Micky walked to the execution grounds. But he felt like he was the one being executed. The villagers all looked at him with unkind eyes. This was worse then it had ever been. The only exception was that one Misses Belchen. She had cursed him out like she cursed out every one of the unfortunate [Class]ed. She had screamed that they should be executed like in the old days. Of course, that had recently been proven the wrong method. By executing those with a bad [Class] they will just pass that class around somewhere else, better to have the few bear that burden.

Now though, now they all looked at him with those same eyes. The eyes of the executioner. The eyes that look at someone that is already dead. Micky didn’t know what to do, what to say. He was targeted and there was nothing he could do about it. What did he do wrong?

What was scariest was that they weren’t doing anything about it. Micky knew they wanted to attack him. He knew they would tear him limb from limb like some [Monster] if he just showed them his back. But they weren’t and it scared him. Why weren’t they doing anything? Why weren’t they throwing anything? Those eyes just stared at him. Even as their bodies moved and did what they normally did.

So Micky ran to the execution grounds. He didn’t trust them anymore. He couldn’t trust them anymore. So he ran to his salvation. He ran towards the stage that awaited the blood of others. Only there would he be safe. Only there would they be restrained.

Once he got there he went to a corner and hid. He waited for the time that the village held it’s breath for. The execution of its elders, its leaders. The chopping of its head.

One of the [Guard]s was sharpening an [Axe] on the side of the grounds. The axe shined in glee, awaiting the fulfillment of its purpose. Micky shivered in the corner. He had caused this. It was his fault.

People started to arrive. The village arrived like this was going to be a funeral, and it was. They brought food and beer for later. It wasn’t like the pub was going to be open afterwards.

Bob showed up, he had been excluded from the [Raid] because of his injury, but he would die from his wounds before he would miss his mothers execution. He stopped in front of the stage, a front row seat to the mess he started, the only seat in the square. He wouldn’t stop staring at the spot where his mother’s life was going to end.

Eventually, the entire village showed up, even one drunk Mathew. He showed up hugging a bottle, his armour nowhere to be seen. He staggered into the square and leaned against a wall before slumping to the ground. He was just sober enough not to fall asleep to see his cousin be executed before his eyes with him not being able to do a damn thing. Worse, he couldn’t ride in on a white horse to save her ass because of her deadbeat son.

Susan and co. arrived. Pinky and his family, Trevor, Jeremy, and Littlefoot and their family all arrived. Everybody was in their best clothes, it was a funeral after all.

The [Baron]’s Son walked up to the stage and the [Guard] took the axe he was sharpening and held it for when the baron’s son would need it. He had made it as sharp as he possibly could, though the blade would definitely chip after this and might become useless. He didn’t want the elders to suffer.

The [Baron]’s Son ordered the elders to be brought forward and the [Guard]s brought them out of the impromptu jail. After all the jail the village had was not designed to hold this many prisoners.

As they were lining up Mrs. Marcia started screaming. “It’s not his fault! It’s not his fault! We did this! We did this with our negligence. We knew this would happen and we never tried to stop it. We didn’t prepare the town when we knew there would be a raid! Montihue and Velerum died because we didn’t warn them to get back to town. They were still out there when we could have brought them back. Chopping wood for Carlson. We were just so stupid.” She screamed as she was lead up.

All the while the [Baron]’s Son stared at Bob, knowing it was useless. The village had already decided whose fault it was. These elders would die as martyrs and the kids the villains. And there was nothing they could do or say to change their minds.

“I don’t want to die! It was that little shit! I don’t deserve this! It wasn’t me!” Micky’s Dad’s Boss cried.

“Oh, shut up Carl. It’s your fault we’re in this mess. You embezzled the [Village]s taxes and then took from the defense fund and then took from the emergency fund. You’re the person that deserves to be here the most.” Said an elder.

“I wasn’t the only one. You took the defense funds and used them for yourselves! You did it not me!” The village sleazeball yelled back.

“You’re right. We should have cleaned up those pits ages ago. Instead, we invested it in the Headwig’s farms, and Terisa’s house, And a thousand other little things we shouldn’t have. Hell, we could have paid the kids some chump change quest to get it done. Instead, we allowed a dungeon, no a [Dungeon] to grow under our feet and were this close to a monster siege. Can you even look at your wife and explain to her how you almost got your children killed over a little bit of coin? I can’t, I’m sorry to say but I should have left Terisa homeless. I can’t even look at myself in a mirror, luckily our dear lord saw fit to never give me one.” That got a few laughs from the procession.

“Oh, if that’s what you wanted I can give you one.” Said The [Baron]’s son. He then kneed the man in the gut. He produced a Mirror for the man to get a look while he stood over him sneering down. “Like what you see?” Said the [Baron]’s son. “Nah, that just looks like a fool and an asshole.” said the man. That got a laugh from the soon to be executed. The [Baron]’s son then stepped on the man’s nuts and ground them in.

“We are gathered-” The [Baron]’s son said, but was interrupted by Micky’s Dad’s Boss’s screams “It’s not my fault! I don’t deserve this! Release me! You can’t treat a [Citizen] like this!” The [Baron]’s son gave one of the [Guard]s a look and he was quickly bound and gagged. The [Baron]’s son enjoyed screams like this but he hated being interrupted. “We are gathered here to witness the execution of these traitors. These [Treason]ess swine swindled the [Hendriksen’s Estate] out of its valuable taxes and just dues. They were negligent of their duties and left the estate vulnerable. I hereby find them guilty and shall carry the heavy burden of execution.” As he finished his speech the [Guard] handed him the executioners axe. Micky’s Dad’s Boss still screamed, he would be last.

The honor of first will go to Mrs. Marcia. The [Baron]’s son wanted to watch the look on Bob’s face as he stared at his mother’s dying eyes. Mrs. Marcia stared into he sons eyes “It’s not his fault you can’t blame him.” She said. “I know, it’s mine.” Bob said. “Oh honey, it’s our fault. Gods above, I wish I had more time. I L-” She never got to finish. The [Baron]’s son had waited for that moment to slice down. He was experienced in this. He knew that the greatest regret was never some complicated speech. But the simplest words and intent. He sneered down at Bob, relishing in that look in its purity.

The next in line came and went. The [Baron]’s son relishing each and every one of them. He loved executions. The looks in the families faces as they watched their loved one be killed with nothing they could do to stop it. He even hoped that they fought so that he would have more to execute. After all the family that dies together stays together.

As promised Micky’s Dad’s Boss was last. The Baron’s Son ungagged him so that he could listen to his cries and pleas. He listened to his admittance of all his crimes. Then he put him to the axe as he cursed him to the highest order. All the while the [Baron]’s son wondered if it was enough to claim defament of a [Noble]’s status and if he could put his entire family to the axe. It was almost enough to spare him long enough to do it. But then he saw Micky and decided it wasn’t worth pissing off a count’s house.

The axe fell and the show was done. There were still tears being shed but he decided it wasn’t worth sticking around. In the end none of the executed or their families ever got to say the simple words “I love you.” And the [Baron]’s son felt a jolt every time he interrupted them.

He didn’t care if they talked about how to handle the family business. Or if they waxed and waned about old times. But interrupting those simple words. He knew from experience that they were the most important. But now it was time to leave.