[Writing] Tape's short stories - The Axeman Cometh (2014/06/03)

[Tapewolf]

Heh. _That_ story might explain where the plethora of various relations that show up in the main story came from.
Lots of, well, the phrase "extra-marital relations" comes to mind. Only, since he isn't married, it doesn't apply. Hrm

"Furrae's little cuckoos", indeed.

[joshofspam]

Some cubi go with trickery to get children.

Others go with honesty and love.

Daryil uses contracts, haggling and lollipops.

Still seems rather odd that Daryil would be thinking about having a kid just before his ascension attempt. Though just realising this might be his last days would probably make him think about what he leaves behind.

[Corgatha Taldorthar]

This whole thing has made me curious as to if a 'cubi could freeze store sperm/ova and then use them for in vitro after becoming a tri-wing. I don't see why it shouldn't work, but then, I don't know all the magical effects of ascension.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Still seems rather odd that Daryil would be thinking about having a kid just before his ascension attempt. Though just realising this might be his last days would probably make him think about what he leaves behind.

Here's the thing. It's not necessarily just before his attempt. It may well be just before he and Jak _start_ working on the attempt, which is a good 50 years or so in the past of "now", as per the webcomic; I don't recall anything specific about timing, although I can't say I paid it close attention when reading through. So... the child in question may well have enough time to reach adulthood before he ascends.

This doesn't jibe well with the offered payment, but he may be underestimating how long it'll take to get the thing working... not an unreasonable thing to do with a large, never-before-attempted project.

[RobbieThe1st]

This whole thing has made me curious as to if a 'cubi could freeze store sperm/ova and then use them for in vitro after becoming a tri-wing. I don't see why it shouldn't work, but then, I don't know all the magical effects of ascension.

Unless, of course, one of the magical effects of the assention process ends up creating a magical 'shockwave' -- keyed to blood relations, of course -- that ends up frying any stored sperm as well as doing whatever happens to various other blood relations. Which also could mean that you'd want to make sure any children you had were at least a certain age(thinking in terms of months from conception here), lest they get fried in the process...

As far

Being picky, I find the change in attitude from "no way" to "okay, boink my brains out" to be a bit sudden, but perhaps that's just that I hang out with the wrong women...

Yes, that's my major gripe with this.  Though to be fair, she has been promised a one-night-only deal to increase her lifespan about 20-fold.

And don't forget the rediculous amount of money... Sure, it's a gamble, but you'd probably have better odds than with the lottery.
Oh, and of course, the fact that he didn't kill her right off counts for something -- and, despite him saying that she'd be free to go if she declined, well... Yeah.

[Ignuus66]

Great stories! 

[Tapewolf]

So, after a gap of several years, and an epic on the scale of which I wasn't sure I'd be able to write again, here's another one-off short story.  It was intended as a side-story to replace 'Heads, you lose', which was considered too violent for a comic, but I don't think we're likely to see it for a while. 

I have a feeling there are still a couple of rough spots but emotionally the story feels complete so I figure I should probably post it as-is.

There are two chapters, but I'm going to post them together.

The Axeman Cometh

Warning: While it's considerably less violent than 'Heads', it was conceived as a sort of 'lite' version.  it does contain strong violence.  Because Furrae is a violent world.  And I have been reading too much 'Ice and Fire'.

Part One

Wings concealed to preserve the illusion that she was a Being, Illiath was clanking softly as she climbed up the wooden steps of the scaffold.  The noonday sun shone brightly down, casting strange, shifting patterns of light across the floor as it reflected off her armour.

Such a beautiful day, the Doberman thought.  Being executed on a day like this... it's just not right.  Once again, trepidation played across her mind, but her face remained impassive, the grim look of faint disapproval that she used to mask her feelings.  All the same, she found herself swallowing as she approached the block.

Below, a large crowd had been steadily building up as men, women and children thronged to witness the spectacle.  In this town, public executions were mercifully rare, but this very rarity had made a novelty of them, and the Queen had declared a public holiday so that all who wished it could see justice be done.
Hawkers strode through the middle and rear of the crowd offering recording orbs, opera glasses and periscopes for a better view of the condemned losing their head.  Market stalls were set up purveying hot snacks, sweetmeats and fruit for those who desired it.

A cheer ran though the crowd as Illiath strode into view.  She waved a gauntleted hand, and the cheering increased.

Why are you doing this...? she asked herself again.  Dad won't like this.  Daryil won't like it.  Even Taun won't approve.

And just like the last time, the answer came back the same.  If I don't do it, they'll get someone else.  Someone who'll botch it.  If I make the kills, they will be quick and merciful.  With my magic, they needn't suffer at all.

The execution block was flat, a configuration Illiath preferred since it gave a wider choice of implements that could be used for the beheading.

Reluctantly, Illiath drew her broadsword.  She stood for a moment, doing a few warm-up exercises with it.  Standard stuff, really, but it still drew applause from the mob.  
Finally, she placed a large gourd upon the block, and with a flourish, sliced it clean in two with a single stroke to rapturous applause.  With a sly grin, the Doberman gathered up the halves and threw them into the crowd.

Illiath bowed before her audience and sat on the edge of the scaffold as she cleaned the fruit's juices from the sword, the enchanted metal gleaming ominously in the sunlight.

The noon-time bell rang out in the temple, and she pulled herself back onto the scaffold.  The doberman waited by the block, the sword shimmering slightly in her hands as she cleaned it and checked the edge.

A roar of approval ran through the crowd as the condemned was marched towards her by the two deer guards.  She was a wolf, eyes downcast, staring at the floor, remarkably calm for someone about to die so violently.  Illiath could feel her mind, now.  Sorrow, but also triumph.

"Where do you want her?" the guard asked.  Illiath glanced casually at the prisoner, at the block and the crowd.

"Make her kneel," she said.  "I don't think I'll use the block today."

"Good choice, Ma'am," the deer said.  "The head'll fly higher that way.  Always a winner with the crowd!  Just make sure it doesn't fall off the scaffold, okay?  If it lands in the crowd we'll never get it back."

"I have done this before," Illiath reminded him, a note of haughtiness entering her voice.  Before you were born, she added mentally.

"Lianna White," the herald declared. "You have been judged and found guilty of foul murder, and treason.  To whit, you did interfere with the execution of your late husband, resulting in the death of the Queen's executioner.
"For this crime, you are hereby sentenced to death by beheading, to take place immediately.  Have you any final words before that sentence is executed?"

"No," she said softly.  "I am done with this life."

The herald glanced at Illiath and nodded, who in turn nodded to the guard.  "Blindfold her," the Doberman said, and gently knelt down, patting her unfortunate victim on the shoulder in a reassuring manner.  Magics flowed invisibly from her hand, dulling the senses and numbing the pain.  "You'll be together soon," she whispered gently.  Illiath stood up and hefted her sword.

The murmured noise of the crowd became silent as she stepped behind the condemned woman.  Beneath her steel armour, the Doberman's powerful muscles rippled as she raised the blade high, like a golfer preparing to take a swing.  The sword whistled as it cut through the air and came down hard, the enchanted, razor edge slicing cleanly through the flesh and bone of her neck with no hint of resistance.
There was a spray of crimson, as the she-wolf's head was struck off, sailing through the air in an arc.  Her body spasmed as the spine was severed, quivered for a moment or two and then collapsed, blood still spurting messily.  The crowd screamed with delight.

For a few moments, Illiath basked in the warm glow of justice done.  But it ebbed away all too soon, replaced with horror at what she'd done, and the fact that she'd enjoyed it.  Deep down, Illiath knew that it was because she was 'Cubi, that she could get caught up in emotions like that and her rational mind would switch off for a bit.  Yet somehow it didn't make her feel any happier with herself.
Feeling rather sick, Illiath retrieved the head, held it up before the crowd and then placed it reverently upon a waiting cart.  The wolf's body followed shortly afterwards.

Illiath sat down once more, cleaning the red from her sword as the assistants washed the blood from the scaffold.  Just as she was finishing up, the crowd roared again, eagerly awaiting the second death that she had been contracted to provide.

She looked up, and a sinking feeling welled in the pit of her stomach.  This one is going to be harder, she thought.  The condemned man was a pitiful thing in prison rags, his eyes widened with terror as he took in Illiath, who waited calmly with the sword that would claim his head.

"You can't..." he babbled, "I didn't do it... I didn't do it... it wasn't me... I didn't do it..."

"Arthur Stadt," the herald declared. "You have been judged and found guilty of high treason, to whit, the theft of our most noble Queen's royal sceptre, the symbol of her office.
"For this crime you are to be put to death - death by beheading, to take place immediately.  Have you any final words before that sentence is executed?"

"I didn't do it!" the fox screamed.

"They all say that," the Queen's herald muttered.  Illiath nodded to the guard.  "Same again," the Doberman said, and once again patted her victim on the shoulder.  A stronger spell for this one, she thought, and calm spread through the young man, his terror melting away into a state of vague awareness as if he was about to fall asleep.  Satisfied, Illiath stood up and raised her sword once again.

As before, the crowd became silent, collectively holding their breath as she raised the blade high, preparing to sever her victim's furry neck.  Then she hesitated.

"No," she said, lowering the sword.  A chorus of booing welled up from the crowd.

"What the fuck?" the guard asked.  "You chickened out?!  You already killed one... what's the difference?"

"Told you we should 'ave got a man to do it." one of the other guards leered.  Illiath's expression did not even flicker, but she locked eyes with the deer and made a threatening gesture with her broadsword.  The guard slunk away like a whipped cur.

She glanced around to see the herald scurrying back.  "What's the hold-up?" he asked.  "Is it about the pay?  We paid for both, I checked!"

"Of course it's not about the pay!" Illiath snapped loudly.  "I won't kill this man... Because he is innocent.
"I am an adventurer, a mercenary.  I slay monsters.  Sometimes I execute criminals," she gestured at the cart where the headless wolf still lay, a peaceful expression on her face.  "But I will not kill people who have done nothing wrong.  That's murder."

"Bullshit!" someone from the crowd called out.

"He has been judged and found guilty," the herald pointed out.  "Due process has been carried out.  Justice must be done.  He must die."

"Due process has been carried out wrong, you mean," Illiath snarled.  "He didn't do it.  I won't kill him and I won't let stand by while someone else kills him either.  He's done nothing worth dying for."

"What the hell is going on?" the Queen demanded, a large poodle in ornate robes.

"She says the condemned man is innocent, your majesty," the herald protested, bowing low.

"That's right, your majesty," Illiath said, attempting to curtsy in her armour and failing miserably.  "You bring me a murderer or a traitor, a guilty one, I'll gladly remove his or her head for you.  Well... maybe not gladly, but if someone has to die, better they're killed by an expert, right?  Amateurs tend to botch the job and it gets real messy.
"Point is, I came here to carry out the just and lawful execution of two criminals for you.  I don't have a problem with that, but I did not agree to lop the heads off any old random peasants for no good reason."

"Nonsense," the Queen said.  "He is guilty!  The sceptre was found in his house.  He could not explain its presence there."

"With respect, your majesty, does it matter?  You got the sceptre back, right?  Is there any reason he absolutely has to die?"

"In taking the sceptre, he has insulted the authority of his sovereign ruler, nay, his country," the Queen retorted.  "It is high treason, and he must pay for his crime."

"But he didn't take it!"  Illiath protested.  "Er, your Majesty,"

"You keep saying that," the Queen said.  "What proof can you offer that he did not take it?"

"You could equally say that about your herald, or your guards, Ma'am, but yes.  You've asked him to explain how the sceptre got in his house, but did anyone think to look inside his mind?" Illiath asked politely.
"I just did.  He found the sceptre in his house.  He didn't take it, he was framed and is therefore innocent.  I'm very sorry, but I can't kill an innocent man."

"His mind?!" the Queen snarled.  Fear showing in her eyes, she took a quick step backwards as if Illiath was contagious.  "Incubus!" she shrieked, pointing at Illiath, who rolled her eyes.

"That's 'succubus,' your majesty," she said, taking a step back.  Small, leathery wings appeared on her head and her armoured back creaked as the wing-panels folded back to let her back-wings loose too.  A moan of shock rippled through the crowd and she leapt into the air, wings guiding her fall until she landed between the fox, still waiting meekly for his death, and the guards who had brought him.

"Guards, destroy it!" the Queen screeched.

Part Two

"Guards!  Kill the monster!" the Queen screamed again.

"Oh, that's precious!" Illiath cackled.  "Kill the monster because it refuses to kill someone?  Your Majesty, that is ass-backwards."

She glanced around, just in case anyone had a mind-shield, but all she could make out were the guards she could feel in her mind, their weapons drawn but keeping their distance, reluctant to attack.

"Pathetic.  You'd be mincemeat if I actually was hostile," Illiath remarked.  "Listen, fellas, your Majesty... No-one has to die!  I came here to do a job for you, that means you're my client.  Killing my client will reflect badly on the Guild.  Likewise, if you do manage to kill me, the Guild and my Clan are going to stomp right over here and kill the lot of you as well.  Who benefits from that?"

"Are you threatening me?" the Queen demanded.

"No.  Though I'd be well within my rights to," Illiath pointed out.  "I'm simply questioning whether declaring war on an adventuring guild is a sound decision.  Especially one that's backed by a large number of elite incubus and succubus warriors."

"You need a better bluff, monster," the Queen informed her.  "No adventuring guild would willingly accept Creatures into their fold.  When your winged head is sent back to the guild, they shall thank us for uncovering you."

"Executing myself is not part of the contract," Illiath said.  "Look, your Majesty... why not just ask them?  You have telephones or messaging orbs, right?  Call the guild up.  Or have one of your underlings do it for you.  Tell them Illiath Taun is a succubus, and see what they say..."

There was a whimper from nearby.  Illiath glanced over and swore as the fox began to move around... the spell that she had used to cloud his mind, the trance that should have carried him peacefully into death as his severed head fell, that magic was now rapidly expiring.
The fox glanced around confusedly as he returned to his senses.  The Queen saw it too.  "Grab him!" she shouted.

"Over here!"  Illiath called urgently.  Still confused, the fox dodged one of the guards, tripped and landed in front of the succubus.  She offered him a shining, gauntleted hand, and as he took it, the fox glanced up and stared into the face of his executioner.

"No, no, no!" he whimpered.  "I'm innocent!  Don't do it!"

"I believe you," Illiath said, protectively.  "I won't kill you."

"You're lying!  Y... Oh my gods... Demon!  Succubus!"

The fox backed away, terror rising.  Finally he broke free from the horrified succubus' grasp, and dashed back towards the guards.  "I get it now... she wants my soul!" he cried, "Kill me, quickly!  Kill me!" he begged, "Don't let her get me!"

"Easy enough," one of the guards said, catching hold of the errant vulpine.  He grabbed the whimpering man by the hair, and with the other hand, raised his sword to hack off his victim's head.  As the crowd roared with approval, the fox shut his eyes and emitted a keening sound as he awaited the deadly kiss of the guard's steel.

The deer glanced around with shock as a wing-tentacle wrapped itself around his sword-arm.  Illiath stared back at him with a wrathful expression.

"Let him go," she grated.  "If he loses his head, you'll lose your arm.  Or arms.  Strictly it should be your head too, but I'm feeling generous."

The deer just stared back at her.  He kept the sword raised, but he made no motion to strike with it either.

"Don't let her get me!" the fox whimpered.  "Don't let her get my soul!"

"Gross!" Illiath said, making a face.  "I'm not into that kind of stuff, dammit!  It's disgusting!  My father would disown me if I did something like that!
Listen to me, fox - you have two choices.  You can stay there and get your head chopped off, or you can come with me and live."

"Kill them!" the Queen raged.  "Kill them both!"

"I'm starting to get fed up with you, your Majesty," Illiath said, an evil grin forming on her face.  "Maybe I should execute you instead."

"GUARDS!"  The Queen shrieked.  Illiath blasted them both with a spell and they fell, only just missing the condemned man, who grabbed at his would-be killer's sword.  He held it with shaking hands, trying to ward off the succubus as if it was some kind of charm.
Illiath brushed past him and stood before the Queen.  "Naughty," she said.

"I have an army at my beck and call!" the Queen squawked.  "You can't possibly win!"

"Yes," Illiath said.  "Many would die, but an army would slay me in the end, or drag me back here to lose my head.  But the thing is, I can take your head off where you stand, before you even finish giving the order."

The Queen stared numbly for a few moments, and then, realising she was still alive, a shrewd expression crept across her face.  "Can take my head off?  Or will?"

"I keep saying I'm not a monster and I don't want any trouble," Illiath said.  "The things I have to do just to get you to listen..."

Behind her, a guard crept slowly, sword raised.  He marked the distance to her neck, and raised the blade.  Illiath's steel boot took him in the nuts, and he folded up like a flower, the broadsword crashing to the ground.

"That was very stupid," Illiath said, grasping the Queen by the throat and squeezing.  "You're down to your last chance.  If that happens again, I'm taking over."

"Taking over?!" the poodle choked.

"It's easy.  First, I chop your head off, maybe stick it on a pike.  Then I proclaim myself Queen Illiath the First.  You've summoned the whole city-state here to watch that fox die, so they'll hear every word.  Then I grab your sceptre - the symbol of my reign - and finally, if anyone objects, I chop their heads off too.  Only one thing is stopping me right now."

"What...?"

"I don't like killing people," the Doberman barked, releasing her grip.  "I didn't want to have to kill any of your subjects in the first place.  I only came to do that because I was ordered to, because it was the law, and because I can do it painlessly.
"That wolf was guilty, but the fox is innocent.  Killing an innocent man is not the law.

"I've had enough of this, your Majesty," Illiath decided.  "I'm taking the fox, and I'm leaving.  The guild will offer you a refund and/or compensation.  But I'm sick to death of being forced to kill people who don't deserve it."

"So be it," the Queen said.  "I so decree.  Arthur whatever-your-name-was... I sentence you to exile for your crimes against the state.  If ever you return, the death sentence passed upon you this day shall be carried out immediately.
"You - " she pointed at Illiath, "Get out of here.  Run, and keep running, Demon.  I'll put a price on your head - a million gold pieces for anyone who brings it to me!  Herald, take that down!  Make a proclamation!  I want that Demon's head on my wall!"

"I'll add that bounty to the list," Illiath said.  "Bounty hunters usually have prices on their heads too, so this could be quite profitable for me."

"You will die for this!" the Queen screamed.

"You'll die first, your Majesty," Illiath said, giving her the finger.  "Of old age.  Come on, fox," she added, grabbing the whimpering fox with her wing-tentacles, "We're leaving."

* * *

"I quit," Illiath said, crashing into a chair in the guild hall.  It creaked slightly under the weight of her platemail, but held firm.

"What's happened this time?" the commander asked, a buff German Shepherd with Demon wings.  "I know you don't like executions, but you're so good at them.  It's not like they can run off," he chuckled.

"Fuck you, Steve," Illiath said.  The commander sighed.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Okay.  They had two condemned.  A murdress who wanted to die, and another guy they wanted executed.  Only he was innocent."

"Shit."

"The Queen was very insistent.  I blew my cover trying to save the guy, now she's put a price on my head.  Just because it has wings on."

"It happens," the commander shrugged.  "Less than it used to, but it happens."  He leaned over and handed her a facsimile.  'WANTED DEAD', it read.  Illiath's face, a dithered mess but still very recognisable, peered back at her underneath the heading.

"You knew?!"  Illiath cried, horrified.

"It got here first, but I wanted to hear your side of it," the commander shrugged.

"What's it matter?  I quit."

"Oh no no," the other dog scolded.  "I don't accept your resignation.  You're a succubus, Illie, prone to emotional outbursts.  I won't have it."

"You can't force me to stay!  I've brought the Guild into disrepute!"

"Look, Illie, you're one of our best and brightest.  I don't want to lose you.  For the record, I think that blowing your cover to save an innocent man's life was a noble deed, and it speaks very highly of you.  I can take you off execution duty.  But I want you to stay."

"But there's a price on my head!"

"You might want to see this too," the commander said, proffering another notice.

'WANTED NOT DEAD', it began.  There was a higher-res picture of Illiath smiling beneath, and terms and conditions.  Including the bounty to be put on the head of anyone who did kill her.  Illiath had never seen a bounty that large.

"Daryil did this..?" she said, voice breaking.

"Yes.  It's an offer to outbid Queen Morin's bounty on you."

"I... I owe him," Illiath said.  "I'm not sure I can repay that.  Listen, Steve, there's something I've been thinking about for some time.  When I said I want to quit, it's not just because of what happened today, though it helped me make up my mind.  Commander, I've been thinking, and, well... I want to start my own business."

"What?!"  Steve stared at her, disbelieving.  "A rival guild?"

"No, no no.  Nothing to do with that?"

"A pizza place?!  Be serious, Illiath."

"I've never been more serious," she said.  "I want to start a training school.  Not just for combat, a school to teach young 'Cubi.  Like SAIA, but different.  SAIA had to make a lot of compromises to get all the clans on board, and they taught us a lot of evil things.  I want to strike a different balance, and I think the world is ready for us to try."

"This is really heavy, man," Steve said, staring at Illiath with an expression of dismay.  "I wasn't kidding that you were one of our best.  I'm not sure how we'd replace you."

"Find another Taun," Illiath suggested.  "I'm sure High Command can recommend someone.  They might be a bit more blood-thirsty... Granny always said I was hamstrung by Daryil's moral constraints.
"But yeah.  You've been good to me, Steve.  I don't want to leave you high and dry and Granny would have a hissy-fit if I put down my sword for good.  Make me a reservist.  Call me up every so often to keep me on my toes, or when something comes up which needs your best."

"That'll have to do," the commander said.  "I hope you're doing the right thing.  And look, there will always be a place for you if your training school idea doesn't pan out..."

"You guys had better see this...!' someone yelled.  Steve and Illiath turned around.  The fox was standing in the doorway, unsteady and confused.  He had wings on his head, and some kind of enchanted bracelet in one hand.

"The fuck...?"  Illiath swore.  "You... you little faker!  You lied to me?!  Do you know what you've done...?"

"Look whatyou did to me!" the fox screamed back.  "I've got these... wings!  Change me back!  I don't want to be a Demon!"  He was radiating terror, and pawing and clutching at his head-wings frantically as if he was trying to pull them off.

"It's okay, it's okay," Illiath said, trying to comfort him.  "That's perfectly normal.  It's not something we've done... you've grown up, kid, that's all.  Probably the stress triggered it."

"But I've lost everything..." the fox sobbed, "My home... my family... nearly my head... and now I've turned into this... thing... My life is over!"

"No," Illiath said, "Your life has just begun."

[ZacAttac21]

The conception of ISIS, eh? Hmm, "Arthur"... would he be one of the previously unnamed students, perhaps?

[Tapewolf]

The conception of ISIS, eh? Hmm, "Arthur"... would he be one of the previously unnamed students, perhaps?

He'd be one of the older students, since the school has been running since at least Project Future, possibly before Daryil ascended (I haven't decided when this took place yet).  Hence he might not show up in-comic since the other years tend not to.

[ZacAttac21]

The conception of ISIS, eh? Hmm, "Arthur"... would he be one of the previously unnamed students, perhaps?

He'd be one of the older students, since the school has been running since at least Project Future, possibly before Daryil ascended (I haven't decided when this took place yet).  Hence he might not show up in-comic since the other years tend not to.

Ah. I didn't realize it was that far before Epsilon.

[joshofspam]

I'd say having an open creature and being membership guild is a pretty interesting idea.

While it probably cuts back on backstabbing from fellow members of their guild, it probably makes a little more difficult when it has to interact with guilds with pure being membership. Especially when the members of the other clans might have anti Creature views.

Still I like how Illie reacts to learning the fox is more then a simple Being. "The fuck...?"  Illiath swore.  "You... you little faker!  You lied to me?!  Do you know what you've done...?" I really grinned at that line.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

I feel there might be some needed in terms of explaining Illiath's swap in reaction at realising he's just a noob, rather than sneaky.

_We_ understand it; I don't know that it's clear that the poor fox would. "da heck you on about, lady? First you want to kill me, and now you want to comfort me? are you on something?" might not be the first thing running through his head, but it sure as heck went through mine...

[VAE]

The mess around the execution, with the fox demanding it was beautifully surreal, though it got me at the point when she pointed out they could call her guild and check whether they're fine with her being a cubi.

Out of interest, why was the queen so insistent in having him executed? It's the sort of insistence that generally comes with trying to cover up for a crime of your own, but like, she definitely had no need to do that, as the pocket realm's sovereign.

[Tapewolf]

The mess around the execution, with the fox demanding it was beautifully surreal, though it got me at the point when she pointed out they could call her guild and check whether they're fine with her being a cubi.

Got you in a good way or a bad way?

Out of interest, why was the queen so insistent in having him executed? It's the sort of insistence that generally comes with trying to cover up for a crime of your own, but like, she definitely had no need to do that, as the pocket realm's sovereign.

She saw him as a threat to her authority, I think - not having him killed when she'd ordered it might be seen as a weakness, losing face etc... clearly not the kind of person who admits to her own mistakes.

I should perhaps mention that I was tempted to do an overarching plot which tied the two executions together, and had I done that I'd probably have closed the loop completely and tied in the business with the sceptre as well.
But one of my proofreaders pointed out that reality doesn't have such neatly tied-up endings, and doing that would be a bit cliche.
So I just left the loose ends dangling.

[VAE]

The mess around the execution, with the fox demanding it was beautifully surreal, though it got me at the point when she pointed out they could call her guild and check whether they're fine with her being a cubi.

Got you in a good way or a bad way?

Good way. It was hillarious seeing her assailants somewhat derailed by reality.

Out of interest, why was the queen so insistent in having him executed? It's the sort of insistence that generally comes with trying to cover up for a crime of your own, but like, she definitely had no need to do that, as the pocket realm's sovereign.

She saw him as a threat to her authority, I think - not having him killed when she'd ordered it might be seen as a weakness, losing face etc... clearly not the kind of person who admits to her own mistakes.

I should perhaps mention that I was tempted to do an overarching plot which tied the two executions together, and had I done that I'd probably have closed the loop completely and tied in the business with the sceptre as well.
But one of my proofreaders pointed out that reality doesn't have such neatly tied-up endings, and doing that would be a bit cliche.
So I just left the loose ends dangling.

Makes sense - I guess I wasn't giving her bullheadedness enough credit, which is funny when it's me doing it.