Day Four-Fifty-Nine: Dat spine

The trial is in motion. Like I said before, the first day is set for next Friday. Jeffrey will finally be tried for his crimes.

We have judge. We have jury. We have a courthouse, courtesy of Pagan. The whole thing will be set up in the entry hall of his manor. His slaves - one day, one day, I'll have to have a talk with him about his slavery policy - are constructing and setting up benches for people to sit on. When the day comes, everyone will be ready to go… and that includes Jeffrey.

I had a chat about the composition of the jury, today. It was ugly.

I spent the morning talking to Pagan about the arrangements for transporting the prisoner. Jeffrey's not a popular guy, and most people in Pubton would happily lynch him were he to appear in public. He needs to be heavily guarded on the way to Pagan's manor, which is on the other side of town from the Beefiary. I'd like to somehow get him there secretly, but given how aware people are of his current prison, word would get out in a flash. We'll probably settle on a reinforced cart with bars on the inside.

I'd set out to talk to Harold about the defences of Pubton - he says he's got a lot of recruits coming in sometime next week to work as guards - when I was intercepted on the road between houses. The interceptor was none other than Lonnie the Noble.

Lonnie is not a friend of mine. He's irritable, he whines, he badmouths me and my staff, and when there's trouble with the nobles he always seems to be in the centre of it. I don't think he's a villain, but with that stupid sneer, dumb bowl haircut and perpetual bad attitude I can at least classify him as a dick. I know that your haircut shouldn't define who you are, but his, man, his does.

"Dragomir!" Lonnie roared the greeting, though his roars are squeaky and ineffectual. "Why am I not on the jury?! I told you to put me on the jury!"

I brushed by him, looking away. My head was bowed by a hundred years of bureaucratic irritation, jammed into less than a year of mayoring. "Yeah, you did. I told you before, though, that you're a shitty candidate. You aren't on the jury."

"I'M a shitty candidate?" He brandished a piece of parchment, waving it in my face. "This list is atrocious! You chose inept bumpkins for your jury! Why, barely any of them are nobles!"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. The noble-versus-peasant debate doesn't come up often anymore, but it still hovers over Pubton like a stale fart. "Station doesn't matter, Lonnie. Me 'n Ed - "

"Oh, yes, the bard, lord knows we need the BARD to choose for us. Surely the man who can only speak in rhyme is fit to serve office."

" - ME AND ED, we, we, we went for people who would be impartial. You won't be impartial. Hence, you ain't on the jury. And that's that."

I tried to walk away. Lonnie wouldn't let me escape. "Impartiality? This has nothing to do with impartiality! This is justice! The man tortured us all! I would see him hanged!"

"Yeah. 'n that's why you're not on the jury. 'cause you pre-judged. Go away, Lonnie, I need to inspect the wall."

Lonnie slid in front of me. He gripped my tunic and pulled me in close. "I AM THE SON OF A NOBLEMAN! NOBLE BLOOD HAS RUN THROUGH MY FAMILY FOR GENERATIONS! THERE IS NO MAN MORE FIT FOR CIVIL SERVICE THAN I! IF YOU FAIL TO PUT ME ON THAT JURY I'LL SEE YOU THROWN OUT OF OFFICE SO QUICKLY THAT YOUR HEAD WILL FLY OFF! DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

I heard him. I heard him just fine.

A year ago, I was a guard. I took orders from guys like Lonnie all day long. Hell, I'm sure Lonnie spat on me at least a few times while I was watching the Beefiary. He's the kind that rules through fear and position. He uses his status, and his stupid, frilly neck thing, to intimidate people into getting what he wants. And in ninety-nine percent of kingdoms in the world, that's more than enough. Nobles command, peasants obey. In his eyes, I am, and always will be, just another peasant.

A year ago, I would have shuddered, and grovelled, and bent down to him, and done everything I could to make him happy. Because I was a guard. That's what guards do in front of nobles. That's what Dragomir the Guard did in front of nobles.

Instead, I just laughed.

Lonnie's face contorted into confusion and fury. He pushed me away, demanding I stop, asking what was so funny. I couldn't answer, though, because I was laughing too hard, nearly doubled over in hysterics. People who had stopped to watch the confrontation murmured concerned questions to one another that I could barely hear over the sound of my self-made merriment.

Eventually, his face bright red, Lonnie strode up and slapped me. I laughed even harder, but the bloom of slight pain in my cheek got the reason train whirring in my head again. Wiping the tears from my eyes and stifling my chuckles, I stood up straight and grinned viciously at the noble.

"WHAT the FUCK is SO FUNNY?" Lonnie shouted.

"You are," I said. "Oh, gods, Lonnie, you are."

"WHAT?" His features ascended to greater heights of disbelief and fury. He looked constipated. The thought nearly sent me off into a fresh fit of giggles.

"Oh, hell… ahhhh… mmm." I closed my eyes and steadied myself. "Yeah. Anyway. You're funny, Lonnie. Honestly, truly, really. You are hilarious."

He waited for an answer, silently fuming.

"I've ridden on a dragon," I began, thinking back. "Not in a flesh-formed seat like you had, mind you. The bugger held me in his claws. Damned frightening. I also faced down that dragon a few times, when he was spittin' angry."

Lonnie's angered sneer fell a bit, almost forming a pout.

"I've spied on a lord who wanted me dead, and I helped bring him down. I've walked to Goblinoster, with only a ghost that hates me as a companion. I've eaten dinner with a band of zombies, wondering every second of the meal when they would turn on me. I've sat in a goblin jail. I've explored an ancient ruin filled with spirits."

My jaw clenched as the memories flooded over me. I didn't feel like laughing anymore. "I've played dangerous games with a witch. I survived a castle full of werewolves that wanted to strip the meat from my bones. My wife is a bruiser, my son a terror, and my daughter used to destroy armies in her spare time. I've met polar bears, elephants, would-be kangaroos, bandits, thieves, penguins, abominations, and things from the blackest pits on this planet. Hell, that last bunch I've encountered MANY times."

I smiled. No humour. "I have fucking died, Lonnie. Do you honestly think that any threat of yours can scare me? Honestly? Do you think a pissy, whiny, annoying, scrawny-ass, weak-as-hell nobleman can make me do anything?"

Lonnie sputtered. The red and purple leaked out of his face, replaced by a ghostly white.

"Get out of here," I said. "Don't bother me anymore. You're just a waste of my time."

And he did. Fell over himself dashing away from me.

Ahhhhh.

SO. In summary: the wall around Pubton is looking very nice.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Badass