Chapter 8

The Rogshian Times

12th Day of Spring, TE-896

Accusations Leveled Against Governor Tryn!

It has come to our reporters' attention that the Tryn family, Governors of our Great City of Lurigard, have been accused in a conspiracy. The nature of this conspiracy is questioned, but more importantly its veracity. This honourable newspaper has deemed it necessary to report on this rumour only because pamphlets have rapidly spread throughout this city, pamplets produced by a disreputable group also known to promote revolutionary fervour. We at The Rogsian Times feel it as our duty to allow the fair representation of our generous and respectable Governor family. We promote this fair representation by printing here a defence written by the Tryn's household themselves.

"The manner in which rumours have been spreading about our family should be cause enough for any thinking man to pause. Are not these pamplets spreading these vicious lies similar to those that have spread other accusations proven to be false? Are not these pamplets from one and the same people? But who are these people? Revolutionists! Of course they would reason a way to find fault in our magnanimous rule. They find fault in any rule but their own! Here is the lie put forth: That the family Tryn attempted the murder of the Divine King Nicolas II. But who was the King with when his murder by poisoning was attempted? An outsider to nobility, a spy of those same anarchists who now spread their poisonous lies like so many spiders! Even now this wretch is held in prison, and the evidence against her is so strong that her execution is assured. And yet lies against our family's innocence are still believed!"

A mob was roaring in the Bastion of Lurigard's courtyard. A thin, blue line of troops were struggling to keep the enraged civilians from reaching a convict's gallows. It was unclear whether the mob wanted to rescue the convict, or murder him with their own hands. In this respect--their intent once they reached the convict--there were probably two mobs. But now they were united in the intent of breaking the ring around the gallows. Fresh troops rushed out of the Bastion and thickened the police line, their polished buttons glinting almost as brilliantly as their deadly bayonets.

A carriage with four awe-inspiring horses drove into the courtyard. It was the Governor Tryn, by whose order this impromtu execution was taking place. The man wreathing on the gallows had long been a suspected revolutionary, but Governor Tryn was a man who shrewdly bided his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Or creating that moment, as he had used his daughter for. Well, so the King was still alive...for now. Thought the Governor. Better luck next time.

The sergeant of the guards and one of Tryn's own personal adjutants rode up beside the Governor's carriage, both of their horses' eyes wide and pinked from the unwonted noise in the courtyard. The sergeant spoke first, his strong arm gesticulating wildly, pointing to the crowd and warning his Governor to leave the area immediately. The Governor nodded in agreement, and dismounting with his adjutant went into the Bastion and came back out behind a walkway's parapet. He looked down on the growing madness with a severe frown, but sparkling eyes.

"Is the executioner ready?" asked the Governor, stepping away from the parapet as he eyed a gruff-looking civilian toting a hunting bow. Already two or three blue-coated guards were rushing through the crowd to disarm him.

"He is, your Excellency." replied his adjutant.

Governor Tryn stepped forward again and glanced over the parapet, the man's bow was broken.

"What does the crowd want, do you know? To save, or to kill?"

"I do not know, your Excellency, and it is not for my kind to guess."

Tryn leaned over the parapet, peering into the crowd as if to read their minds. Suddenly, his gaze was caught by a pecularly striking set of eyes. The eyes were Datsani's, he had come to save Staliro from hanging.

Ruda flicked a few strands of her blonde hair out of her eyes. The morning sun was slowly journeying across its everlasting route. In a few moments, it would fill this forest grove with its golden touch.

"I wanted to spit on you that day. Do you remember?"

Ruda dropped to one knee, then to both. Her petite hand stroked the foot of the mound in front of her.

"I was so angry at you...I always was angry at you for moving away from Cerstria."

A lone fowl chirped in a nearby bush, a mother looking for her young.

"I know...I know, yes, that you did it because...well, because she was gone."

The fowl despaired of its quest. It launched itself into the air with a powerful jump and began flapping its wings.

"She is gone...and I wanted to spit on you, because you had gone away. Gone away from me, that day..."

A furry animal shot threw some nearby underbrush, causing leaves to rustle like the rustling sound of rain.

"Never...before. I never was angry with you before, was I? I mean, I never showed it."

A strong, refreshing wind came, a wind of the kind that only blow at sea, after a rain, and in the morning.

"But I was going to, that day...because you had left me. How was I to know you were to leave me...really, completely leave me? I'm sorry."

The sun's rays caught the top of the trees and ran down them with the speed of sprites. It spilled into the forest clearing like fiery liquid into a grass bowl.

"I wanted to spit on you that day."

The sun illuminated the mound. A marker stated, "Here lies a loving father: Greigo; 860-92.

"But now...I will just let my hand do its work, today."

From the darkness of the shade she was still in, Ruda cast a bundle of wildflowers onto her father's grave. She rose up and walked away into the forest's dark shade. Never did the sun alight upon her in that moment.