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Initiation | A Glint Amongst The Rubble | The Ringing Harbinger | For Duty Untold | Heavier than any Burden | Fumes | Home Sweet Home
Sgt. Becker hated guarding the city gates. He had fought tooth and nail to get a promotion, only to be told he required another. He almost quit the guard that day.
But he stayed. Now stood. Vigilant, as all the King's Men were. Simmering, not because he was angry, oh no, the purple sun was high that day and his clothes weighted heavier from his sweat. All in all, he was reconsidering his duties.
And what duty it was! Becker tried to ignore the faces that passed. Outsiders, the lot of them! An inspection booth cleared their entry further down the hill, all Becker had to do was be mindful of any incidents. He could not stand them all the same. If he was King, he would bar the gates and forbid these parasites from contaminating his city.
So Becker indulged in his favorite fancy - dispensing the King's Justice:
An old lady with two runts had tears in their eyes, but all three were with purple lips - junkies, possibly infected by the Outside. Grandma sentenced to death screaming, kids sent to Gentry's Rehabilitation Orphanage; a well-dressed man and a simpleton - possible spies, sentenced to death screaming for the both of them; a family of four appeared harmless at first, but the girl was shaking - infected by the Outside, entry barred.
Of course, they all entered, and Becker endured. He endured that itch to take his spear and do something... something righteous! The Council wouldn't condemn him - it was the Council that approved his promotion. The King wouldn't condemn him - Becker was carrying out his peace. So what held him back? He didn't know. He never knew, even though he asked himself that same question every day.
Becker noticed the green tint over the distant, charred hills and breathed a sigh of relief. His shift was almost over. Might as well enjoy his indulgence a little more:
A husband and wife, both with a sole linen rag for clothing - possibly infected, entry barred; a carriage of women, he couldn't see their faces, only the driver with his glazed eyes - a cacophony of Swirl and sin, barred entry and sentenced to death screaming; two boys, not that young, but no adults either, seemed clean enough - possible spies, barred -
Becker noticed their entry slips were missing. Sometimes, runts like these would skulk around the booth and try to enter the city without a permit. Becker had only heard of such audacity. He refused to believe it. Can anyone be so stupid?
"You two, Halt. Where are your permits?" The two looked at each other, then grinned.
"Off with you now." His partner, a dimwit named Bruzie, shooed them away as if they were flies on his meal. "Go on now. This isn't a place for play."
When in fact the pair were violators of the King's peace! And was Becker not a loyal servant of his Majesty? He asked himself - what held him back? And the returning silence was deafening.
His shift was almost over anyway.
"Becker, where are you going?. They're just kids!"
"To dispense the King's Justice, Bruzie!" Becker yelled over his shoulder. "I'm sure you can handle the post for a while." His spear rested over the other.
Bruzie said something, but Becker was done with the fool. He saw the pair scamper around an abandoned farm and hurried his pace. But not too much. He found he enjoyed the chase.
The obstructors were young, naive. They ran in full sight towards an old abandoned watchtower. Becker was disappointed. He hoped the hunt would last longer. But the tower was out of the way of common dalliance. Becker wasn't getting punished, but this suited him as well - the fewer witnesses, the better.
The tower was close to collapsing. Becker coughed profusely from the cobwebbed filled, dust-ridden hall that served as its entrance. There was so much dust he could spot two fading footprints running up the stairs. That's more like it. He pursued.
The second floor was whiter still. Floorboards were missing everywhere, and he saw a sizeable gap in the ceiling. There were no doors, nor windows. The green light of dusk blanketed the white tower of justice... like a veil. His veil. His secret. Becker took it for a good omen. Yes. He would do this thing.
He heard them giggling, his spear glinting green. "Boys, boys. What have you done?" He was grinning now, yet he did not know it. "The King's Justice cannot be outrun. It is always there, right where you least expect it!" The giggling got louder and Becker's heart threatened to leap out of his chest. "So don't make this harder than it needs to be... I promise you won't scream." Much... "Come out and await the King's -"
A small pouch hit him, some powder evaporating in his face. Did they want to play games? That was fine, he could play - but no, he felt his limbs go numb as he dropped to the floor, his spear clattering beside him.
"Boys! Boys!" One runt appeared from behind him. His face, like his words, was mocking him. "'The King's Justice cannot be outrun.'" He laughed.
"You think some back-alley numbing agent can hold a King's Man?" Becker raged at the boy. Whose eyes widened.
"Don't let him scare you, Trent." The other boy appeared. "He can't move. He can't run. He can't do anything. Isn't that right, King's Man?"
"You little -"
"That's right." The arrogant brat crouched above him. "Not so confident now, are we?"
"Miz. I'm scared now. Can we just take the uniform and go?"
"Relax, Trent." The boy wasn't smiling. "We'll take his uniform. We'll copy his tattooed pass. We'll take his spear, even." And he did, casually pointing it at Becker's neck. "And we'll take..." The point drew blood.
"Wait! Waitwaitwait -"
The point retreated, the two boys falling over, laughing. "Draw one pinprick of blood and they squeal! See Trent? Don't worry, King's Man, we don't want your blood."
Becker could feel absolutely nothing. Nothing but rage at himself. He was right to chase these two! He should've followed his instincts sooner! Should have talked to his commander!
"Give me the stuff, Trent." The other boy handed a flask of clear liquid. "Don't worry, King's Man. When you wake up, it will be in a safer place."
One boy sat on Becker's back, holding his head up, while the other pinched his nose. Soon enough, the flask drained down his gullet. But Becker felt nothing. In fact, he felt the powder's effects lessening.
"You two will rot in the deepest dungeon for this! A King's -"
"Can he be that stupid, Miz?"
"Seems like it, Trent."
It started with Becker's mouth, then his chest, arms, legs. Pain, pure and haunting.
And as hard as he tried, he could not scream.
Hope you guys enjoyed it. 😌 I was cutting it close with this one, but I don't think I crossed any boundaries. Only the bear story necessities. 😁
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Peace and stay safe. 😙