Born a Monster

Chapter 95

Vanity

If you ever want to stress-test your heart, walk slowly toward an enemy with nothing more deadly than the flag of truce. If I had someone who had broken my city in range of my archers... well, I’d probably talk to them rationally, but I’m not foolish enough to think everyone is like me.

I stopped at the proper range, slammed the butt of the flagpole into the ground. Then I sat down to watch.

Were they discussing what to say?

Debating what to do? I know if my opponent in a critical battle had demonstrated a new weapon, I’d need some time to adapt.

.....

But actually taking Whitehill wasn’t our objective. Not that we couldn’t have forced a surrender with the troops we should have had, we just couldn’t risk it with the remnants of what we had.

And why even train diplomats if they were just going to get wounded?

Well, I could just close my eyes for a second...

I was awakened by the sound of approaching horses sometime later. Not noon, but well past dawn.

There were three of them, and one bore the flag of truce.

“You speak Manoran?” the smallest of them said.

“You speak Achean?” I asked back.

“Savages.” He said in Manoran. Then, in Achean “I speak Achean. You will withdraw your army now, and swear to never return, or we shall kill you here and ride down your army.”

“With what horsemen?” I asked. “Your lies must at least be credible, if I am to believe them.”

“We can kill you, kobold.”

“Let us pretend nobody would ever hear of your betrayal of the flag of truce.” I looked at the ruins of their gatehouse. “You have at least seven days, but at most fourteen.”

“You aren’t in a position to threaten us. We still have hundreds of soldiers.”

“Yes, and if you remain intending to fight, you should conscript every man, woman, and child who can raise a weapon. I’ve seen with my own eyes how that turns out. A week or two from now, when the actual army arrives, I recommend the other option. Surrender, sir, and save your township being sacked.”

“No, sirrah, I don’t think I shall consider that. Sergeant, dismount and shackle this criminal.”

“Sir Talloak?”

“You heard me. Their army is broken. Take this filthy little creature prisoner.”

He dismounted. “I’m sorry. He outranks me.”

“I’m also sorry.” I said. “I too, have such a superior.”

The manacles were metal, and loose enough that I could have escaped them. Why bother? If the town was this far gone, there was nothing I could do to save them.

“You, sirrah, are now a prisoner of the Knights Ambrosiac. We charge you to accept your position and execution with grace.”

“Oh, execution of a diplomat kidnapped under a flag of truce?” I asked.

“Do you see diplomats from the city here to speak with you? Your armies, monster, have broken the rules of combat. Those rules no longer apply. Choose the manner of your death.”

“Oh? Is drowning an option?” I asked.

He smiled. “Few choose prolonged suffering. You think someone is coming to save you? Let’s get the prisoner inside the walls.”

#

You’d think that if you were going to take a prisoner and execute them, that you’d be ready to do so.

Instead, they threw me into a pigsty.

“Squee!”

How long could it possibly take to find a long pole and nail a chair to it? If wood were scarce, a cart axle should suffice.

There was a brief amount of entertainment, in the form of children, and rotted vegetation, and a cruel sport. Aleksos was declared the victor, for pelting me in the eye with an egg, but I remember Alexandrite hitting her targets more often.

“Hey, what are you kids doing?”

They scattered.

He approached the wooden fence, one I could easily get through. “Are you the diplomat seized by the Knights?”

Truthspeaker wouldn’t let me speak my original response. “I see no other reptilian prisoners.” I said.

“Look, the knighthood has taken you without the city council’s approval. We’ll have you free of them by nightfall.”

“Oh, a race! How exciting! The one who arrested me under flag of truce means to execute me well before then. I shall be rooting for your side, for obvious reasons.”

“He hasn’t the authority to that. He’s probably meaning to scare you.”

I pulled a paper from my inventory, handed it to him. “If Whitehill chooses to surrender, these are the terms the Red Tide is prepared to offer today.”

[You have earned three points of Vanity. After sin armor, two points have been assigned.]

“You... you DARE to offer us surrender even as we try to save your life?”

“Whitehill has a spy network. You must understand the position your township is in.”

“You... you DARE? Whitehill is the center of noble blood on this part of the continent. We, sirrah, are knights and noblemen. We do not need ... spies.”

What? Everyone needs spies. Humans even learn to do it from the age they first gossip with each other.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “The person above me in the Red Tide isn’t going to distinguish between your knights and your noblemen when he arrives here. He...”

“You offer threats?”

“I’m trying to save around half your population, you dolt!”

“A dolt? I must be a dolt, trying to save such as you. Good day, sirrah.”

What was WITH this town? Okay, okay, I wasn’t the most diplomatic. In my defense, I was ankle deep in pig shit at the time.

I relieved myself in the corner of the sty and just ... waited.

The sun reached its zenith in the sky, and began descending. My companions began looking less like animals and more like free ham.

They did come for me, and strapped me into a chair with a ring set in the back, a chain affixed to the ring.

“And now,” one of the knights said, “you die.”

#

I admit I fell asleep while they carried me to a well.

Someone was slapping me, hard enough to loosen my teeth. I just needed an evolution to automatically regrow those.

“What, what?” I asked. It took me a moment to remember what was going on.

Sir Talloak was there. “For crimes against the city and people of Whitehill, and for the execution of knights upon the field of battle, I pronounce you guilty of murder, of sedition, and of spreading fear and chaos. Do you have any words in your defense?”

“You forgot to add defacing public property to the list of charges.”

What? That wasn’t worth Vanity?

“So rude.” One citizen said.

“How vile!” said another.

“... glad we have the knights to protect us...”

“... deserves what’s coming to him...”

I never heard the command, but they hefted me over the lip of the well, and were surprised when the back of the chair caught on the lip. A small struggle later, and they were lowering me handful by handful to the water below.

I got stuck twice, and the second time they raised me back to the surface.

There were axes, and for a moment I feared they were just going to lop my head off. Instead, they broke free the back legs of the chair, and hacked off the part of the back above my head.

I may have screamed in terror during this process.

And then, down the well. Whitehill has deep wells; they are on a hill, after all.

They dunked me multiple times. I coughed and sputtered in what I hoped was a satisfactory manner each time they brought me up.

“Beg! Beg for your life!” someone shouted.

.....

There were moments between air and water where my lungs were filling or emptying, and I could not breathe.

Then they finally relented, and let me have a good two minutes in the water.

Cough, cough. Gasp.

“He’s still alive.”

“Witchcraft.”

“We should burn the Taint out of him.”

Then I was underwater for four minutes. Then ten.

And then, they began raising me from the well.

“Having shown your physical mutation brought about by your tainted nature, I decree that you shall instead be burned to death!” Sir Talloak said.

Almost as if by magic, some pudgy merchant or other showed up at exactly that time. He whispered into Talloak’s ear.

“Citizens of Whitehill! THIS one tells me that I must free this corrupted creature! Are not those who are allies of the Taint themselves tainted?”

The crowd roared its assent.

“Then let there be multiple burnings this dusk! Sieze the city council, who would let this monster run amok in our city! Let the Chaos tainted BURN!”

The cheers were deafening.

Cats, dogs, mice everywhere. Maybe he was Mad?

I tried to examine his eyes, but they told me nothing.

At least they had me in a stone cell with bars this time while I waited. I got what sleep as they would permit me.

#

Slap.

Oh, I guess it’s time to...

Slap.

... to wake up.

I was rushed out of my cell. I could hear the sounds of fighting nearby, the clash of metal on metal, the shouted orders.

So. Tired.

The sun was below the wall, the shadow up over the top of the eastern wall encircling the compound I was in.

[You have taken a YELLOW critical for double damage, for a total of sixteen blunt damage. After armor, ten points of damage have been received. 18/30 health remain.]

One of my escorts had decided to kick me in my groin.

“Uofrekim.” I said, or something like that.

Of thirteen poles with firewood beneath them, only two were occupied. I was lashed, ankle and wrist, to the nearest. Then they wrapped me with another layer of rope. Then, as if the rope itself might attempt to escape, there was another layer of rope.

The female turned to me. “I understand this is your fault.”

I shrugged. “I blame your town for this.” I said.

“I curse the Taint you brought here with you, and hope you burn in a special hell for your wicked deeds.” She turned her head and spat.

Her simple curse had power, but it wasn’t able to direct itself at me. Finding some other individual nearby who was tainted, the curse shot into the sky like an arrow.

Whomever that curse struck, I hope you had a better day than I did.

“It sounds like the battle outside is going poorly for the Knights.” I said.

“I saw them put oil on the wood. You’ll burn away to nothing before anyone gets inside to save either of us.”

“I guess we’ll both be here to see what happens.”

“Vanity offers no proof against fire, monster! We will both burn, and cease pretending otherwise.”

“I’m really not pretending.” I said. “It looks like the other is unconscious. He won’t suffer, at least.”

“He’s dead.” She said. “We’ll join him among the Hells soon enough.”

“I don’t see them in any hurry to burn us.” I said.

“Heh. It’s coming. The fires always come to claim the Tainted.”

“Uh-huh. And how, exactly, does one detect the Tainted?”

“Mutation, madness, or other aberration. A lack of concern for social or artistic matters.”

“I’ve not seen much of your town that could be called artistic.”

“Proof! Proof of your Taint! Your...”

I tuned her out. There wasn’t going to be any conversation there.

Someone in the heraldry of the Knights Ambrosiac, a bright orange sunflower on black, was approaching. With a lit torch.

They lit my woodpile first, and the acrid smoke had reached me long before they lit hers. By the time all three woodpiles were lit, I was comfortably warm.

I was having trouble breathing, but sure, I was warm.

#