Rage and Rebellion (Histories of Havenhearth)

8.6 Chancellor

The chancellor watched as a horse and cart pulled into a peasant's courtyard, and its occupants got up, brushed themselves off and went inside. One dark shadow remained outside, and approached her.
"Welcome, my friend, I am very relieved to see you have all made it here. I was very sad to hear about the misfortune which was suffered by the spiritualist man but I am thankful that we were able to save some lives. I do hope you believe that it was never my intention that any harm should befall any of you, but things have gotten out of control. I have yet to hear how you punished the perpetrators, but I applaud that you did so,"
"Thank you chancellor, may we now turn to the matter of where we are to go?  I have heard that the legation in Nordmontline is also under siege, and that the protectorate coming in from Sundmontline has been conquered, leaving some parts there under siege also. What are we to do?"
"You wait the night here as discussed," the chancellor said simply. "You will see a different situation in the morning. And do be assured that the legations are holding out well," her tone of voice changed, as if she knew something about why that was happening. "Moreover, the protectorate that you spoke of were not conquered. Initially pushed back yes, but my information has suggested otherwise. They in fact have cleared the city and are now holding ground north of it near the river. 'Meanwhile, and my information on this matter is slightly out of date, but another force has landed at Loutouse, something to do with repulsing the Petroviese," Floren gasped at this.
"When?"
"A week ago now, I believe, they are expected to come up the river and meet the other force. They may even have begun already. And I have no doubt that if the forces here join up with them, a march on Nordmontline is planned,"
There was a long pause now, presumably as Floren considered all that he had just heard.
"'This is good news for us. It is not so good bad for you."
"I see it quite differently. But the forces of which I speak should quell the rebel movement. The Golden Defenders are patriots, yes, but they are not progressive. They would like to shun any progress, technology, thinking that is not Cassion, even if it is now ingrained in our thinking, our culture, our infrastructure. If the Defenders are gone, a new Cassion will be born. It ia for that i wait."
"Please, here, I give you what you asked dor,"
There was another pause in the conversation.
"You may weigh it if you like, but I assure you it is all there," there was a full thud as the lid was replaced.
"Thank you," the chancellor said, "I accept your word, and you can accept mine,."
"I am honoured by your trust in me, now there is the matter of the supply column,"
"Wait the night, and you will see that you may cross rebel lines to Tainish forces in the morning. Try to rest now, you have been working very hard for a long-" .
A burst of arrow fire cut the chancellor off. She dropped to the ground and made her way to the fence so she could look out into the night. She could see nothing nearby, but fires had been lit in the distance at the base of the hill. That was perhaps the rebel lines. But there was nothing else. She waited, for more arrows, for noise, for Floren, for something. And then, all of a sudden, the nearby forest seemed to explode. They were far enough away from the farmhouse, but even in the darkness, they could make out the shapes of moving masses, streaming out towards the fires. The fires were Tainish lines? The chancellor was confused, but not worried- she was not expected to understand protectorate behaviour. As planned, she boarded the cart and a second later she was galloping off. Back towards Chevelles. Ahead of them appeared a rather dishevelled Floren appear, an anguished expression on his face, blood dripping from his knife. When they past, he gave her a reassuring smile, and put his finger to his mouth for her to be quiet.

The square had filled early. After two nights of being holed up in their houses, what with the rain and the Golden Defenders mob, people were happy to be out. The centre of the square however was empty, except for a small timber platform that had been hastily constructed. Atop it was a wooden device, consisting of an axe head fitted to a wooden block attached to a rope on a pulley. The rainwater, as it always did, had cleared out quickly. It was as if the flood had never happened, except for the debris that had left it. Indeed the streets of Chevelles were relatively clean, all of the sludge having been swept away with the water.

The chancellor, accompanied by the protectorate commander and an entourage of officials and assistants, entered the square, the crowd parting to let her through to a seating area at one side of the timber platform. She conversed with one of her companions, laughing at something they were saying. Nothing happened for awhile and the crowd seemed to become restless.

A drum beat started slowly up and the crowd turned, craning their heads around to ascertain from where the drums were coming. Moments later a parade of people carrying banners entered the square, making their way to the platform. Behind them came, Bernebe Chastain, Tainish historian, his shoulders hunched, head drooped, feet dragging. The chancellor stopped her conversation with her assistant and looked over at the prisoner. She gave a slight wave of her hand, and a woman jumped up onto the platform and bowed to her. The crowd all seemed to breathe in at once. Bernebe was led up the stairs, and spying the contraption on the platform began to stuggle, screaming out in Cassioni. "I am a scholar of Cassioni culture. You cannot do this to me!" The crowd seemed to murmur out their satisfaction. The executioner hoisted the wooden block, and Bernebe was placed in a kneeling position underneath, his arms still secured behind his back. He tried to look around, to see who else was there, looking for a familiar face to plead with perhaps, but he saw none except the chancellor. He made eye contact with her and continued staring, stone-faced.The chancellor was not sure what he was trying to communicate. The crowd were yelling now, cheering on the executioner. Bernebe said something to the chancellor, which went unheard due to the crowd. The chancellor, bored, raised a cup to him, and then the wooden block was released, the axe chopping off his head, it rolling slowly to the ground. The crowd burst into cheers. The chancellor had gotten her end of the deal- she was to have one foreigner, but the others could all go free. She had thought it a strange choice, but did not question it.

She stood up, meandering over to study Bernebe's head, a look of indifference in her eyes. It was the kind of look someone used to war might have looking over a battlefield. Flies had already started buzzing around it.