The Square of the damned was a sad place. Empty. The gray walls filled with moss contrasted with the vivid gold and reds of the Imperial city buildings. This place was one of the few links where the lower class could glimpse the divinity of their Emperor. Of course that was not the day. The door of the Sun, the one that connected the square to the Palace, was closed. The two bronze lions that guarded the entrance were facing the other side of the square, where the Gate of the people, let in the few citizens interested in the execution.

Satō sighted. He wished he could look the Emperor in the eye before he died. Curse him. Spit on the floor and scream some nasty words he could not avoid hearing. But they were no ones. Not worth the attention of such an important person.

His fellas were all standing in the only structure of wood in that square. The massive gallows were fit to hang all of them. twenty buccaneers of the Geckos. Half of them were already hanging from the ropes.

Actually, the show hadn’t started yet. The town crier was still shouting the required introductions, praising the country and the divine emperor. The companions who were already hung by the neck had been killed during the assault on the treasure ship. They had been dead for days, and the stench was palpable.

When the sweet words about the People of Hanan and its divine Emperor finished, the crowd clapped. It was early morning and only a few merchants had come from the market that overlooked the square. The town crier, a passionate fella with a charismatic voice, was talking in the common tongue.

Common was the language of the merchants, known all over the world, but the people of Hanan, and especially the inhabitants of the imperial city of Wei-le, were stubborn people and did not use it much. Satō wondered for a moment but realized promptly. It was all a charade. A show of power, not to their own people, but to the rest of the world. And especially to the underworld of it. Same reason they noosed the men that died days prior.

“No pirate will ever touch the riches of our nation!” the town crier said with exaggerated passion. “This scums tried, yes they did…” The speaker stopped, moving his hand towards the prisoners slowly but with overplayed movements, to emphasize his performance. ”But the jewel of our fleet, the Yoon-tee, is impregnable. Invincible.”

Some onlookers, surely government hooks to encourage the masses, cheered. The square was now more crowded. Marketers, sailors, traders, they were all excited to see the executions. For people like them, to see people like Satō die was a celebration, a show.

“You didn’t catch s’all!” The shout from the gallows froze the square for an instant. “Some left with yer gold!” The voice of Satō’s friend Bawee bursted in a forced laugh.

“Lies!” replied the town crier. He ran to face Bawee. far away enough to avoid a bite, but close enough to receive a spit. Satō’s friend was not an idiot of course. The barker had purposely exposed himself, to have an excuse to brighten up the execution with a little torture.

Seeing that the buccaneer did not sting, the town crier turned and, with a disdainful movement and a grimace on his face, ordered the executioners to begin. “Hang the liar first,” he said in a mocking tone. The crowd cheered with joy. Bawee’s laughter continued to echo off the walls, much louder and forced at each breath, until the sound of the hatch halted it. The spectators bursted in a loud celebration.

Bawee died as a liar. But he was right. One boat left much earlier and was long gone when they caught Satō and his fellas on the shore.

The man on Satō’s left side spat on the floor. “That rats better be drowned by now. I swear I will ghost their dreams all eternity.” Awang raised his chained hands and swore with a cross sign over his chest.

He boarded the treasure ship on that rowboat that deserted. When the plan failed and everything turned to hell, their escape vessel was long gone and they were the first to be caught.

The town crier rang the bell with authority until the audience, obedient as a flock, stopped bleating. “Our soldiers fought with bravery, courage and determination,” the crier said. “All the criminals are now falling to the Emperor's justice!” The crowd, now bigger than before, roared with passion.

“Bravery…” mocked Awang. “There were seven of us left on that junk. We surrendered, and they didn’t care. I swear! They killed five of us in cold blood. No bravery.”

“Dead men ar’easy to handle.” Satō whispered, “They don’t need us all a’live for this charade.”

“Our Majesty,” continued the town crier. “Has declared the Mob called Black Geckos an enemy of the Empire. All of them and anyone else that wishes to follow their steps will have the same faith as these poor souls.”

The crowd, now as big as half of the square, cheered with the snap of the rope.

The Black Geckos, his brothers, were the most fierce assembly of buckos, pirates, scammers, thieves and assassins of the Tampraparni island. Everything illegal in that country was run by them. Their numbers had grown so much that in recent years, many of their members were engaged in looting on adjacent islands, including the three of the Hanan Empire.

Soldiers were checking for visible tattoos all over the square. Satō was sure their brothers would be there. Whisperers to inform about everything that happened to the big bosses. But of course, they were not idiots. Although most of the Geckos liked to show with pride their membership tattoo in visible places, the ones with more delicate jobs had their ink hidden, like his old friend Harin, who was a good whisperer and had his lizard tattooed at the inner side of the lip.

He looked at his wrist. His ink was now blue and blurred. It was a stupid tradition of his fellows; he thought. But as the lassies used to say, ‘If ye fear being caught, yen’t deserve to be a lizard’. He looked everywhere, but he did not find any familiar faces.

The cheering repeated as another hatch opened. “Ain wanna die,” whispered Ramal. The kid on Satō’s right was sobbing and shivering. Ramal was one of the few young mates that always mocked him for being too old. They always made jokes about his clumsy old hands and his limping pace. Now the old buccaneer smirked at the sight of the broken young man.

The cracking of the next hatch shocked young Ramal. He raised his hands in a sign of prayer. “You better pray to your gods fast. The black hoods are closing in,” Satō said happily, to have a last chance to mock the boy.

Awang was still cursing the souls of the two that rat that night. “They better enjoy the gold fast. The lassies will find them soon and make them pay!” Resentment filled his words.

Satō met those two young boys a day prior to the assault. They were not members of the Gecko’s piracy branch. Both joined at the last minute to fill the teams. The eldest was a mean scallywag. A pity land’s man capable of anything. He was what the gang used to call the punchers. Thugs and killers for money. The other one was a skinny boy from the Rabbit’s hole. A land’s man as well. A passionate and buoyant fella with soft but dexterous hands. Although he never talked about his past, the mates knew he was possibly a market’s thief. He was not a boy with a heart for that life. A rabbit amongst wolves. If anyone was enjoying the gold, that was the puncher.

“D’little flowerer must be feeding the fish now. The other one was no man of sharing.” Satō said to his companion.

“It doesn’t matter. ye’ll both be dead soon. No one rat in the Geckos.”

Satō noded and his thoughts drift to old memories. The Little Red Panda Tavern. His hearties singing around the fire. Ale and rum running all night, and the warm beds of the gang sirens. Since young, his life had always been the same. After each heist, they’d go to celebrate. First half a share, years later a full share, the money never lasted more than a few days. Then, starving and hungover, they would join the next plunder party.

Two hooded men reached young Ramal. The boy tried to fight them, but it was in vain. His struggle embarrassed old Satō. “die like a man, lubber,” he grouted with disdain.

Satō was not scared of the rope. Most of the people like him never reached old age. It was always the rope, the iron or the salt. And he was happy that he finally found one of the three after a long life.

“A man whose name is not important and will never be remembered,” the town crier said, following the two executioners. “He has been accused of attempted robbery. Piracy and being a member of a criminal organization. He has been found guilty by the Emperor himself and whose destiny is the gallows and not another method of mercy.”

“Our waters will be much cleaner now.” mocked one hangman through the mask. The other let out a laugh as he tightened the rope around Hamal’s neck. The kid didn’t cry or protest any longer. He didn’t try to get away, either. Maybe he was paralyzed by terror or a glimmer of valor filled his heart, but in his last moments, the boy behaved bravely. When the executioner kicked the lever, the floor opened up and Ramal fell to his death in silence.

“Remember the Little red panda?” Satō asked his fella. Awang looked at the sky with his eyes closed. “Blow me down if I don’t,” whispered to the old man with a smile. “The fun life of a buko.”

“Nay’ye worry about that rats. The lizards will find them. And tey’ll pay… very dearly,”

“Aye,” sighed Awang. “Se ye in the deeps, las.”

The hangman, now in front of Satō, stared at him with fierce eyes. “One less of you. Until the seas are clean.” In the background, Sato could hear the babbling of the town crier, talking about his crimes and the punishment. The rope passed in front of his eyes and then it tightened his neck.

“This’a world made of water, ye idiots. A world filled with ships and starving people. There’ll always be pirates. There’ll always be Black Geckos. Ye not cleaning nothing!”

The masked man mocked his words. His face was covered, but Satō saw it through his eyes.

Without an answer, the hangman pulled the lever, and all went dark.