No Mercy

"No, please! Let me go!"

The cries of that soon-to-be-executed knight echoed throughout the gold-and-white chapel, but not one soul flinched. There was once a time in which Tàiliàng would have felt something after hearing those pleas. If it were the old him, those words would have been enough to make him doubt himself. In many ways, it was what was once expected of him, too. Forgiveness, that is. However, that old him didn't exist anymore. Within these walls, scenes like these were becoming all too common. This former knight had once served the reign of Lucatago, just like the dozens of other knights in the room who looked at Tàiliàng expectantly. Pànfēng was the prisoner's name, if memory served him right. He must have been a good one, given that he remembered his name.

"Sir, what should we do?"

Zhēnlù was the first to speak up. He had been the one to capture Pànfēng, and the leader of the squad currently standing in the sidelines.

"Take him back to the cell." Tàiliàng turned around, and walked away from the prisoner. "The execution will continue as expected."

"Please, I have served you faithfully for years, Lord Vismagus," the prisoner objected.

He choked on his tears. Genuine tears, Tàiliàng was sure. And his fear over his impending death was real, too. One couldn't simply pretend to tremble the way he was, making the chains keeping his wrists bound together rattle violently. However, his struggle against those restraints didn't make Tàiliàng's expression waver. The ruler stared down at the prisoner with a squint, one that seemed to give him a chance to elaborate. And he took it, as expected.

"I can repent, I promise."

Pànfēng dragged his knees forward, staring up. The guards readied their weapons in case the man suddenly tried to do something rash, but Tàiliàng raised his right hand at them. They all immediately put the weapons back down. That little display had been enough to make the prisoner stop dead in his tracks, though.

"Repent? And how do you intend to do that?" The Vismagus sat down on his throne, with one leg over the other. "After trying to assassinate me, no less."

"I was paid by someone else," he confessed. "We were struggling with money. My son was tricked by some shady outsiders, and we needed money. Quickly."

"So you say. Could you not have asked your commander for help?"

Tàiliàng glanced at Zhēnlù, who nodded as if he understood and took out a small notebook. It would be best to write down everything Pànfēng said, just in case.

"We were afraid," he gulped. "Of blackmail. Or worse, even."

"But you weren't afraid of killing me?" Tàiliàng raised an eyebrow.

"That is—"

He struggled to answer that, so Tàiliàng interrupted him with an exasperated sigh. His foolishness was a topic for another day; one that, perhaps, should be talked about when training future knights.

"Nevermind that. Who paid you?"

The prisoner smiled now that Tàiliàng had shown some interest. There was a glimmer in his eyes, one of hope. He quickly and desperately spat out everything he knew to gain his Lord's favour.

"A royal, someone who teaches in the Academy—" he hastily interrupted himself as more information came into his mind, "—and he frequently interacts with some underground commerce groups, too. A really shady character."

"Your son isn't the only one dealing with shady characters, then."

The Vismagus rolled his eyes. He rested his elbow on the throne and his chin on top of his hand.

"What was their name?" Tàiliàng asked.

"They didn't..." Pànfēng hesitated to answer. "They didn't give me a name. They were really secretive about it, and I was too desperate to ask more questions."

"Did they at least give you a reason for killing me?"

Another moment of hesitation, which made Tàiliàng squint at him.

"I hope you weren't stupid enough to attempt to kill me without even understanding the reason why."

"He..." The prisoner finally spoke up. "He said something about how your policies were hurting his deals. Something about the legitimacy of your throne, too."

Tàiliàng scoffed. Of course. One of those. It seemed some people still clung to the old ideas about the Vismagus and the Seals... The ones he was raised to one day obey. The Vismagus, the chosen one among the Seals, was meant to be the spitting image of love and selfless kindness, a ruler who sacrificed himself for everyone's sake, even his enemies. What a joke. After that war from centuries ago, those ideals were nothing but a joke. People had tried to exterminate every Seal, in the end. And yet, some people still found him unworthy of being a Vismagus because he didn't conform to their ideas of how a Seal should behave.

"Very well. Take him out of my sight, Zhēnlù."

"Sir, what about the—"

One of the members of Zhēnlù's squad began to ask, only to get interrupted.

"The execution will proceed as normal."

"What?! But I..." Pànfēng erupted into anger. He tried to stand up, but a couple of knights held him down. "I just told you everything I knew! I told you why I did it! I apologized, and apologized, and apologized again!"

"So, those are your true colors..."

Tàiliàng stood up and walked forward. Zhēnlù tried to stop him, but the ruler raised his hand at him to tell him to back down.

"What are you talking about?" the prisoner hissed. "True colors? Don't give me that."

"You say you'll repent, but you immediately raise your voice at me when you realize things won't go your way." Tàiliàng leaned forward. "Do you expect to be forgiven every time, just because you say sorry? That, if you apologize enough, I'll set aside the issue of my assassination? That kind of trust is not so easily fixed."

"That's—"

Tàiliàng chuckled. How ironic.

"Are you asking me to trust someone who measures the worth of one's life by the weight of their pockets? You have already proven to me just how little your words and promises mean to you." Then, the ruler smiled. "Thank you for telling me who my guards should chase after next, though. I'll make sure they let him know how sorry you are for betraying him, too."

Immediately, Pànfēng tried to lunge at Tàiliàng. However, he couldn't even come close to him. It wasn't the knights who had stopped him, but a golden whip made out of light that had grown out of the halos floating on top of the Vismagus at every waking moment. Thorns appeared from the golden rope, appearing to dig into his body. However, they didn't physically affect him. There was no blood, and there was no wound where the thorns stabbed into him. And yet, the feeling stimulated his nerves. Through his armor, through his fur, paralyzing him, growing into him. The man let out a deafening scream and fell back down, and Tàiliàng took a step back.

"Don't even think of touching me ever again," Tàiliàng spat at him.

With that, he waved at Zhēnlù and his squad to take the prisoner away. He caught him muttering one last "monster" before being kicked at by one of the guards. Soon enough, he had been dragged through the double doors of the chapel. When he was back alone, Tàiliàng sat down. Suddenly, those same halos he had used against the traitorous knight violently shrunk. They gripped his wrist and his leg, and the Vismagus took a sharp breath while his body jerked in pain at the thorns that now dug into him. Though he wasn't startled anymore when it happened, it still hurt too much to ignore. It was his punishment for raising those tools of love against someone else.

"Tch," Tàiliàng grunted. "Still expecting me to be merciful. As if things were so simple."

He would be attending the execution tomorrow. A lesson needed to be taught.