Yes, I get plenty enough work, too much if I’m honest. It’s usually beheadings. The Guard’s quite traditional with treating criminals. Murder and rape will cost you your head, which are the usual crimes we get for executions. I actually went and got me an executioner’s sword after my axe chipped. It’s a lot more efficient in my opinion. I do hangings too. For treason charges. Usually when the Legion’s involved. They’re the ones that look for ponies who consort with our enemies. When one of their own turns bad, the crime is always upped to treason. I don’t get sent to work on legionnaires, though. They keep that to themselves.
For less serious crimes...well, my whip has to be replaced often. Lashing’s the most adjustable and repeatable form of punishment so nearly every crime gets lashes. Death by whip isn’t technically an execution. Sometimes, when I do lashings, the pony just ups and dies before the prescribed number. We always do one less than the sentence, and they never go past forty, but it happens. If you’re going to commit a crime, at least make sure you can take some lashes is what I say.
Branding’s not very popular among executioners, I’m told. Takes a while to get the iron to the proper heat. There’s a nasty stink when you do it. It’s more expensive too. The city has to pay for a unicorn to enchant the brand so the burn resists natural and magical healing. Still, there’s something satisfying when you see a swindler or a some other fraud with a fresh mark on their flank. That’s a pony who’s not convincing anypony of anything.
I don’t like docking. Feels...wrong. The wolven love cutting off tails. I’ve heard that they have a big, colorful tree in Wolvengard that’s carved out of ice. They stick pony tails on its branches to make fancy leaves. The ophidites also like to take the tails of killed unicorns. I just don’t like doing what our enemies do. Yes, I know, they probably behead their criminals too, but docking’s just not right.
De-horning? Yes, I have to do a few once in a while. It’s rare, though. I don’t even keep a hacksaw for myself. Whenever a de-horning is called for, I just borrow from Bent Nail. He’s the local carpenter in my street. My cousin works over at Arcanotropolis, they do a lot more de-hornings over there. I prefer wing clipping to be honest, not that because I prefer working on pegasi. It’s just a simpler and easier task. Takes a lot of effort to saw through a horn. With wing clipping, you just need a good knife and a feel for the right muscle. You have to cut deep, though, or they’ll be flying in a month. There’s no specific punishment for earth ponies. A while back, the previous mayor suggested gibbets hung off heights. It does tend to drive earth ponies crazy. It hasn’t picked up. We still have to feed them, which is why we don’t like imprisonments to begin with. And the mess they make while they hang out there...nasty.
Strange ones...well, I did a boiling back in my old village. Weird execution, I know. I can’t even remember the crime because the trial was crazy. Cauldron broke shortly after the pony died, gave me a good scalding on one foreleg. I’ve gelded a couple stallions too. Both for committing lewd acts in public. One was with fire. You don’t fool around with the mayor’s daughter it turned out.
Black Hood, SummerSteel City Executioner.
Moon Sail strode through the tunnel with unabashed purpose. Her eyes were hard and her blades were out. The mask of Moonie, the nice Rondo taskmistress, was gone the instant the panic started. She was now fully back to a vengeful Blackmoon Blade, out on her final hunt, and she revelled in the notion.
Spared Rod’s cramped escape tunnel twisted and turned, like the intestines she imagined ripping out of him if she got the chance. His flight from the chaos of the central chamber had been tentative at first, as she saw him peeking back several times, only to be hastened when Safaszan finally unleashed her prideful rage. She could run and probably catch that stumbling, half-drunk addict. He had dragged his colts along, a foolish move in his part, they’re likely to slow him down. She didn’t run, though, even with instinct telling her to.
Two figures crawled about just ahead, barely visible in the dim lighting this passage had. Two particularly small ponies, sluggish, awkward movements, a lack of any strong will in their posture and behavior...these must be those slaves Spared Rod tried to make off with. He risked taking them along knowing they would slow him down, and, as soon as they did, he tossed them away; strategy based entirely on impulse. The latest in Spared Rod’s litany of such things. Moon Sail strode past them mercilessly, eyes still forward when she flicked a dart into their necks.
Iron needles infused with powdered Heartsbane flowers at forging; a quick, painless death. It was the best mercy Moon Sail could afford. Unfortunately, that was the last of her Heartsbane, and she had considered saving one for herself for quite a while. She spared a passing glance, more the assure herself that her aim was true. They twitched only slightly before falling over, eyes shutting as if they were only falling asleep.
It didn’t take much longer after that for Moon Sail to pick up the ragged breathing of a desperate stallion trying to worm his way out of a mess. The rough, natural stone floor did not allow for much of a trail, but there were enough; a torn piece of faded cloth that had caught on a sharp-edged corner, an errant step into a silt-bottomed puddle, a discarded shoe. This was almost too easy. Disappointing for a final hunt. To dedicate this kill to the Moon Princess might be more blasphemy than honor.
And finally, she came upon him at last. Moon Sail’s nose wrinkled at once. She was just getting used to breathing nominally fresh air only to be hit once again by the persistent, stinking cloud of befuddling grass smoke, stale wine, and sweat that emanated from Spared Rod.
“Moony!” Spared Rod exclaimed. The relief in his voice would be laughable if Moon Sail wasn’t so disgusted by everything else. “Thank Princess Luna you got here, I—we have to escape the Legion, they’re out for blood!”
“They’re not the only ones,” Moon Sail said. She flicked a feather-shaped blade with perfect accuracy, piercing his hind leg, and finding a decently sized blood vessel, not enough to rapidly bleed him out, but good enough to quickly spread her venom. He winced at impact, though not enough as she had expected. Long term use of befuddling grass did dull the nerves after all.
“Moony, what are you doing?” Spared Rod asked.
“My name isn’t Moony, blasphemous mutt,” Moon Sail hissed. “You’ve lived too long as an embarrassment, Spared Rod.” She slowly unsheathed the blade she had chosen for this solemn task; long, serrated, and infused with a very painful venom.
“In the name of the moon, I shall punish you.”
Spared Rod’s eyes showed that he still didn’t know they whys of the situation, but he did understand the whats of it. She was going to murder him. He tried to run, but his injured hind leg dragged behind him as dead weight, making him stumble snout first into the passage’s wall. Blood trickling from one nostril, he hobbled away screaming, fear of death giving his remaining legs wings.
‘Good,’ Moon Sail thought. ‘Run. Run as best you can. Make me chase you, Spared Rod. I have dedicated this final hunt to the Moon Princess. At least try make it a challenge worthy of the skills honed in her name.’
She waited until the hoofsteps faded into the distance a bit in this cramped, winding passageway that amplified every sound. This was inefficient, her training told her. It opened her plans to failure. Never underestimate the hunted’s will to live. Experience taught her often enough that even obviously easy prey can turn the hunt around on the hunter. But this was her last hunt, indeed the last hunt of the Blackmoon Blades. The instant it was over, she would forever lose something she held so dearly to her.
That instant wouldn’t last long. Retirement and death were one and the same for a Blade. Even so, she felt the need to postpone it just a little longer.
Moon Sail moved her legs. Her knees creaked a bit. She was already starting to breathe hard despite the night being relatively young. Just a few years ago, this would be nothing. How far did Spared Rod make it? Perhaps, he had already reached the outside. She hoped so. Then, they would be in moonlight. Under the moon princess’s watchful light, his blood would be black bathed in silver. For once in his miserable life, Spared Rod would be true to the Rondo’s original purpose; he would produce something that might be remotely close to art.
The passage did indeed give way to the outside. Most likely to the other side of Moaning Top. A fresh night breeze, cool and refreshing, ruffled Moon Sail’s mane. With the open air, she no longer had the advantage of a clear trail of sound or a singular path. The mountain breeze also dispelled the foul smell that clung to Spared Rod. The trampled long grass before her made up for it, however, and the chance to use her wings made this far too easy regardless of the extra advantage. Moon Sail flapped her wings, relishing the warm rush of blood into them fighting with the cold draft. She maintained a low altitude, not enough to break past the trees, but enough to gain a vantage point.
‘Wait...’
The thrill of the hunt and the melancholy of the final mission alike paused once Moon Sail gained a better view of her surroundings. More than Spared Rod’s bumbling escape disturbed Mount Moaning Top’s wilderness. Farther down the slope, multiple lights from dozens of torches slowly made their way upward. To move along even in the dark through steep woods meant serious purpose, and the pace of those torches meant an advancing troop of armored ponies. The Legion had surrounded Moaning Top, most likely to prevent escape from either Safaszan or the Rondo. Hardly a surprise to Moon Sail. Once again, the Legion was going to eliminate an obvious threat to Equestria and a bothersome group of ponies in one fell stroke.
This should be to her advantage. She too also wished for the destruction of the Rondo. Yet...those last moments in the sanctuary played themselves in her mind. Old comrades readying for a final charge, the heavy clangs of armored hoofsteps filling the halls, the shouts of battle, the cries of pain, the wet splatter of fatal blows...through it all, the inner sting of betrayal. They should have never helped the Legion against the Blades of Nightmare.
She had fled back then. Driven mad by fear, perhaps, or just losing to her own inner weakness by taking the offer of her comrades. Or it could have been a lunar providence after all. A faint wisp of influence from the Moon Princess to guide her to this final hunt to insure that the moon’s honor wouldn’t be dragged through the mud. In such a case, she should finish this last task. After that, surely, the Moon Princess would leave her life in her hooves. That the Legion was here and ready for battle was a convenience.
Spared Rod must have noticed the Legion presence as well. His trail tumbled down the slope in a mad dash towards the lights. Blood from his wound made for an easy marker for his stumbling passage. He must have taken a tumble at some point when the spatters went through steep inclines. One jagged rock held on to a piece of his garishly-colored shirt along with a large smear of his blood. He hit this one hard and kept going. He might bleed out at this rate, that wouldn’t be a proper end.
“Help!” he screamed from a distance. “Somepony help! I’m being chased by a killer!”
Moon Sail flapped her wings with purpose now. Playtime was over. It only took seconds before Spared Rod was in her sights again.
Spared Rod was dripping with sweat. At least, Moon Sail hoped that was all that was dripping from him. Especially along the hind legs. As she had expected, he was trying to make his way to the Legion troops. A foolish, desperate move. They were likely to execute him in the spot once they found out who he was. He would realize at the end that the Legion was never a friend to any of the Moon Princess’s loyalists. How terrible to lose such an ideal view. She should save him from such a cruel fate.
Moon Sail landed square on Spared Rod’s back, hind hooves first. He buckled under the sudden weight with a short gasp and a satisfying crack along the point of impact. She hoped that wasn’t his spine breaking. He had no fight left in him either way, assuming he ever had some to begin with. She stepped off, checked to see how alive he still was, then pulled out her choice of punishment.
She had plucked the vial from the sanctuary’s armory when they found out that the Legion was on its way, naively hoping to use it on the Legion Commander who ordered the assault. It was infused with a highly refined form of Ghost Needle venom; a promise of an excruciatingly painful death to fell even an ursan. The Delve sanctuary only ever held one. Ghost Needle scorpions were rare, extremely dangerous to catch, and incredibly difficult to keep alive in captivity. They were one of the reasons why the first Blackmoon Blade sanctuary was built in the desert far to the southeast. She ultimately failed, however. Even with such a virulent weapon, fear seized her in the end. Now, it seemed that she had salvaged it for this moment. This must also be lunar providence.
“Moony—Moon Sail,—!”
Moon Sail poured the vial along her knife and jabbed it into Spared Rod’s neck, into an artery that would spread the venom swiftly and fatally. Whatever he was proposing in his last moments was pointless chatter anyway. Crimson poured out of the wound, black against the moonlight. Moon Sail stepped back, and admired the sight with a smile.
Mission accomplished.
The question was now simply one of curiosity. What would Spared Rod die of first; the bleeding or the venom? That was a rather large artery she had punctured. It shouldn’t take a minute for him to bleed out, but her venom dealt unimaginable agony as it ravaged every nerve it encountered in its path. Spared Rod was a weak lover of luxury and perversions. His mind would surrender swiftly just to end the pain. He might be dead by that before he lost enough blood.
He lay at her hooves now, twitching, gurgling, vainly clutching at his punctured throat. The edges of his wound turned purple as the flesh died and blood vessels burst, the discoloration following a trail that spread out from his neck. No final words for this wretch. His eyes finally glazed over, his drowning breaths stopped, and his limbs lay still.
Moon Sail lifted her gaze to the moon. “My last dedication, Moon Princess,” she whispered. “For whatever good it does.”
As if to respond, the bushes and branches ahead rustled and snapped. They were quick, these Legionnaires. Reconnaissance and mobility were precious advantages against the Ursans after all. She had been stealthy, but they were likely drawn to Spared Rod’s bumbling racket. Like vultures to a fresh corpse.
Moon Sail couldn’t help a smile. Training sensibilities told her to withdraw. The mission was done, and it was time to flee back to the shadows, and let the handiwork of the Blades speak for itself. Her instincts told her to flee. The Legion wanted her dead, just as it wanted all of the Blades dead, just as it now wanted the Rondo dead. That she didn’t budge felt so good. Her heart was still racing; more fear than exertion at this point. Her legs were shaky, and her sweat felt cold as it ran down her neck.
Did the others feel this way too when the Legion shattered the sanctuary doors? Did they quiver and sweat? Were they overcome by regrets during that last clash? Or was she the only one like this? The last Blackmoon Blade, frightened to the end. Yet, she stayed anyway. She only had a few envenomed feather blades left, and a couple of doses from her foreleg devices. A couple of legionnaires to account for herself, she hoped.
“By the Prince, what’s going on here?”
“Stop right there, killer!”
“Wait, isn’t that one of the Rondo’s officers?”
The sliding of blades coming out of their sheathes only widened Moon Sail’s smile. Her legs steadied, her breathing even out. It was as if she had been bleeding fear, and the last finally dripped out.
“For the Night Silver,” she said softly, then raising her ragged voice one last time. “And the Blades of Nightmare!”
She relished the widening, terror-stricken eyes past the barding. They made the connection swiftly and easily. Even her last words should be in service to the mission. They faced a Blade of Nightmare harbored by the Rondo, the finishing touch to its damnation. That she had killed the Rondo’s leader didn’t quite fit, but that’s a question to be answered after the slaughter. After all, there might be more blades hiding in Moaning Top. Can’t be too sure.
Her first blade found a gap in a stallion’s neck barding. His crossbow clattered to the ground as he choked. She landed next to another, easily sidestepping the slow swing of a gashing blade. Her foreleg blade found another neck. Two more crossbows aimed at her, though, too far to stop, yet too close to dodge. A single hit from those things could rip her frail body in half.
Moon Sail closed her eyes, then waited for the snap of a crossbow releasing.