3.23: Justice – 4

As the six bodies swayed from the gallows in the dull breeze, I scanned the crowd.

Thousands of eyes flitted between the fresh corpses and me.

“The events that brought us here today were a failure of not just representation,” I said out loud, “but also security. To combat the latter, I am expanding our military by a hundred men today. General?”

Lothar stepped forward.

“Recruits! Present yourselves!”

The ground shook, as a hundred men, all dressed in army green, stamped their feet in unison. Dust billowed around the line facing us, four men deep. All hundred pairs of eyes looked at me, hard with the determination to protect their new home.

I nodded back.

These men had been the most promising of militia trainees after the first hundred who had been inducted into the military. Unlike a modern military, they came from a much wider range of ages; from teenagers barely into adulthood, eager to prove themselves, to men approaching thirty, whose eyes were still haunted by the shadow of loss they had endured during the exodus.

“These hundred men join the military of Chadom today,” I declared to the crowd, “to safeguard its borders, its sovereignty and its interests. Under their protection, Chadom will become a land of plenty, where no one will ever go hungry or homeless again. A fortress that will break any fool who dares attack it.”

Muted applause answered me.

As it faded, I continued.

“There is another matter I have to announce. One that, in time, will be remembered as the most important event that happened this day.”

People blinked in confusion.

“When my secretary asked whether you wanted representation beyond the Elders, a majority of you said yes. In accordance with your wishes, I hereby declare the establishment of the People’s Council of Chadom.”

Only silence answered.

A gust of wind swept across the bastion, carrying the smell of pine, cedar and a faint, sour tang of voided bowels.

This probably wasn’t the best setting for such an announcement.

But, everyone was already here, and I didn’t want the hassle of arranging another assembly.

“From now on, every one of you will have the opportunity to voice your concerns through representatives chosen by you. Let us bring our disagreements into the open and resolve them together with words, like civilized people, rather than whispering in forest clearings and resorting to violence. Violence only breeds more violence.”

The six corpses swayed slightly, as if in agreement.

The people looked at them, each other, then me.

I hoped I wasn’t coming off as a villain.

You better voice your concerns, if you know what's good for you.

“The Council will be composed of one adult man and one woman from each decade of life, from twenties to sixties, elected by you every five years. The three Elders will also sit on it, along with the General of our military, my secretary and myself. In recognition of their role in leading you to safety, Elders Bram, Eliard and Erickson will possess two votes each. I will hold two as well, along with the power to veto a decision.

“The Council will preside over domestic affairs, work with me to formalize our laws and govern Chadom in my absence.”

It would work for a decade or so. With the next generation, if we even retained the institution of Elders, they would receive only one vote each, giving the elected representatives the majority.

The crowd’s murmur rose up to a drone, like a disturbed beehive.

“Women?” someone said in disbelief.

“What’s the point—”

“Quiet!”

The Elders shifted uncomfortably beside me.

“Sire?” an older man near the front raised his voice.

“Yes?”

He hesitated, as hundreds of faces turned toward him.

“What—what happens if the Council disagrees with you?”

“Then we talk, until we come to an understanding.”

“What if…” he swallowed. “What if we vote against you?”

“That is your right. You don’t need to fear retaliation. I will either accept your decision, or reject it, with an explanation.”

The murmuring returned.

“Then what’s the point?” someone younger shouted.

“The point,” I replied, “is that I might be wrong, and your words might just stop me from making a very big mistake.”

The courtyard fell silent.

“I know many things you don’t, but you also know things I don’t. Nobody knows about a family’s needs better than the mother running the household. Only the Elders remember expensive lessons learned decades before most of us were born. Craftsmen know their trade. I want such people to warn me before I stumble and drag the rest of you down with me.”

I raised a finger.

“Some of you might have noticed that I am not giving you self-governance. Not when our future remains in jeopardy, and our nation only months old. But I am giving you something the common people of Nahnon have never possessed.”

I paused.

“The right to stand before your ruler and tell him he is wrong, and why he is wrong.”

The courtyard went very quiet.

“I did not sentence Hyde to death for disagreeing with me.”

His sixty, hopefully, ex-supporters stiffened.

“I sentenced him to death because he resorted to kidnapping and violence, instead of openly discussing his grievances. I am creating this Council so we don’t have a repeat of that incident and the consequences.”

Nobody spoke.

I wondered if this was too much for them. They were used to Elders deciding their fate behind closed doors and Nobles issuing commands from stone castles, expecting instant obedience.

Maybe the idea of challenging their ruler was simply too alien for them.

I was about to turn back when a man shouted from the crowd.

“Sire!”

“Yes?”

“I have a question!”

“Come forward.”

A young man slowly pushed his way to the front. Sharp but nervous amber eyes looked everywhere but at me. He was around the same age as me; mid-twenties, forehead covered in sweat despite the cool weather.

While the people scowled at him for his audacity, he visibly struggled to remain upright.

“Ask your question.”

He bowed deeply. “Sire, many people are concerned about your marriage to the Queen.”

“About what?”

“That…”

His gaze flicked around nervously.

I waited.

Finally, he forced himself to meet my eyes.

“That Chadom will become an unofficial province of Nahnon after your marriage.”

Gasps rippled around him.

Brave.

The man’s face paled, while I couldn’t help but smile. It was a good sign.

“Nothing could be further from the truth,” I replied. “Chadom will remain independent, and not just because it is right. You see, our nation will play an important role in the free people’s resistance against the Vozoran Empire’s attempt to subjugate us all.”

Cheers went up from scattered pockets. Mostly young men.

At the same time, many faces blanched; mothers and older men. People who understood the costs involved.

“We Chads are mighty but few, so we cannot exactly contribute by joining the frontlines,” I continued. “Instead, we will contribute to the common effort by manufacturing weapons to help the rest fight against the Vozoranians’ greed. To keep those weapons out of the reach of our enemies, Chadom must retain strict control over who is allowed to enter its borders. We can’t have that if we are a province of Nahnon.”

This knowledge would have been a state secret, had I not already demonstrated the repeating crossbows at my betrothal to the nobles to get them off Laira’s back. Now it was merely an open secret.

I scanned the crowd.

“However, I cannot promise that we will be entirely isolated from violence.”

Not with cannons requiring trained crews.

“All I can promise is that I will do everything in my power to ensure that your lives are not put at unnecessary risk.”

The soldiers nodded in understanding, while the civilians only paled further.

Meanwhile, the young man still rocked back and forth on his feet.

“You have another question?” I asked.

“If it pleases you, Sire,” he stammered. “Those weapons of ours… I heard some soldiers saying that without them, far more than four of our men would have died at the Battle of the Bog. What if we are attacked again? If you provide them to others, won’t that make us weaker?”

I suppressed a grimace. I couldn’t exactly openly tell thousands of civilians about the terrifying power of gunpowder weapons, but I also had to reassure them that they were well defended.

“Excellent question, and the answer is no. I came to an agreement with the Queen. I would provide the crossbows only to the soldiers loyal to her, and no one else. The men who will soon be loyal to me as well. Also, they will be led by men of integrity.”

Eyebrows rose in disbelief. For good reason.

“Before I left the capital,” I continued, “I initiated an extensive reform within the Royal Army. Officers who would put their private interests above the defense of our realms are being kicked out.”

Those eyebrows disappeared into hairlines.

“I know it sounds impossible, but it’s true. The Queen’s own General lost a son himself because of corruption. He and I will ensure that weapons made by your hands are pointed at our common enemies, not at you.”

“How do we know if any of that is true?” an angry voice shouted.

As I scanned the crowd, a young man came forward, shoving people aside. His thick eyebrows were knitted in a scowl above furious eyes, his dark hair a wild mess of curls

The crowd scowled back at him.

He looked to be sixteen at most.

“You could come with me to Aldersthron to see for yourself.”

“You could just put on a display to deceive us!”

I froze, flummoxed by his reply.

This… this wasn’t a rational question, or behavior.

Before I could say anything, Lothar stepped closer with a weary sigh.

“That’s Shemar,” he murmured, his eyes pointing to the corpses swinging on the gallows. “Eldan’s younger brother.”

Oh.

No answer would be ever enough for the young man.

While I struggled with what to say, a woman hurried forward and tried to drag the boy away by the arm. He tried to wrench himself free, but she refused to let go. After a brief struggle, he finally gave up and hung his head. She pulled him into herself, enveloping him in a hug.

As they broke into sobs, I turned away.

“This assembly is concluded. Disperse!” Lothar shouted as I began walking away.

Aprilia stepped closer, slipping a hand in mine.

At the far corner of the bastion, we gazed at the interior of the valley stretching in front of us, shouldered by tall mountains on both sides. Calm and eternal.

She turned to face me, then leaned into my chest.

“Don’t let that boy’s grief get to you. You only did what was right,” she whispered.

“I know,” I said, as my hand slipped into my pocket and closed around the steel ball.

She wrapped her arms around me. I mirrored the motion. Breathing out slowly, I pulled her closer.

For some time, neither of us spoke.

Then, she peeled herself away.

“Was it right to just forgive those sixty men?” she asked, looking up at me. “Plenty of them still believe in Hyde’s cause.”

“I didn’t forgive them. They’ll be working until Chadom has an extensive transportation network. Besides, excessive cruelty isn’t going to change their minds. Exposure to the immigrants and time will.”

“If that doesn’t work?”

“That’s why I doubled our military. To make sure they remain under surveillance.”

I glanced back.

My four guards stood at a respectful distance, eyes sweeping for danger.

Whether I liked it or not, this was my reality now.

“Still,” she said weakly, “you could’ve made an example out of some of them.”

I reeled in shock. This wasn’t like her. I looked at her face.

She was breathing normally, but her face was pulled tight, hiding her emotions. My back to back brushes with death had affected her more than I had thought.

On top of her own experience.

“Certainty of punishment is more effective in deterring crime than severity, Apri. Hence the bigger military.”

She wrung her hands in frustration.

“I wish we didn’t have to deal with these kinds of problems at all. Having to fear our own people.”

There was nothing I could say to that, so I pulled her into my arms again.

Fresh mountain air drifted lazily over us.

After some time, when the courtyard was empty again and soldiers had cleared the results of the trial, we began descending from the bastion.

“Did you dress that herald, General?” I asked Lothar.

“Yes, Sire. To make the court look more formal.”

I gave him a side eye. “You know what I mean. Why did he call me a Messiah?”

“Because you are one?”

“Lothar.”

He glanced around. The Elders had already left.

“Give us some space,” I told the guards.

They backed off.

Aprilia did the same, reluctantly.

“It was necessary,” he hissed. “You didn’t even win that last argument about the Cha’s identity with Hyde. If not for the people’s belief in your status, you might have found them sympathizing with him. Then he would have died a martyr, instead of a pitiful fool who couldn’t even see eye to eye with our great and wise Messiah.”

I sent a glare his way.

“You are rationalizing. You should have told me beforehand.”

“Why? So you could have overruled me?”

Shaking my head, I picked up my pace.

I was the last person to preach against pragmatism, but this could lead to a cult of personality.

I did not want to go down the Jack Mu’addib route.

A chill crept down my spine.

My steps slowed.

If…

If Lothar was right… if the trial had really hinged on the people’s belief that I was their Messiah, then…

This wasn’t the beginning of that path.

I was already walking on it.

Oh no.

“No, no, no.”