Chapter 95
In the middle of Idor Village’s square, a device for carrying out flogging was set up. A thick wooden board, fixed horizontally across two pillars, had three holes in it—made for locking a person’s head and both hands.
Because the person had to stoop uncomfortably to fit their head and hands through, they could neither stand upright nor find ease, left in an awkward, humiliating position, exposed all day to the ridicule of passersby.
At Donghui’s order, Urun tied Pig Dog and Rose side by side, set up a sign before them reading “Criminals”, and let the villagers see.
“Do you think you’ll escape unscathed after subjecting me to such a disgraceful punishment?”
Once fixed on the pillory, Pig Dog behaved like a madman—hurling insults at the knights administering the sentence, kicking about, crying loudly like a child, and even wetting himself. In comparison, Rose, dragged out beside him, seemed almost composed.
Their heads and hands were locked one after another into the wooden board’s holes. The knights fastened the restraints tight with chains and locked them securely. While the iron clanked, Rose trembled in fear, whereas Pig Dog resisted until he was struck in the face, leaving his nose bleeding.
“Waaaah, my nose! I think it’s broken! My handsome nose, nooo!”
Pig Dog had always prided himself on his prominent nose. The pain was bad, but worse was the thought that his best feature had been ruined. His sobs grew louder until blood and snot streamed together down his chin.
What had begun with a few onlookers soon swelled—the square grew so crowded there was no room to stand.
“Now, we shall commence the flogging of these two criminals!”
At Urun’s roar, two men wielding whips mounted the platform. Rose stamped her feet and sobbed, on the verge of fainting, while Pig Dog shrieked at the top of his lungs begging for mercy.
The crowd remained silent. They did not jeer or laugh—only stood straight, watching with clear eyes as the two convulsed in fear.
Of the two executioners, the larger man took position beside Pig Dog. Immediately, Pig Dog shook his head frantically and pleaded:
“I have never in my life been struck, not once! If this brute beats me, I’ll surely die! Please, at least switch me with Rose! She only needs to take ten lashes, doesn’t she? Please, I beg you!”
He even whined to exchange his flogger with Rose’s. Rose, confronted with Pig Dog’s pitiful true self beneath his once-dominant air, gave a hollow laugh as her vision darkened.
I abandoned my child to follow a man like this…
But regret was too late. She opened her eyes again and slowly scanned the gathered villagers. She recognized many faces—but not the one she longed for.
They had told her: after she entered the village chief’s house, her husband had taken their baby son and left the village. Foolishly, in this moment, she missed her husband and son more than ever. But she had no way to see them again, nor to beg forgiveness. Tears streamed down her cheeks, yet not a soul among the villagers pitied her.
“Proceed with the sentence!”
At Urun’s booming command, the merciless lashes began.
Watching, Donghui felt her heart waver—it was more brutal than she had imagined. A pang of guilt pricked her. She was not even the real Chloe Grace—did she have the right to do this? But then she recalled what Billy had told her the night before, and steeled her heart.
‘Pig Dog even sold villagers who couldn’t pay taxes to slavers. The village chief claimed they had run away to avoid taxes, but no one believed it. Among those sold was a seven-year-old girl.’
‘While her sick mother lay bedridden, Pig Dog sneaked into the house at night—where even the door wasn’t locked—and kidnapped her. He sold her to slavers. The girl, Selia, had large eyes just like her mother, a very pretty child. Her mother searched frantically but was later found dead by the roadside.’
‘She had been abused through the night, her body ruined. No one ever discovered who did it. The villagers pooled their money for her funeral.’
‘Dozens of families were destroyed this way because of Pig Dog. We all thought he acted under the lord’s orders, since Pig Dog himself openly claimed it.’
Suddenly it all made sense. The grain stockpiled in his warehouse and his treasures couldn’t have come solely from collected taxes. He had amassed wealth by selling villagers into slavery.
Though Billy tried to tell it calmly, grief broke through his voice. Later, Donghui learned even Billy’s grandson had vanished one day without a trace—a boy of only eleven. Imagining what horrors might have befallen him made her chest ache unbearably.
Now she understood the murderous glares the villagers had directed at the lord’s carriage. The only reason they hadn’t risen in revolt and stormed the castle was likely because hunger had left them too weak.
“Urun.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Both voices carried a chill of anger.
“You’ve not long since returned to Grace, but I wish to entrust you with something important. Will you accept?”
Urun bowed deeply.
“I will give my utmost.”
Even as he spoke, the lashes rained down. Rose had already collapsed unconscious after her ten strokes.
The executioner unchained her and pulled her from the pillory. Attendants came forward with a stretcher and carried her away. After a brief treatment, she would be confined in Grace’s dungeon.
Pig Dog, having lived well-fed, still had strength to shriek with each lash, his screams echoing across the square. None of the villagers left. They stayed to watch him writhe, each blow seared into their memories.
It would not bring back their stolen families, but watching his suffering allowed them to breathe again.
“Seek out the people who were sold from Idor. Buy them back if possible. If money won’t suffice, eliminate the ones who took them. I’ll bear all responsibility. Just—bring their families back.”
Donghui’s words continued.
“If they’re already dead, at least recover their remains. You’ll have all the money and manpower you need—take what you require from the treasurer. Choose knights or mercenaries of skill, no matter the origin. If you succeed, you’ll be greatly rewarded.”
Urun’s chest tightened at the command.
“I need no reward. Only grant me the honor of serving you until my dying day.”
Though flowery, Donghui nodded gratefully.
“Begin preparations as soon as we return to Grace.”
“First, however, meet with Billy to gather information on the missing. And take some village youths along—that way those rescued will feel safe coming home.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Urun replied, his eyes chilling as he looked back at the scene.
Pig Dog’s back was a bloody mess. His once-prized, costly clothes hung in tatters like rags. Unable to stand straight, he sagged against the pillory, his neck and arms still bound.
“Will fifty lashes kill him?” Donghui asked, watching his wormlike squirming.
“They’re professionals. They’ll beat him within an inch of death but not beyond. Do not worry.”
“Good. He must not have the luxury of an easy death. If he seems about to die, stop, treat him, then start again. He must learn—utterly and painfully—what it means to make others weep blood. Do not kill him.”
She intended him to pay fully and savagely for his sins. Mercy was reserved for the deserving, not for swine. With every crack of the whip, it was as if the cries of lost children resounded.
When the punishment was over, Donghui planned to depart at once, but stayed a little longer at Billy’s earnest request—the villagers wished to thank their lord.
“If only I had come sooner, perhaps I could have prevented some of this…”
Fear of losing favor had delayed her from opening the village sooner. Now she loathed her own cowardice.
“No, my lord. You shared your grain, punished Pig Dog, and promised to find our missing families. You have bestowed upon us a grace we can never repay. We are truly grateful.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
In the village chief’s garden, a great crowd bowed deeply, tears springing to Donghui’s eyes.
Nearby, Delma and Grace’s servants manned a temporary relief station, distributing warm dural soup and dural bread.
Using supplies from the castle and stores from the warehouse, Baky, Delma, and the servants had worked through the night to bake bread. Though dark circles lay under their eyes, smiles filled their faces as they served.
Little Kevin too handed out bread beside his mother, grinning ear to ear.
“My mom made this dural bread! It’s super tasty and really filling—you only need one to be full! My mom’s bread is the best in the world!”
Though his nose was red from the cold, Kevin’s voice rang bright. But he froze when the next child stepped forward for bread.
The little one—perhaps four years old—wore thin clothes that left his neck exposed, shivering as he reached out.
Kevin glanced down at his own coat. Without hesitation, he stripped it off and thrust it at the child.
“Here. Wear this.”
“Huh?”
The younger boy blinked in disbelief.
“Come on, I’m busy. Just put it on.”
Grumbling, Kevin went over and bundled the coat onto the child before hurrying back to his post. His nose was redder than ever, but the smile on his lips was brighter than any before.
