“The chief constable,” the same voice said. “He should be the duke.”
“The one who put so many of the people in stocks for complaining about the regent?” Trevor asked.
There was a pause inside.
“You are a bunch of cowards. If you don’t want to talk, I’ll let the people burn the constabulary down,” Trevor said.
“You wouldn’t dare.” This was the chief constable’s voice.
“Let me in. I’ll come in alone and talk. We might be able to work something out,” Trevor said, adjusting the cuirass underneath his coat.
The door opened a sliver. The people made a move to advance. Trevor pointed his sword at them. “I made an honest offer. Let me stay honest, will you?” he said to the crowd.
Trevor slipped through and looked at a circle of swords pointed at him. He smiled with a confidence he didn’t feel. “Is this any way to start a negotiation?” Trevor asked.
“You are the one who talked about negotiating. We didn’t agree to anything.”
Trevor frowned at the chief constable. “Of course you didn’t. That is where negotiations generally start. My starting position is that all of you will die by my hand or by theirs.” Trevor jerked his head out toward the crowd outside. “What is yours?”
“We can kill you right now.”
Trevor shrugged. “If you want to commit suicide, I can’t blame you. There are alternatives, though.”
“What alternatives?” one of the constables asked. A few of the other men nodded their heads, giving Trevor a bit of hope that he hadn’t made a big mistake by not letting the people of Parkintown burn down the building before he walked in.
“If I fire you from your positions, I’ll give you a severance to help you settle elsewhere. There is always King Worto’s army,” Trevor said. “You can enlist.”
“Not me,” another constable said, this one older with gray hair.
“Not what? Severance or military service?”
The man winced as his sword lowered. “King Worto’s army would be a death sentence for someone my age. They would stick me on the front line with a pike in my hand and let the enemy’s magicians flame me. That is how it is done—the youngest and the oldest.”
“If you don’t want to die, then it is severance. I’ll give you three months’ pay, but if I do, I want you out of Listenwell.”
“I’ve got a family here,” one of the other guards said. Another sword lowered.
“Then it looks like we have a negotiation going on, regardless of what the chief constable said.”
Two more swords dipped. “I want to stay in Parkintown,” another guard said.
Trevor thought about what the people would accept. “Four weeks in jail, three months’ severance, and you’ll be prohibited from being rehired as a constable unless approved by the duke or his regent. You will have to sit in a jail cell for a while to satisfy those outside.”
The constables began to look at one another. Some had hopeful looks, but none seemed as grim as the chief constable.
“None of this is acceptable for me. I am in a different position than the men. What can you possibly offer me?”
“Nothing more, but nothing less,” Trevor said. “You have a higher wage, so your severance payment will be higher.”
The chief constable’s face turned red. “Put me out and then have me assassinated?” The man said with a sneer on his face. His sword remained pointed at Trevor.
“Then, for you, it will be a challenge, I guess. Defeat me, and you can burn in the building or accept my offer. I’m done with the negotiating,” Trevor said.
The chief constable advanced on Trevor. “Let’s kill him, men.”
Most of the constables backed away, shaking their heads. “No. I think it’s a fair offer, looking at the alternative outside,” the older constable said.
The constabulary leader pointed a palm at Trevor and bathed him in flames.
“That’s not going to work,” the constable with a family said. “He is immune to magic. Give it up.”
“No! Attack!”
The same constable pointed his sword at Trevor and then quickly turned and ran the chief constable through. The man looked hopefully at Trevor. “I killed him defending you. Can we reduce the jail time a week?”
Trevor wanted to laugh, but he maintained a grim visage. “I will. Where is the jail?”
“In the basement,” one of the other constables said as all the men put down their weapons.
Trevor looked at the body of the chief constable. He was killed by one of his men, just like the regent was slain by his subjects.
“I’ll have the people outside take care of the body. Lock yourselves up in the cells. Take some food with you if you can find any. Quickly!”
The men all saluted Trevor. Trevor poked his head out the door. “Working out some details!” He said to the crowd.
He followed the men downstairs and let the constables find empty cells, carrying more supplies than Trevor expected. They gave the keys to Trevor, who locked them in.
“I’ll formalize this with a magistrate,” Trevor said before hopping up the stairs and exiting the building.
The crowd seemed astonished when Trevor appeared.
“I honestly didn’t think you would walk out alive,” Jacob said.
“There was a tense moment or two” Trevor said. “I’ve locked up the constables, but the chief constable resisted and needs a proper funeral.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Jacob said.
“And I’ll help.” Keith nodded at Jacob and then at Trevor.
“I need you to find some people to fill the constable jobs. Go on inside and talk to the former constables. The prisoners need to be monitored and fed. The constables have agreed to step down from their jobs, especially their leader. They expressed a desire to maintain their residence in Parkintown, which I granted along with a suitable severance. They will need some
