The execution grounds occupied the eastern courtyard of the Obsidian Keep, positioned so the rising sun would illuminate the bodies hanging from iron frames. I held court here every third morning, public display of what happened to those who failed or betrayed or simply existed inconveniently.
Today's condemned numbered seven. Three were officers who had lost a skirmish against human border forces. Two were merchants caught hoarding grain during my supply investigations. The last two were children, offspring of a general who had attempted desertion.
The families of the condemned watched from forced positions around the courtyard perimeter. I required attendance. Let them see. Let them understand. Let them carry the weight of consequence back to their territories.
I stood on the platform overlooking the frames, Thorne at my right, Mireth at my left. Below, the executioner waited with his tools, a massive Lycan named Grath who had lost his bond mate to raiders years ago and found purpose in mechanical violence.
"The charges," I said, my voice carrying across the stone space.
An administrator read from his scroll in a voice carefully empty of emotion. "Officers Rendal, Polk, and Sivar. Dereliction of duty resulting in territorial loss. Merchants Hobe and Trell. Economic sabotage through hoarding during wartime. General Kormak's offspring, ages nine and twelve. Bloodline contamination through parental treason."
The crowd remained silent. They had learned silence was the only safe response.
I looked down at the condemned. The officers stood with military bearing, accepting their fate. The merchants wept. The children clung to each other, too young to fully understand but old enough to be terrified.
Something twisted in my chest when I looked at those children. Not guilt. I had burned that weakness out of myself years ago. But something close to recognition. I remembered being young and watching adults decide my fate based on what I was rather than what I had done.
Then I remembered the general who had sired them had tried to flee in the night, taking classified intelligence to sell to human kingdoms. He had chosen his children's fate when he made that decision.
"Execute the officers," I said. "They failed tactically, not through cowardice. Make it quick."
Grath moved with efficient brutality. Three strikes, three bodies dropping. The watching families flinched but did not look away. I had blinded a spectator once for closing her eyes. They learned.
"The merchants," I continued. "They stole food from warriors protecting their territories. They prioritized profit over survival. Make it slow."
The screaming started immediately. Grath knew his craft, knew how to make death stretch into forever while keeping the subject conscious. I watched without expression, same as everyone else. This was the price of order, the cost of keeping an empire from fragmenting into chaos.
When it finally ended, I turned my attention to the children. They were sobbing now, the younger one calling for their mother who stood in the crowd with tears streaming down her face but her mouth clamped shut.
"General Kormak betrayed every warrior under his command," I said, loud enough for all to hear. "His bloodline is corrupted with treason. Allowing it to continue would spread that corruption through future generations."
I could feel the crowd's tension, that uncomfortable recognition that children were still children, that perhaps some lines should not be crossed even in the name of justice.
But this was exactly why the execution had to happen. The moment I showed mercy based on age, I created an exploitable pattern. Every traitor would hide behind their children's innocence. Every conspirator would claim family loyalty as justification.
"However," I continued, and the atmosphere shifted slightly, hope creeping in where there should be none, "General Kormak's mate had no knowledge of his plans. She reported his absence immediately when discovered. She cooperated fully with investigators."
I looked directly at the woman in the crowd. "Your bloodline is contaminated, but you acted with loyalty when tested. Therefore, I offer a choice. Your children die here, erasing the tainted line. Or you take your own life in their place, and they will be raised in imperial custody, their names changed, their parentage forgotten. They will serve the empire you defended."
The silence was absolute. Every person in that courtyard understood I had just created a scenario with no good outcome, only degrees of horror.
The mother stepped forward without hesitation. "I choose my life for theirs."
"Are you certain? Once done, this cannot be undone."
"I am certain, my king."
I nodded to Grath. He handed her a blade, simple and sharp. She took it with steady hands, and walked to stand before the platform where I watched.
"Let the record show," I said, "that loyalty, even in tragedy, is rewarded with mercy's closest approximation."
She drove the blade into her own heart without ceremony, dropping to the stones immediately. The children screamed, trying to run to her body, but guards held them back. They would be taken away now, raised in training barracks, taught to serve without question, their mother's sacrifice used as foundation for absolute obedience.
The crowd remained frozen, uncertain if what they had witnessed was mercy or cruelty refined to its purest form.
"You are all dismissed," I said. "Remember what you saw here. Remember that loyalty is valued, but failure is punished regardless of circumstance. Remember that I reward those who serve and destroy those who betray. There are no other categories."
They fled as quickly as dignity allowed, desperate to escape before I changed my mind or found new reasons for condemnation.
When the courtyard emptied except for my immediate circle, Mireth spoke quietly. "You let the crowd think you were merciful. But you just created two weapons from a traitor's children, bound to you by their mother's sacrifice."
"Correct."
"Ruthlessly efficient."
"That is what I am." I descended from the platform, stepping around the spreading blood. "What did you observe?"
"Several families showed excessive emotion. I have marked them for additional surveillance. Emotional displays suggest potential sympathies with the condemned." She consulted notes she had been taking throughout. "Also, three officers looked away during the merchant executions. Possible weakness or moral objection."
"Have them reassigned to units where such weakness will be tested immediately. If they fail, execute them. If they succeed, note that fear overcomes conscience."
Thorne had been silent throughout, which was unusual. I glanced at him as we walked back toward the keep's interior.
"Something to say?"
"The children did not need to watch their mother die."
"Yes, they did. That image will define them. Every decision they make will be filtered through this moment. They will be perfect servants because they cannot afford to waste what she gave them."
"Or they will grow up twisted, finding ways to sabotage you from within, driven by hatred they do not even understand yet."
I stopped walking. "Are you suggesting I made an error?"
"I am suggesting you create future variables you cannot control. Those children are nine and twelve now. In ten years, they will be nineteen and twenty two, trained warriors with access to sensitive positions and a foundational trauma centered around you. That is not efficient. That is a delayed risk."
He was right, of course. He usually was when it came to tactical assessment. But killing the children outright would have sparked different problems, turned the watching crowd's fear into rage, perhaps triggered the very rebellion I was trying to prevent.
Every choice was a calculation of competing risks. I had simply chosen the risk I found more manageable.
"Your objection is noted," I said. "Monitor them closely during their training. At the first sign of instability, eliminate them quietly."
"And if they show perfect loyalty?"
"Then I will have succeeded in forging weapons from my enemy's failure. Either outcome serves my purposes."
We continued into the keep, leaving the bodies behind for collection and disposal. The blood would stain the courtyard stones for days, a visible reminder for anyone who passed through.
Later, alone in my chambers, I stood at the window overlooking those execution grounds. The frames stood empty now, iron silhouettes against the darkening sky.
I thought about the mother's face when she drove the blade home. No hesitation. No doubt. Just terrible certainty that this was the only choice love could make.
I wondered if that was what bonds felt like. That sureness of connection, that willingness to end yourself if it meant preserving something you valued more than survival.
I would never know. And in my empire, that ignorance would soon become universal.
The ritual diagrams waited in my private study, circles within circles, paths for blood to flow. Mireth's research continued in the archives below.
Soon, every Lycan would be like me. Unbonded. Alone. Powerful in isolation.
The thought should have brought satisfaction. Instead, it brought nothing at all, which I supposed was fitting.
Emptiness recognized emptiness. And I was making the world in my image, one execution at a time.