Chapter 67

Gladiola Square

News of Argus' assassination and the Esthari advances over Timber's new border had reached those in Centra in the early hours, with the time zone differences. Jericho Vossler had awoken to find himself ruler of New Sarona, and was anxious to return home. For now, Vossler had entrusted Baldur and Aranea to preside over New Sarona's counterthrust. Thalassa had contacted Raine as soon as she heard of her friend's close call with Ultimecia, but had received no response. Unlike Ellone and Raiden, she was not worried. Raine was just as tough as her, and was certainly at the core of New Sarona's efforts to repel the imperial advance. Liu and Zhang would be with her, toramas bounding after a lioness.

Within Lenown Castle, what had been the former public square had been completely cleared of all waste and stage props left behind by the nonchalant My Blue Heaven production crew forty years before. It now looked as it did before the Calamity, minus the bordering gladiolas themselves, though within the last week new flowers had been seeded. The square itself was a hundred square yards in the west wing of the castle, trimmed grass crisscrossed with boot worn slabs, and it used to be the preferred location for various events and ceremonies. The least glamorous of these were public executions, which, by the era of the Calamity, had been reserved for only the most heinous of sinners, and this was what would be happening here before noon.

A dozen prison wardens from the Esthari colony to the south had been rounded up, tried in accordance with the old laws of the Kingdom of Centra, and sentenced to death. Their crime had been gunning down hundreds of western POWs in cold blood. The executions were happening before the coronation as Steiner did not want this to be his first act as ruler. The wardens would be hanged, and the coronation was to begin shortly after noon.

Of the spectators, Fynn and Sophia would be the most eager to see the wardens get their comeuppance. Sophia had documented how she only survived because she ended up underneath the corpses of her fellow miners, and played dead until the opportunity to grab an enemy weapon presented itself. Fynn had witnessed the top of his closest friend's head blown away in a searing flash of plasma, and had spent days covered in their blood and cauterised brain matter until all the survivors had banded together and taken Cornelia.

The wardens about to be led out in chains included, but were not limited to, everyone involved. Most had been conscripted to defend 'North Centra' when Governor Chrysanthe invoked Article Fifteen, and had been identified as KIA at Mysidia. A few remained at large, but with all the ports under Centran control, these fugitives had nowhere to go and most would be brought to justice eventually. Inevitably, some would make it to bandit country, chiefly the pirate and smuggler paradise of Blauehaven to the east, where few questions were asked and such escapees could evade capture for decades.

Thalassa stood amidst her remaining crew members, with the discharged Centran White SeeDs now intermingled with their compatriots. Noctis and Relm were with Steiner, Beatrix and Clyde to the left of the newly-erected gallows. Laguna, with Euthalia, was representing Galbadia. Francesca DiMarco represented Timber, along with her former First Family and a couple of Forest revolutionaries who had served in her old protection detail. General Vossler, now President, was with his Dragoon bodyguards Deist and Luna.

The foreboding gallows had been constructed new with timber from the nearby forest, as the one left behind by My Blue Heaven's carpenters had long warped and rotted away. It was large enough to fill the northern section of Gladiola Square, with two sets of steps leading up to a rectangular platform six yards deep and twelve yards wide. There were four thick nooses in total, hanging from two supported crossbeams on the left and right. Thus, the wardens would be executed in two separate groups, and the second would be made to watch the first die.

Unwilling to let anyone who had not earned the White Beret watch, Thalassa had tasked Ellone with her favourite duty, which was looking after the children; both Ellone and a helpful Centran were guiding them on a tour of rest of the castle.

Thalassa had put on artificial smiles for the Children of Fate, who seemed to have not realised Gerra was missing before they engaged in conversation with Euthalia and Laguna. Only Selphie came over, eager to get some media with people from Neo-SeeD's sister organisation, who were all too happy to oblige; after all, Selphie was held in as high regard as Matron herself had been, and Edea's SeeD felt honoured just by being in her presence. Having jealously watched clips of her festival on Battleship Island, the White SeeDs were eager to praise Selphie on her swift organisation of the event, the quality of the event itself, and on her own performance. Ordinarily, Thalassa was always delighted to see her; Selphie's scarceness after Trabia Garden's second destruction and her resultant isolation meant Thalassa had seen her 'aunt' so rarely over the years.

'Hey, Lassa!' Selphie said happily, when she got to her. 'I don't see Gerra anywhere! Has he got bored already?'

Thalassa could not bring herself to lie to one of her father's closest friends. Selphie would probably see right through her, anyway, even without a GF. She was a Sorceress, after all, and could open up her sight to the Ethereal at will.

'He's not here, Aunt Selphie,' Thalassa responded.

Selphie just blinked. 'Huh? How come?'

'I can't talk about it,' Thalassa said quietly. 'He's gone away, and he's not coming back for a while. Please, Aunt Selphie!' she urged, then whispered, 'I'll explain everything later, just not now!'

The look in the gleaming emerald of Selphie's eyes was one of genuine concern.

'If you say so,' she replied, then placed a small hand on Thalassa's shoulder. 'You don't look too good, Lassa,' she mentioned softly.

'I've had trouble sleeping,' Thalassa said dismissively.

Selphie inclined her head in Squall and Rinoa's direction. 'We're here if you need us, Lassa. Me, Rinoa and Squall. You know that, right?' Thalassa nodded appreciatively, saved by activity and noise from the Centrans as the portcullis to the square opened. Selphie hesitated, then headed back to the Neo-SeeDs. She looked over her shoulder. 'And stop with the Aunt, please, Lassa! You're making this girl feel old!'

When Selphie returned to Squall and Rinoa, Thalassa noted their concerned stares in her peripheral vision, and could still feel their eyes on her as she turned slightly away. So, Squall and Rinoa had only just realised Gerra was not here. She had been convinced Gerra's absence would be noted straight away, with the way his all-black attire contrasted with the White SeeD uniforms.

The first sinner to be brought into the dawn light was by far the most significant. Gorgo, formerly the Deputy Governor of 'North Centra', who had briefly usurped and imprisoned Euthalia for a short time. She had been the one who had given the order to assassinate the POWs, and had ordered Euthalia's aide to make it seem as though Euthalia herself had given said order.

The only thing was, much to the audible disappointment of Fynn and Sophia, Gorgo was already dead. A custom had emerged during the twilight centuries of the Kingdom, which decreed female sinners could be given the option to take their own lives the night before their scheduled execution. Gorgo had pleaded guilty to every charge and had been afforded this mercy. In fact, had Thalassa not intervened, she would have been beheaded by Beatrix when they apprehended her at Mysidia. Instead, Gorgo had been given an unglamorous additional dozen days of life, and upon the surrender at Palamecia, she had spent a few rough nights in various brigs and the remainder in the filthy, cold and damp medieval dungeons of the castle. At the end, she had been gifted the fast-acting poison with her last meal, to drop into a goblet of wine, and had been found dead some ninety minutes later.

Gorgo was now very pale, her skin a stark contrast to her matted raven hair. Two of Steiner's Pluto Knights carried her on a litter, which they lowered to the trimmed grass before the gallows, leaving her corpse there and stepping away. Steiner's ceremonial, burnished armour seemed to expand and contract as the behemoth of a man took a deep breath and stepped forward.

'Here lies Gorgo, of the Marcellus clan,' the soon-to-be king said, his deep voice carrying far and wide. 'She has pleaded guilty to charges of ordering executions of prisoners of war, and took the option to end her own life.'

'It's not good enough, Sire!' Sophia screamed, drawing hushed breaths from many of the Centrans, and she boldly strode forward. 'She should have been gunned down like a geezard, the way my people were!'

Fynn followed only to put a large, scarred hand on his lover's slender shoulder. Although Steiner had proven to be an effective public speaker, Thalassa knew he was not so good at improvising. Chances were, all his speeches today had been penned by Beatrix, and it was the queen consort that dealt with the interruption.

'We understand your frustration, Corporal Elderwood,' Beatrix said, in a tone that treaded a fine line between harsh and compassionate. 'And yours too, Sergeant Fynn. I was but a second from killing this vile serpent myself! Yet it was Captain Thalassa that reminded us of the Kingdom's customs; the massacres were committed within the Nine Shires, and we almost let slip the old ways while filled with the rush of battle. Whether Gorgo was beheaded, gunned down or killed by poison, her fate was inexorable, and your fallen compatriots are rejoicing in the Netherworld. I trust that Gorgo has arrived within the first of the Seven Hells, already.'

Sophia stared defiantly and audaciously at Beatrix, then back at Gorgo's corpse, before she resumed walking towards it. Beatrix signalled off the two Pluto Knights that moved to block her. Fynn followed. After holding that loathsome stare, Sophia made an uncouth hocking noise and spat at Gorgo's face, phlegm landing on her white cheek. Then she swivelled and returned to the White SeeDs.

Suddenly, Euthalia moved from the Neo-SeeDs, gliding across the square with Laguna hobbling to keep up on his cane.

'I would like to say something on her behalf, Your Majesties!' she said crisply.

'Of course,' Steiner said, perhaps a little too quick to acquiesce for Beatrix's liking, as she betrayed an annoyed look at her husband.

When Thalassa had met her less than a fortnight before, Euthalia had been wearing traditional Esthari robes, but now she was dressed in a western grey blazer and matching skirt that Laguna had personally tailored for her at Wilburn. The former Governor had warmly embraced middle age, having undertook no surgery to smooth her lined face, and she was still a natural beauty with her greying brown hair, doe eyes and small chin. A ring was now on one of her fingers that had not been there before. Laguna had proposed to her shortly following their reunion, and they had gone for one of those quick wedding ceremonies offered by Wilburn's hot air balloons providers. At long last, Laguna and Euthalia were married; it was just not publicly known, as Laguna was now Vice President and Euthalia was essentially in hiding, and she had retained her Chrysanthe maiden name.

Euthalia came to a stop before her former Deputy, then turned to address the spectators. Thalassa was curious as to her skills as an orator, as it was known that Martine and DiMarco desired Euthalia to take power in Esthar in the event of Ultimecia's defeat, and although Shawn Argus had been constitutionally sexist, even he had accepted that was the best temporary post-Ultimecia solution. As it happened, it had been Thalassa that prompted Euthalia's promotion from Secretary of the Treasury to Governor a few years ago, when she had assassinated her predecessor, Claudius.

'I am deeply saddened by what Gorgo did,' she said, 'both to myself and to the western POWs, and also because of the inevitability of her downfall.' Euthalia paused briefly. 'I knew Gorgo for a long time, and her adverse journey from the safe slums of Esthar City – after our own Lunar Cry – should have been a success story that inspired many a commoner.'

Euthalia spoke slowly and clearly, as most politicians did. In high-class Esthari fashion, she pronounced every word to its fullest, much like Ultimecia. Though her voice was somewhat raspy, the slight breaking giving more of a learned edge to her speech, and Thalassa wagered that Euthalia had been a smoker for many years.

'Yet it seemed she was fated to be the second coming of Sorceress Gorgo, short of being able to petrify all who displeased her. Gorgo was vindictive, disloyal and insatiable, manipulating many a capricious man by way of the flesh, fevering fickle minds further with the untruths she whispered and the bile she spewed. She usurped me during the siege at Mysidia, ordering additional thousands of conscripts to a senseless death, the exact thing I had been determined to put a stop to! I expect that it will be them, led by Major Julius Agricola, who will be leading Gorgo to face her Judgement.'

Euthalia glanced in Thalassa's direction. 'It was the merciful words of the Riptide, Captain Thalassa, which gifted Gorgo with an additional dozen days of life. I have been informed that during that time, Gorgo received visits from a chaplain and professed genuine remorse for the orders she gave, and yesterday morning, she penned formal letters of apology to Presidents Martine and DiMarco.'

She paused, and most people glanced at the Timberian and Galbadian presidents. Thalassa was surprised as she heard Sophia kiss her teeth; she had not known about this. Euthalia turned to the corpse of her compatriot.

'Gorgo of the Marcellus clan, may the Great Hyne weigh you generously, and have mercy on your soul!' she finished.

As Euthalia returned to Squall and the others, Laguna hobbling after, the body of Gorgo was left where it was. Sophia's mucus slid down a ghost-white cheek, to be discreetly wiped away by the female Pluto Knight called Medea.

The sound of clinking chains announced the arrival of the prison wardens. Thalassa observed most of them were male and middle-aged to elderly. They were all former military men; only those who had killed before would have been able to accept and carry out Gorgo's despicable orders. Likely, the majority of them were First Sorceress War veterans, having lived on the colony with the dual income of their service pensions and warden salaries.

Steiner gave much the same rehearsed speech he had given for Gorgo after the vacant looking men were lined up before the gallows, in front of Gorgo's corpse. One by one, they were released from the main chain linking them, remaining bound at the wrists and shackled at the ankles as the first four were forced up the steps. One tripped, probably in a bid to delay his fate by a few more seconds, but he was forced upright by the Pluto Knight called Blutzen. In no time, the nooses were tightly encircled around their necks, and the fight had gone out of all but one of them.

'I am truly sorry!' just one cried, face reddened and tears streaming down filthy cheeks. 'Please, allow me to serve your kingdom! I can make amends!'

'Kiss my ass!' Fynn shouted, characteristic of a Galbadian grunt, and when the warden realised that Fynn was a survivor of the atrocity, he hung his head resignedly. Four Pluto Knights had the duty of throwing the levers, which they did so as Clyde counted down from three. Three were killed instantly, jerking once like desert zuus with their necks wrung. One survived the drop, thrashing in the air like a plucked fastitocalon; incidentally, it was the same one who had begged for mercy. The closest Pluto Knight, Minerva, had a robotic expression on her harsh face as she thrust her claymore downward to finish him off. Then the nooses were loosened, and the bodies were moved to be laid on stretchers placed near Gorgo's.

The three remaining wardens were urged toward the gallows, and they ascended the steps without assistance. An honest oversight, the chains were the old irons used a hundred years ago, and had grown brittle. There were cries of alarm as one of the wardens freed his wrists, the chain hanging from his left. In a quick movement, he seized Medea's dagger from its sheath and thrust it under her armpit, up to the hilt, then withdrew it fast enough to slash the throat of the young Pluto Knight called Kohel. The warden's ankles were still shackled, resulting in awkward movement, but he bent to pull Kohel's longsword from its sheath.

They would later realise this man had formerly been a 'Mage Masher', the term given to those who had been in the precursor of the Adel Unit, formed by Sorceress Adel when the west had begun using para-magic against her legions. Their chief purpose on the battlefield had been to swiftly identify and terminate those early mages. Thalassa could not see it from her distance, but the blurred tattoo on one of his shoulders showed a pickaxe gunblade piercing a pointy hat.

'For the glory of the Empire!' he roared, as he swung to break the chains of the prisoner in front of him, and then the one behind. Within a second, they were all armed, standing back-to-back on the gallows platform with their swords out, albeit still shackled. Quickly surrounded by Centrans, they knew they could not escape, but had resolved to die as soldiers. 'Long live the Empress!'

By some unspoken agreement, both Beatrix and Clyde moved in front of Steiner as he removed Ragnarok from his massive back.

'Stay well clear, Your Majesty!' Clyde urged him.

'Continue playing at your delusions of grandeur, at your pretentious chivalry!' the Mage Masher jeered, his face covered in Kohel's blood. 'It's pathetic! When the Empress has her victory on the western continent, your kingdom will fold like wattle and mud before a typhoon!'

Noctis and Relm had both raised their hands to use para-magic, but it was Beatrix who was actually nearest the wardens. She calmly hoisted herself onto the wooden platform, out of their sword length, causing her son and niece to lower their hands. The jewels encrusted into Save the Queen glittered in the morning sun as she drew it from its sheath. At the sound, the Mage Masher regarded her.

"Ah, if it isn't the Butcher of Blauehaven!' he mocked. 'The cold-blooded heir of von Heiligeberg who spat upon her forebears' legacy by marrying into the behemoth clan!'

Beatrix said nothing as she took her high guard. Thalassa remembered how good she was. At just seventeen, Beatrix and some travelling companions had been ambushed at Blauehaven, as the brigands had identified her by her ancestral sword and wanted it for ransom. She had killed a dozen men on that day, at the cost of her right eye, and she had not done so cleanly, maiming even more and leaving them to live out their days as amputees. Blauehaven would never forget the Butcher, and bandit country as a whole rapidly learned never to cross House von Heiligeberg's heir again.

Three wardens, and they all fell in not many more strokes. After all, even the Mage Masher was elderly, and he had run to fat in a sedentary job. The first warden, with just a dagger, stood no chance. The one with Medea's leaf-shaped xiphos had his jugular sliced from a blend of parry to drawing slash so subtle Thalassa barely caught it, flailing from the platform to be gutted by Clyde. The Mage Masher died last, run through to the hilt, the jewelled longsword winking through his blood. Afterward, Beatrix tossed her hair with a flick of her head and calmly wiped Save the Queen on the grey breeches of the Mage Masher, before confirming that Kohel and Medea were in fact dead.

'They opted to die by the sword that much sooner!' Beatrix commented coldly. 'Steiner, this cannot delay the rebirth of our kingdom! We must bury Medea and Kohel before noon!'