Disclaimer: I do not own Discworld or any of the characters therein, they are the property of Terry Pratchett, and unfortunately I can't think of a witty remark.
Vimes as practically frothing at the mouth, agape at the very people whom he'd sworn to uphold justice for; without fear or favor for any. They refused, they refused to do what needed to be done, they refused to do what must be done; they refused.
"He's a King!" someone cried, as if that explained everything.
"He's just as human as the rest of us!" Vimes snapped back, "Although, from what WE learned, he might be less!"
"But… he's a King!" holding onto that singular argument. Kings were special… "Besides, we have no court—"
"We'll make one!" Vimes snapped
"We have no judges—"the voice continued.
"We'll find one!" Vimes voice rose as he answered them still.
"They'd never charge him—"the voice was soon being lost in the murmurs of disapproval for the Watchman as his voice continued to rise as he interrupted again.
"We have the evidence, witnesses, and a confession!"
"And even if they did find him guilty, no one would dare to carry out the sentence." The voice said with a saddening finality, as silence descended.
Suffer-Not-Injustice Vimes stared at the gathered people, his people, in total disbelief; he then turned and growled out in a voice that sounded a roar in the silence, "Then I'll do it myself."
Vimes had gathered a court of nobles, and had dragged a very dirty King before it, presented the evidence and the confession, and though he would have liked to have the witnesses, they were still too scared. The nobles, afraid of potential retaliation, quickly found him guilty and sentenced him to death. And Vimes didn't smile, he wasn't happy about it, but he was satisfied that justice would be done, even if that satisfaction never reached his granite like face.
Just like the people had said, no one would do it, not even the nobles who were getting antsy about the still-living king in the cells. Vimes couldn't stand it anymore, as he went to the cells, and pulled the king from them and dragged the royal down the street to the square.
The people watched, but unlike other executions, they watched from afar, afraid to get to close, afraid that they'd anger Gods or the like, but still they watched, as the watchman flung the bound royal into the middle of the square and demanded the people come out and see justice be done.
The King laughed at that demand, laughed as the people continued to hide, and laughed as he mocked the watchman, but the watchman didn't respond with anger, though he did seem a little more forceful as he shoved the king's head over the chopping block.
Tying the head in place, the Watchman spoke to the king, "Try not to move, I'll make this quick. The only mercy you'll get; and one more then you deserve." With the kings head in place, Vimes took out an axe, inspected its edge to make sure it was sharp, and then nodded.
The axe went up. The Axe came down.
The Watchman displayed to the people Justice, and was soon arrested.
Vimes had been convicted of regicide, found guilty, and sentenced. Today would be the last day of his life, and the last day his body was in one piece.
He turned to speak to the crowd that was waiting for his death; he'd give them fitting final words.
"We need no kings for Justice; we find it with our own hands. If the Courts, the Officers, and the System will not give it, then we must take Justice with our own hands."
That night, Suffer-Not-Injustice Vimes, suffered no more.
A/N: Comments and suggestions always welcome, flames are acceptable if you can give actual feedback on what it is I need to do to improve the story, and I don't mean things like, "Make it better!" If anyone would like to Beta read any one of my other stories please let me know.