Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

The bearded prisoner being beaten burst into loud laughter and even spat towards the woman.

Vashka, seeing this, flew into a rage and landed a hard punch right in the center of the bearded prisoner's face.

The prisoner was hit so hard he was lifted off his feet, his nasal bone and two front teeth breaking on the spot. Before he could spit the blood out of his mouth, another guard stuffed it full with a ripped piece of cloth.

A cheer erupted from the crowd of onlookers. News spread fast like the wind, and people already knew that the woman was the wife of a deceased man.

The people of Wolf Town, who all lived by hard labor, naturally harbored deep hatred for bandits. Coupled with sympathy for the unfortunate woman, their anger burned even fiercer.

On the short walk from the security office to the town square, stones mixed with curses flew relentlessly at the prisoners.

The trial was simple. Several Dusacks recounted the events of the ambush that day. Mr. Bunting also took the stand, tearfully identifying the bandits and demanding blood for blood.

After the brief proceedings, the town square was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, as the crowd held their breath, waiting for the Garrison Officer's final judgment.

The pronouncement was icy, "Death penalty, for all."

Cheers spread from the front row of the crowd to the very back. Previously stoic, the prisoners finally couldn't hold back their tears and began to weep loudly, the childish cries among them sounding the most pitiful.

But no one cared for their tears. The guards dragged the prisoners from the ground to the execution site, with the crowd swarming behind them.

In the northwest clearing of the town, the local carpenter had set up a temporary platform a few days earlier.

The executioner, honorably known as "Master Franz," Franz Schmidt, dressed in ceremonial robes, and his assistant had already been waiting there.

The closer they got to the execution site, the more the condemned prisoners fell apart emotionally. Some struggled fiercely, some cried out, begging the onlookers for blessings and mercy.

Bringing the condemned to the edge of the execution site, everything was then handed over to the executioner, Franz, and his assistant. The guards visibly relaxed when they handed over the prisoners to the executioner.

What followed was the executioner's ceremonial performance.

Master Franz, in his sixties with sharp eyes and a spry spirit, had carried out hundreds of executions and had his own methods for dealing with the condemned.

One of the prisoners struggled furiously, cursing, and Franz's assistant—Franz's sixteen-year-old grandson—almost couldn't contain him.

The old executioner stepped forward swiftly and delivered a piercing punch to the prisoner's Adam's apple.

The man, who had just been struggling and cursing, instantly fell silent, clutching his throat and collapsing to the ground, his face turning red.

As for those prisoners who were merely reciting prayers in desperation for forgiveness, Franz paid them no mind.

The old executioner gestured his grandson to execute the prisoner who had received the heavy blow to the throat first. The two lifted him onto the execution platform's "judicial chair" and tied him down with ropes.

Father Caman stepped forward, allowed the prisoner to kiss the Bible, and listened to his final confession.

The noisy crowd gradually quieted down, intensely focused on the executioner's preparations, not wanting to miss a single detail.

The old executioner was dressed in an outfit that could only be described as striking, bizarre, and flamboyant: pink tight stockings on his lower half with light blue knee-length shorts, and a blue, white-collared bodice on his upper half.

He took off his hat as a sign of respect.

Then he put on a leather vest to prevent his shirt from getting stained with blood.

After the preparations were completed, he nodded to his assistant. The assistant comprehended and respectfully presented the weapon to the executioner.

The seasoned executioner grasped the hilt, drawing the beheading sword from its scabbard in one swift motion.

With that, the execution drama reached its climax.

It was a formidable weapon that could be described as a greatsword, with a blade longer than one meter, weighing over six jin, its edge flat and tip-less, its sides equally wide from front to back, forged specifically for decapitation,

An inscription on the blade read, "Beware of misdeeds, lest you dig your own grave."

The execution ground was as silent as death itself.

Master Franz stood solemnly in position, raised the beheading sword high behind his right shoulder, took a deep breath, and then struck with force.

The blade traced an elegant arc through the air, severing the condemned's cervical vertebrae from the right rear.

The head flew off, rolling to the edge of the scaffold, blood still spurting continuously from the severed neck, drenching the executioner and his assistant.
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The assistant picked up the head and held it high in the air, parading it around the four sides of the scaffold to show the crowd.

Accompanied by the screams of several women, the previously silent execution ground erupted into a thunderous cheer.

Oppressive taxes give rise to rampant banditry, and rampant banditry inevitably leads to harsh punishments and severe laws.

Brother Reed's words were merciless yet true: what needed to be decided was not whether the bandits lived or died, but how they should die.

"How do you want them executed?" The master executioner asked the same question when he met with Winters.

Burning, hanging, drowning, breaking on the wheel, dismemberment by horses… every method of execution corresponded to a different crime.

Executions were not just about killing criminals; the executions themselves were grand spectacles.

Public trials, processions before the execution, and the execution itself, composed the three elements of this horrifying spectacle.

Honest, hardworking people could barely make ends meet, while thieves, robbers, and bandits could acquire wealth without toil. The commoners despised bandits but also harbored a veiled envy towards them.

Public executions served not only to intimidate the populace but also to assert the authority of worldly rulers, as well as providing a channel for the hard-living, honest folks to vent their grievances.

The composed and reliable executioner, representing the power of the state, executed criminals in a procedural and ritualistic manner, maintaining the fragile and delicate balance between the three parties.

Beheading—the mode of death chosen by the Garrison Officer of Montaigne—was not overly painful, quick and clean.

It was also the only method of execution that considered the dignity of the deceased.

Master Franz glanced at the remaining six convicts and, when he saw the sobbing child, he thought, "Heinrich [Franz's grandson] is probably only a few years older than him."

He gestured to his assistant that the next one should be the youngest convict.

Every breath on the execution ground was an agony for the convicted, a gesture of the executioner's mercy.

"The bearded man who spat at the dead man's family," Franz thought. "Let him be the last."