Daneel felt too weak to even give the man a response as he bent down and picked him up by his shoulders, as if he was nothing but a sack of cotton. Barrel-chested, with large, muscular arms, he was the biggest individual that he had seen since waking up. There was a scar that ran down his cheek on the left, lying against the visage of a man who was all too suited to inflicting pain. It curled around his lips like a snake when he grinned, and he kept staring at it while he was being carried to some distant place.
Even his thoughts felt muddled, but after a few seconds, he found the strength to question the system.
"What happened? Why do I feel like this?"
[Responding to host. Host's body was in an extremely weak state. System carries out commands by utilising resources that host's disposal. To facilitate the escape, leftover energy in host's body had to be used. The abrupt drain resulted in a backlash.]
'Well…fuck.'
His arms and legs dangled from the large man's hands, as useless as sticks on a stick figure. His entire aim had been to escape the fate of being hanged, but ironically, he had gone and handed himself to the very man doing the hanging, as was evident from the lasso that he had hung around his own neck while transporting Daneel. It swayed there, moving left and right, and as he watched it, he couldn't help but imagine his own neck within its confines.
The thought would have made him shudder if he had enough strength to do so. Instead, he tightly closed his eyes to take a look at his options, sad as they were.
The most pressing thing was that he still hadn't found out the reason behind his hanging. He could dispute it if he just knew why the hell it was happening, but the story he knew so far didn't match with this fate, at all. It would have been more fitting if his father had just left him to be killed by the slaves, so why was he arranging a public event?
From his memories, Daneel could see that hangings were a popular means of entertainment for the downtrodden. Even if the one being hanged was a slave from their own ranks who had broken a rule, they would watch on, their eyes bottomless pits of despair that shone, nonetheless, when they saw the specter of death arrive. He had even heard many slaves talk about it animatedly, and he had never understood the reason.
His thoughts jolted to a stop when the large man climbed a stair, and then another. Opening his eyes, Daneel saw that they had reached a wooden platform, of sorts.
When he turned to his right, he finally saw it. He had never known that a pillar of wood would be so menacing. It was so thick that two people would need to join their hands to encircle it, and it was dark, as if it had drunk in the souls of those that it had killed so far. He followed its length, and at one point, it bent gracefully at a right angle, resulting in a short span lying parallel to the ground. The edge of this outcrop had a peg, and after studying it, Daneel realized that it was there so that a rope that was dangled from it would not slip and fall.
His eyes went back to that spot where it bent. It was almost as if the wood had been coaxed into growing in this particular way, and for some reason, he felt as if it held a secret that he might uncover if he just stared long enough.
Alas, it seemed that he would not have the time.
The large man reached the pillar… and slammed him against it, knocking out his breath and making him gasp as pain lanced through his body. His back felt like it was on fire, and he didn't even register the rope that he tied securely around his waist and the pillar so that he wouldn't be able to go anywhere.
It did make its presence known, though, when the large man tightened the last knot and made it dig uncomfortably into his stomach. His shadow fell over Daneel again when he bent in front of his face and grinned, the snake on his cheek curling wildly as if to express his joy.
He didn't say anything, this time. He merely stared, and as the seconds passed, his eyes showed… lust. It made Daneel feel sick, but each time he looked away, the large man would shift, too.
In the background, he heard people gathering. They arrived in groups, and in the few moments that he found to study them, he saw that they stood separated into four sections. There was one section with familiar faces. Right away, Daneel recognized them to be the brothers of the original occupant of his body.
They were dressed in fine clothes, with pressed robes that ballooned at their knees and cloaks that shone due to the precious gems that were inlaid into them. The group beside them was dressed less finely, and this descent in economic status followed in the group beside them, too. The last group consisted of the slaves, and it was the largest of them all. They easily outnumbered the other three groups, together.
The large man finally stepped away when a tall nobleman wearing the richest clothes among everyone present climbed up the steps and came in front of him.
It was his father, Harold Jerrock.
The face that he had seen so many times set with happiness and pleasure when he excelled in training was now twisted with hate. Harold looked at him for only a moment, but that was enough to let Daneel see just how much the man loathed him.
When he turned to the people, everyone quieted down and Daneel perked up his ears, knowing that he was finally going to find the answer to his question.
Tapping his ornate walking stick on the wooden platform, he began to speak.
"We are gathered here today to witness the execution of one Daniel…whoreson. His mother had the gall to cheat on me, and she even managed to hide this fact until recently. In all that time, this…bastard enjoyed all the fruits of the hard work of my family. He is going to pay with his life… but there is one avenue to his redemption. I do not yet know who the father is… come out, and I am prepared to listen to your explanation and perhaps even pardon you both. This is your last and only chance."
Daneel felt like snorting as he heard the man's lies. First of all, it was ridiculous to hear Harold speaking about hard work. All he did was traipse around the town, doing what he wished while the slaves spent their lives to fill his vaults. And secondly… a pardon? Even the most foolish of men would see that he was acting disingenuously to seek out the one who had dared to sleep with his wife.
Daneel knew that no one would step out, and as the silence stretched on uncomfortably, this became increasingly clear to the others, too. It also made him panic, though, as he realized that he wouldn't be able to depend on anyone for his salvation.
'What should I do? I have to stop him, but how? HOW?'
He screamed in his mind, hoping that the voice would answer.
'Uh…system? A little help, again?'
[Negative. System exists to carry out host's commands. Cognition capability is locked behind hidden conditions.]
He felt like cursing at it, but he stopped himself as he knew that his time was limited.
"Very well, then. Hangman, begin."
The panic turned into alarm as Harold said this, losing his patience. He didn't even glance back at Daneel as he made his way down the platform, and even after that, he began munching on snacks offered by one of his servants while the large man on the platform gleefully swung the rope up and manage to catch the jamb on the pillar on his first try.
Dancing to an unheard-of tune, he adjusted the lasso after studying Daneel. He then walked in his direction and untied the rope that had been holding him to the pillar.
Even while he was being led to the lasso, he kept looking.
'A plan, a plan, a plan… That's what I need!'
Nothing came to him even when he felt the rope tighten around his neck. Nothing came to him when the hangman ensured that there was enough slack to let him hang.
Even when he heard the creak of the trap door beneath that would soon fall away and send him to his death, his mind stayed empty.
His eyes wandered over everything in front of him, hoping, praying for some inspiration. He looked at his family and found nothing. He looked at the groups of well-dressed people who were all staring at him, waiting for the show to begin, and felt naught but disgust.
Then, his eyes stopped on the slaves… and suddenly, an idea struck him.
"Stop!" He shouted, and at last, Harold looked at him.
The hangman seemed to have gone deaf, though. He could still be heard walking to the crank that would open the trapdoor. Knowing that he probably didn't have much time, he spoke quickly in a loud voice.
"What will you get from hanging me? Just a few moments of satisfaction while I suffer! Instead… why not make me a slave? I'll work away my debt! I know that I must have used up a lot of your resources and money but I'll repay everything! You can kill me then, if I displease you! Please…I just want to live! PLEASE!"
He saw almost no reaction during the first part of his speech, so he stooped to begging, knowing that pride was useless in moments like this.
That finally seemed to move Harold. He raised one hand to stop the hangman and furrowed his eyebrow, as if thinking. Then, tapping the walking stick on the ground, he smiled and said, "You wish to escape death by becoming a slave? Very well, then. Go on."
He didn't even have time to feel relief before he was picked up by the hangman, again. His face was warped with the frustration of one whose prey had escaped at the last moment, and he handled him roughly. A few seconds later, he felt himself flying, again…but this time, it was because he was thrown onto the group of slaves by the hangman.
He landed between them, after a few rushed out of the way. As he grimaced due to the aches all over his body that had returned, he felt all the slaves turn to him, so he looked up to see what they would say.
They stared for a few moments, their eyes unreadable.
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