Taelord looked at the strange wooden device before him. It had been erected in an empty space, where the Rows, Maze, and Keep all met. It was the closest thing Helsng had to a central location – a spot where workers, Merchants, and soldiers could easily run across each other.

“What is it?” he asked a laborer standing nearby. She was one of several who were there, all watching the device with apprehension.

“Nasyka,” she whispered. “An execution device,” she added, when Taelord glanced at her in confusion.

The Empire needed a device for execution? Taelord found the concept odd. In the Volcarren, one simply ran another through with a shard of bone until they were dead.

“The bars swing down,” the woman said, pointing to two rows of bars which currently were in a vertical position, pointing towards the sky. “They form a cage so the man can’t escape. His wings are bound with leather, so he can’t fight back, and then his head is locked in place.” She pointed to a small block, with a hole in the middle large enough for a kyrie neck. It seemed to have a top and bottom half, and Taelord could see hinges on one side. “Then blades come in,” the woman whispered, “from either side, and…”

She didn’t need to go on. She turned and hastened away, leaving Taelord to contemplate the unpleasant device on his own.

He was alone, which hadn’t been the case for some time. He hadn’t been properly by himself since Vraen was killed. Rehs had wanted to come with him to see the device – the Nasy— whatever the woman had called it. The death machine. But G’shar had held him back. Seeing Jer, he had pieced together that Rehs had been involved – however minutely – in the plan to free Leran. Taelord had left when tempers began to rise.

He had thought maybe his mother would want to come with him, but she hadn’t. She had left shortly after Marenn, saying she wanted to go to the Rows. When Taelord had asked her why, she had shown him a small sack she had taken from under her bed in Srung. It had contained three rolls of a silky white material.

Taklay bandages. The Red Taklay was a predator few Volcarrens chose to hunt. The size of a man, it could spit acidic venom, and encased those it killed in silk cocoons, preserving them for later. It was that silk which made them such a tempting target.

Something in the silk helped injuries heal. A single bandage could repair most minor injuries in a matter of days. That, combined with the danger and rarity of Taklays, made the bandages highly valued. Fera had said she wanted to trade them, see if she couldn’t barter for some food and other supplies.

Taelord had been unsure about letting her wander Helsng on her own, especially after he had just told Runa how dangerous it was. But his mother had insisted on going by herself, and G’shar had assured him that no one would dare harm a subject of Utgar. Taelord supposed that made sense. Had Runa known that, or had the thought never even entered her mind?

So Taelord had come here instead, to where the execution would take place. Leran would be slain within a matter of hours. The news had spread quickly, and Taelord could practically feel the tension in the city. No one seemed to be on the streets – all the people were staying in their homes. Taelord had seen them, through open doors or windows, sitting around tables or in chairs, not speaking, some with old family weapons in their laps, others idly holding farming tools.

If the Empire went through with their plan to execute Leran, what would happen? Would the people rebel then and there? Charge the keep and the soldiers? They would be cut down instantly. The keep was bristling with guards – Taelord had seen them coming and going at the dark hole which was the entrance to the dome-like structure.

And if they didn’t rebel, what then? Runa could think what she wanted; Taelord knew it was only a matter of time.

He found himself looking eastward, toward where he had been told Haukeland lay. That was their one way out. If the scouts returned and Haukeland was habitable, they could still leave.

But would they? Should they? Taelord didn’t want to just abandon the people here, and he knew he wasn’t the only one. Many were like Kran – determined to help. And some, like Veth, were eager for revenge against the Empire. If Utgar commanded they go to Haukeland, might most of his Volcarrens simply… ignore him?

Taelord’s thoughts were interrupted by a cry. He turned quickly, and saw a figure dashing away from the device – he was moving so fast that he was only a blur, but Taelord caught a glimpse of brown wings and orangish skin, and a face which seemed only half there – though he quickly decided it must simply be a leather mask which came halfway down the face, leaving the mouth and jaw exposed. Then the figure was gone, escaping in the maze of buildings nearby.

Taelord glanced at the device, and saw smoke rising from it in several places. Flames curled up the supports and washed across the main platform. The bars which would swing down to hold Leran in place suddenly turned into columns of fire, tongues of flame leaping, trying to reach the sky.

“Water!” a nearby guard bellowed. “Someone bring water!”

But the closest water was the river, and none of the watching laborers seemed inclined to help. A small crowd grew, watching, Taelord among them, as the entire device turned to fire.

A cloud of smoke grew above the device. Soldiers finally arrived carrying wooden buckets of water from the keep, but they were too late. The fire they doused turned to smoke, revealing blackened wood which crumbled as the water hit it. The device was destroyed. Someone had taken matters into their own hands.

Taelord didn’t know if he should feel relieved or more worried. Leran wouldn’t be executed immediately, but neither would the Empire simply ignore this. Judging by the murmuring of the crowd as the fire was put out, Taelord guessed he wasn’t the only one wondering what would come next.

They didn’t have long to wait. As the last of the fire was put out, revealing the smoking wreckage below, a kyrie stepped from the keep.

Taelord knew instantly, from a single look at him, that this kyrie was a commander, a general, someone in charge. He wore full plate – not the partial armor of the guards, but a full suit of battle armor. The edges were tinted with gold and blue, and a symbol was embossed on the breastplate: A collection of curving lines forming a half circle, with a single star above them – the symbol of the Empire. He wore no helm, allowing his yellow-blonde hair to fall past the collar of his armor. His face was lined, creased at the moment with a frown.

He approached the burning wreckage, charcoal disintegrating to ash under his plated feet, and stopped, observing the destruction. Then he turned to the small crowd of farmers who had assembled.

“The lawbreaker Leran will be executed as planned,” he said. “The Empire cannot allow its laws to be disregarded. The burning of a Nasyka will not stop that. He will be beheaded with an axe if necessary, but he will die. Today, at noon.”

He turned to leave.

“Murderer!” someone shouted from deep within the crowd. The farmers stirred uneasily.

The commander slowly turned back to face them. “I know you see these laws as unjust,” he said. “In a different life, I might have even agreed with you. But they are laws. Without them, without the Empire, there is nothing. There is only the strength of one man’s arm to hold back chaos and death. And I know – as will you if you continue – that such strength is not enough. There must be order. There must be obedience.”

“Obedience must be earned!” someone else shouted from within the crowd. It was impossible to tell who had spoken.

“Who are you?” another voice shouted. “We don’t know you! Give us Yiven! Let him speak to us!” There were several shouts of agreement.

“Yiven is no longer regent of Helsng,” the commander said.

A dead silence met his words.

“He has – a few short hours ago – been replaced by the command of the Emperor himself. The Emperor felt that the situation in this city was deteriorating too quickly under Yiven’s leadership, and he sent me to set things right. I am Jandar. I am your regent now.”

There was a moment of quiet whispering. From what he heard, Taelord gathered that Jandar was known to some, though not very well.

“Lord Jandar,” someone said, stepping forward. Taelord recognized Jer. “If it is true that you have replaced Yiven, then you can overturn his decision to execute Leran. At least hear me, and my case for doing so.”

“I have reviewed your plea,” Jandar said, “and regrettable though it is, I must stand by Yiven’s judgement. The law is clear. Leran broke it.” He paused. “I am sorry,” he added. “The Emperor himself has demanded that the situation in Helsng be brought under control, and leniency will only make things worse.”

Jer stepped back, looking as if he had been slapped in the face, and Jandar looked over the crowd.

“Some of you,” he said after moment, “might know that a rebel force is near.”

The crowd immediately broke into whispers.

“You might be considering joining it,” Jandar continued, silencing the whispers. “Or you might think that they will take Helsng. My orders come from the Emperor himself. If you do the former, you will be punished when the rebels are met by an Imperial army. And if you hope for the latter, you will be disappointed. These rebels have taken small farming villages and fishing ports with little resistance. Their rebellion will end here, at the borders of Helsng. If any of you thought there might be a riot, or a revolution, or an overthrowing of the Empire, know this: the rebellion is over.”

He turned and left, whispering rising behind him like the smoke now coiling in the air.