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The Rise Of AzkovalChapter 35: Laying Down The Law free porn video
The dawn had just broken when the city gates opened and a fine white stallion led a procession of soldiers out to the makeshift town.
Joseph sat astride the animal as it proudly walked forward. Four platoons of soldiers accompanied the king and his entourage, which included Rucar, Jonathan, Genrico and Empress Yana.
Elena had grudgingly agreed to stay inside the walls. Julia and Octavia had taken more convincing but they had stayed inside the castle, too. Alexander had elected to stay behind with the young women.
No one was stirring in the camps. A haze of smoke hung just above the ground from the celebrations the night before — which could be heard from the castle long after darkness had fallen in Tyrell.
“Rouse them,” Genrico ordered his troops. The soldiers fanned out and started evicting people from their tents or their bedrolls. The protests ended quickly when the revelers saw heavily armed men in full battle regalia standing before them.
Before long, the hundreds of occupants, some dressed only in their blankets, stood before their sovereign ruler, who looked down upon them from horseback with thinly disguised anger. The king lifted his hand to quell the hum of voices but to no avail. Rucar let out a loud shrill whistle but it too had no effect.
The stallion, named Blazer long before it reached the shores of Azkoval, was seemingly disquieted by the din. With a loud snort, he reared back on his hind legs and kicked his forelegs in front of him angrily.
Joseph knew full well what came next. The horse had done the same thing numerous times when Joseph had first started to learn to ride. He braced himself by digging his knees into the horse’s side and gripping the reins tightly. He expected Blazer to take two hops backward and then kick his hind legs. It was how the animal had ejected Joseph from his perch any number of times – and Joseph knew he was powerless to stop it.
He rued accepting Yana’s advice to ride forward on horseback to present the most powerful image. He knew he was about to land on his ass in the most humiliating fashion imaginable.
Blazer’s front legs hit the ground and he took the expected two steps backward — but stopped. The only sound Joseph could hear was the sound of his heartbeat. The horse looked back at its rider as if to say, “They’re all yours.”
Indeed, the entire camp was silent at the sight of the magnificent animal preparing to trample them.
“Better,” Joseph stated in a loud voice. “Citizens of Azkoval, hear me. What has transpired out here the past few evenings is unacceptable. We are a nation of laws. I cannot abide what has transpired. I have considered many ways to bring you into compliance with humanity. Luckily for you, I have been dissuaded from acting as I first decided. We are a nation of laws but we are also a nation of rights. So, I have decided to appoint a sheriff and several constables for this area. I would like to introduce you to the man that I have appointed to end the lawlessness — Rucar of Dunvil. His words are spoken in my voice.”
There was a noticeable gasp from several members of the large crowd. The name still struck fear into the hearts of most people in Azkoval — particularly in the few lords Joseph had left in their manors.
The spymaster did not ride a horse. He had yet to be persuaded to learn the skill. Still, his deep, booming voice could be heard even by those farthest away.
“As our king has told you, Azkoval is a nation of laws,” Rucar stated. “Tyrell is a city of rules. The king has kindly annexed this section into Tyrell so the rules we employ there will be used here. Those rules will be posted in numerous places around the area. If you cannot read, find a soldier and he will find someone to read them to you. For now, here are the ones that you need to know. First and most importantly, until further notice, no citizen is permitted to be under arms in the city of Tyrell. I speak of swords, clubs, daggers or bows. You must turn them into our guard house. They will be returned to you upon your departure. The sentence for carrying a weapon will be determined in each case. They will range from a flogging to hanging. Anyone caught stealing or with stolen items will be flogged or lodged in our cells. Anyone found committing an assault against a man will be receive 10 stripes. Anyone found committing an assault against a female or a child is likely to be killed by the soldiers. If you somehow survive the arrest, you will be killed by me – whether King Joseph sanctions it or not.”
There was a murmur from several people. These people made their living with a weapon – either through theft, extortion or assault for hire. Rucar ignored the noise and continued on in a louder voice.
“As King Joseph has decreed, citizens of Azkoval are bestowed with certain rights by virtue of their birth,” he said. “You have the right to convene peacefully; you have the right to feel secure in your person and your property; you have the right to practice any religion you choose and you have the right to a public trial by panel for capital crimes. The only abridgement of these rights is where this gathering has failed.
“You may not exercise your rights at the expense of others. Your convocation is not peaceful. It is marred by fights, drunkenness and mayhem. You have encroached on others’ rights by threatening them as they pass by on their way home or by stealing their hard-earned crops or coin. Thus, I will direct the soldiers to ensure that you enjoy your rights while allowing others to enjoy theirs. To that end, the first thing we will do is search your tents and bedrolls for weapons.”
“I’ll be hanged before I permit you to search my belongings!” a large man in the front said loudly.
“Very well,” Rucar said evenly. “We have recently constructed a gallows on wheels. You will allow us to test its ability if you choose.”
Genrico gestured with his head to two soldiers. Everyone watched as the city gates opened again and two horses were led out. Behind them, true to Rucar’s words, was a scaffold with a noose already in place.
“Failure to comply with a directive from King Joseph is a capital offense,” Rucar said. “Since you’ve made your statement within earshot of several hundred people, I believe we can dispense with the trial and go straight to the sentence. I sentence you to hang.”
“Now ... wait,” the man said, trying to backtrack only to be pushed back forward by those behind him.
Four soldiers surrounded the man and moved him away from the crowd. They didn’t drag him toward the gallows but toward Rucar.
“You will permit a search of your possessions,” Rucar said, his dark eyes holding nothing but death. “The only question is whether you will be alive to witness it.”
The small collection of men and women wended their way up the hillside toward the grouping of houses that rested behind the ornate structure of the Southern Enclave of the Church of the Most Holy Serrat.
As she had done on the trail, Liala raised a closed fist and everyone stopped. Morane was in the back. The warriors carried swords and crossbows. The priest held only the ceremonial dagger that once was used to kill a king.
Several men were prostrate on the ground as another stood before them and read from a book. Morane moved forward despite Liala’s insistence he stay in the rear.
“They are conducting morning prayers in accordance with the sacred text,” Morane whispered urgently.
“That’s nice,” Liala said as she took his upper arms.
“No, they are conducting the prayers correctly,” Morane whispered. “The other enclaves did not do this. They used Drell’s perversions.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Liala insisted.
“It does matter,” Morane told her. “The men here don’t live in the temple. They live in the small houses that surround it. They are dressed in the robes of piety. They are not adorned with golden rings and elaborate clothing. The man is stressing the need for charity and humility. He is not planting the seeds of hatred. He is sowing the seeds of righteousness.”
Liala frowned and Morane took the opportunity to slip out her grasp. He stepped out of the trees before Liala could catch him.
“Well met, novitiates of Serrat!” Morane said loudly.
“Well met, gentle stranger,” the leader said in a pleasant voice. “You are far from the driven path.”
“I came to see you,” Morane stated. The leader’s eyes shifted from Morane to the 20 men and women that stepped out of the trees.
“You are welcome here,” the man said. “I am Savrit. Until our bishop appoints a new priest for our order, I am the longest-serving novice at our enclave.”
“I am Morane,” the man said, displaying the dagger in front of him. The name had obviously made its way this far south because Savrit immediately knelt and placed his head on the ground in front of him.
“There is no need to bow before me,” Morane said quickly. “We bow only before our king and our god.”
“We respect our king and we revere Serrat,” the novitiates recited. Morane beamed. It was a long-forgotten section of the text that few in Azkoval knew – and less had memorized.
“We do,” Morane said, still smiling. “Please, let me introduce my entourage. This is Princess Liala, in line for the Troyvettian throne, and her fine warriors.”
The men had stood and they blinked at Morane’s words.
“Troyvet?” Savrit asked. “Has King Joseph fallen?”
“Our king is hale and hearty,” Morane stated. “Or he was when we departed a month earlier.”
“A month?” another man asked incredulously. “I ... I am from Tyrell. It took me four months to get here.”
“We have horses now,” Morane explained. “Animals that permit us to ride upon their backs. It is a convenience that most here have never imagined. That is one of the things our new friends, the Troyvettians, have provided us – along with many stout warriors. They are our allies. Where once Azkoval was shunned by all, we are now friends with many nations.”
“Amazing,” Savrit said.
“We are being rude, Text Reader,” another man said.
“We are,” Savrit said with a nod. “Please, accept our humble hospitality. We have little but we will gladly share with our friends.”
“I would enjoy that,” Morane said. “But we will provide our own sustenance and share our bounty with you. We have more than we need.”
The senior novice nodded his agreement and started to walk to one of the small huts. The other men followed him.
“Will we not go to the temple?” Liala asked.
Savrit stopped and turned.
“Never,” he said. He saw Morane and corrected himself. “Rather, we do not use the temple. It is a place of corruption and hostility. We have not used it in more than a year.”
“Indeed?” Morane asked, wishing for the man to continue.
“Our ... defrocked priest ... fell away from the ideals of Serrat,” Savrit said, unwilling to speak ill of the man. “Word of King Joseph and his plans for the church reached us last year. It was rumored that he was on his way here to remove the priest from his post. The man chose to flee. Sadly, he was unsuccessful. The mountain is dangerous in the darkness – particularly when one attempts to carry a large amount of gems, coins and artifacts with him.”
“We found his body at the bottom of the mountain,” another offered.
“The other senior officials were more successful,” Savrit stated as he opened the door to one of the dwellings. “They did not see the need to carry more than they could handle. But the majority of our treasury departed with them. I am sorry, Bishop Morane.”
“How did you learn of my appointment?” Morane asked.
“We heard of you ... perhaps a month ago,” Savrit told him. “There was a traveler in the nearest village. He gave us some news of what has transpired. I did not meet our former bishop but I am not surprised to hear of his downfall. The tenets of the church we practiced here were not the ones Serrat espoused. We held captives here and forced them to work. The senior officials committed sins of the flesh, sins of greed, sins of hubris.
“Those who joined were used as unpaid laborers to bring more goods into the hands of those in charge. Many of us would read the sacred texts in secret. Some of us were aware that we were being taught falsely. Others, sadly, came here to reap the benefits of the former leadership. Those that truly believe Serrat’s words are the ones you see here today.”
“Where are the captives?” Morane asked.
“We released them immediately,” Savrit said. “It is a dire violation of Serrat’s words to hold another in bondage. We gave them what goods we had and helped them where we could.”
“What became of the riches the church held?” Liala inquired.
“Those that we recovered were placed in the old temple,” Savrit said. “I do believe much that was here is now gone. We had resolved to make a pilgrimage to the capital next spring to deliver the useless objects to the king and to seek an audience with our most munificent bishop so we might have his blessing to continue the reformation of this enclave.”
“You are well on the way to earning that blessing,” Morane said. “What I have seen today brings gladness to my soul. I brought these warriors with me because I had expected to have to fight my way in to review the conduct of this enclave.”
“A year ago, perhaps you would have,” Savrit admitted. “The senior leadership kept many men-at-arms in their employ. I fear this temple was used in the transport of many captives. I do not know how they arrived here or where they went when they departed but many faces passed through here in the six years I’ve been here. I wish I had the strength to stop the travesty but I am a weak man.”
“Savrit, do not berate yourself,” Morane said softly. “I was one of those held in bondage – before you ever arrived here. I, too, was weak. I spent five years in chains and never once raised my hand in protest. There is no sin in infirmity. You are like me. You have survived in order to help us rebuild this once-great institution.”
Crown Prince Junius arrived at the Marindar capital almost a full year after he left Azkoval via ship.
There were many reasons for the delay: the ship had been forced to sail into the wind for most of the journey, the capital was two month’s walk from the nearest port – and Junius had insisted the ship stop in almost every Marindar city he passed on his way to the meet his father.
He wanted to develop a groundswell of support for an invasion of Azkoval by inciting the populace about the fate of poor Princess Octavia.
The problem was few in the villages away from the capital had any idea of who Princess Octavia was – and less cared about her fate. Junius wasn’t surprised at his sister’s relative anonymity. He was shocked to learn that only a handful of people knew who he was. Oh, certainly, most knew of his father’s name but none cared about who ruled the capital so long as their taxes didn’t increase and their menfolk weren’t taken off to war.
Still, Junius persisted and finally found a small group of men nearer the capital that fell in behind him as he made his way to meet King Augustus.
The story Junius had concocted seemed plausible enough. He told all and sundry that the princess had been debauched and kidnapped while on a diplomatic mission. He embellished the tale in front of his father, adding that he had fought bravely in defense of Octavia but had been pressed back and barely escaped with his life.
He quickly urged his father to permit him to conscript the local populace and begin the southward trek immediately.
“I will take it under consideration,” Augustus said. “For now, I wish you to rest and regain your strength. Octavia’s plight will not change if we take a week or so to contemplate our actions.”
Bess
- 17.05.2021
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