It was now the 33rd Merecri, the petition hearings had lasted four days, much longer than expected. Each day had its quota of executions, harsh punishments interspersed with acts of mercy, many unexpected, distributed by the Dark Lord. Each day the tension racked higher. Both First Councillor Lonna Kittitk and Marshal Nikki Du Massi grew more concerned and watched carefully the actions of the Dark Lord on their view screens. This day, when they saw Him for the first time, they drew back in alarm. The Dark Lord was wearing His Dark Sword.
He didn’t use it on the first petitioner or the tenth. Indeed, He seemed to be relaxed, but the acute observer would have seen certain signs. The most obvious were the Ladies. They were gathered together, unsmiling and seemed on edge. The Head Steward and the Legate were also unsmiling and quietly talking together.
The crisis came, as always, unexpectedly. A young couple stepped forward. “Speak,” they were commanded.
*********
“Sire, we wish to marry but our parents are opposed. Both sets. So we seek your blessing.”
With unexpected interest, the Dark Lord leaned forward. There was a gleam in his eyes that made the Head Steward uneasy.
“Really, why?” Before they could speak, the Dark Lord spoke again, “How old are you?”
“I am seventeen and Remassa is fifteen, sire.” The boy, Doclossa replied.
The Dark Lord frowned. “Both of you are young for such a commitment. Especially you, young lady, you are underage for sexual relations, so I can see why your parents are opposed. But I also see that there is more. Explain.”
With a sigh, clearly Doclossa had hoped to avoid this, he explained, “Sire, it is complicated. Our families have been fighting each other for many years. Our grandparents were in business together and there was a dispute over money. It became bitter and there were acts of violence, from both sides. Some went to prison and worse. I really don’t know who is wrong or right now, but we love each other and we want to put all this behind us.”
Sitting back, His eyebrows raised, the Dark Lord seemed nonplused. One of the Ladies stepped forward and said something. A nod was given in reply. Even the grim soldiers, surrounding the pair, ready to do whatever was required, looked at Him with interest. There was an air of expectancy as the case was considered. The Dark Lord stood.
“Remassa and Doclossa, are you prepared to live elsewhere?”
The two grasped hands and, clearly unable to speak, nodded.
“Steward, here.” A roll of paper was handed over. “You will travel to a frontier world, the same where I recently sent others. You many not marry until Remassa reaches sixteen, the marriageable age on that planet. You will both have that passage of time to think things over.” He smiled. “I wish you well.” There was clapping all around. Even the Legate and his soldiers smiled.
The two seemed ready to fall to their knees, when there was a shout of protest.
With a frown and a glance towards the interruption, the Dark Lord with an impatient gesture signaled the two young lovers to be removed. Two soldiers started to hurry them away.
A group of people rushed forward, shouting “Stop,” and “We protest.” The two young people hesitated.
“Go.” From the Dark Lord had them scrambling out of the Palace grounds.
Sitting back on the throne, the Dark Lord surveyed the group before him. There were really two groups, and they were clearly antagonistic towards each other.
“It’s your fault. If you had raised your daughter properly...” One woman was saying to another. The reply from the woman addressed, cast doubt on the other’s son’s birth and referenced the family’s perceived lack of morals.
“Silence,” The Dark Lord hissed. He stood. “I will say this once, why are you here interrupting the petitioners?”
A man stepped forward. “That was my son!” he shouted. “You let him leave with that whore!” At that statement, there was an audible gasp of indrawn breath from all the onlookers.
“You are a fool!” His hand on the hilt of His sword, the Dark Lord stalked menacingly towards the front of the dais. Staring at this, the Legate, Mangus Lictus Garius, looked over at the Head Steward. Receiving a nod, Mangus signaled his soldiers. They all started to move away from the group. Throwing a glance at the Ladies, both Ardent Nespot and Remi of Doscue began to edge away from the Dark Lord.
Another man, together with a woman, also moved forward. “My daughter is no whore. Your son is a seducer!” the man shouted. The woman turned to the Dark Lord and screamed at him, “You gave her to, to that, that animal. You are no worse than those murderers!”
White with anger, the Dark Lord stood still for a fraction. Everyone else had moved well away.
“No worse? Really?” He replied softly.
With a single motion, the sword came out. With a leap, the Dark Lord was at the group, heads flew to the left and right. There were screams, stilled abruptly as the entire group were slaughtered. The Dark Lord made no sound. Suddenly, it seemed, He was the only one left standing, all around were bodies missing heads, arms and sliced in half.
The crowd was struck silent, until He turned facing the crowd, surrounded by a glowing nimbus. With an awful chuckle, He asked, “Whose next!” He laughed as He advanced on the petitioners, sword still in hand.
With a cry, the nearest ran, a couple fell and were trampled. Others followed. The Ladies had vanished.
The awful laugher followed them down the hall. With a raising of His hand, lightening bounced off the walls. Every viewer’s image vanished as all cameras were destroyed.
