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The day comes for the public spectacle of the execution. A large pyre has been built in the town square of Zaragoza. The women will be burned. The men will be drawn and quartered. A huge crowd has gathered to witness the event. Enterprising merchants are selling memorabilia. Food stalls have been set up. There are macabre betting markets wagering on how long they will scream, the quality of their begging, and so on.
It's all quite barbaric.
You arrive with your two prisoners; the former queen and the former amir, your brother Ramon, and your Uncle Ansur, along with your other important lords and knights present in the city.
Aiza is wearing a beautiful but simple white dress made from the highest grade wool of the region that matches her white silk veil well. Her hair has been done up in an ornate and complex braid held together with golden brooches and jeweled pins making her look every bit the part of a queen despite the recent loss of status. The common people seem pleased to see their former queen being treated well. She is visibly unharmed, dressed as befits her station, and clearly comfortable walking along side you.
Her uncle has been dressed in a functional yet fashionable robe of deep blue that is appropriate for a man of his station. Despite not being an elfblood woman, he is still an important figure and needs to be treated as such. You don't want him to look like a prisoner, after all. He is well respected among the people of Zaragoza.
"Fucking hell. Was it so important for me to attend this? My leg is throbbing," Ramon complains. He's on his feet and walking with great difficulty. He refuses to be seen in public being carried around like a cripple even if it would be better for his recovery.
"You are to be governor of this province so yes," you reply. He needs to be seen by the people if he's going to be in charge of this place. Although you have no doubt he'd much rather be enjoying his new estate right now.
"Fine... but do I have to watch this part? It makes my skin crawl," Ramon complains once again. To be fair, you dislike watching this part just as much. The guilty men are marched up on a stage and stripped bare of their clothing. Then a priest goes down the line and prays over each one. The prayers are supposed to help their soul find salvation in their next life. Next, the executioner takes the stage armed with a sharp scalpel knife.
One by one, each of the guilty are bound and their genitals are severed. They scream, of course. Oh, by the Gods, do they scream. First the penis then the testicles. They're cut with ruthless efficiency and the men are not given any form of anesthetic. Blood and fluids spurt all over the stage and those in the crowd standing too close. The screams are shrill and blood curdling. The executioner then draws a short sword from his hip and, after waiting a few minutes for the men to suffer, slices each one of them across the belly to disembowel them.
Really every part of this is unpleasant to watch. Watching a man's guts fall out of his body. It is not an image a man is easily able to forget. Your stomach turns as the fetid smell of shit fills the air. Men smell terrible when you open them up.
The next part is perhaps the most gruesome. The entrails are pulled out of the screaming victim and then used as a garrote to strangle them to the point of near death before they are then beheaded.
The crowd cheers throughout it all. Some men curse their luck for losing obscure bets. Some of the most crazed among them fight over the right to keep the discarded genitals. These will become the keepsakes of the most vicious among them.
Once the men are dead, the corpses are cut into quarters. They'll be scattered across the kingdom as grim reminders of what happens to traitors.
In comparison, the women's execution is downright clean.
All of them are paraded naked up to the pyre. Crowd members throw shit and rotten fruit and all manner of things at them. One of them is even struck in the face by a dismembered penis collected from the male execution. They're dragged to the wooden stake in the middle and tied up with ropes.
A priest takes his place at the front of the crowd and reads a prayer in the name of the Son and the Tritheos, for their souls to find salvation. The torch is then handed to Aiza. She is to set the women aflame, something she has been looking forward to for weeks. Her attention never left the guilty women, no matter how much the men screamed. She paid no mind to them. Her hatred was focused solely on the women who murdered her mother.
Aiza stares at the women tied to the wooden stake, her face expressionless behind her veil. The fire is burning brightly and hotly, The flames reflect in her furious purple orbs, and her lips are pressed into a hard, thin line. Her hands shake ever so slightly as she holds the torch. Her entire body is rigid, the muscles tensed.
"You deserve worse than this. Mother Death will see to your full punishment. May your souls suffer the agony of a thousand years in Sheol, forever parched but never quenching their thirst. Forever freezing without a kindling for warmth. Forever starving, but never given a morsel to eat. Forever crawling across the ground, your destination never growing closer. And forever lonely, never knowing the touch of another until your punishment is complete. These five curses I condemn you to die."
She thrusts the torch into the woodpile beneath the women's feet and the pyre goes up in a burst of flames. The wood crackles and snaps with the dry kindling catching fire almost instantly. The rope holding the women's hands burns and disintegrates. The women fall into the flames, their hair going in flames first.
Their screams are horrific.
They writhe and twist, trying to roll away from the flames, but there is nowhere to go. Skin melts from bone. Their eyes boil away. The scent of burning flesh wafts through the air. Aiza's eyes never leave them as she watches them burn. She doesn't look away, doesn't flinch. She doesn't scream at them or hurl insults or even laugh. Her gaze is dispassionate. Empty.
The women burn.
And then it's done.
...
The conquest of Zaragoza sends shockwaves throughout Tartessia. The entire queendom is annexed before any other queendom could have thought to offer military assistance. Missives arrive weeks after the conquest is already complete from the neighboring states promising support in exchange for Aiza marrying some man or pledging fealty to their queen. They're all too late. Aiza does not even bother to read them.
There are only a handful of loose ends left to tie in Zaragoza. Elfbloods come in droves to plead their cases to you. The list of things they want is truly endless— an elfblood convert governor which you deny, private courts for resolving internal disputes within their community which is also denied, officer commissions in the army which is denied... for now, and some even want a seat on the council! Denied, of course.
However, the number one thing which each and every single petitioner asks for above anything else is the right to pass on property through the female line. That is the traditional way it is done among elfbloods and if you do not grant it to them, it will gravely disrupt the fabric of their communities.
Not granting them this would make the elfbloods quite irate. It is a foundational precept to their form of social organization. The temptation is there to deny them and purposefully disrupt their communities. You have no great care for rooting out the religion of the elfbloods but it is simply a fact that they represent a stubborn and powerful minority. Getting rid of them would be beneficial in the long term. In the short term, however, you will be dealing with a class of angry oppressed elfbloods and you really do not need to deal with that right now. It is a small concession anyway.
You decide to allow them their special inheritance rights but with the stipulation that interfaith marriages are still patrilineal. Your law is superior to theirs. They accept this compromise, if only grudgingly.
Plenty more come to complain about the tax placed upon but they are handily ignored. As if these wealthy aristocrats cannot part with a mere ten percent of their yearly bounty. In return, they do not even owe you any free military service. It is a steal, honestly!
Once that is cleared up, there is little else to do... but go home and resume ruling from Alfida.
"Viceroy, hm?" Ramon says, mulling over his new title. It doesn't sound as fancy as prince, but it is an important title. He will be your representative in the province of Zaragoza. He commands the garrison and ensures the taxes are collected and sent to Alfida. You're still working on the specifics of the legal verbiage and limitations of the position, but for most civic matters, he speaks with your voice within the borders of the province.
That is a tremendous amount of power to entrust someone else with, and there is quite possibly no one else you could entrust with it. When Alfida grows larger, the relative value of each viceroyalty will be lower, but for now? He is commanding half your kingdom.
"For a period of five years. I know how restless you can get so do not worry. I will have conquered another province by then to assign you to a new one," you joke with a wry smile.
"Well... I do live here now. I would not mind staying longer," Ramon leans forward as he pitches the idea. Why change out viceroys every five years? He is willing to administer the province for much longer than that. His face is serious and his gaze is unwavering. This isn't a joke to him.
You shake your head. It isn't that you do not trust Ramon. You trust him with your life. But when building a brand new institution, precedents must be set without exception. "I cannot do that, Ramon. Five years and you may not rule in Zaragoza again for another ten after that," you state firmly.
"Tch. Seems like a pointless restriction."
"I assure you, it is not."
Ramon rolls his eyes. "Very well. I accept. I must say, Alonso, I did not think we would be this successful. Zaragoza conquered in less than a month. It's staggering. And I thank you deeply for your generous allotment of land for me. I am now rich and politically powerful. I think it is time for me to find a wife." He settles down in his chair and sighs in relief as his weight is no longer resting on his wounded leg. He's taken to walking with a cane when no one is looking.
You arch an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? Is there someone in mind?"
"A handful. I have my eye on a woman from here. She's human but of the elfblood faith. Sole inheritor of her estate and very fetching. I believe I will persuade her of the Son's merit and a mutually beneficial marriage," Ramon says, smiling proudly.
And thus he will add her lands to his growing even wealthier in the process.
"What about you, Alonso? You're the mighty king who conquered Zaragoza in a fortnight. Any plans for marriage... perhaps to that gorgeous elfblood queen you spend every night with? How is she, by the way. Like in bed," Ramon teases.
Your face grows hot. "R-Ramon, what sort of cad do you take me for? I have not... bedded the former queen. It would be improper to take a woman of her stature before marriage. Besides she has asked me not to touch her and I respect her wishes. We have simply grown... close."
"Grown close?" Ramon laughs. "Alonso, if I were in your position, I would have taken the girl weeks ago. Do you not desire her?"
"W-well," you cough, trying to compose yourself, "Of course I do."
"What are you going to do with her if not keep her as a bedwarmer? You can't let her go. She'll be back with an army behind her within five years," Ramon asks. Suddenly you regret your decision to visit your brother at his estate before teleporting home.
"I am... not sure. I will be bringing Aiza and the former Amir with me to Alfida and keeping them under custody there. There are ways for them to make themselves useful. Aiza is about the right skill level to make a useful apprentice and lab assistant for me. The Amir... can train guards or something. As for my bachelor status, I will think of something. Marriage is not something a king can take lightly," you explain.
Ramon nods. He reaches for a bowl of flat bread and places an olive and some feta cheese on it before rolling it up. The elfblood have peculiar culinary habits inherited from their elven forebears. It can be remarkably salty. He chews slowly and mulls over his words.
"You've always been one to do as he likes, Alonso. I expect your marriage will be the same," he reaches over and claps you on the shoulder, "Just don't do anything too stupid."
You snort. "Me? Never. Now, I will be taking my leave. Goodbye, Ramon."
"Goodbye, Alonso. Give our sister my regards. Tell her to come visit. I want to see the little brats again and show them uncle Ramon's new estate," he jokes.
"Will do. Until then, brother," you nod. You focus, drawing the appropriate magic into your body and casting the spell. The world melts into a chaotic abyss, darkness surrounds you, and you feel as if you're being stretched and compressed all at once. And this is only the first step. You need to pick up Aiza at Zaragoza first.
It is a quick stop and your guards have the queen ready. You take her by the arm, preparing to pull her into the chaos. She tries to pull away with an expression remarkably like that of a frightened rabbit.
"I-I don't like this. Isn't there another way?" she asks, her voice filled with fear, "I can ride back to your castle. I don't mind! Really!"
You sigh, "You have to get used to it eventually. Don't you wish to reach True Magus one day?"
"Y-yes," she says, her voice trembling slightly, "But..."
"But nothing. I believe in you, Aiza. And I promise, it is never as bad as the first time... just keep your eyes closed," you insist. You tug on her arm, pulling her to your side and wrapping an arm around her waist.
"Okay..." she mumbles, closing her eyes tightly. You cast the teleportation spell and the two of you melt into the Avernal realm, your consciousness dragged through the infinite kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. You focus your thoughts and draw them toward the location of your palace in Alfida.
In an instant, the two of you are there.
Aiza is dizzy and disoriented and she collapses against you, her hands gripping your tunic. "Huuuuu. You... urgh... you lied... that was... that was just as bad as last time."
You rub her back gently and let her lean on you. "Really? It was easier for me the second time. Regardless, you'll grow accustomed to it in time, I promise."
Aiza takes a few deep breaths and steadies herself. Her breathing is heavy and ragged, and she is panting hard. Sweat has gathered on her forehead, and her skin is flushed red. "You... are a madman."
"I'll take that as a compliment," you grin.
She punches you in the shoulder and gives you a dirty look. "That was not a compliment!" Her pouting face is so cute even obscured through her green and gold veil that you can't help but laugh.
"Come now, Aiza. I would not have subjected you to such a harrowing experience if I didn't believe in you. It is all a part of learning magic, my dear," you tease her. Teleporting magelings was a common hazing ritual that you got to experience many, many times. If you could handle it at eighteen, then Aiza can handle it at thirty two.