Parno's Peril

by N. C. Reed

  “Will do, milord,” Parsons saluted and hurried on his way.

  “Trouble?” Stephanie asked once they were alone again.

  “Probably.”

  -

  Darby Hayhew had a good life. A good thing going even if he did say so himself. A large and thriving business on a decently traveled trade route and a good, thriving sideline business run from his tavern and inn besides.

  'Tavern' was a loose term, as most of his rooms were dedicated to his brothel. A brothel where none of the employees were actual willing prostitutes, but that was okay. There was a war on and business was good and the locals were actually making a good bit of coin from Hayhew himself, so they didn't interfere. Most of the better constables were off with the Militia fighting the war and those who were left either lacked the courage to oppose the current people running things or were making money off of it themselves.

  Occasionally, he would sell off some of the younger women to traders headed south to the coast. There they would be put aboard ships and sent off somewhere that women with fair skin and complexion were popular and in demand. He didn't know where exactly and had anyone asked he'd readily admit he didn't care. What he cared about what his bottom line and that line was pretty solid. He had control of a good chunk of the surrounding area and was as safe as he could possibly be while doing pretty much anything he wanted.

  So, it came as a rude shock to his system to be awakened in the middle of the night by shouts and even screams echoing through his 'tavern'. Struggling out of bed over the slave he'd enjoyed before falling asleep he was still trying to get his pants on when the door to his room literally splintered apart in front of him, revealing a huge Soulanie Army trooper standing there, back-lit by the low burning lamps in the hallway.

  “Darby Hayhew?” a woman's voice asked from the hallway. “I'd like a word with you.”

  -

  “You’ll never get away with this!” Hayhew screamed as he was dragged bodily from his own building by two very angry troopers. “I'm a powerful man in this part of the world and I’ll see you pay for every bit of this!”

  “I seriously doubt it,” a man's voice answered and Hayhew looked up to see a hard-faced Army Captain holding a lantern. “Darby Hayhew, you worthless pile of shit, you are under arrest.”

  “You can't... you aren't allowed to arrest me!” Hayhew protested. “You're military! I'm a civilian!”

  “There's a war on, Mister Hayhew,” it was the woman again, a pretty redhead, speaking as she walked up to stand beside the Captain. “Maybe you heard? I'm going to assume you have since it's the same war you seem to be exploiting. In time of war, particularly in time of invasion, there is a general declaration of Martial Law. That's been true since the time of Tyree by the way. And that means that you can most definitely be arrested by the Army. In fact, you can even be tried by the Army and sentenced as if you were a soldier yourself, since by Royal Decree of Tyree himself all citizens are called upon in time of war to defend the realm.”

  “Wh-what?” Hayhew stammered. “What sort of-”

  “Didn't know that?” Winnie leaned down and looked Hayhew in the eyes and tough man that he was, Hayhew flinched. He was certain he could see the fires of hell flickering in those eyes.

  “You're about to get a harsh lesson in history, then.”

  -

  “You can't do this!”

  Winnie had stopped counting how many times she had heard that over the last three days. For three days she, Case and two companies of her escort had been rounding up the perpetrators of some of the most heinous crimes she had ever encountered. Considering where she had spent the year before coming to Nasil that was saying something.

  Benton had been only the tip of the iceberg and he had broken as hard as the ferry rope. Winnie's secretary had filled an entire ledger with sworn testimonies and witness statements as well as Benton's confessions of his willing participation in slave trading, racketeering and dozens of other offenses. Based on the information taken from him, she and Case began their crusade against all things criminal in the surrounding ten miles or so. Hayhew had been the worst, but far from the only one that men like Benton had been guilty of peddling flesh to.

  There would soon be warrants out for the men who had purchased women from Hayhew, Benton and a dozen more just like them, and three men on good horses were now tearing their way south to the coast with orders for the local militia, and more importantly the Royal Constabulary and the Gulf Squadron of the Royal Navy, to try with all vigor to find and halt any such shipping currently in progress. Anyone caught in the act was to be hung on the spot. Winnie had ordered that herself in Memmnon's name, knowing that he would agree. Even Case said so when she asked.

  Now all that was left was to clean up the mess. The women had all been treated by the doctor riding with the wagon train. Some were in pitiful condition and Winnie had ordered that every nickel seized from Hayhew, Benton and all the others be divided among them to help them recover. Case has been especially castigating when speaking to the men of the area, “and I use the term 'men' loosely” he had said more than once, for turning a blind eye to what was happening. He had sent word on to Jason, the nearest major city, requesting a squad of militia and a competent Constable be sent to police the area until further notice. Winnie had again signed the order in Memmnon's name as his representative to make sure 'competent' wasn't conveniently misunderstood.

  Finally, anyone who wanted to follow with them was welcomed to do so, most especially the women rescued from places like Hayhew's, several of which were reunited with children that had been left behind them when they had been taken.

  Now, after three hectic days, this was all that was left.

  Case hadn't bothered with gallows, as they were too many to hang. He had simply hung ropes from every nearby tree. A total of thirty-one men and three women were now sitting horseback with nooses around their necks, screaming everything from curses to cries of innocence and everything in between. Winnie had long grown deaf to such pleas or such curses.

  “Captain, please carry out your orders,” she said flatly, her voice devoid of any emotion.

  “With pleasure, My Lady,” Case's voice was the exact opposite. His pronounced use of “My Lady” showed the renewed and perhaps even newfound respect that Case and all of his men had for their primary. She had not hesitated to do the right thing, no matter how hard it might seem.

  “Gentlemen!” Case called out loud and the soldiers holding the horse's reins came to attention.

  “Execute!” A fitting command, he decided. Each trooper released the horse he was holding and slapped its hindquarters, sending it flying out from under his or her occupant and leaving said occupant literally 'swinging by the neck until dead'. No one cared if the death was slow and by strangulation rather than a broken neck.

  “Leave them until sundown,” Winnie ordered the townspeople. “After than you can cut them down. Do with the bodies what you will. I honestly don't care.” With that she turned and rode toward where the train had already started down the road to Carroll. Case waited until she was out of earshot before looking at the men of the surrounding area who had been ordered to attend.

  “If I ever hear that you've allowed something like this to happen again, decide if you want to die fighting it, or die like they did,” he pointed to where some of the criminals were still kicking. “Because if they don't kill you, I will.”

  And with that he galloped away, following his liege lady down the road.

  Who he was now absolutely certain would indeed make an excellent Queen.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  -

  Brigadier Jerome Baxter made a walk around of his men the morning of their fourth day in camp, mostly just looking over the shape his men were in. Three days of complete rest had done wonders for them he had to admit. Gone was the gaunt, hollow-eyed look that many had begun sporting before their return and all of them were stepping a bit more lively now. In truth they should have
had at least double that time off, but there was a war on and needs must and all that.

  His horses were another story.

  “We've had to put down over one hundred mounts,” the chief vet had told him angrily. “Good horse flesh driven into the ground for no gain,” he growled.

  “Speak to General Wilson,” Baxter had told him evenly. “I agree, just so you know. We walked much of the way back to spare them all we could. We left men behind because the horses wouldn't carry them any further. I honestly did the best I could with what I was given.”

  The older man's eyes had softened at that and he nodded his understanding.

  “What about the rest?” Baxter asked.

  “You brought in nearly fifteen thousand horses,” the vet told him. “Of that number all were underfed. Aside from the horses we were forced to destroy there are...” he consulted a small notebook, “one thousand, seven hundred ninety-two that are currently unfit for duty of any kind and will be for at least another week. And that's at best. The rest…” the old man closed his notebook and sighed slightly. “The rest can be used, but it should be a crime.”

  “They have until day after tomorrow before we ride,” Baxter told him. “Hopefully that will help. My men will form them into smaller herds to make saddling easier the morning we leave but otherwise they can be still, eat and drink, and have no work on them.”

  “Then so long as you take it easy on them they should be okay,” the vet seemed to hate himself for saying it.

  “We're traveling only twenty-five miles or so, and doing that with some infantry, so we’ll be moving slowly,” Baxter pointed out. “Will that help?”

  “Most definitely,” the vet nodded firmly.

  “Do you have spare mounts to replace what we've lost?” the Brigadier asked.

  “A bit less than half,” the man replied. “I can give you seven hundred head, plus or minus. I won't know for sure until tomorrow, but I will have a hard number for you before lunch. I may can come up with a few more but not without a bunch of screaming Generals.”

  “Direct them to General Wilson,” Baxter grinned. “It's his idea.”

  “I’ll do just that,” the man nodded. “Come see me before lunch tomorrow. I’ll have your information by then.”

  Baxter was pleasantly surprised by how many of his horses were able to go out. In truth he had expected it to be much worse. He sorely regretted any having to be put down, but there was nothing for it now. He wasn't in command and while he had stood up to Wilson over trying to make them move so quickly, there was a limit to what he could do without calling on family favors that he was determined not to use.

  Not unless he had no other choice.

  -

  “Still nothing?” Doak Parsons had traveled out to where Anthony Felds and now Dagger Earl were making their small camp while watching the Imperial right.

  “More activity, but nothing like before,” Felds reported. “It's like... it's like there's more of them now, instead of them doing more work,” he tried to explain.

  “Maybe their cavalry has returned,” Parsons murmured, more to himself than to Felds, but the younger man nodded.

  “There was a good bit of dust four days back,” he reported. “It wasn't so much as it was most of the afternoon,” he amended, thinking about it. “Would have fit a long column dragging into camp, like.”

  “Their cavalry took a shellacking in Nasil, plus got sick eating bad beef before they left,” Parsons informed him. “That would make them slow to return probably. Horses and men both worn down by fighting and sickness. I want you two to try and work around their right a little more,” he told them. “Stay back and use your glass. I don't want you to try and get into camp, just try and get a picture of what's happening. If you happen onto something important then hurry back and report in. If we have to we can launch a bigger reconnaissance later to see what else is there. Right now, we can't be sure this isn't all a ruse before they launch an attack on the main lines.”

  “Could be meaning to make another jaunt out to the west,” Earl said, squatting beside the two with his bow strung across his back. “Reckon what it is out there that's so important to them?”

  “I'm not sure that ain't what they wonder about us, now,” Parsons replied. “We think they started out just doing an exercise. We destroyed the first two divisions they sent and then pulled the bodies away. Didn't leave anything for them to find except the commander's bodies. Now I'm wondering if they think we're hiding something out that way and they're determined to see what it is. All we were really doing is taking advantage of catching isolated divisions and eliminating them.”

  “So, this is all just a great big misunderstanding,” Felds snorted. “Kinda like war, huh?”

  “Ain't no misunderstanding this war,” Parsons reminded him. “They want to rule us and aim to do it. We aim not to allow it. All there is to it.”

  “Damn straight,” both younger men murmured in unison. “We’ll head that way in an hour or so,” Felds continued, looking to Earl for confirmation and getting a nod. “We’ll head west for a bit and then cross over to their side of the line before trying to creep back where we can see.”

  “Sounds good,” Parsons clapped the smaller man on the shoulder. “How's the arm?”

  “Doing fine,” Felds showed the small scar, already showing signs of new skin growth. “Ain't but a bit of a cut.”

  “A cut that damn near went to the bone, the doctor said,” Parsons raised an eyebrow. “Mind that next time you mix it up with one o' them heathens,” he nodded toward the Imperial lines to the north.

  “I plan to,” Felds almost growled.

  “But not this time,” Parsons got back on track. “This time the two of you are looking and that's all. Get me?”

  “We get you sir.”

  -

  “Harrel is able to sit up for a bit now,” Stephanie reported as she, Parno and Edema Willows sat down to supper. “I think we’ll be able to take him home in a few more days. My timetable looks pretty accurate.”

  “I'm glad to hear it,” Parno nodded. When Stephanie looked at him with that raised eyebrow he hastened to add “That Harrel is better, I mean. I will, of course, be very sad to see you go.” Even though he meant it, it still sounded somewhat comical and Edema couldn't hide a snort of laughter.

  “He's getting better,” Stephanie sighed dramatically. “Slowly, but there is progress.”

  “Are we still talking about Harrel?” Parno asked.

  “No,” both women replied in unison.

  -

  “I made quite a mess, didn't I?” Winnie said later than evening as she sat around the fire with Case, Conway and the three lieutenants. Doctor Reginald Bragg was also there along with one of his nurses Winnie didn't know.

  “More like cleaned one up,” Conway replied. “Milady,” he hastened to add as he remembered who he was talking to.

  “Indeed,” Bragg nodded firmly. “Those women had been horribly mistreated and that leaves out being taken like that to start with.”

  “Are they going to be alright?” Winnie asked softly.

  “Physically? Probably,” Bragg nodded slowly. “Here?” he tapped his temple. “I'm sorry milady, but I just don't know. Several of them are still having trouble accepting that they're free. All of them are cautious of everything. I'm not surprised they chose to come with us, but most are suspicious of even us,” he indicated himself and the nurse. “I don't know how long it will take for them to get through that. Or even if they will,” he shrugged helplessly.

  “How does something like that happen? I mean here, of all places,” she clarified.

  “Why not here?” Lieutenant Fain asked her respectfully. “What's so special about us?”

  “Lieutenant!” Conway growled before Case could.

  “No, I want to hear,” Winnie held up a hand to stop Conway's objection. “I'd think someone in your position would know how special we are, Lieutenant,” she said to Fain.

  �
�Begging your pardon, milady, but while Soulan as a Kingdom is special, extraordinarily so actually, people are still people no matter where you go. And some people will always prey on others if they can find a way. As a group we are a mighty people, and I'm fighting or at least willing to fight to prove it. As individuals, many of us aren't worth the air we breathe. We have prisons in every province to prove it.”

  “That's actually very insightful,” Bragg said as Fain fell silent. “And he's absolutely correct. We as a people, as a whole, are strong and forthright. It's part of what makes us proud to be part of the realm in whatever fashion. But there are individuals among us who terrible people. People who represent all that this Kingdom stands against. I would wager,” he leaned forward, elbows on his knees as both hands cradled a mug, “that the Imperial people think the same thing to a degree. We think we know them, but really, what do we know? Almost everything we know we've learned in war or from the Nor themselves in times of peace. How much can we trust what they tell us? And how likely is it that their soldiers, even the good ones, represent their Empire as a whole?”

  “We tend to think of the Nor as evil, influenced by their aggression against us. Their continued aggression I should have said. We likewise tend to think of their men as heathens because of their behavior during such aggression. But what do we truly know of the Norland people that we haven't learned from a suspect source? I would venture to guess there are some very good people among them, even though I've never met one. Very few societies in history have been comprised of entirely evil people.” He paused and looked at Winnie, then looked at the others in turn.

  “Just as none of them have been entirely comprised of good, either.”

  Silence reined around the small fire for a few moments.

  “Well, I didn't mean to kill the conversation,” Bragg said finally, a rueful grin on his features.

  “Just the opposite I think,” Case spoke for the first time in the discussion. “And you're right. History is full of tyrants overthrown by their own people due to their rule. No society is entirely either good or bad. You can have a perfect blueprint but that blueprint has to be executed by imperfect people. There will thus always be imperfections in whatever they do, and that includes society.” He turned to Winnie.