In Which Severin Sees How Some Are Born

August 13, 1185

"What do you want?"

Maesflein hucked a wad of spit over the side of the bed. This, Severin had learned, was how to tell which prisoners were there temporarily and which would only leave by the sweet release of the death sentence. The ones who would be released made a point to be at least marginally polite--or at least silent--when anyone higher up than the usual guard came around, especially if they had a chance at a shortened sentence on the basis of good behavior. There was light at the end of their tunnels, and most knew better than to push their luck.

But the ones with nothing to lose... well, they knew it. So what difference did it make, how rude they were?

In Maesflein's case, Severin was grateful. A show of good manners wouldn't have made him like the man at all, nor did he care to feel obligated to be polite in turn. The rudeness made for a more honest exchange. "I'm here to inform you that your trial has been moved up to tomorrow, if that's what you're really asking. As for what I want--that would be to see you convicted."

"What, for your slut wife and her slut sister?"

"As a slut from a long line of sluts, I know one when I see one. Neither my wife nor her sister comes close to that distinction, but that's neither here nor there. How about we abandon the discussion of so-called 'sluts' and instead speak of moral degenerates who force their tiny little cocks on unwilling parties--and who abandon their employees to sickness and poverty." And to that, he saw not a hint of remorse in the prisoner's eye. "At least we both know that you'll never take the same pleasure in the former."

Maesflein scowled. Nora had, in fact, destroyed only one of his balls--but Aerina had advocated removal of the other, 'in case of infection'. Medically necessary or not, Severin couldn't claim to take issue with that decision. His children had all made habits of throwing their toys at one another. What had Severin done in such instances? He'd taken the toys away.

Maesflein's parents, had they done just that, hadn't achieved the same results. Some people were just born rotten. "You haven't felt a shred of guilt the entire time you've been in here, have you? Not even for your poor daughter?"

"Who's to say she was mine? Her mother was a whore."

"Irrelevant. You still would have been the closest she had to a father. You still owed her a better fate than that."

"She owed me for all the months' work she missed! And for the recovery time after that monstrous stillborn spilled out of her cunt! It's not illegal to demand recompense!"

"But it is illegal to rape a person, as it is to merely attempt it, and it is illegal to employ anyone under eighteen as a prostitute--and for a business owner to demand more than a certain percentage of income from a venture they finance but don't actually run. And while I don't know of any specific precedents of such negligence leading to a public health concern, I would assume that such a thing would be at least frowned upon.

"And now that a teenage girl has died, don't be shocked if the jury votes to send you to the noose."

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