Chapter 23
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: The Execution
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I’d once heard that advertising is all about creating associations.
The kind of thing where you see a hamburger in a movie and suddenly crave one after leaving the theater.
So, what would these bastards, gathered to watch an execution like a performance, want to eat and drink? Red wine and bread drizzled with red sauce, of course.
“I brought it because you said so, Jojang, but… red wine… is this right?”
Snake-eyed Pul asked, wiping the sweat from his brow. He had brought an entire wooden barrel of red wine.
“It’s right. Put it over there. Hey—move aside a bit.”
“Yes, sir.”
The guy who sold oranges in the same spot in the square every day pushed his cart aside. That made enough space for one more stall.
It was a spot with a direct view of the guillotine. It was obvious that people would flock here.
Though it was early, the square was already bustling with people. Some were even raising their voices and fighting to claim the spots with the best view of the guillotine.
Of course, the very best spot was already taken.
“Higher! It’s not balanced!”
“Yes! You mean here?”
“Yeah! That’s it! Let’s show them what we’ve got!”
Ska and his riffraff in flat caps were gathered together, building a raised platform with thick wooden planks in a spot with a clear view of the guillotine.
“Isn’t this thing way too heavy?! Is this even wood?”
“Shut up and just lift! It’s not balanced, you little shit!”
Five of them were carrying a plank that was noticeably darker and thicker than the others, their faces contorted as if they were about to die, sweat pouring down their faces.
‘I didn’t expect the Lord’s party to come and watch.’
The last execution was held last year, and the Lord hadn't attended. But this time, word was that the Lord would be present, which was why the flat-capped guys from the carpentry shop were hastily building a high platform.
Ska had been spouting some nonsense about not showing his face during the day, but once I cast a shadow over his eyes, he swung his hammer more diligently than anyone.
No matter how I looked at it, Ska clearly had a special talent for handling tools. It seemed to be the reason he hadn't been fired, despite constantly slacking off at the shop.
“Jojang-nim, you’re being summoned.”
“Did you shave your beard?”
“Ahem… The Daejang said to come quickly.”
Unlike yesterday, Berman, now clean-shaven, avoided my gaze. The fact that the beardless Brick had caught Charlotte’s attention seemed to have been quite a shock to him.
“Go on. I’ll finish up here.”
Snake-eyed Pul said, tapping the wooden barrel he’d brought. *Thump, thump.* It sounded full.
“When Kel and Quarter get here, tell them I said they’re dead to me.”
Those two still hadn't shown up for work. Kel was surely in Rosa's arms, and Quarter was undoubtedly still in the arms of his bed.
“Yes, sir. I’ll be sure to tell them.”
I waved to the responding Berman and headed for a tent set up on one side of the square.
The tent was a faded, pale green, its bottom half so deeply mired in mud that it was stained brown. It looked like the kind of tent that would reek of damp cloth the moment you stepped inside.
Lifting the slightly closed flap, I went in.
“Oh… Aron, you’re here.”
The Daejang, wearing that same ill-fitting armor, greeted me, his cheeks quivering. He seemed to have gotten fatter, and the flesh bulging from the seams of his armor disgusted me.
“Yes, Daejang.”
I smiled back at him. His expression hardened for a moment before returning to his usual one.
The men standing next to the Daejang gave me a slight nod. They were the Jojangs of each team. Since we worked in shifts, faces that rarely met were all gathered in one place.
For the other folks in the castle, this was a festival, but for us, it was unpaid overtime. Everyone’s face was thick with irritation.
“Is everyone here?”
The Daejang asked with a foolishly stern expression. Someone muttered under their breath, ‘First he can’t fit into his armor, and now he can’t even count to six?’
The Daejang’s eyes twitched subtly, as if he’d heard, but he feigned ignorance and continued speaking calmly.
“Today is the day of the execution. It’s a major event with six people, and His Lordship himself has said he will be in attendance, so everyone be on your guard and don’t make any mistakes. One wrong move on a day like this, and you’re finished.”
“Yes, sir.”
Blant, the one-eyed Jojang of Team 1, answered. The others just nodded with sullen expressions.
The Outer Wall Guard handled all sorts of trivial tasks like inspections, patrols, and maintaining order among the uncivilized medieval bastards, so it was no exaggeration to say it was a collection of the foulest-tempered men in the castle.
And the men gathered here were the Jojangs who controlled them, so to say their tempers were foul was an understatement.
“Good. I trust our Outer Wall Guard. Let’s all do our part so that my trust isn’t broken.”
Regardless of whether the Jojangs responded, the Daejang continued speaking with an unchanging expression. Only Blant replied; the rest just gave a slight nod.
“Like he’s ever trusted us. He nags us every chance he gets.”
Chart, the Mad Dog Jojang of Team 2, openly sneered. The Daejang’s eyebrows shot up and then down, but he again pretended not to hear and continued.
“I’ll briefly assign areas. No, wait, before that, the executioner’s side has requested personnel. Any volunteers?”
At the Daejang’s question, everyone looked indifferent. This time, even Blant scratched his cheek and looked away. Anything related to the executioner was something even these scumbags were reluctant to do. I watched him for a moment, then slowly raised my hand.
“Just as I thought! Aron! You know you’re the one I trust most these days, right?”
Perhaps thanks to the food and beer we’d shared yesterday, the Daejang spoke with an overly burdensome amount of goodwill. Of course, that trust would piss away as naturally as taking a leak.
“Yes… well.”
“Then Aron, head over to the executioner’s side. He’ll be under the guillotine.”
The Daejang said with a wave of his hand, and I bowed my head and headed outside. The other Jojangs gave me a slight nod, and I just smirked.
The guillotine was built to about three times the height of a person, and the area in front of it was already swarming with people.
Closest to it, the Lord’s soldiers stood guard in full armor. They kept people at a certain distance, throwing punches and kicks at anyone who got too close.
In front of them, a cheerful family holding a child’s hand and smiling, a fresh-faced couple gazing at each other with flushed cheeks, and a group of loud, chattering middle-aged women—all sorts of people were laughing and talking.
The scene was reminiscent of a park on a fine, sunny day.
The soldiers glanced at me and made a path. I passed them and went around to the back of the guillotine.
Behind the guillotine was a box-shaped building where the condemned could wait.
Dalus was standing in front of it. He was wearing his usual red overcoat and a wide-brimmed hat pulled down low, looking up at the sky.
“A perfect day to take a head.”
“…Aron.”
Dalus’s eyes, as he turned to me, looked more hollow than usual.
“Was the bed uncomfortable?”
“Slept in the cart.”
Dalus muttered in a self-deprecating voice. At his answer, I habitually stroked my beard.
‘Looks like the innkeepers all refused him because he’s an executioner.’
Even though it wasn’t my problem, I felt a surge of irritation.
“Looks like the bastards wouldn’t take you in. Even as they wait here to watch you take off heads.”
“…It looks like it’s going to rain.”
Dalus looked up at the sky and muttered something completely out of context. I followed his gaze. The sky was clear, without a single cloud.
It was not a good day for killing someone, for watching someone die, or for saying it was going to rain. However, this was the eastern part of the Empire, where it could suddenly start raining even on a clear day, so I nodded.
“We should hurry, then. The price of a corpse drops if it gets rained on.”
Dalus lowered his gaze again, took out an object with a sun engraved on it from his coat, and brought it to his forehead.
An executioner who believed in God. It was paradoxical, but funnily enough, piety was an essential virtue for an executioner.
“Could you go in and guide the condemned? I’ll check the guillotine.”
“Alright.”
I nodded at Dalus’s request. I watched his back for a moment as he headed for the stairs leading up to the guillotine, then turned toward the place where the condemned were being held.
Two armed soldiers stood there, yawning. They saw me, gave a nod, and opened the door.
Inside, despite it being daytime, it was dark due to the lack of windows. A single lit torch illuminated the surroundings, and the air was thick with the smell of moldy dampness and oil.
And in a corner, the men I’d seen before were tied up like a string of dried fish. Their hands and feet were bound with low-quality, blunt iron shackles, which were connected by a rope.
“Don’t you worry! My father has taken off more than a hundred heads, so he’ll get it done in one clean stroke without any problems!”
In front of them, that little bas— no, Ted, was squatting and earnestly explaining something. However, contrary to Ted’s bright face, the expressions of the gagged prisoners were not good.
They looked like they wanted to tear Ted to shreds, but he paid them no mind, waving his hands about as he described how far their heads would fly.
“Ah, Aron! You’re here?”
“Yeah.”
I pushed away the clinging Ted and stood before the condemned, looking down at them. They must have been tortured, because they were in much worse shape than when I’d last seen them.
The venom that had filled their eyes was gone, replaced only by deep despair.
“Time to go die. Get up.”
*Mmph, mmph…* They shouted something, but the sounds were too muffled to understand. However, seeing them shuffle backward, it didn't seem like they would come along quietly.
“Hmm… still, it’s probably better to leave it to a professional, you know? I’m a bit clumsy, so I might not get your head off in one go. I can promise you, it won’t be a very satisfying experience.”
Nodding, I drew the sword from my waist, and their eyes widened as if they would tear.
“But I’ll get it done within three tries. So don’t worry too much.”
*Spit.* I spat on my palm and readjusted my grip on the sword’s hilt. I raised the sword high, and my long shadow, cast on the floor by the torchlight, flickered.
Their eyes trembled, and their bodies shook violently.
“…Mmph!!”
Just before I swung down, they shot to their feet. They stood up so hastily that they fell forward, but they scrambled back up with grim determination.
“See? I told you it’s better to leave these things to a professional. Good thinking.”
I patted the shoulder of the one whose specialty had been leaping from a crawl to stab with his sword. He grimaced. It looked like he was either crying or angry. Not that either mattered now.
“Let’s go get your heads cut off. It’s on the house, of course.”
I threw out what I thought was a witty joke, but they just hung their heads low. No one laughed. I scratched my cheek, feeling awkward.
When I pulled the rope, the men followed along meekly. With their feet bound, their steps were short, and the sight of them scurrying after me was rather comical.
“Oh! If it isn’t Aron!”
“Priest Blian… nim?”
As I dragged the men outside, the pig-like priest in white vestments, Blian, was standing there.
His sudden appearance sent a chill down my spine for a moment, but I managed to control my expression. I casually stuck out my neck to show the golden sun necklace. A displeasing arc formed on Blian’s thick lips.
“Oh… you’re wearing it well! Some people are so busy trying to sell it for gold when they receive one, but as expected, Aron’s faith is deep.”
Priest Blian, having spotted my gold necklace, nodded with a proud smile.
I hadn’t sold it yet because no cart driver had offered a decent price, but I didn’t bother to say so and just smiled along. Being praised for my deep faith by a priest, while having the Devil’s Handprint branded on my chest, was quite thrilling.
“Come on now, what kind of hell-bound sinner would dare do such a thing! To something given by Priest Blian, the so-called Saint of Casedic Castle!”
“Hahaha! Aren’t you gilding me a bit too much!”
Despite his words, Blian laughed so hard it looked like his mouth would tear. I laughed with him, and he laughed even louder. After our little laugh-fest, Priest Blian went on with various stories.
Most of them were about the holy scriptures, so I managed to get by with bits and pieces of knowledge I’d picked up here and there. That alone seemed to be enough for Blian, as the corners of his mouth never drooped.
After some time, while the men tied behind me were repeatedly collapsing and getting back up, a soldier came to find us.
“It’s time to prepare.”
The soldier said cautiously, bowing his head deeply to the priest.
“Ah, has it gotten so late already! A conversation with the faithful Aron is always so enjoyable.”
“I, too, greatly enjoy my conversations with you, Priest Blian-nim. Just being near you, who is called the very model of a priest, feels like it deepens my soul.”
I pocketed the potion the beaming Blian handed me and smiled along. Blian was like a vending machine that dispensed items if you just buttered him up with compliments.
“But what brings you here?”
“Ah, I usually give the condemned a chance to repent and offer a blessing before the execution. A final chance, you see. Hmm…”
At my question, Blian looked over the prisoners as if he’d just remembered and let his sentence trail off.
“His Lordship has also arrived. We must go up now.”
Just then, the soldier hurried him.
“Hey, you guys did wrong, right? Yeah, your heads are about to roll, so what’s the point if you don’t repent. They’ve repented, Priest Blian-nim.”
“Ahem… I see. Well then, may your future be filled with good things.”
At my words, Blian briefly closed his eyes, made a gesture of prayer, and opened them again. It was so brief that it almost looked like he was just yawning.
*Mmph, mmph…*
The condemned men’s eyes went wide, and they babbled something, but their words were muffled by the gags and couldn’t be heard. And the words of men about to die held little meaning.
“Then I’ll see you at the chapter house next time.”
“Haha, I’d love that! I’ll open a bottle of wine I’ve been saving especially.”
After bidding Blian farewell, I pulled on the rope binding the prisoners. They, for some reason so aggrieved, pointed their chins at the departing Blian and made ‘mmph, mmph…’ sounds, but I couldn’t understand what they were saying.
“The Lord is waiting. Let’s go. Everyone’s gathered and waiting to see you. Isn’t it great? You get to go out to the applause of the people in your final moments.”
When I pulled the rope, the resisting men were dragged along, and soon we arrived at the stairs leading up to the guillotine.
“Thank you for your trouble.”
Dalus, who was on the stairs, took the rope and bowed his head in gratitude. I waved my hand, and he led the prisoners up the stairs.
…Mmph, mmph!!
The one who used to leap and stab with his sword turned to look at me and shouted something, but again, it was inaudible due to the gag.
“Yeah, it was good to see you again too.”
When I waved back, the man’s eyes widened and he screamed, “Mmph!!” but he was soon dragged up by Dalus.
The guillotine platform was slightly elevated, offering a panoramic view of the square.
The square was packed with people. It seemed like everyone in the castle had gathered. They looked up at the guillotine with shining eyes, like an audience waiting for a show to begin.
‘Tsk, uncivilized bastards.’
I clicked my tongue softly and scanned the square. On the platform Ska’s men had built sat the Lord and his wife, their daughter, and their eldest son. The Lord had an ordinary face, but his wife was a striking beauty.
The daughter had clearly inherited her mother’s looks. The eldest son, however, seemed to have taken after his father, with a sullen face.
Behind them stood three armed knights. Two of them looked familiar.
‘Knight Ben, Knight Adela, the other one must be Knight Toik.’
Ben stood behind the young lady, while the female knight I’d seen briefly, Adela, and Knight Toik, famous for his magnificent mustache, were behind the Lord.
The rest of the soldiers were positioned in a circle below the platform. It was an ironclad defense, preventing anyone from approaching.
‘He brought out his entire force.’
Watching this, I thought the Lord was a more cautious man than I’d expected. To bring all his knights for something in a small castle like this, he was the kind of man who would make his maid taste his stew first.
The platform took up a significant amount of space, forcing the crowd in the square to be packed even tighter together. Looking around, I saw familiar faces here and there.
‘That… that bastard Brick.’
In a corner stood a very tense Brick, and beside him, Charlotte was awkwardly pressing her chest against his arm.
Both of their faces were as red as if they were about to explode. The contrast between Brick's dazed expression, as if he were about to lose consciousness, and Charlotte's determined face, her lips bitten tight, was comical.
And in the center, snake-eyed Pul stood next to a stall piled high with bread, with Hana and Kanna behind it.
Hana was busily looking left and right as if searching for something, while Kanna peeked out from behind her, observing the guillotine. Kanna nodded as she watched the men on the platform. Her expression was unfitting for a child, yet it suited her strangely well.
‘The bread and wine haven’t sold as well as I thought.’
It probably hadn’t sold yet because the main event hadn’t started, I thought, turning my gaze.
Kel was being scolded by Berman, standing next to a red-haired woman with elaborate makeup holding a large fan.
‘Has Quarter still not arrived?’
He was usually late, but only moderately so. It was a bit strange that he still wasn’t here.
*Puuuuu-.*
The sound of a horn announced the beginning.
Waaaaah!!
The crowd clapped and cheered, and even the Lord leaned forward slightly.
I looked up. Dalus was grabbing one of the men and forcing him onto the guillotine.
The man struggled, but Dalus easily subdued him, laid him down, and tied him securely so he couldn't move.
‘Yeah, it’s better to have a professional handle it.’
As I gave a small nod, *THWACK!*
A heavy, yet chilling sound echoed.
Waaaaaaaaaah!!!
At the spray of red blood, the crowd cheered as if fireworks had gone off.
Dalus expertly picked up the severed head, held it high for the crowd to see, and they cheered even louder than before.
Among them were young children, a shy young woman holding a young man’s hand, and an old man with wrinkles around his eyes. Even the Lord’s eyes crinkled at the corners.
Men and women, young and old, all cheered before the bodiless head.
‘Uncivilized bastards.’
I muttered the words that had now become a habit.
*THWACK!*
Another head rolled.
A red firework exploded.
The crowd cheered loudly.
A few spectators pushed past the soldiers and rushed out to dip their bread in the red blood pooling on the ground. The soldiers belatedly dragged them away.
As this grotesque scene unfolded, my own sense of unease deepened.
“Isn’t my dad just the coolest?”
I forced a nod at the cheerfully smiling little bastard’s words.
Around that time, Dalus was laying the man who used to crawl on the ground onto the guillotine. I casually turned my head away.
My left chest felt itchy for some reason, so I gave it a light scratch and glanced around.
‘Huh?’
A man in a black hood was approaching the platform where the Lord was seated. His attire was suspicious to anyone who saw it, but it was strange that the surrounding soldiers weren’t stopping him.
It was as if the soldiers couldn’t see him; they just kept looking up at the guillotine. I guessed he must be someone official. Otherwise, he couldn’t have approached the Lord’s platform so casually.
The man, facing no resistance, reached the back of the platform as if on a leisurely stroll and fumbled for something in his coat. The whole sequence of movements looked like a well-rehearsed play.
*THWACK!!*
Waaaaaaaaaah!!
Once again, a red firework went off, and the people cheered. The soldiers blocked a few who tried to rush forward.
The Lord watched this and gestured with his hand, and the soldiers guarding the guillotine made way.
Then, even more people rushed out, dipping their bread in the pooling blood and stuffing it into their mouths frantically. They smiled brightly as if the blood were a sweet sauce. There were parents forcing it into the mouths of crying children, and lovers laughing as they fed the bread to each other.
*Piiiiii-.*
A ringing sound filled my ears.
Just then, the man in the black hood took out a large black object and attached it to the underside of the platform.
Having done so, the man pushed back the hood that covered his face, revealing it. The face was familiar.
Gentle eyes, long, drooping cheeks. A head that seemed even balder than before. I knew him.
The man who had a cart full of goat carcasses. The one who had slipped me a hefty purse. The man with the ambiguous tattoo of a spider and a snake on his shoulder.
It was Dornua, who had supposedly been assigned to the Mozak Merchant Guild’s Casedic branch.
‘Why is that bastard here?’
In that split second, a thousand thoughts raced through my head.
All sorts of theories came to mind, but the space between me and the platform was already blocked by the throng of the crowd.
And then.
*KWAAAAAAAANG!*
A massive explosion erupted from beneath the platform.
“We’re so fucked.”
I rubbed my face, feeling the searing blast of heat.