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Not a chapter for the faint of heart. One way or another, it will soon be over for Mermul.

Icon art from the Mermul reference by Billie/FeatheryFlukes

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Chapter 8 - Guillotine

"No!" Fiskul snarled, eyes wide with rage. "You're not having Mermul! He's my friend!" The small dragon raised a claw defiantly, and thumped their tail against the ground. A dart punctured their neck and they staggered.

"May Alkrash forgive you all," Fiskul gurgled and collapsed beside the unconscious fluff-dragon.

"Remove the Dark One!" Lord Varl demanded urgently. "Bind them and tranquilise them! They cannot be allowed to interfere!"

"My Lord," Fardon protested miserably, as the guards hurried to subdue Fiskul. "Do you truly mean to proceed with this!? I had hoped it was merely a test!"

"He must face justice," Lord Varl said heavily, looking at the floor.

"But Mermul...!" Fardon looked appalled. "He seemed so nice!"

"They always do," Lord Varl sighed. "Erekul was a model citizen before he went on a rampage in North Plateau. And Fercia was a well-loved teacher at the dragon-creche... Until she blew up a nursery full of furres and humans."

"My liege, I do not believe his tale of redemption," Sir Darving said bluntly. "He is an agent of Lord Thurr, and he must be eliminated."

"And if you eliminate the wrong person?" Sir Fardon demanded, looking the other knight in the eye defiantly.

"Then may Alkrash forgive us all," Lord Varl said. "But the capital charge is for heresy, for consorting with the Evil One. You cannot deny that this Fiskul creature, who may well be the Devourer, clearly has a big interest in Mermul's continued existence. Just now, they claimed Mermul for their own and he has apparently slept with them. We cannot be seen to be obeying the wishes of the Dark One!"

"...I understand," Sir Fardon replied sadly. "I... will do this. But, Milord... Remember the repercussions with Fiskul - for they will land on your head too."

* * *

"Mirmjolnar," Lord Varl stated, "You have been found guilty of causing death in the service of Lord Thurr, and of consorting with the Devourer..."

A low murmur broke out in the crowed.

"...And consorting with the Devourer!" the orange-red dragon repeated. "For these crimes against the state, you are hereby sentenced to death by beheading, and may Alkrash have mercy on your soul..."

...Again, Fardon added mentally, glancing sadly at Mermul, who lay on a trolley, wings bound, the orange guest collar removed from his neck. Fardon did not trust the fluff-dragon to be able to make his final walk unaided, and had arranged a cart to spare him the indignity of stumbling or having to be carried. The blue-grey dragon's eyes were blindfolded and Fardon could see damp patches where they had been crying again.

"Forgive me, my friend," he whispered. "It will be over soon..."

"Mirmjolnar," Lord Varl began. "Have you any final words before the death sentence is executed upon you?"

"I... I'm sorry," Mermul managed. "I have done evil things. I cannot give back the lives I have taken. But I did try... I tried to prevent more lives from being taken. I hoped this would be enough... But if I am to pay with my own life... I hope those... The families of those who I slew... I hope they find peace through my death!" he sobbed, and began crying again. "Tell Arcaia... that I'm sorry..." he finished.

"...The sentence is confirmed," Lord Varl sighed. "May the Great One forgive you. And us."

Fardon looked at the helpless blue-grey dragon, tears starting to well in his own eyes. "Be brave, Mermul," he said quietly.

Can I do this...? Fardon wondered, appalled. I swore to protect him... but now he's a war criminal! Mirmjolnar the Slayer! But he's... still Mermul... Please, milord, don't make me do this...

"Fardon, I'm scared... I don't want to die," Mermul whimpered softly, as the lunettes were locked down around his unresisting neck.

"I know," Fardon said. "And I don't want to kill you either. Listen, there's something I should tell you," he said, speaking quickly to distract his victim while he reached for the release lever.

Fardon's hand trembled as he touched the handle and he blinked away tears.

"No..." he whispered. "No! I can't do it!" He looked at Lord Varl helplessly, unable to comply, but unable to speak out either. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

A that moment there was a sudden crash and a scream. A hole melted in the wall of the castle and a small, black-and-red dragon flew out.

"Naughty!" Fiskul snapped, and landed on the top of the guillotine. Perching there unsteadily, he looked down and opened his maw. The void flooded out and consumed the gleaming metal blade like hot water melting snow.

"Huh," Fardon said, gawking with astonishment. "That's gonna make things awkward."

"What's happening?!" Mermul yelped. "Is that Fiskul?! Don't let him hurt anyone!"

"Begone, Foul One!" the Bishop yelled, making a sign of protection. "Return to the pit that is your lair..."

"Shut it, boomer," Fiskul growled. "The execution is over! No more guillotine, no more beheading! Just go home, and we'll say no more about this. Mermul is coming with me!"

"This is not over!" Lord Varl insisted angrily. "Use the block! Mirmjolnar shall lose his head to Sir Fardon's tail! And you shall pay for this insolence, intruder!"

A chopping block was swiftly brought in and Mermul's trolley moved into position. A stocks acted to hold his head in position, while the block was placed just behind his head. Fiskul struggled as the large guards overwhelmed them, and their wings were pinned back with the same thick restraints that held Mermul down.

"You worthless bastards," the Devourer snapped. "Oh, you are going to be so very sorry... And you, Fardon! Do you mean to go along with this... This travesty?!"

"I am sworn to obey my liege," Fardon said wretchedly.

"And that's exactly why Mermul is in this predicament!" Fiskul snapped. "What good is an oath to a tyrant?! Mermul swore to obey Lord Thurr, but he escaped, he came here, hoping to join with you and make amends for his past sins. And this is how you plan to reward him? By chopping his head off?!
"By Alkrash's bones, Fardon! You promised to protect him! You can't do this! You cannot obey your Lord if he is wrong!"

"At last, we see the temptations of the Dark One!" the bishop crowed. "Do not listen to it, Sir Fardon! Its words are evil!"

"You are conspiring to rob the life of a vulnerable person who came here seeking your help!" Fiskul roared. "If that is not evil, you've lost the meaning of the word!"

"Dark One," Bishop Ferdinand called, "Mermul has been sentenced, not for assassination, but for heresy. For defying the gods! For making a diabolical pact with you and sealing it with his flesh!"

"Seriously?!" Fiskul looked furious. "You're killing him for witchcraft?! Have you all gone crazy?!"

"It's an old law, but apparently it's still on the books," Fardon said miserably. "If I do not do this, another will!"

"If he dies, I'll get you," Fiskul roared. "All of you! Do you hear me?! For I am the Devourer of legend - and you are about to kill my friend!"

"Why do you claim to care, Evil One?" The Bishop sneered. "After all... When he dies, you will receive his soul!"

Fiskul stared at him, open-mouthed. "You know, you're absolutely right!" the small dragon gasped. Then they grinned menacingly "You are doing me a service, and as we have just established, that is heresy. A capital crime!"

"Death to the Bishop!" the small dragon screamed, pointing at the astonished kangaroo. "You heard him! By his own admission, he is a heretic! A heresiarch! He just made a diabolical pact with me! Off with his head!"

"No!" Mermul wailed. "No more death! Fardon... If you must kill me, do it now and end it all! But don't kill anyone else... not for my sake!"

Fardon raised his tail blade and gritted his teeth into a snarl of frustration. The axe-head slammed down hard into a pile of logs with a hefty thunk, cleaving the first few effortlessly. Mermul twitched, wondering if he was dead yet.

"No!" Fardon roared. "I swore to protect Mermul! I cannot kill him over a stupid, unjust law, and I will not kill the Bishop either! And if this costs me my life, then so be it!" he finished, looking at Lord Varl defiantly. "But you risk all our lives and the wrath of the Devourer themselves if you proceed with this abject folly!"

The orange dragon stared at him for a few moments, and then grinned wickedly. He clapped his hands together.

"The sentence of death is hereby suspended," Lord Varl decreed. "The execution is cancelled for today. Sir Darving... Sir Narfus... bring the three of them to me."

* * *

Fardon and Mermul were led into the King's hall by the two red dragon knights. The blue-grey fluff-dragon's wings were still bound around his middle, though his blindfold had been removed. Fardon too, stripped of his gleaming armour, was similiarly restrained. Fiskul had disappeared in the confusion.

Lord Varl crouched upon his throne, wings spread out imposingly as he gazed down at the two prisoners with an inscrutable expression.

"Well, Fardon..." the king said. "You have convinced me."

"I... I have?" the disgraced knight looked confused, and then closed his eyes, bowing his head with a brave expression. "...I see. I have convinced you that I am a traitor," he said. "Then if I must die, I will at least die with a clear conscience. I pledged to use my strength and power to protect the weak, not murder them by enforcing an unjust law. And such will be my last words when you claim my head."

"Actually you've convinced me that Mermul should be spared," the king said. "You have often been perceptive, Sir Fardon. And if you are convinced of this dragon's essential goodness, even to the point where you would defy your lords, then you have surely seen something in him, and I will trust your judgement."

Fardon sat down heavily with a crash, a look of shock in his eyes as the weight of the king's words sunk in.

"You have been testing us after all?" he asked. "That was a... morally questionable thing to do, my liege."

"Very true. And I am sorry, but as you know... our kind love to dominate others. I pray you forgive an old dragon his weaknesses. For I have been testing myself also.
"Fardon, I apologise for putting you through this. But it would have ruined the test if you had known. Mermul would most likely have realised."

The dragon king clapped his hands again. "Sir Narfus, Sir Darving... release the prisoners. Sir Fardon is to have his armour returned to him."

"At once, milord," the red dragons chorused, and set about their task.

"Mermul, you have my most sincere apologies," the King added, arching his neck towards the blue-grey fluff-dragon.

"A-apologies...?" he gurgled as Sir Narfus released the bindings around his wings.

"For threatening your life," the king said, bowing his head. "I have been studying your reactions under stress. Whenever we have caught agents from Lord Thurr before, they have cracked at the end, and their last words were curses and promises of vengeance from their liege. As you have seen yourself, just before this unhappy incident occurred."

"Fercia was my aunt," Mermul said softly. "Estranged, but nonetheless... I did not wish to see that."

"I am sorry for your loss, Mermul. Yet that admission strengthens your case, for you could easily have denounced us for killing your kinswoman. Instead, you begged for the Bishop to be spared, despite his calling for your death. I am convinced now, that you are no longer in service to Lord Thurr.
"As such, it would be far better to have you on my side going forwards, than to slay you for your wicked past and discourage others from defecting. And finally, we have the matter of this Fiskul creature, who is clearly not to be trifled with and very protective of their friends."

Lord Varl jumped from his throne and faced the blue-grey dragon. "Mermul..." he proclaimed, "Your application to become a Tarian citizen is hereby approved."

"...But I nearly died!" Mermul sobbed, as Sir Narfus fitted a dark blue collar around his neck.

"Shh," Fardon said, his own voice quavering slightly. "Shh... It's over now. And it will never happen again, not while I breathe. I swore to protect you. I nearly broke that promise, but it will never happen again. I... I love you, Mermul..." he confessed. "And I... I made a terrible, terrible mistake... I don't know how you can ever forgive me... For what I nearly did... I nearly..."

"Gentlemen," Lord Varl interjected. "While I appreciate that this is a bad time, there are still pressing matters to discuss. And Sir Fardon, do not blame yourself unduly. Mermul was in less danger than you knew."

"What?" the dragons asked.

"Mermul, you have a powerful friend in this Fiskul creature," Lord Varl continued. "Whether that is good or bad, I cannot say - but he would not easily have let you die. And more to the point, I have been testing you both, as Sir Fardon has realised.
"But for an accurate result, the danger had to seem real, so I had the guillotine sabotaged. Perhaps the most dangerous part was ordering Sir Fardon to use his tail-blade... But I could see his resolve cracking. To be completely honest, I was about to order him to stand down, but he got there first. His defiant refusal to slay you, at the last, was most commendable."

Fardon looked away, blinking rapidly.

"What if you'd decided Mermul had been a spy?" Fiskul demanded angrily, hanging from the rafters like some kind of colossal bat.

Lord Varl craned his neck to look up at the interloper.

"If Mermul had proven false and pledged himself to Lord Thurr at the last - as his late aunt had done - then Sir Fardon would have been much more inclined to execute him. Not least because our hypothetical Evil Mermul had deceived him, and he had fallen for those deceptions. We would then have had the embarrassing spectacle of the guillotine jamming, followed by a traitor's death from Sir Fardon's tail-blade."

"But it is true there was a risk," Lord Varl admitted. "Much relied on Sir Fardon's reluctance to slay the undeserving for an apparent tyrant. Had he proved over-eager and taken your life, we would have been in trouble - but that would have been very out-of-character for him. Had this happened indeed... Well, the Devourer would likely have sent us both to follow you, if that is any consolation."

"Not really, milord," Mermul said miserably. "I thank you for offering to allow me to stay... But after this, why would I? I came here seeking safety, and instead I got a mock execution!"

"I can understand that," Lord Varl sighed. "And again, I can only apologise and offer compensation. Please try to understand... we have had problems with Thurr's agents infiltrating the realm and perpetrating acts of terror. I had to be satisfied that you were not likely to do the same, and since we cannot read minds, I have had to resort to an extreme and regrettable form of interrogation.
"If you wish to leave the realm in disgust at my actions, I can hardly blame you. But I would urge you to wait a few days before making that decision as there are good reasons for you to stay."

"But what about the Bishop?" Fiskul demanded. "Mermul has been sentenced to death for heresy over an act of love! Why should he risk being burned at the stake or something?!"

"Actually you were right the first time," the King said, glancing up at Fiskul again. "Heresy is not a capital crime. Indeed, I fear that Taria as a whole may need the aid of the Devourer, whatever the Bishop may think."

"Huh," Fiskul replied, looking skeptical.

"Mermul, citizen of Taria... I hereby give you a full pardon," the Dragon King began. "Naturally, this decree only extends to my realm. If others come seeking retribution for your past misdeeds... Well, I'll protect you as best I can. It might be better if you stay in proximity to Sir Fardon for the time being."

"And Sir Fardon...? This has been a trying experience for us all. I suggest you take the next few days off. And... thank you."

"Thank you, Sire...?" Fardon looked confused.

"For showing compassion to Mermul."

"He is like the son I never had," Fardon said, and looked embarrassed.