“Are you sure you want to do this?” Alistair asked, his voice concerned.

“I must,” Liliana replied, her own voice firm in her conviction. Alistair stared at her for a long moment, searching her eyes for the slightest hint of hesitancy before he sighed.

“Alright, if you insist,” he conceded, and Liliana gifted him a weak smile. She ran her hands over her black dress, a rather proper color choice considering what she had requested to see.

It was their final day in Ariowood. The prisoners they’d brought had been tried and sentenced surprisingly fast, but the evidence was too much to argue against. Liliana suspected there was another reason the proceedings had gone so quickly. Her father wouldn’t want those who had broken laws so egregiously and considered rebellion to be allowed to live for long. Fast and harsh judgment was the best way to deal with such things, before ideas could leak out and poison the minds of the populace.

Alistair was going to see the executions. Liliana didn’t imagine he had much of a choice. It was obvious Emyr would accompany his closest friend, to support him in this trying time. But Liliana had no obligations to go, not any others knew. She didn’t need to be so close to the justice system, as she’d never have power in it like her stepbrother. But she had a promise to keep, a promise of vengeance.

Liliana’s hand rose, and she stroked a finger over Nemesis’ head where she hid in her hair. The serpent had asked for vengeance, and while it could be considered done, there was a final piece of closure owed to the serpent. She deserved to see that those who had killed her family in cold blood were dead. The serpent was practically vibrating in anticipation, blood lust clear in her thoughts. Liliana couldn’t allow her to kill the villagers, but she could grant her this at least.

“Are you ready, sister?” Alistair asked, and Liliana drew her hand back down. She nodded, taking a fortifying breath.

Alistair offered his arm. They’d be going in an official capacity as the son and daughter of the duke. Alistair would be there as the heir, as the duke’s proxy. Liliana couldn’t claim such a thing, but she was still her father’s daughter. Emyr followed behind them as they made their way to the carriage. The ride to the execution site was a quiet one, no one ready to speak up considering what they were about to watch.

There was a crowd gathered around the square where the execution was to take place, packed so tightly Liliana glimpsed people sitting on roofs before she looked away. Their path forward slowed as they waited for the crowd to split enough to get through, and Liliana clasped her hands tightly together in her lap. She couldn’t bring herself to look out the window of the carriage, to see the long line of faces waiting to die. Instead, she stared at her hands, which were held so tightly together the skin was practically white. A dark hand laid itself over her own, the contrast striking.

“You can stay in the carriage if you wish,” Alistair offered, his voice oddly soft.

“No, I can do this. It’s my bond they wronged. It’s my plan that got them captured. I need to do this,” Liliana said, shaking her head. More than even her brother, she needed to be here. She was the closest thing Nemesis had to family. She had to see this blood feud end with her own eyes and accept the consequences of her choices.

“Justice must be done,” Alistair said quietly. Liliana looked up at him and wondered which of them he was talking to in that moment.

“I know,” Liliana answered him, her voice soft. And she did. She knew what was necessary. But even as she accepted that, it felt like she lost something of herself. Some part of her innocence was being left behind on the street as the carriage trundled its way forward.

She knew justice must be done. Crimes must be punished. It was the same way in her original world. But the justice in this world was a far more bloody and brutal thing. Liliana might not be comfortable with death, or even being responsible for it. But she was beginning to see this was how this world worked. The longer she spent in this world, the more the bright, sparkly veneer she’d originally been greeted with when she played the game cracked.

It wasn’t the game she had played for hundreds of hours, where at the end of the day, the heroes always succeeded and evil was dealt with and everyone lived happily ever after. This world wasn’t the clean, gilded illusion the nobility tried to immerse themselves in. It was a world where anyone could get powers that could level cities, where beasts that could wipe a village off the map existed.

It was a dark world, full of blood and danger at every turn. One where people could, and would, use their power to do great evil in the name of what they thought was right, or for their own selfish gains. The only thing stopping them was that there were people with more power than they holding society together. The reason so many nobles now strove for physical power as much as political made sense. If they were not strong, then one day their own people would tear them apart.

The door to the carriage opened, and Alistair retracted his hand. Straightening his jacket, he stepped out. Emyr followed, a silent shadow. Liliana took a deep breath, steadying her nerves as she followed. A hand was thrust into her face and she took it gratefully, letting her brother aid her descent from the carriage and letting his own grasp hide the trembling in her hand.

People around them inclined their heads and Liliana did not need [Empathy] to know that fear and excitement was thick in the air. The surrounding people knew they were here to see people put to death, and they knew who had led them here. As Liliana looked around, taking in the averted eyes and careful demeanor of the gathered commoners, she understood too why Alistair had to see this. Why, he had to be seen here. Fear was a tool in a noble’s repertoire.

The people had to respect their governing lords, but they should also fear them. Fear what would happen if they dared to break the laws the nobles were sworn to uphold. They should not be so terrorized they lashed out like a cornered beast, but they should fear the consequences of breaking the laws laid in place.

Liliana’s eyes finally settled on her brother as they moved towards a makeshift dais built for them. His jaw was clenched, and she could feel the tension in the muscles of the arm under her hand. His head was held high and his eyes kept straight on ahead, not straying as her own did. He looked regal, like a true heir coming into his own power. But he also looked so starkly young.

He’s only fourteen. I never thought about their ages too much when I played the game. But the things they had to see and experience in the game before they were even eighteen… It had seemed fine. It had just been a game then. So who cared if a fourteen-year-old had to kill an entire camp of bandits? Who cared if a sixteen-year-old had to investigate a sex trafficking ring by examining the dead bodies of the victims for clues? Who cared if a seventeen-year-old was asked to risk his life fighting off coastal invaders? But now, it feels too real. When was he ever allowed to be a child? When were any of us? Liliana pulled her hand away as they sat in their seats.

Emyr had one a step below the two of them. Liliana’s seat was smaller than her brother’s, but she was not the heir. Her heavy thoughts weighed on her soul as she looked over the gathered crowd. They couldn’t see the prisoners yet, at least. Liliana was almost grateful when another carriage approached, for it distracted her from thoughts of stolen childhoods and lost innocence.

“Tch, I thought they would have the decency to not show their faces today,” Alistair hissed under his breath. Liliana could see his hands gripping tightly to the wood of the chair he sat in, the small sounds of splintering wood so loud to her at such a proximity. It seemed her brother had yet to forgive the Wilde’s for their sin of allowing an assassin to attack her in their own home.

Liliana kept her face impassive as the Earl and Countess exited their carriage. They approached the dais, bowing and curtsying low to Alistair before taking their own seats on the lowest rung of the dais. At least they hadn’t brought their troublesome daughter. Liliana didn’t know if she could control Nemesis if the serpent felt her lingering emotions towards the girl with everything else that was coming today.

I might dislike the Wilde’s, but at the very least they’re trying to shield their children from this. Perhaps they’re trying to let them have some illusion of childhood innocence before this world violently rips it from them, Liliana thought cynically.

“It is their territory the executions are being held in,” Liliana responded to her brother after the Wilde’s had settled down.

“Then where were their guards when we left to go to Timberborn? Where were they when the trials were being held? They’re closer to Timberborn than we are, so why did they not alert the Duke to what had happened?” Alistair asked, his voice a harsh hiss.

“Calm, brother. Do not make enemies today. They are father’s to deal with, for now,” Liliana cautioned, laying a hand on his own in a mimic of what he’d done not so long ago in the carriage. Some of the stress left his frame, but the anger in his eyes didn’t diminish as he glared at the Wildes.

“The honorable Justice Weston has arrived!” a man servant cried out moments before a man dressed in somber robes took to the stage in the center of the courtyard, following him was another figure in pure black, his face hidden by a mask and his information disguised from [Identify]. Death, the silent companion of Justice.

The executioner took his stance next to the guillotine behind the justice. Further back, the prisoners were being led out of the jail, hands and feet shackled and chained together as guards kept them in line. Liliana could tell they hadn’t been well taken care of in the prison. Their skin and clothes were dirty and their eyes held dark circles under them. It was a stark contrast to the prideful people they’d met that first day in Timberborn. The loss of their children had broken something in their hearts, but their impending deaths had finished off their spirits.

The justice pulled out a scroll and opened it. As he called out the first name, two guards removed a man from the prisoners and led, practically dragged, him to the guillotine. As he was forced to kneel in front of the device, the justice read out his crimes to the gathered crowd. When he finished, the prisoner was forced into the guillotine, finally struggling against the guards as his death loomed before him. It was futile, however, and he was locked into the stock. The executioner looked towards their dais and Liliana realized with horror that he was waiting for Alistair’s permission. Her head whipped to the side, and she saw her brother lift his free hand. The gathered crowds cheered.

The beheading happened so quickly that Liliana didn’t see it by the time she looked back, but she heard it. The sound of metal parting flesh and bone, the wed thud of the head hitting the bucket under it. When she looked back, all she could see was crimson blood flooding the wood around the guillotine. Her free hand came up and covered her mouth as nausea rolled in her gut. It had been so fast, so effortless to end a life. The only thing keeping her in her seat was the dark joy that thrummed through her. Nemesis’ emotions and perhaps some of her own at seeing justice done, a blood debt being paid. She could sense that Nemesis was viewing the event through her eyes, reveling in the blood spilled.

The executions went by in a blur from there, name after name being called. Head after head dropping into the bucket. Wagons filled with headless corpses being driven off to dump them in a mass grave. Blood slowly painting the wood of the stage in a crimson that would never wash out. Liliana couldn’t move her eyes from the guillotine, no matter how much her stomach rebelled as the scent of iron got so strong she could smell it on the dais. Still, the gathered crowds cheered louder and louder, people went around selling trinkets and snacks.

Liliana couldn’t help but feel distant, as if she had activated [Astral Projection] and was seeing this from above her own body. She might understand this justice was necessary in this world, but she couldn’t comprehend the people cheering on the deaths. Couldn’t understand the ones who tossed rotten fruit at the prisoners before the blade dropped once more. Couldn’t understand the people cheering on the executioner as if he were a hero and not a bloody butcher. They were dressed and acted as if this were some type of festival, not an execution. More than anything else that showed her that this world was nothing like the one she had left.

Finally, after what felt like days of watching death after bloody death, the last name was called, the last head dropped, and the last body was removed. There was still fear in the air, but excitement was almost as strong. Liliana had to avert her eyes from the cheering people. She looked to Alistair, whose hand she still had her own on. He hadn’t shrugged her off the entire time, and she’d almost forgotten what she’d done.

Her hand squeezed his when she saw how drawn his face was, how tired his eyes were. The gathered crowds might view this as a celebration, but her brother was the one who had just written 67 names down on his conscience to carry for the rest of his life. 67 live he’d sentenced to death.

Would he have been like the others if we had not become close? If he had not begun to see commoners as more than just people he owned, but as people in their own rights with dreams and hopes? Liliana didn’t know if she felt proud or guilty. It was clear the event was weighing heavily on her brother, a weight he might not have had to bear if she had never interrupted his life.