Chapter 25: The Butcher
The right choice. That was what they were told to make. But it didn’t go the way Frejlurd had hoped.
He watched, disappointed, as many of the guards immediately walked to the left, choosing to reject the Baron’s rule. Some did walk toward the right side, showing their allegiance, but many remained frozen in place, caught in fearful contemplation. When they looked at the corpses on display, the choice became less a matter of belief and more a matter of survival.
Out of the 919 City Guards present that day, 500 choose the right. The remaining 419 stood to the left, openly rejecting the Baron. Another 81 were still outside on duty, unable to return in time due to being stationed across the city.
Frejlurd took a deep breath and addressed them one final time. "You were given a choice. That was your right. But there will be no second chance. I hope none of you regret your decision." His words carried the weight of a strong warning of a possible punishment over their decision.
With the declaration complete, the guards were dismissed. Frejlurd returned to his new office, the same one once used by the now-dead commander. He stood in silence before the desk, staring down at the surface. It feels heavier now. The responsibility of leading the Guard weighed on his chest like armor he wasn’t yet ready to wear.
He was shaking inside his armour, both his arms and legs. He was afraid of the things he had to do for the sake of this City.
But there was no time for him to even think about it as a knock echoed at the door. Frejlurd straightened. "Come in."
His newly appointed aides entered, those who would make sure his orders were received by his officers.
Without hesitation, he began. "My first order: Those who chose to stand on the left, have them relinquish their weapons and armor. Those are the property of the Guard, not personal possessions of traitors."