Lien the Fifth

A prologue of sorts.

Firstly it's an adult story written by and for adult types. Secondly believe it or not it's fiction and so is the cast of characters. Any similarities to real folk living or dead are just coincidental, honest. The only similarity betwixt Lien Venrihet and Lord Vetinari is due to the resemblance of various foreign phonetics. Mr. Pratchett's character obviously has too much character to appear in this story and is much cleverer than Lien in any event. Please be aware this story is both bloody and extreme, containing torture, snuff, and the occasional mundane murder with some mutilation thrown in at times. You've been warned so if you still want to, enjoy.

Mad Lews

Lien the Fifth

I

Ascension

Once upon a time, though not nearly as long ago as you might think, There was a kingdom on the island we now call Keltoi, which lies off the northern coast of Galatae. Back in those days the kingdom was briefly ruled by a young monarch named Lien Venrihet the fifth. No pictures survive of this audacious young monarch but by all historic evidence Lien Venrihet (V) had a stature as short as his temperament and his hair and eyes were as darkly colored as his very soul.

Lien like his father before him was a tyrant. More to the point he was the type of tyrant who gave despotism such a sour reputation. He had ascended to the throne when his beloved father Lien Venrihet the fourth (known for brevity's sake as "Lien the Butcher") fell victim to a cut throat band of mercenary assassins.

The coronation ceremony was tastefully elaborate, overseen by the Bishop and attended by all the nobility and as many common folk as would fit within the courtyard. A marvelous military parade followed which included each and every troop within the kingdoms' army. His first official act as King was to have the entire company of Royal Guards arrested.

Now it was no great mystery as to how his loving father had come to such an abrupt end. "Lien the Butcher" was truly feared and despised by all of the nobility. They knew him better and hated him more than most of his subjects, but they were to a man much too timid to actively conspire against him. The common folk simply lived their lives in constant terror. They were much too desperate to waste time or energy on the luxury of hatred. All those who were knowledgeable in the ways of the palace intrigues were quite sure that Lien (the fifth) and his dear mother had joined forces with one or more officers of the Royal Guard to do away with the man who stood between Lien (V) and the throne. It would of course have been very rude as well as impolitic to mention this on Lien's coronation day (or ever if you were inclined to enjoy some of life's simple pleasures such as breathing).

Before the assembled troops of his army Lien had all the officers of the Royal Guard beheaded. This was both reasonable and fair, for they had indeed failed to protect their Liege Lord and were therefore by definition untrustworthy. As it turned out they were also the lucky ones for rank truly is entitled to its privileges. Once the officers had been dealt with (and any co-conspirators silenced) Lien ordered the guard decimated. The proud company of two hundred men counted off and every tenth soldier bravely stepped forward. Each of these men was stripped to the waist and had their hands bound behind their back before they were disemboweled.

A professional executioner did the deed. He avoided severing major blood vessels so these twenty men died slowly squirming on the parade ground as their guts spilled out turning the dust to mud. This exhibition seemed to nauseate some of the nobility but the common folk found it highly entertaining. Even while these men were screaming and flopping about for the better part of half an hour they did not realize that they were luckier by far than the rest.

The remaining members of the Royal Guard first had their hands shackled behind their backs with stiff iron cuffs. They were then brought forward one by one and two assistants used sharpened blades to slit the leather straps that held their grieves, and breastplates in place. Once they had been divested of their armor they were stripped of their belt, kilt, and finally their loincloth. With the jeering crowd shouting out encouragement the naked soldiers trembled a bit as they were each escorted to the very chopping block where their officers had lost their heads.

These poor souls retained their heads but each paid a handsome price with a hairy sack containing two precious jewels. As the shadows grew longer the basket into which the executioner tossed these gruesome trophies grew full.

There is of course no truth to the rumor that the contents of these sacks were served at the coronation dinner. (I would almost be willing to swear to that, though I wasn't actually invited to dine.) After all we are talking of a civilized kingdom here and that sort of thing was definitely frowned upon.

If we were inclined to be fair, we would also note that the executioner worked quickly and efficiently. He used a very sharp blade to do the cutting and seared the wound with a red-hot iron so none of these soldiers suffered too great a blood loss. I leave it to you, gentle reader, to determine whether these small details were an act of mercy.

The naked and freshly gelded guards were forced into a proper a military formation. The crowds howled their derision as they were paraded through the streets of the capital before being marched off in chains to the dreaded mines of Edtilia. Of the 180 led away only 34 survived the seventy-mile trek to the mines and fortunately none of those survived more than a month in the dark tunnels below.

This was how Lien Venrihet the fifth introduced himself to the country he would rule. It wasn't long before the nobility was longing for the good old days when Lien's father "The Butcher" had ruled with a cruelly efficient but otherwise steady hand. His son seemed at first glance to be a bit unstable.

Lien was acutely aware of the ephemeral nature of loyalty and so it astonished no one when a slow but painful wasting disease overcame his beloved mother. Whilst she lingered in aching madness none paid much attention to the wild accusations her troubled mind spewed forth. Most were relieved when she finally found peace in death's cool grasp.

It came as a bit of a surprise that Lien (best known now as "Lien the Mad" for his reputation was only to be outstripped by his youthful enthusiasm) declared that there would be a year of mourning for his mother the former Queen and Grand Matron of the court. His father's death had been honored with the customary month of mourning consisting of black armbands, lowered heraldry, and the cancellation of several Royal balls and parties.

The duration of this period of mourning was unusual enough but the conditions of its tenure were by any measure draconian. All civil affairs were suspended, courts were cancelled, and all construction ceased including many desperately needed repair projects. Work was forbidden and amusement doubly so. Farmer's fields lay fallow and people began to starve. Though there was little enough cause for it, any sign of laughter, song, or dance became capital offences. Women found to be with child were executed on the spot and their spouses impaled beyond the city walls. A veritable forest of stakes sprang up around the city and executions upon the thinnest of pretexts became commonplace. The stench of decaying bodies lay heavy on the breeze. Those who could afford to fled the madness with nary a backward glance.

When the year of mourning ended life attempted to return to normal but it was an uphill struggle. During that interminably long year of bereavement Lien had discovered something very important about himself.

While he had always had a flare for inflicting pain and misery on others he had now come to realize that he found inflicting excruciating pain upon comely young ladies terribly exciting. Nothing whetted the good king's appetites like the wails and whimpers of a winsome wench as she wiggled and writhed whilst a single tailed whip welted her youthful flesh. It was the most exciting sight Lien had ever experienced.

Unless of course one was to consider the sodden thwack of a leather encased cane as it beat out a rhythm upon sweaty bare breasts or buttocks of some luckless lass. This was always accompanied by a sharp intake of breath and that exquisite expression the young ladies made as their salty sweat mingled with the oozing blood seeping from those newly raised welts. That certainly stirred the royal scepter.

Then again one couldn't help but admire the crisp crackle of soft feminine flesh as a glowing iron sank slowly deeper. The heartening howls of anguish that accompanied such an occasion always filled his dark soul with glee.

It was all much more than any young King could resist; and why should he? He was after all, the King. Was not the kingdom placed at his disposal for his education and amusement? Yes when you're the King life is constantly presenting a plethora of provocative sights and sounds all seemingly designed just to entice and distract you from your life's other important tasks.

Lien began to collect peasant girls to play with. They were for the most part very compliant, certainly none dared complain, and a fair number of them survived his interest. Those lucky lasses were allowed to return home after entertaining him. He tended to keep them for a day or two. Rarely one would keep him amused for a week. If a daughter hadn't returned from the castle within a fortnight her parents knew there was no longer any reason to save her dowry.

Lien was a conscientious king. He knew that while he might be producing a fine crop of young bastards it was important that none of these wenches take it into her head that she or her whelp had earned some special favor with the King. This wasn't a problem in reality for he barely could tell one from the next, but he needed to maintain appearances so he tried to spread his attention as widely as possible. To insure there were no mistakes Lien always gave his departing playmates one final gift. All bore a royal crest seared into her right buttock, thigh, or breast. That way Lien could always be sure he never used the same wench twice. He was fussy that way.