I Won’t Let the Execution Battalion Die, ~Even If the Empire Falls, We Want to Survive~ - Chapter 70: In the Prairie Fire ④

After finishing our patrol, we had lunch and came to the capital’s East Plaza. The capital’s plazas were used for markets and entertainment, but executions were also carried out there.

“The Second Company people have it tough, doing this work every day.”

Since Second Lieutenant Crimine, who had finished patrolling the western district and rejoined us, was grumbling, I answered lightly:

“It’s easy—just tie the target to a stake and shoot.”

“That’s true.”

The execution orders received by the Third Company were all special and troublesome, case by case.

The plaza had a stone wall for firing squads. It was to prevent stray bullets, with plaster coating to make the surface brittle and prevent ricochet damage.

Countless lead bullets had embedded in it over time, but they were popular as good luck charms and immediately stolen. I couldn’t quite understand it.

In front of that wall, a prisoner tied to a stake had been screaming loudly.

Since becoming an officer, I’d been freed from the job of tying up such people, but it still wasn’t pleasant to watch.

Well, I’d do it anyway. That guy was a robber-murderer.

When the firing squad and I entered the plaza, the crowd watching the execution neatly parted left and right. Since interfering with execution was punished by imprisonment without exception, the people understood this well.

Everyone was cheerfully chatting while holding wine bottles and bread, apparently looking forward to the moment of poetic justice about to occur. Quite morbid, but that was the era, so it couldn’t be helped.

Five line infantry of the firing squad lined up in a single row, with the NCO in charge of commands standing beside them. The execution would begin on my order.

Before that, I had my job to do.

I approached the criminal and unfolded the official execution order.

“Anders, metalware merchant of Third Street, Ost District.”

I paused here and observed the condemned man’s condition. A thin middle-aged man. In a wrestling match, I could probably pin him in two seconds—that weak-looking.

Since he didn’t deny it, identity confirmation was complete.

“For the crime of robber-murder—killing a neighboring woman and stealing money and goods. And for the crime of imperial treason through cooperation with anti-imperial faction, the above person is sentenced to death.”

At that moment, the dejected middle-aged man raised his face and opened his eyes wide.

“I-I didn’t do it!”

“Which one?”

“Sure, I killed that woman! That rotten bitch made fun of me for being a gambling addict!”

The woman’s body had reportedly shown signs of clothing disarray, making it easy to imagine what had occurred during the murder.

However, sexual assault on commoner women was treated as a misdemeanor, so it wasn’t included in today’s charges. Unbelievable from a modern person’s perspective, but that was this world.

“But I don’t know about the anti-imperial or whatever! I didn’t do that! Believe me!”

I knew. You were a despicable man who squandered your shop’s operating funds on dice gambling and killed your neighbor to steal money and goods, but had no connection to the anti-imperial faction.

But if the fact of “executing anti-imperial faction” wasn’t established, we’d have to shoot innocent people.

While apologizing in my heart, I took out the denunciation record. Since he was a merchant, he could probably read and write.

“There was a report from a citizen.”

“Damn it, who made up such bullshit! I’ll kill them!”

I responded expressionlessly:

“You’re the one getting killed. Either way, you can’t escape death for robber-murder.”

“But look, I don’t know about anti-whatever faction!”

Troublesome fellow.

Even if he denied communication with the anti-imperial faction, it didn’t change that he’d be executed. Conversely, this meant he wasn’t making this appeal out of fear for his life.

If the crowd realized this, it would be problematic, so I quickly considered.

“Then regarding the denunciation, the Ceremonial Battalion will investigate again. If it proves false, we won’t execute for treason.”

The condemned man’s expression showed obvious relief.

“Th-then…”

“Ah, that’s right.”

I nodded firmly.

“Today we’ll execute you for robber-murder.”

I commanded the waiting NCO:

“Execute!”

“Eh!? Eh!?”

While the condemned man gaped in surprise, the crowd cheered loudly.

“Do it! Kill him!”

“Raping and killing a helpless seamstress girl—what a terrible villain! Blow his balls off!”

“He’s an enemy of us women! Go to hell!”

The crowd here had come for reasons like “wanting to watch someone die from a safe place” or “witnessing the moment justice strikes,” so they were completely satisfied as long as execution was carried out.

The NCO gave orders:

“Aim!”

The line infantry aimed their muskets. The accuracy wasn’t very good and penetration was insufficient, but shooting from close range with five men, even if one misfired and one missed, the remaining three would hit.

To compensate for these weaknesses, the powder charge was large, making the impact when hit tremendous.

“Fire!”

At the NCO’s command, the gunshots rang out in a neat pa-pa-pa-pa-pan. It reminded me a bit of sports festivals.

As for the condemned man, the upper half of his head was blown off with brain matter scattered on the stone pavement. Humans really died in an instant.

As the crowd had requested, one shot had also hit his lower abdomen. The rest were one each to the chest and stomach. Apparently only one shot had missed. More good luck charms would be available.

I approached the bloody corpse and touched the carotid artery to confirm death. No “mercy shot” seemed necessary.

“Execution completion confirmed. Recover the body!”

“Body recovery! Begin work!”

The firing squad untied the corpse and wrapped it in rags. After throwing it into the common cemetery with the arranged cart, it would be finished.

With two privates handling the cart and three guarding them, I left the plaza accompanied by Second Lieutenant Crimine and the NCO.

I could hear the old soldiers’ chatter from behind:

“Tch, I stepped on brain matter. Who shot the head?”

“I aimed for his balls.”

In this world, death and corpses were familiar presences. Most people died at home or work. Some died in taverns or streets, but in any case, someone always witnessed it.

So joking and laughing while carrying bloody corpses wasn’t unusual.

“Hey, the cloth’s come loose. His handsome face is showing.”

“During the Battle of Wardenne, the guy next to me ended up looking just like this.”

“Instant death is lucky. A comrade who got shot in the balls like this guy suffered all night before dying—that was pitiful.”

They sounded cheerful back there.

Dead humans retained traces of their living appearance but presented clearly different aspects from the living due to damage and rigor mortis.

There was an “uncanny valley” phenomenon where semi-realistic dolls seemed scary, and corpses were right in that “uncanny valley.”

Well, in this guy’s case, it was like a splatter movie, so normally creepy.

Second Lieutenant Crimine walking beside me muttered with an indifferent expression:

“I’m getting hungry. Lieuten—I mean Captain.”

How could you get hungry walking with a brain-scattered corpse?

But it was true I was also getting a bit peckish. Humans really could get used to anything.

“Want to stop somewhere after body disposal? You guys coming too?”

When I called to the NCO and soldiers, they all made happy sounds.

“If Company Commander’s treating, gladly.”

“Is alcohol okay, Company Commander?”

I smiled wryly:

“It’s consolation for the execution—I’ll treat you. Since we’re still on duty, keep the drinking light.”

“Yes sir!”

Since the Empire would collapse soon anyway, who knew what would happen to the silver coins in my wallet? It wouldn’t hurt to spend a little for subordinates who’d face hardships ahead.

While gazing at the sun already beginning to set, I kicked the stone pavement with my military boots.