Right and Wrong

"Detain him!"

Krenen wasn't surprised. He'd been expecting it, in fact. As the rain fell on the cobble streets and stone houses of the city of Crown, he did not resist the two men that grabbed him, each by one of his arms. They forced his arms to his back, and pushed his wrists up painfully, but he didn't object. When the guards had it clear he didn't want to resist, they loosened their hold.

Krenen was one of them, after all.

"Look at you!" said the Third rank guard approaching them. "It never crossed my mind you'd come back, sir."

"I'd hoped I'd built a better reputation for myself," said Krenen.

"I resent that, sir. I never thought badly of you. But the punishment for leaving our post is dead, as you know. I didn't think you'd face that."

"Hopefully I'm setting a good example to all of you, then." Krenen's voice was unaffected. He didn't even know where his words were coming from. Or maybe he did, but he hadn't had time to be honest with himself.

Perhaps he was glad to face that punishment. Not overjoyed, of course, and maybe glad was too strong a word. Rather, there was a big great void of nothing where his feelings should have been.

The Third saluted his superior by slapping one hand on his own opposite shoulder, and placing his other hand on the elbow of the first arm. Krenen had always liked that salute. To him, it looked like the gesture of a hug; the soldiers showing each other their appreciation and brotherhood.

"Men!" the Third reprimanded his Fourths.

Immediately, the two men holding Krenen imitated their captain, and Krenen lost no time in returning the salute to each of them in turn.

"We have to escort you to the First, sir."

"I'll follow you. You can at the very least hold my shoulders so the First doesn't think you're going easy on me."

"Thank you, sir," the two men at his sides said at the same time and placed their hands on Krenen's shoulders.

"Thank you, sir," said the Third.

"Don't call me that. I won't be your superior much longer." A smile escaped Krenen. He wasn't sure why. Or maybe he was, but preferred not to think about it.

"You are our superior until we're told otherwise, or your head rolls on the cobbles, sir."

"Ah." The comment comforted Krenen. Not because of the reminder that his head was soon to be cut off, but because feeling the men's fellowship had always brought joy to him. "Let's not lose time, then. You're practically talking to a corpse at this point. It's disgraceful to refer to it with such deference."

Krenen was escorted to the First's office. It was a utilitarian place with nothing but a desk, and a hanger for the First's guard tunic, which was hanging from it at the moment.

"Hah!" The First took his feet off the desk and sat straight on his chair.

Krenen was surprised to have caught the superior in one of the incredibly few moments when he had time to unwind. He was glad, in fact, to see it. The wooden cup with a drink in it actually brought a smile to his face.

"Sit," ordered the first.

Krenen obeyed the order and sat on a stool in front of the desk. The three wooden legs scraped on the stone floor of the office.

"The fact is," the First took a sip from his cup, sighed rasply, and squeezed his eyes shut before looking at Krenen again. "The fact is, you left your post, and disobeyed my order to cut off a thief's hands."

"Yes, sir," said Krenen. Disappointment filled him for some reason. He didn't resent what he'd done, so at least he knew the disappointment was not directed at himself.

"Death is the punishment for that. Decapitation."

Krenen nodded. It would be over soon. And he could count on the guard that would be cutting his head to not disobey orders like he had.

"Nothing to say for yourself?" asked the first.

"I've caught you on a break, sir. I don't want to cut short your time to rest."

At first, the captain wasn't sure how to take that and furrowed his eyebrows. Then, his chuckles made his shoulders bounce up and down. The man took a drink from his cup, and set it down on the desk a little harder than necessary. It's tak sound was a dull one that echoed slightly in the stone room.

"Cut short." The First ran the edge of his hand across his neck. "That's a good one. You've accepted it, then?"

Krenen stared at the edge of the desk, thinking how to reply, when the door opened behind him. A man with black eyes, brown hair, and skin darker than Krenen's stepped in.

"Sir," said the man.

"What is it, Rudsis?"

"Only that you consider Krenen's exemplary service, sir. Nothing more."

"Ah, noted. Leave now, Rudsis."

"Yes, sir."

Rudsis left, and closed the door behind him.

"The fact is, indeed, you are one of my two best Seconds, Krenen."

Krenen didn't want to say thank you, so he simply nodded.

"You are demoted to Fourth, Krenen, and are to serve under Rudsis. For as long as I'm First, there will be no promotions for you. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you wish to leave the guards?"

Rudsis had asked himself that question long before this moment, and come to the realisation that doing anything else was not in him. He could be useful as anything else, surely. Stoneworkers were always needed in this part of the world. But he wanted to protect. To prevent injustice, harm, and evil.

"Never, sir," he said still looking at the desk.

"Off you go, then."

Krenen stood and stepped out of the office with a vacant look, and mind just as blank. It was Rudsis' shove on Krenen's chest that brought back his awareness to the world around him.

"I assume you're keeping your head?"

"For now, sir. Yes."

"Demoted?"

"To your Fourth, sir."

"Hahahaha." Rudsis turned his head up to laugh heartily. "I told you I'd rise above you, Kren."

"Yeah, Rud." Krenen smiled more out of habit than anything else. "I just had to be demoted first, apparently."

"There's too much sugar in my victory for you to overtake with your vinegar." Rudsis patted Krenen's back. "Your disobedience needed consequences, just like all chaos needs order imposed on it. But hey, here's a bit of consolation for you. My men are off-duty right now. You know where to go."

"Thank you, sir."

"You have two hours to settle down. I'll have your things brought to you. Do try to make up for your blunder."

"Yes, sir." Krenen saluted his superior.

Rudsis patted him on the back again and left.

Krenen looked at his…colleague as he walked away. Rudsis had never liked saluting, and avoided it whenever possible. He and Krenen had always shared the same wish to provide protection to the people of the city, and a friendship had been able to blossom between them. They'd gone up the ranks together since they'd been admitted into the city's guard, and a fun rivalry had developed between them.

As Krenen made his way to the barracks, he wondered when he'd stopped enjoying Rudsis' company. It hadn't been long after they'd both risen to the second rank, when Rudsis started making use of his authority with too much eagerness.

Inside the barracks, the men that were lounging, and playing around with dice or cards immediately stood at attention.

"What bunk should I take?" asked Krenen.

That was all the explanation the men needed.

"Makes sense," said one of them as they all resumed their activities.

"At least the head's still on the shoulders, eh?" said another one.

No one made fun of Krenen, and it was two other guards that cleared space on an unoccupied upper bunk for Krenen to settle there. His clothes and overcoat were dirty and soiled after several days of trekking, so he took them off, piled them in a bag of clothes to be laundered, and pulled himself up to lie down.

"It's a shame, sir, Krenen," one of the men that had cleared out the bed corrected himself.

"Where have you been?" asked the other.

"Heh. Would you believe you're the first to ask?" said Krenen.

"We never thought you'd come back. What happened to that thief? What did you do to him?"

Looking up at the beams of the ceiling, Krenen shook his head. "Does it matter?"

"You knew you might have been beheaded if you came back. So yeah. Maybe it doesn't matter, but we've been curious."

"And why did you come back?"

Krenen had to admit he'd like to know as well. With hands behind his head, he asked, "You know the thief was brought here after being condemned. His hands were tied, and put on a block in front of him. The axe was brought in, and the thief started crying."

"But that didn't stop you," said one of the men.

"We've seen tears before. Why did you take him out of town? What stopped you?" said the other.

"No one's told you what the man was saying?"

"No, s—Krenen."

"Guess no one was paying attention to him. There were at least ten others there to witness."

"So what did he say?"

"I just wanted to feed my dog."

The two other guards looked at each other.

"That's what he said?"

"Yeah." Krenen closed his eyes, remembering. "Over and over again, bawling, his tears falling by one by one, dripping, to the cobbles, where they splashed and left dark spots on the stones. I just wanted to feed my dog. I just wanted to feed my dog. I just wanted to feed my dog. I just wanted to feed my dog. And the whole time, he swayed his body back and forth, but kept his hands firmly planted on the block."

Krenen sighed, and sat up on the edge of the bunk to continue his story. "So I took him to his dog, paid for food for the both of them, and took them to my brother. He built a cabin for himself in the mountains, and has been living off the land with his wife. They're going to teach the man to do the same. He was poor, of course, and couldn't get any milk. The dog was a pup. Its mother had given birth next to the thief in an alley, and died because of it."

"You pardoned a thief because of a pup?"

Krenen gave a knowing, disappointed smile. "As I see it, I pardoned a good man who had to turn to thievery."