A Cutthroat Story:

Tibbles the Conqueror (1)

The smell of freshly toiled soil intermingled with the scent of mossy river stones wafted into Tibbles’ nose. The earthy aroma reminded him of home, a feeling of nostalgia that he welcomed, after the months he’d spent locked up. Until the smell began burning his nostrils and he opened his eyes to see a foot with cracking white skin and bright orange fungus below its toes an inch from his face.

Tibbles scrunched his nose and gagged as his eyes followed the foot up to its owner. He was a bald heavy set man wearing a brown leather vest with his belly hanging out over his belt.

“Gah! Polan, why is your foot in my face?!”

“I didn’t put it there. You were rolling around in your sleep and got there on your own.”

“And you didn’t move it? You could have killed me!”

One of the other prisoners, an older man with long grey hair and bushy beard to match grumbled at Tibbles from a damp and dimly lit corner: “You’re being insensitive, he has a condition.”

“His foot is being insensitive to my right to live! I’d rather hang than smell that rancid thing again.”

“Well if you can stay away from his foot, you’re wish will be granted shortly,” Trevor chuckled.

“What?”

“We’re in the holding cells beneath the gallows. Korenth’s royal guards will be returning for us to be hanged at noon. So we’ve got another hour or so of living left. Spend it wisely, I guess.”

Tibbles scanned the room. The five of them were indeed in a holding cell; a windowless box of grey walls discolored by dirt and moss except for a rusting steel door. It was horribly morbid, but an undeniable step up from their cells on the now sunken Daiah’s Locker. “Is there really just five of us left? I was sure there were more of us the Black Dagger.”

“There’s four more captives in another holding cell. We’re just the ones that are going to be executed first,” Trevor laughed.

“Well, I can’t hang,” Tibbles muttered ruefully, “I’ve already smelt Polan’s rancid foot. That’s got to be worth a hundred executions on its own.”

Trevor scoffed and Polan glowered down at the lanky blonde cutthroat, more embarrassed than mad.

“Who even does hangings anymore?” Trevor whined. “Why can’t we be fed fruit till we die of happiness and general splendor, like they do in the Twin Wakes?”

“No, no, no, the Twin Wakes is where they stuff you in a barrel of crabs and snakes and dump you into the ocean,” corrected Polan. “The Tauvans are the ones that feed their criminals to death. And an important thing to note is that they feed them caustic vine fruit. I heard it melts your organs and everything to mush while you’re still alive and conscious to feel it.”

Tibbles groaned at the imagery and shuddered. “Still this is barbaric and primitive!”

“Actually, I was told they built an amphitheater around the gallows. There’s supposedly people selling roasted plum-nuts and lime juice in the stands, it’s really quite pleasant. As classy as a hanging can be, honestly.”

Tibbles shook his head at Polan. “Typhon wasn’t exaggerating at all then. Our deaths really will be midday entertainment.”

“A shame they died like they did,” Trevor said.

“Yep. What happened to their kids, anyway?”

“Dagon and Ransom are taking them to the buyer before they head back to White Coast, licking their wounds the entire way. They definitely bit off more than they can chew. Didn’t think that was possible for someone like Dagon.”

“But they’re alive after meddling in tribesmen’s affairs. If they can do that then I can get out of a hanging. Not like it would be my first time anyway. I say we nab those youngins for ourselves and then find some place to hide out for a few months while they make us weapons. Then we sell off the weaker ones and rule the world with rest.”

Trevor chuckled, “That sounds like a swell idea, truly, but did you forget you’re about to hang? “

“You’re too negative, Trevor. Can’t you see the opportunities right in front of us?”

“Besides swinging by our necks, no. It’s about all I can see right now. Oh, but if I look really hard and squint at it just right….. I can see….the possibility of people throwing rocks and rotten fruit at us.”

“You just don’t have a thief’s eyes. Think about it: why are royal guards are handling the executions? This is a job for any run-of-the-mill boot-licker. But what’s the one thing that’s different about us than any other cutthroats that have been brought here?”

Tibbles waited impatiently as he watched the two cutthroats piecing it together at a snail’s pace, until Polan gasped and raised his hand.

“We were on the ships that brought the sea smiths. Not to mention we know someone from this kingdom is working with some of the worst pirates ever and Harcovians to boot.”

“Correct, Polan. And I can’t imagine that sitting well with the other royals or the common folk, especially given this kingdom’s past. So they replaced the regular guards with theirs to keep the entire thing under wraps but specifically to keep us from blabbing about it all to the wrong sets of ears.”

Trevor nodded as he began to understand, “To make sure we go from here straight to the gallows and hang before we can get a peep out to anyone. Still, I don’t see how that stops us from getting there, Tibbles.”

“The things we witnessed is valuable information, easily more valuable than the bounties on our heads. If we can find the right person that wants it enough, then they might be willing to sneak or bribe us out of it to hear it all.”

Trevor sighed and scratched at his beard. “I’ll admit, you’ve definitely got a point. But we’re set to hang in less than an hour.”

“And there’s no way for us to communicate with anyone outside of this room,” Polan added, “Let alone find the kind of people that you’re talking about.”

“You just can’t seem to get past the hanging eh, old man. Don’t worry about finding them, those types are always near. I just need you two to get us out of here and it’ll be smooth sailing all the way to the ruling the world.”

Trevor gave Tibbles a confused and bewildered look. “Get us out of here?! Do you think I’m hiding explosives up my bum?”

The sound of metal sliding against metal and various clinks echoed into the room as the locks were undone from the other side of the door. “Stand back or else you will be cut down!” a voice yelled.

“Save the explosives in your bum for later, Trevor. Hand me an axe.”