AUTHOR'S NOTE: sorry for the extended unplanned break. Real life has been painful lately. I hope to resume posting one chapter every Sunday, but real life is still kinda messed-up, so I can't guarantee anything, I'm afraid.
Chapter 197: Mind Prison.
"sometimes we have to kill another creature, it's our duty but never, never take pleasure in doing so. Killing isn't something to be proud of."
-CrispinVCampion
General Woundwort watched with horror as his best captain of owsla fell into the barrel and did not resurface. For once, Orchis had made a great discovery, but it had completely backfired.
-"Where did Campion go?" Aspen asked cluelessly.
-"He's inside the torture barrel, you idiots!" Woundwort shouted. "And the intended victim ran off!"
-"...oops," Orchis said.
-"What are you waiting for? You two, dive inside and rescue him!"
The two rabbits peered over the edge of the barrel. Neither of them could see anything through the murky water. Orchis, who had initially come up with the whole plan, knew that if he jumped in, he too would die, but it was his duty to obey the General's orders. Aspen, while he did not realize that jumping in would kill him, was still nervous, since Woundwort had called it the "torture barrel".
Ultimately, before either of them could jump in, Campion suddenly flew out of the barrel, landing harmlessly on the platform nearby.
-"Campion!" Orchis was extremely surprised by what had just happened. "You're alive!"
-"Of course I am. You didn't seriously think I would stay dead for long, did you?"
Campion shook himself, doing his best to dump as much water on Orchis as possible. This was a relatively light punishment considering what had been inflicted on Campion, and what he had planned to inflict on the Speaker. But he doubted he would be able to get away with a harsher reaction.
-"Now that you are safe, Campion," Woundwort said, "let's go find the Speaker and put her in the barrel, for real this time."
-"I don't think that would be necessary, General."
-"And why not?"
-"It wasn't the least bit painful."
-"What?" Orchis shouted. "That's impossible! This should be the most painful method of torture ever!"
-"There is nothing to it," Campion reiterated. "Of course, if I had stayed underwater much longer, I would have drowned, but that's it, there was no additional pain. And if you want to drown someone, there are more convenient places available than this barrel. Like the river that will soon form at the bottom of the pit."
General Woundwort looked down; water was flowing out of the tunnel that had been dug earlier. It was currently little more than a small stream, but unless something was done quickly, Campion's warning would come true, and a large river would form, splitting the pit in two.
-"I thought I ordered you all to fill in that tunnel," Woundwort said. "I was specifically hoping to avoid such a situation."
-"You did tell us to do that," Granite recalled.
-"So why is there nobody at work right now?"
-"You decided to hold a public execution, and you usually want everyone to witness..."
-"Execution is over now! Everyone back to the bottom, you must fill that tunnel!"
Woundwort quickly ran off; the others followed soon afterwards. Orchis was the last rabbit to go down: he was baffled as to why Campion hadn't been hurt while in the barrel. He briefly wondered if maybe Campion was lying, but came to the conclusion that it really had been painless, due to the lack of additional wounds afterwards. It just didn't make any sense.
What Orchis didn't know, however, was that Campion had indeed lied, in order to protect the Speaker, so Woundwort wouldn't try to execute her this way again. The lack of additional wounds was due to his near-instant return to life. He decided to check up on the Speaker, though, just in case she really had gotten hurt.
He soon found her sitting in the middle of the pit, staring straight ahead; he hopped over to her.
-"You were right," he admitted, although he felt bitter that she had not tried to help him.
-"Of course I was right. Everything is perfectly balanced. You died, then returned to life, and I have survived too."
-"About that last bit...aren't you worried that Woundwort will try to have you executed again, once the tunnel is filled?"
-"I cannot die. That is the law."
-"The law may not protect you if Woundwort chooses to ignore it, which he has in the past."
-"I am prepared for such an eventuality. You will see, when the time comes."
Campion, however, remained anxious. It appeared that the Speaker was keeping secrets from him (and everyone else). She might be concealing important information, which might hinder his attempts at helping her, or stopping Woundwort. She kept becoming more and more mysterious.
Lionel-Hector spent a horrible night at the police station. While the criminals in the other two cells eventually stopped arguing, he spent the rest of the night afraid that they might start again. There was also the fear that they would try to escape, and perhaps drag him along as an unwitting accomplice.
When officer Dusty came back in the morning, LH felt relieved. Finally, there was a competent person who would be able to protect him from the dangerous criminals in the other cells, if necessary.
Dusty had brought breakfast, and distributed the bowls and spoons through the bars. Looking inside his bowl, LH saw some lumpy grey stuff. It didn't really look edible, but he hadn't eaten in a day or so, so he took a spoonful anyway. The taste, as expected, was atrocious.
Dusty was about to leave the room, when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen.
-"I just received the lab results on that blood sample," he said, walking over to LH's cell.
-"Yes?" LH held his breath: finally the truth would be revealed, he would be proven innocent, and he would be able to get out of this horrible place.
-"You're under arrest."
LH's hopes sank as he heard this. He wasn't innocent, he truly had killed someone while drunk, and he didn't even know who. Maybe that was why Debbie was mad at him? Tears formed in his eyes, dripping down into the disgusting breakfast. Dusty, staring at the sobbing person in front of him, realized that he might have given the wrong impression.
-"It's not for murder," he clarified.
-"Manslaughter, then?" LH said between sobs.
-"No. Poaching. You were right, there's no human blood on your shirt, it's all animal."
LH suddenly stopped crying.
-"Really?"
-"Absolutely." Dusty showed LH the phone. The screen was displaying a lengthy document: the report Dusty had mentioned. It was filled with many long words that he didn't know the meaning of. Fortunately, the conclusion at the end was written in plain words: "Non-human blood: 99% probability". LH was relieved...until he remembered that he was still under arrest.
-"How long will it take until the trial?"
-"That's assuming that there will be a trial," officer Dusty speculated. "The justice system is overloaded, it would probably be easier for everyone if you just plead guilty, and paid a small fine."
-"Neat. Can I do this now, and get it over with?"
-"Unfortunately, no. In the next few weeks, you will receive a letter in the mail telling you when to report to court. If you show up on time, everything will be fine." Dusty unlocked the cell door. "Until then, you are free to go."
-"You mean I don't have to stay in jail until I can go to court?"
-"No you don't. It's your first arrest, you're not a repeat offender. Besides, it's not as if you held anyone hostage, like the criminals in the other two cells."
-"The end justifies the means!" the man in the other cell shouted.
-"So...I really can leave?" This was better than anything LH had hoped for.
-"Yes," Dusty confirmed. "Your car is in the parking lot."
-"You brought it here too? That was so kind of you!" LH almost hugged Dusty, but stopped at the last moment: this isn't the sort of thing one does to an officer of the law.
-"It wasn't out of kindness: I couldn't just leave it in the middle of the street, you know? You'll get the bill for the tow truck in the mail."
This had a negative impact on LH's mood: he knew how expensive that could end up being. When he made it back to his vehicle, he saw that the seats were still stained with weasel blood; this would be a nightmare to clean, but for now, he didn't care. He just wanted to go home, change into a new set of clothes (they were just as dirty as the car seats) and catch up on sleep. He felt bad about skipping another day of work, but it couldn't be helped: he would be too tired to accomplish anything meaningful anyway.