything that any of the other competitors weren’t doing.”

“That’s exactly what it was like! I saw every round! Nobody else did what you did!”

That sounded like bullshit to me, but fuck it, I let it go.

“So, what?” I asked. “What’s wrong with that? If I hadn’t fought like that against the raptor, you’d be pushing up potatoes with Spud right now!”

Sylvana winced.

“I can’t believe I thought you could be the savior…” she said in a low voice, almost to herself. “But no. You’re just like every other man. You get one little bit of strength, and it goes completely to your head! And then you go on a rampage, raping and destroying everything in your path!”

“So I should just stay  weak and submissive my whole life? Then who would save me from all the danger that’s out there? Who would save you?”

“There wouldn’t be any danger if you orcs just stopped flailing around with your swords and your spears and bows every once in a while! And put down those stupid fucking weights so that you don’t break a person’s jaw off with one hit!”

And there it was again - that same glint of madness that I’d noticed in her the first time we met. Shit, I thought… I don’t know what I thought. That maybe I’d healed her somehow, just as she healed me. How naive.

“I will, Sylvana.” I said firmly. “I’ll put down the stupid fucking weights. Then I’ll pick them up. Then I’ll put them down again. And I will not stop until I’m as strong as I can possibly be!”

“Until you turn into an orc!”

“Are orcs strong?”

“They’re huge, disgusting brutes!” she cried, tears starting to form in her eyes.

“Then Good. I hope I turn into an orc! The biggest, nastiest orc you’ve ever seen!”

Sylvana’s elfen ears twitched and she shrank back, a shocked, horrified expression on her face. As if she’d seen an orc before, and knew what I meant even more than I did. There was worse than just fear in her eyes.

But I’ll never know now, will I?

“You’re- heartless!” she exclaimed. Then, without another word, she turned and scampered off, just like Stella before her.

Vanquished by my unstoppable debating skills.

Just when I thought I’d used up all my spite on everyone else who ever cared about me… This ol’ golden goose had one more turd to defecate.

I sat on one of the benches, muttering to myself.

“How are you doing? You’ve been missing class. Are you okay? Is there anything I can do for you?”

I shouted in rage, chucking a lump of metal into the wall with a loud BANG.

Fuck this planet.

Fuck elves, fuck orcs, and fuck whatever the fuck a Floki is. I don’t give a fuck.

Burt can feed me to the monsters.

---

 

A few people in the crowd must have never seen healing magic work on anything that grievous before, because a few of them shouted out in amazement as the man in the white cloak went about his work. The convict was a portly fellow, so there was a good bit of pale yellow macaroni-and-cheese floating around in the Campbell’s chunky tomato soup on the platform.

But despite the seriousness of the man’s injuries, it didn’t even take that long. The pink light subsided, revealing a pale, pristine abdomen without so much as a scratch on it.

The criminal started moving again, sluggishly at first, but he was eventually thrashing around in terror, sweating profusely, and breathing heavily like he’d just done (gasp) high intensity cardio. His blase demeanor from before had morphed into panic and terror. He now knew how much pain he would soon be in, and wanted none of it.

Too bad.

He was forced to his knees yet again, and the executioner stepped forward, holding up the knife above his head.

“Let him live!” a woman screamed desperately from below, but she was quickly drowned out by a roar from the crowd that needed no translation.

The executioner turned back towards the convict, and the knife was once again driven through him, but more slowly this time. Methodically. The man shrieked in agony several times, loud enough that I almost wanted to cover my ears. Blood and guts once again decorated the platform. And when the man’s body stopped twitching, the executioner started on the ex-murderer’s neck, sawing away at strips of sinew until it separated completely from the body. The trophy was then hurled into the crowd like a bouquet at a fucking wedding. A group of kids caught it, and they ran off too… I dunno… play soccer with it or some shit?

The whole thing was hard to watch. Not just because of the pain this guy was in, but also because of how wasteful the whole process seemed. All these people loitering around, howling in delight at the bloodshed. And the healing magic that could have saved someone’s life, allowed a family to remain unbroken, or at least given some loser a nice little hit of happiness… used as an instrument of torture.

I later learned that every healer in the guild was obligated to assist in executions like this at the King’s command. Perhaps that’s why Sylvana wanted nothing to do with them.