Guards appeared from the ruins like they'd been waiting. Two of them grabbed Lui by the arms. Two more hauled Selio up, the hybrid struggling weakly but unable to break free. And four came for John.
They unlocked his cage and dragged him out. His legs barely worked after hours of confinement. He stumbled, and they hauled him upright without care for whether they dislocated anything.
His hands were forced into a wooden restraint. Not chains. Worse. A solid wooden box that enclosed both wrists, locked at the center, impossible to break without tools. Like medieval stocks but portable. His arms were useless, trapped in front of him at an awkward angle.
They marched him through the ruined city. Lui walked ahead, guards on either side. Selio was half dragged, half carried, still making distressed sounds. The path wound through collapsed buildings and makeshift shelters until it opened into a large stone courtyard.
This must have been something important once. A plaza maybe, or a temple courtyard. Now it served as a gathering space for the beast folk camp. Stone benches arranged in a semicircle. A raised platform at one end with an ornate chair. A throne, or close enough.
Beast folk were already gathering. Word traveled fast apparently. Lesser males mostly, with a few effective males scattered throughout. They took seats on the stone benches, chattering among themselves, excited. This was entertainment.
The guards shoved John, Lui, and Selio to the center of the courtyard. Made them sit on the stone ground. John's knees protested but he managed to fold himself down without falling over completely.
The chief entered last.
He moved with the deliberate pace of someone who knew everyone would wait for him. Climbed the platform steps slowly. Settled into his throne with a sigh that suggested ruling was such a burden.
Up close, John could see more details. Gray fur going white around the muzzle. Scars crisscrossing every visible inch of skin. Eyes that had seen decades of violence and been shaped by it into something cold and calculating. An effective male in his prime would have been terrifying. This effective male past his prime was somehow worse. Experience married to power.
"Explain," the chief said. One word. Directed at no one in particular.
Lui opened his mouth immediately. "Chief, please, I can explain what happened. Gregor was beating Selio, the hybrid, and I tried to stop him because—"
"You really gonna believe a half freak and a lesser male over me?" Gregor stepped forward from the crowd, playing to the audience. "I'm an effective male. I have status. I have honor. These two are nothing. And the ape is property. Their word means nothing."
The chief raised a hand. Lui fell silent immediately, his ears flattening.
"Gregor claims you attacked him without provocation," the chief said. "He claims the hybrid stole from him and when he attempted to retrieve his property, both of you assaulted him. Is this accurate?"
"No!" Lui's voice cracked. "That's not what happened! The hybrid gave bread to the slave, yes, but it was trying to help, and Gregor was beating it, and I tried to—"
"So you admit the hybrid stole."
"Well, yes, but—"
"And you admit to interfering with an effective male's right to discipline a thief."
"I was trying to prevent—"
"Answer the question. Did you or did you not interfere?"
Lui's shoulders slumped. "I did. But the circumstances—"
"Circumstances are irrelevant. The law is clear. Theft is punishable. Interference with effective male authority is punishable. Attacking an effective male is grounds for execution." The chief leaned forward. "Do you deny attacking Gregor?"
Lui's mouth worked silently. Then, quietly, "I kicked him. But only because—"
"Enough." The chief sat back. "I've heard enough from you."
John couldn't take it anymore. This was a farce. A show trial with a predetermined outcome. Lui and Selio were going to die because they'd helped him, because they'd stood up to a bully, because the system was rigged from the start.
"That's bullshit!" John shouted. His voice echoed across the courtyard. "Gregor was beating Selio for helping me! Lui was trying to stop someone from killing a defenseless—"
The punch came from behind. A guard's fist to the back of John's skull. His vision went white. He pitched forward, catching himself on his wooden hand restraint before his face hit stone.
"The property speaks out of turn," the chief observed mildly. "Discipline it."
Another punch. This one to his kidney. Pain exploded through John's side. He gasped, curling as much as the restraint allowed.
"As I was saying." The chief addressed the gathered crowd now, his voice carrying. "I have heard the testimony. Weighed the evidence. And I find myself reflecting on advice my advisor gave me some time ago."
He stood, began pacing the platform. Performative. Every movement calculated for maximum dramatic impact.
"He told me I should have killed every lesser and feral in this camp from the start. Or sold them as slaves. Remove the inferior elements. Purify our society. Create a hierarchy based purely on strength and effective blood."
The crowd murmured. Some in agreement. Others uncertain.
"I dismissed his advice as too extreme. Too harsh. I believed in giving even the lowest beast folk a chance to prove their worth. To contribute to our community." His voice hardened. "But perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps mercy is wasted on those who cannot appreciate it. Who steal and fight and disrupt order."
He turned back to face John, Lui, and Selio.
"Therefore, I sentence all three of you to death by dishonorable combat. You will fight each other until only one remains. The survivor will be executed publicly as an example. Your deaths will serve as a lesson to all lessers and ferals about the consequences of defying their betters."
The crowd erupted. Some cheered. Others looked uncomfortable but didn't object.
John's mind reeled. Death by dishonorable combat. Forced to kill each other. And then the survivor executed anyway. Maximum cruelty, maximum spectacle.
Lui had gone pale. Selio was making distressed sounds, probably understanding through tone if not words that something terrible was coming.
The chief sat back down, looking satisfied. "Take them to the arena. We'll begin at sunset. Give the crowd time to gather and place bets."
Guards moved forward to grab them.
John's vision narrowed. The wooden restraint. The guards. The chief looking smug on his throne. Gregor in the crowd grinning. The system that had decided three lives meant nothing.
Something snapped inside him.
Not dramatically. Not into protagonist energy or hidden power. Just a quiet, final breaking of whatever part of him still believed in justice or fairness or that following rules would lead to anything except more suffering.
He struggled to his feet. The guards tried to push him back down but he braced himself, stood tall despite everything.
"You want to know what I think of your rule?" John's voice was steady. Clear. "Here's what I think."
His hands were trapped in the wooden box. Couldn't move his arms much. But his middle fingers still worked.
He raised both middle fingers, visible through gaps in the wooden restraint, and pointed them directly at the chief.
The crowd gasped.
The chief's expression went from smug satisfaction to cold fury in an instant.
John held the gesture. Kept his fingers raised. Let the universal symbol of "fuck you" speak for itself.
"That," John said clearly, "is what I think of your rule. Your hierarchy. Your whole fucking system. Shove it up your ass."
Silence.
Then the chief stood slowly, his voice dropping to a whisper that somehow carried across the entire courtyard.
"Change of plans. The ape dies first. And I want it slow."