The Blood of Alchemy

Chapter 9: Lament

The flames licked at the cool air and warmed the walls with an orange radiance. The first cell he came to was Boros', and he got the guard to open the door with his large brass key.

Boros was laying on his bed of straw with his eyes opened and zoned into the ceiling. He sat up at the sight of the King and nodded his head. He didn't feel the need to stand and bow as a prisoner. He knew that there was only one reason the king would make his way down there. He had news, and he didn't expect it to be good news. He expected that there was not going to be any trial, and that they would simply be hanged.

"Boros." The King said, making sure the sting of the lack of title sat in. Boros had always been addressed as 'sir'.

"Your majesty." Boros said back, lowering his head like a defeated dog.

"I hope this cell has given you some time to think." The King said.

"It has, your Grace. I remorse for what my party did. If truth be told. I regretted it from the first flame."

The King looked disbelieving. He turned and voiced to the wall. "Boros, I do hope that you are truthful." The King turned back to the prisoner. "You know well the laws of Oros."

"I do."

"So then you are aware that by the laws of the city, you would have taken trial today."

"Yes." Boros said, his suspicions confirmed. There wasn't going to be a trial before the royal courts.

"Well, Boros. There will be no trial in this case. The evidence is overwhelming."

"It is... And I confess my crime anyhow."

"Yes, yes. Well, with the tensions you've created we decided to put the decision to the council of the forest clans."

Boros' heart sunk into his groins. Hanging was one thing, but now he wasn't certain it would be that. By all likes, he assumed they would put him to the flame as vengeance. Boros turned his head to the straw bed, and the King could see the fear in his eyes.

"The good grace of the very people you burned will save your head today, Boros."

Boros could barely believe the words as he heard them, and had to ask the king to say it again before he would. At first Boros wanted to shout and smile and jump, but then the situation fell on him again. It was even worse, knowing that these people had summoned up the will to be forgiving to him. He really didn't deserve it, he knew.

The King let Boros out, and went the the next cell to tell the news to the next two. He hoped that he would hold the others in the same suspense he had him.

Boros left before he could see the others. He had no desire to speak to them. He knew they were probably in their cells cursing the forest folk and defending their actions. He was right. The rest of his former companions had muttered the days away, swearing that they were more important and six forest towns. Boros hated them all.

Boros left out the front of the castle gates after gathering what was left of his belongings from the knights wards. When they rest had learned he was no longer a knight, and surely to be executed, they had looted nearly everything he, the other six, and of the two already dead men had that was of any value.

None of them had wives. Knights were sworn never to take wives. Boros decided this was one benefit. Perhaps he would settle down and open a kiosk in the city selling mushroom pies. The prospect seemed alright for a minute, and then made him start to feel sick. He remembered his prayer. It had been some God that had saved him, he had decided. There was no other way he would be walking the streets of Oros alive, regardless of his possessions. Which were now under breeches of knights armour, a baggy v-necked shirt that scratched his skin, and a leather belt to hold his breeches up, and a small bag of some other clothes.