The Right Thing
by Atlantian Scribe
Note: Me sis says JKR said she'd cover this topic in one of the upcoming (hopefully very soon) books but this kept
nagging away at me. I'm not positive when or when the Bloody Baron died (or even if I have him from the right country) so
don't kill me if I get it wrong. If you don't think I've captured the Baron correctly remember this is a while before we've been
introduced to him and that much time can make a pers--excuse me ghost rather bitter. Flames are stored for when it's my night
to cook.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Bloody Baron or anything else of the HP world and you'd get nothing from suing me.
Thanks to my sister Sear for inadvertently giving me the idea. This travesty is all her fault, go stone her :-P.
The beautiful English countryside glowed brilliantly with the first rays of the rising sun. Robert allowed himself a moment to bask in the beauty of the sun stroking the world around him to life before remembering grimly the task that lay ahead: the execution of an innocent man. He had done so often in the last two seasons. You would think one would be used to it by now, he had mused to himself as he lay sleeplessly next to his wife the night before. As he set his features in his heartless, regal mask, he stepped from his modest castle to join the procession already formed there.
His soldiers had formed a circle around a shabby horse-drawn chariot containing a very solemn and beaten man awaiting his death. Pulling himself to straddle his mount, Robert took his place at the lead and began the death march to the town.
The peasants of the nearby town had gathered in the street to watch as the condemned man was to meet his fate, a fate bestowed to him by the wizard king who accused him of an outrageous crime he could not have possibly committed. Robert knew this but was in no position to question his king's will or motive, lest his be the next blood shed.
The crowd cheered as the condemned man was pulled onto the scaffold.
"Have you any last words?" Robert questioned the man, as was custom.
"Only that you will suffer greatly for your cowardice in not fighting for what you know is good and just," the soon-to-be dead man sneered.
"Then by the word of the Wizard King, for treasonous acts, I condemn you to die by the sacred curse."
The master wizard stepped forward, wand raised, and muttered the curse--a curse so dangerous and gruesome only one wizard in the entire village was allowed it's knowledge--under his breath.
The man let out a scream before collapsing onto the scaffold and convulsing.
It took three agonizing minutes for the life to drain away from him.
The crowd cheered their approval: "Long live the Wizard King, long live the Bloody Baron!"
The nickname made him cringe inwardly but Robert bowed to the crowd primly before mounting his horse and riding back to his castle ahead of his men, he needed to be alone and think.
The man's last words and those of the crowd rang in his ears as he rode to the lake near his abode. The now dead man was right, Robert knew he would take atonement for the lives he had taken or destroyed in his king's service and how he despised himself for it. He knew he should say something against his bloodthirsty monarch's reign of death but he could not drag out the courage to do so. Bloody Baron indeed, he thought ruefully. The sight of blood sickened him and he had never actually shed any himself. Curses were cleaner when destroying one's monarch's enemies.
The crusades for the muggle's holy land wouldn't have been so deadly if it weren't for the Wizard King's meddling. He had sent Robert to the front line as a general to aid the Christians even though the radicals persecuted their kind relentlessly. He had destroyed many an enemy in those battles, in the name of his king who gave him a barony for his efforts.
"My Bloody Baron," the psychopath had called him as he bestowed the rank.
A house scribe found Robert at the lake just before high sun that day to deliver a message from the king himself. The king was to be visiting in three sunrises. The baron sent the girl off to leave him to his thoughts when a plan formulated. I shall end his reign of terror once and for all, the man decided with an eerie chuckle.
~*~*~
The day of the king's arrival came and the castle was buzzing with activity. There was a great fest that night welcoming the royalty that lasted well into the night. When the insane man retired to his quarters for the evening alone, Robert put his plan into play. He knocked on the man's door just after the former entered.
"What is it?" he shouted tiredly.
"'Tis I, sire," Robert bowed as he entered the chambers, "with pressing matters of a personal nature."
"Can't it wait 'til the morn?"
"I fear then will be too late."
"Fine." The king sat in one of the chairs facing the hearth with it's back to the door.
This couldn't be more perfect. The baron stalked to the tall backed chair as he drew his dagger.
"Now what is this pressing personal matter?"
"Your death," Robert breathed from behind as he drew the blade across the other man's throat, just before one of the king's mistresses walked from the secret door to the side of the hearth.
She screamed.
~*~*~
The sunrise of his execution was particularly beautiful, as if the sun was giving a special farewell to him.
"For the murder of the Wizard King," the new baron declared, "you are sentenced to death by the sacred curse and are condemned to spend your afterlife attached to the site and memory of your crime.
~*~*~
The castle has since been expanded and is now a school of witchcraft and wizardry, the town now the last of it's kind, and the line of wizard kings has been abolished. Much has changed over the many years since his death, but the Bloody Baron remains much the same, only colder.
The beautiful English countryside glowed brilliantly with the first rays of the rising sun. Robert allowed himself a moment to bask in the beauty of the sun stroking the world around him to life before remembering grimly the task that lay ahead: the execution of an innocent man. He had done so often in the last two seasons. You would think one would be used to it by now, he had mused to himself as he lay sleeplessly next to his wife the night before. As he set his features in his heartless, regal mask, he stepped from his modest castle to join the procession already formed there.
His soldiers had formed a circle around a shabby horse-drawn chariot containing a very solemn and beaten man awaiting his death. Pulling himself to straddle his mount, Robert took his place at the lead and began the death march to the town.
The peasants of the nearby town had gathered in the street to watch as the condemned man was to meet his fate, a fate bestowed to him by the wizard king who accused him of an outrageous crime he could not have possibly committed. Robert knew this but was in no position to question his king's will or motive, lest his be the next blood shed.
The crowd cheered as the condemned man was pulled onto the scaffold.
"Have you any last words?" Robert questioned the man, as was custom.
"Only that you will suffer greatly for your cowardice in not fighting for what you know is good and just," the soon-to-be dead man sneered.
"Then by the word of the Wizard King, for treasonous acts, I condemn you to die by the sacred curse."
The master wizard stepped forward, wand raised, and muttered the curse--a curse so dangerous and gruesome only one wizard in the entire village was allowed it's knowledge--under his breath.
The man let out a scream before collapsing onto the scaffold and convulsing.
It took three agonizing minutes for the life to drain away from him.
The crowd cheered their approval: "Long live the Wizard King, long live the Bloody Baron!"
The nickname made him cringe inwardly but Robert bowed to the crowd primly before mounting his horse and riding back to his castle ahead of his men, he needed to be alone and think.
The man's last words and those of the crowd rang in his ears as he rode to the lake near his abode. The now dead man was right, Robert knew he would take atonement for the lives he had taken or destroyed in his king's service and how he despised himself for it. He knew he should say something against his bloodthirsty monarch's reign of death but he could not drag out the courage to do so. Bloody Baron indeed, he thought ruefully. The sight of blood sickened him and he had never actually shed any himself. Curses were cleaner when destroying one's monarch's enemies.
The crusades for the muggle's holy land wouldn't have been so deadly if it weren't for the Wizard King's meddling. He had sent Robert to the front line as a general to aid the Christians even though the radicals persecuted their kind relentlessly. He had destroyed many an enemy in those battles, in the name of his king who gave him a barony for his efforts.
"My Bloody Baron," the psychopath had called him as he bestowed the rank.
A house scribe found Robert at the lake just before high sun that day to deliver a message from the king himself. The king was to be visiting in three sunrises. The baron sent the girl off to leave him to his thoughts when a plan formulated. I shall end his reign of terror once and for all, the man decided with an eerie chuckle.
The day of the king's arrival came and the castle was buzzing with activity. There was a great fest that night welcoming the royalty that lasted well into the night. When the insane man retired to his quarters for the evening alone, Robert put his plan into play. He knocked on the man's door just after the former entered.
"What is it?" he shouted tiredly.
"'Tis I, sire," Robert bowed as he entered the chambers, "with pressing matters of a personal nature."
"Can't it wait 'til the morn?"
"I fear then will be too late."
"Fine." The king sat in one of the chairs facing the hearth with it's back to the door.
This couldn't be more perfect. The baron stalked to the tall backed chair as he drew his dagger.
"Now what is this pressing personal matter?"
"Your death," Robert breathed from behind as he drew the blade across the other man's throat, just before one of the king's mistresses walked from the secret door to the side of the hearth.
She screamed.
The sunrise of his execution was particularly beautiful, as if the sun was giving a special farewell to him.
"For the murder of the Wizard King," the new baron declared, "you are sentenced to death by the sacred curse and are condemned to spend your afterlife attached to the site and memory of your crime.
The castle has since been expanded and is now a school of witchcraft and wizardry, the town now the last of it's kind, and the line of wizard kings has been abolished. Much has changed over the many years since his death, but the Bloody Baron remains much the same, only colder.