Title: Turnabout
Author: Simon
Characters: Garth
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Payback
Warnings: none
Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.
Archive: Fine, but if you want it, please ask first.
Feedback: Hell, yes. Blame me.
Turnabout
His Imperial Majesty, Garth the Second was quiet, calm, as he listened to the pleas and the evidence being put before him.
Normally less formal than his predecessors, he surprised his advisors by choosing to hear the arguments in the throne room, sitting on the raised dais and wearing his Robes of State along with his diadem, forcing the plaintiffs into a submissive position, forcing them to look up to him for once. They stood in a small group in front of him, held back a fathom or two by the guards in case they tried something, but that was unlikely. They were beaten and they knew it. There would be no point to try anything.
The full Royal Court surrounded them; two hundred people lined the large Hall, listening, watching to see what was going to happen.
The King was still young and some of his people thought him too weak to rule in times as dangerous as the ones they lived in. He'd had such a hard life and he was known to be withdrawn because of that—shy, introverted, still devastated by the loss of his first love, though there were any number of Shayerian young women who would gladly offer him whatever comfort he may need. He distanced himself from his rightful place until only recently and it was said that he had wanted to decline the throne altogether; only accepting it under some duress and after long debate and hesitation.
But he was their hope, the one who knew enough about the other cities and the surface to take them through the confusion that lay ahead of them. He was the only one and the rightful heir. It had to be him.
His expression was neutral, his demeanor giving away nothing as to what he might be thinking or what his decision might be.
The priests, now defrocked after the scandals had broken, were pleading for leniency, mercy and begging His Majesty to show them the compassion he was justly famous for.
They had erred, they had made mistakes and they regretted them. They saw how wrong they'd been and they would do everything in their powers to make amends. They swore this to be true.
Never again. They swore; never again.
They had never meant to be cruel; they were thinking only of the good of their nation, the welfare of the people. That was all that mattered and now His Majesty had a chance to prove how truly forgiving he was, how kind and beneficent to his realm and those who looked to him for guidance.
Yes, they had been guilty of some things, but they repented what they had done. It would never happen again. No one would ever suffer again at their hands, they swore this.
Please.
The King looked around the room. "Is there anyone here who speaks for these men?"
The priests looked hopefully, anxiously, from face to face as the crowd either met their eyes with defiance or studied the pattern on the floor. No one spoke.
"Is there no one?" The King repeated his question.
Again, no one spoke, though there were a few snickers here and there. The priests had been too cruel to too many people to expect help now.
The high priest, the group's spokesperson tried one last time. "Your Majesty, I beg you; mercy, please."
King Garth studied the man with what looked like curiosity, his glance taking in all the men in front of him, then made his decision.
"Gentlemen, I will extend the same mercy you showed me."
His business in this matter discharged, The King stood, nodded to the assemblage who bowed or curtsied in return and retired to his own chambers.
The next morning, at dawn, the seven men were taken to Mercy Reef, stripped of their clothes and whatever else they might have with them, then left to fend for themselves in the open air.
2/16/05
3