[RPG] [RP] [FEI] An Execution in Colasan

[Samuel Knowlton]

The early morning sun hung over the battered walls of Colasan. Hundreds of 
troops, many of them eschewing their local banners in favor of that of the 
Feudal Republic colors, criss-cross the streets. As many peasants and 
townspeople stay home as not; some had been won back over to Lasanar, while 
others -- particularly those who had tried to profit from the war and the 
strife -- were still offering token resistance, or else simply hiding from 
the inevitable.

But even with the conflict still simmering in the odd corner of the great 
city, the courtyard of Colasan Keep was packed. A chilly, coastal winter 
wind saw the pinions of the realm snapping along with the cloaks of the many 
knights, nobles, and functionairies that gathered near the center of the 
square, where almost everyone's attention was fixated.

In the center of the square had been erected a gallows.

The dour-looking Ser Ulwitt Dodd, wearing both the Feudal Arms of Lasanar as 
well as the Baronial Seal of Semon, stood atop the gallows. He rubbed his 
hands together and blew on them, shifting his weight from one foot to the 
other to keep himself warm, but it was of no use. There was no warmth to be 
had where he stood, all eyes on him. At the sight of a dark-clad man 
approaching at the head of a retinue from the keep proper, he squared his 
shoulders and cleared his throat.

"Ladies and gentlemens of Lasanar," boomed Dodd, stepping back to indicate 
the arriving man with a flourish. "Ser Galiard Scarlett, the Honourable 
Baron Semon, Grand Justiciar of the Feudal Republic of Lasanar!"

Galiard ascended the makeshift stairwell to the top of the gallows without 
so much as an acknowledgement of his closest knight's welcome. He stepped 
aside Dodd and set about unsealing and unfurling a particularly 
official-looking scroll.

Behind Galiard, three men, none of them bearing any particular standards of 
Lasanar's noble houses, escorted the Lady Menelmereth up the stairs. She was 
clad in a simple, gray, prisoner's garb but otherwise looked no worse for 
wear.

Galiard raised the scroll and adopted what Dodd privately referred to as his 
'Ser Scarlett's tryin' too hard to be big an' important' posture, though 
today, a dark, green cloak pulled about his shoulders and his hair recently 
cropped (and perhaps even washed), he almost looked it. The crowd, familiar 
with the intention of the posture if not Galiard's personal history with it, 
quickly quieted.

"Stand and receive your sentence," spoke the Grand Justiciar, angled partly 
towards Menelmereth and partly towards the crowd to make his voice project 
as far he was able.

"Lady Menelmereth Urominiel: you are convicted on the charge of Attempting 
to Usurp the Sovereign Power of the Grand Council of Lasanar; on the charge 
of Sedition; on the charge of Conspiracy to Commit High Treason; and, 
finally, on the charge of High Treason against your own land of Lasanar."

Galiard rolled up the scroll and passed it to Ser Dodd.

"By the power of the Office of the Grand Justiciar and with the full 
authority of the Grand Council of Lasanar," Galiard droned to the crowd, 
before turning to look directly at Menelmereth, his young face neutral and 
unreadable.

"I sentence you to hang by the neck until you are dead," said Galiard, his 
tone flat and without feeling.

With that, Galiard stepped down, off the gallows, as Menelmereth was led up 
a second makeshift stair-block and the noose tightened around her neck.

Galiard gave Ser Dodd a curt nod; Dodd kicked the stair out from beneath 
Menelmereth, eliciting the expected, if still entirely astonished gasps from 
the crowd.

To his grave, Galiard could not say whether she died quickly or not; he 
clasped his hands behind his back, turned, and walked back inside the keep. 
He never even noticed the mixed response from the crowd: the jeers from the 
Lasanarian soldiers and Loyalists, the sobs from the Royalists, and the more 
general cries of the women and men who had thought themselves above the 
spectacle of a public hanging until they actually walked by it, unable to 
tear their gaze away.

Galiard never looked back.