A group of ten people sat in a decently sized holding cell. Around each of their necks was an enchanted ring that could easily be called a slave collar. Unlike some depictions of such devices, this collar did more than simply contract or give painful shocks to the wearer if they resisted the orders given to them. It could change shape and size, fuse with the wearer’s flesh to become impossible to remove, alter the wearer’s perception by giving overwhelming euphoria when the owner willed it, and much, much more. It was a Pavlovian tool that could turn even a sentient person into a conditioned slave in no time at all, and that was why it was on them.

These ten people were, by their own accounts, utterly in the right and imprisoned unjustly. Each of them had done what they believed was right, either as an act of defiance or as a self-important bit of idiocy, but in the end, they had all broken the law. They had been given their time in court already, and all had been sentenced to death, and yet they didn’t quite know it yet, but they would all be given a chance to survive.

The door to their cell opened and all ten people were forced to their feet by their collars, made to stand at attention as a figure that they all unanimously despised walked in. She towered over them all, clad in armor that accentuated her form without skimping on defense or maneuverability, and draped around her neck and over her back was the pelt of a furred beast with white fur and black spots. At her hips were two folding hand-crossbows, which sat beside two single-bladed straight swords.

They all wanted to spit curses at the usurper, the one who had taken the Trelawney crown from its rightful owners, but they could not do so much as utter a single noise outside of their breath. Likewise, their faces were locked in apathetic and glazed-over looks that hid their defiance from most eyes. Nora Vandel Trelawny, the current ruler of the Trelawney Kingdom, now stood before them with a look of annoyance on her face. Little did these criminals know that they were the last group that she would have to visit like this for quite a while, and that this was not because the rest had been treated to a visit from the executioner.

“All of you here have committed crimes beyond the norm. All of you have been given your sentence, and that sentence was told to you in court. It is a final decree, and I would normally not use my ability to pardon people for such rebels, traitors, and the like. However, a situation has arisen, and I am obligated to deal with it as best as I can. Therefore, I offer you a chance. I will spare you from the Reaper, for now, and quite possibly for the rest of your natural lifespan, but in exchange, you must accept permanent exile from my lands and that I send you to another’s realm. Whether you return the way you came or not is irrelevant, as once you accept and are sent away you will, at least according to our government, be dead.”

Nora looked around the cell, watching the stoic faces of the prisoners and, despite the seeming lack of response, was able to understand exactly what each person was thinking and feeling. She understood that they likely understood that if they escaped from wherever they were sent and made it back here, their crimes would have essentially been absolved and pardoned in full. They likely thought that they would be able to come back almost immediately and go back to what they were doing previously, but she knew something that they did not.

She turned to leave after dropping a book on the ground. In it were the thumbprints of tens of thousands of others from her lands, all of whom had jumped at the supposed opportunity in front of them. They had, in her eyes at least, all chosen rather poorly. Death was just that, but to put their prints in that book was to consign yourself to what could easily be a near eternity of slavery under beings who would gladly drive you insane and eat you alive before spitting you out and working you to ‘death’ again and again.

The cephalopod made of solid metal on the front cover of the book would have tipped off any with a knowledge of such things that taking the executioner would have been the right choice. And yet, once the door slammed shut, all but a handful of those that had been selected chose the path that would cause the most pain. Idiots, the lot of them.

…

As they were forced forwards, they all felt something dreadful was up ahead. It was a feeling that no one could refuse to acknowledge, and each step brought them closer to the massive portal. As the first few in the line of exiles marched forward and into the gate, the sensation of dread only increased to an unheard-of level. And yet, with the collars on their necks, they could do nothing but go towards their new ‘homes’.

Row by row, the gate swallowed them up, until the whole multi-column conga-line of ‘exiles’ vanished through the swirling mass of energy. Nora watched this unfold with a mix of emotions inside her, but she understood that this was, in a way, for the best. She did not want to be the first of her line, only to be known for slaughtering so many of those that refused to bend the knee. This was, while a bloodless solution and one that could be seen as less evil, also a solution that was even more twisted than simply condemning those who resisted to a quick and painless death.

She would leave the decision of whether she was right or not to the future generations, though. And even then, there were always those who glorified even the worst people to have ever lived. Given enough time, there would be no shortage of people calling her a ‘hero’ or saying that she had done the right thing. But, for now, she had a nation to rule, and she had just gotten rid of the greatest thorn in its side.

She did somewhat wonder about how the exiles would do over there, though…..