Corruption Rent: Day 9

Word Count: 60,004

Summary of Events:
Chapter 19:
Étienne spent the day hanging off a post — the hanging part of hung and flogged — and Agathe wanted to comfort him. Being as she couldn't think of words to say she decided to sing. Étienne enjoyed the music, but worried about what was going on with his comrades for a bit before choosing to think about more pleasant memories.
Chapter 20:
Le Suides returned from their day of combat and immediately after supper gathered to braid the 56 tail whip with which Étienne would be flogged. Once the whip was braided they had a bit of a hot discussion with Étienne about the war before all the men spit on, slapped, mocked, and derided Étienne who, in the dark afterwards began to think about his upcoming punishment and how in spite of it the murder of those three men had not eased the pain of Jacinthe's death, as Agathe had tried to tell him it wouldn't.

Excerpt of the Day:
"Mademoiselle d'Enclume was right. He'd believed that maybe Jacinthe could be brought back by the deaths of enough of Le Suides. Étienne felt like such a fool. He felt worthless.
Tears flowed down his face as the agony and guilt rolled over him at what he'd done, and he couldn't think of any reason for having done it. Why had he done it? Because he'd been hurting due to Jacinthe's death. Had it helped? No. But what could he do now that he'd done it? Suffer, it seemed. Or maybe die.
The general had said that there was the distinct possibility Étienne wouldn't survive the flogging, and if he did survive that there would be similarly small chances of him surviving and recovering from the injuries. It would be — he was sure — highly unlikely that he would survive this flogging.
Granted, it was not the way Étienne had pictured his life ending: heirless, widowed, disgraced, having murdered three men with malice aforethought and a sensation of pleasure during the act, but at least he wouldn't have to suffer the agony of life alone and full of regret for his actions, the wretched things he'd done in his blind pain.
Étienne sighed. There was nothing like this agony, and he didn't even fully understand it. He wished he could get off this post and go to the wagon and talk with Mademoiselle d'Enclume, or if somehow he could wake her even from where he was and talk with her, but it was late now.
Mademoiselle d'Enclume — for having been born and raised in a somewhat isolated and inhospitable region — seemed wise beyond her years — which certainly weren't much more than half his own — and she seemed to have a comforting presence about her, she had confidence in something, something that had never failed her.
It was almost as if she were a mother, kind and loving, and yet also knowledgable about what people in need required. Even if it was that they didn't know they needed it. She seemed to have an incredible intuition, that was why she'd persistently challenged him about his motive, about what he was doing, she'd been trying to show him what he was doing, and only mow had he seen it.
Étienne felt horrible, never had he felt more wretched in his life. Even though his father hadn't seen much of him, obviously his father had seen more than he'd seen, his father had seen what kind of a horrible man he'd turn into, and how he would shame and dishonour the de Versant name. How much of a fool he would be. How worthless he really and truly was. Even if he could bend bronze, he had no honour, and honour mattered more."