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The petition determining Ward’s fate lasts exactly one week.
One of the townsfolk had presented the idea, entreating for your signature on their proposal. When you glanced at the paper, you laughed; written at the top was the simple and informal bid: “Kick Ward out of Macabria”.
Below, the two options for the poll were the dichotomous “SIGNED!” and “spare him”.
You had expressed plenty ire before, both in private and in public, for the man who somehow weaseled his way into a position in your castle. Several chance meetings in the masquerade somehow gave him the impression that he could take up residence with the rest of your lovers. His arrogance bemused you, and yet his insistence upon his prestigious family and societal importance gave you pause on immediately evicting him. With much grander issues on your mind, you settled for offering him the least attention out of everyone and only indulging him with your presence on the random occasion that you encounter him. Beyond that, you bequeathed him no gifts, and found yourself deeply annoyed each time you and him crossed paths.
It took absolutely no thinking for you to sign in favor of the petition. There was no second thought after signing, not only because there was no first thought, but because you would not reconsider no matter how much you thought it through. Why would you? He was a nuisance at best. If you could take a collectivist approach to this, nobody could besmirch you as an autocrat (although, you admittedly are one), and the town would be rid of a good-for-nothing nepo baby. And you wouldn’t have to go on strange, unwanted dates anymore. Seriously, what the fuck is his deal with sand and pickles?
It wasn’t the kindest of decisions, but you did add to the petition that if it received a certain amount of signatures, you would kill Ward instead. Has your time as Lord Protector calloused you to the sanctity of life? Or did you always have a streak of cruelty? Regardless, you wrote it in with amusement. It was not the time to whinge over loss of morality.
Now, petition in hand, you smile. The overwhelming amount of supporting signatures gives you all the permission you need for what you’re about to do. You’ve summoned your inner circle and the signers to the Riverside where you are holding the proceedings.
Ward stands before you. Despite the circumstances, his haughty demeanor remains in place—smug, disinterested look on his face, legs crossed in a casual confidence, and gilded phone still in hand.
“Ward,” you address him.
He meets your gaze. “Can we get this over with quickly? I have a business brunch with my father in an hour.”
You don’t restrain your laugh. “Business? We both know you don’t actually contribute anything to your father’s company.”
“I’m a valued board member,” he argues, “I get a vote and everything. Anyways, it’s not about that. I need money for a startup.”
You raise your eyebrows. This is the first you’ve heard of any actual personal initiative. From all the times he’s gabbed about his “important role in the company”, you’ve never once been given the impression that his father is doing anything more than the equivalent of handing him an unplugged controller and letting him go wild with the buttons.
“You have a startup?” you doubt.
“I have concepts of a startup,” he says, “I just need a small loan of a few million dollars. I’ll work the details out later.”
You tilt your head. Not an ounce of self-awareness in his whole body. Beside you, Carmilla sighs and takes a sip of her wine.
You decide to redirect the conversation. “You do know why you’re here, don’t you, Ward?”
He looks around. “Looks like you want to go public, right? I wish you’d let me talk to my family first. They’re going to freak about me getting with someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” you echo. Your voice takes on a dark quality, vibrating the air with an ancient power. “Someone like me? I AM THE LORD PROTECTOR. WHAT DO YOU MEAN I’M NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOUR FAMILY?”
He winces, leaning back as your words resound across the plaza with an effect you recently unlocked. The crowd is completely silent, hundreds of onlookers staring at Ward with shock and judgment.
Straightening back up, he tries to play it off. “I just mean you’re lucky to even be dating me.”
This really makes you laugh. “See this?” you say, holding up the petition. “You know what this is?”
Finally, he begins to look perturbed, but still attempts to be evasive. “Your mail-in ballot?”
“It’s your fate,” you reply. “Look around you. All these people signed this poll: will you be exiled from Macabria, or will you be allowed to stay?”
“Oh, come on,” Ward scoffs, “everybody loves me. Do you even know who my family is?”
“Everyone knows who your family is. And everybody knows who you are. That should make this next truth sting the most. You didn’t get one single vote opting to spare you.”
He looks at you dumbly. “What?”
“Not. A. Single. Vote.”
“That’s not possible,” he says, outrage creeping in. “You mean nobody here sided with me?”
Ward glances around at the people beside you. “Carmilla,” he settles on, “you’ve liked my family for decades.”
Carmilla examines one perfectly pointy fingernail. “Tolerated, perhaps.”
He turns to Raven. “Come on, Raven. We go way back. I let you come to my parties. At least once. Probably once. I’m pretty sure I invited you… at least once.”
Raven, for once, looks positively delighted to be interacting with Ward. “I signed for your death, actually. Actively campaigned for enough signatures to kill you. Sadly, we didn’t quite make the bar.”
Ward turns back to you, an appropriate expression of panic on his face. “You wanted to kill me?”
You shrug. “If in the will of the people.”
Horrified, he turns to Alexis. “You’re the nice one. You have to like me.”
Alexis grimaces. “Sorry, Ward. I’d say it’s not personal, but, it kind of is. The love of my life hates you and wants you gone. I’m with them.”
Dismayed, Ward cries out, “Is there anyone who doesn’t want to kill me here?”
Further to the side, Mitchell speaks out. He has a look of deep concern on his face, eyes shining with compassion. “I don’t.”
Ward looks to him with hope, but Mitchell cuts him off before he can reply. “I abstained from the poll. I don’t think you should stay either; but I don’t want to hurt you… and signing it would bring you closer to death.”
Shoulders slumping, Ward seems finally resigned. “So, what? You’re banishing me?”
“You’ve brought it on yourself,” you tell him soberly. “You’re the most pretentious, condescending, incompetent, self-unaware, pampered socialite I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. You moved into my castle despite my many attempts to refuse you, and have completely crossed over every boundary I’ve set with you. With the unanimous approval of the people of this kingdom, I hereby exile you from Macabria.”
“You can’t do that! My father will have something to say about this!”
You look at him flatly. “Your father can’t do anything to stop this. There’s a car waiting at the new highway connecting to the outside world. My dear wolves will escort you to the edge, and you will leave the city never to return. If you make an attempt to escape, they will chase you out; if you attempt to come back, they have full authority to rip you apart.”
At your words, Rollo, Runa, and Bas appear beside Ward. They stand menacingly over him, and whatever protest was forming in his throat seems to die out.
You look at Rollo. “Are you ready?”
He flashes his teeth in a wolfish grin. “Full moon tonight. Been looking forward to it.”
“Runa?” you ask.
She offers a similar, hungry sort of smile. “I do enjoy a chase.”
“And Bas?”
He gives you a subtler smirk, but there’s a devious light in his eyes. “There’s a bad moon rising… just say the word.”
You turn to Ward. “You heard them. I don’t think you want to find out what happens if you try to flee.”
His mouth twists into a furious snarl. “How dare you! You were lucky. Lucky! To date me! Lucky!!!”
Rollo grabs his arm, strong hand wrapping around Ward’s bicep. “Yeah, yeah. Keep whining. It won’t save you.”
When Ward tries to struggle, Runa takes his other arm. “Hush. You are embarrassing yourself. Stop while you still have some dignity.”
Bas chuckles, trailing behind as they drag him forward. “I think he’s past that point, Runa.”
Ward continues to yell, even as the crowd parts and the werewolves take him out of view. “Lucky!!! You were lucky!!! My father will hear about this!!! You were ugly anyways!!! You!!! Were!!! Luckyyyyyyyyyyy!!!”
Soon enough he’s out of earshot. Everyone looks around at each other, and then bursts out laughing. Even Carmilla lets out a low titter, swirling around her wine glass and then sipping it with a satisfied smile.
“I always loathed him,” she admits.
“For the record,” Raven says, “he never invited me to a party. I crashed one and put anchovies in his curtain rods while they were all passed out and hungover. I hear it took months to find the source of the rotting.”
“Oh my God, Raven,” Alexis says, wheezing, “you’re evil. Never let me get on your bad side!” And then he pauses to consider. “Again. Never let me get on your bad side again. We’re good, right?”
He looks slightly uneasy, but Raven gives him a comforting pat on the shoulder with a not-so-comforting smirk. “Don’t you worry, Alexis. We’re all good.”
Once the laughter dies down, you turn to the crowd. “Good work, everyone! We couldn’t have done it without you!”
They all erupt into cheers.
Carmilla raises an eyebrow. “We only needed one signature to get it done.”
“For banishment,” Raven corrects, “we needed a lot more for the execution. Ah, well. Maybe he’ll try to run and Runa will tear his leg off.”
“Would she do that?” Alexis asks you.
“She can do what she wants,” you reply nonchalantly, “I don’t care what happens to him as long as they get him out.”
“Fair enough,” he concedes.
“Maybe I’ll follow them,” Raven muses. “I’d like to see some blood tonight.”
“No, no,” you stop him, “I’ve seen enough of Ward for a lifetime. Let’s not waste anymore time on him. There’s blood at the castle; how ‘bout we all go back to celebrate?”
“Fine with me,” Carmilla agrees, taking another sip from her glass.
“Me too,” Alexis says, “wait, not the blood, though—you’ve got something for me, right?”
“I’ve got something for everybody,” you reply, then raise your voice. “Mitchell, you coming with us?”
He’s been hanging back a bit, but comes forward. “I’ll go anywhere with you.”
Always so sweet and serious. He’s the only one that didn’t sign out of concern for Ward. Even though you had no such reservations, his unrelenting mercy towards even those that don’t deserve it warms your heart.
“Forward, then,” you say, then smile slyly… “or should I say, not-for-Ward?”
“Babe, that was terrible,” Alexis groans.
“Hey,” you complain. “You come up with something better.”
“Hmm,” Raven hums. “You were onward… and now you’re off Ward?”
“Better,” you admit.
“No, wait I’ve got it,” Alexis rushes. “You were forward. But then you leftward.”
“Ohh, pretty good,” you cede, Raven also offering a noise of assent.
“Alright, stop,” Carmilla says. “No more puns. They’re… untoward.”
That takes everyone by surprise—and you laugh all the way back to the castle. Life feels lighter knowing Ward won’t be in it. It’ll be a lot harder for him, but, well—this isn’t about him. You and Macabria will be better off. That’s all that matters.