“Did you want to say anything?” Sha asked.
Farek glanced around the small, reeking room again. He had expected Lord Sha to utter some judgement over the kneeling prisoner, before the executioner brought his axe down—but Sha looked content to give a nod and have it done. Farek stared at Polanar for a moment. The man had been brought in a few moments earlier, shoved down at a chopping block, and remained there quietly. He looked starved.
“He knows what he’s guilty of doing. If he has anything left to say, he has his chance now,” Farek declared. Matek, Ayvim, and Devender were quiet, though Farek sensed Matek crossing his arms.
Hearing Farek’s words, Polanar held his breath. Then he clenched his jaw and stuck his head forward.
The executioner, a six-foot man with dark brown hair and a black leather tunic, looked at Lord Sha for the order. Sha gave a single nod. Muscles bulging, the burly killer lifted a two-hand axe over his head.
At the last moment, Polanar cried, “I love my son!” and then the axe came down. It was over.
Farek felt the words like a punch in his gut. He didn’t know what he expected from Polanar at the end, but it wasn’t a moment so human. It had been reported to Farek that Polanar’s son was estranged from his father and living in Sheld. Somewhere deep down, the bitter old man had still cared immensely, it seemed.
“Good riddance,” Matek said.
Despite the sadness that Polanar’s last words instilled, Farek also felt an echo of empathy with his friend’s sentiment. This was one stressful chapter on which Farek could finally close the book. He had avenged the attack on his family and made sure a second wouldn’t come.
“Will you join me for a pint?” Farek asked his friends. “We’ll put this sordid quest behind us.”
Devender nodded somberly and turned toward the door. Matek clapped Farek on the back and followed.
“A moment, Lord Gallendris,” Lord Sha called.
They spoke in the hall, while the guards and servants cleaned up the mess in the small, damp cell. Sha had news of Matriarch Valakono’s decisions. “She has decided to agree to the alliance despite Haladia’s death,” the spy master reported. “She is sending a delegate with one of Erril’s operatives. The operative will return to Saanazar with the priests and begin investigating the implication that Archpriest Morrus hired the assassin. The delegate will tell Speaker Serand that we will set a rally point for our fleets, once General Coranno has returned and made his strategic recommendations.”
“Good,” Farek said. It’s the right decision, he thought. “And the hiring of greater security?”
“Research is ongoing,” Sha said. “Some of our ideas are far afield—it will take time. Similarly, the Matriarch continues contemplating the line of succession and the replacement of our slain Matriarchs.”
“It’s a start,” Farek said.
“I hope the right one,” Lord Sha said, always the skeptic.
Farek and his subordinates sought out a bar and shared a quiet round of drinks together. Farek continued to contemplate his future in the war to come. He was a properly trained swordsman, but his skills had grown rusty. He hated politics, but people intrigued him. He was close to offering his time to Valakono, to help gather people to join the war effort. Exhausted as he was, Farek knew that resettling in Soros or returning to Ofena would leave him and his loved ones vulnerable. He had put Polanar’s schemes down, but he couldn’t rest yet. He ordered a second round of drinks for his friends.