The execution was scheduled for noon, and by eleven, three royal guards, two engineers, and the Minister of Justice were arguing over a wooden cabinet. Inside sat an elaborate collection of brass gears, chains, and levers, none of which appeared particularly cooperative. The kingdom’s executioner, Master Aldric, had fallen ill that morning, leaving behind a note that simply read, Under no circumstances touch the red handle.

“Have you tried the red handle?” asked the Minister, peering into the cabinet. He had been supervising the repairs for nearly an hour and was growing increasingly impatient. “Surely there must be a way to operate this blasted contraption without Aldric.”

“Master Aldric specifically forbade it, sir,” Lieutenant Brenn replied. He held up the note as evidence, although the Minister had already read it twice. “Perhaps we should postpone the execution until he recovers.”

“Absolutely not,” the Minister declared. “His Majesty has already announced the sentence, and half the city is gathered outside. We shall not disappoint the public over a mechanical inconvenience.”

From the prisoner's bench, Elias Thorne cleared his throat. His wrists were chained, although nobody had bothered securing his ankles. “That’s the release assembly, Your Excellency. If you pull the red handle before securing the counterweight, the entire frame will collapse.”

The Minister turned toward him with considerable irritation. Elias had been sitting quietly throughout the proceedings, occasionally shaking his head at the engineers’ efforts. “And how, exactly, would a convicted thief know anything about the Royal Instrument of Final Judgment?”

“I built it,” Elias answered. He nodded toward the ornamental brass lion mounted above the cabinet. “Designed it, too, although the lion was Aldric’s idea. Forty crowns for something that serves absolutely no purpose.”

Lieutenant Brenn stared at the apparatus, then at Elias. He remembered that the prisoner had once been employed at the palace, although the details of his dismissal had never been made public. “You mean to tell me we’re trying to execute the man who designed our execution equipment?”

“That does seem to be the situation,” Elias admitted. He leaned forward to examine what the younger engineer was doing. “And unless someone stops that gentleman from turning the winding assembly backward, you’ll shortly have a broken spring to contend with as well.”

Both engineers immediately withdrew their hands.

By half past eleven, Elias had been brought forward and his chains loosened sufficiently to permit movement. Under his direction, the engineers removed a decorative panel, corrected the winding mechanism, and discovered that someone had installed the locking pin upside down. Elias recognized the workmanship immediately and muttered something unflattering about Aldric’s enthusiasm for amateur repairs.

Lieutenant Brenn watched the prisoner patiently guide the younger engineer through another adjustment. Something about the situation had been troubling him since Elias first offered his assistance. “Forgive me for asking, Thorne, but why are you helping us? Doesn’t this speed up the process of your execution?”

“Certainly,” Elias replied, tightening a bolt. He handed the wrench back to the engineer and inspected the alignment of the primary gear. “But I spent eight months designing this machine, Lieutenant. I refuse to have my final professional achievement ruined by two men who apparently believe a bread knife is an acceptable engineering instrument.”

The younger engineer discreetly returned the offending knife to his pocket.

“Excellent,” the Minister announced, consulting his watch. He had grown considerably more cheerful since the repairs began. “Then we shall proceed at noon as planned. I trust there will be no further complications?”

“Actually, there is one,” Elias said, examining an empty bracket beneath the release assembly. He reached inside and tapped the mounting holes. “The safety interlock is missing, which means this machine cannot legally be operated.”

The Minister's expression darkened. He had endured quite enough legal complications for one morning. “We are conducting an execution, Thorne. I hardly think the condemned man's safety is our principal concern.”

“It isn't mine either,” Elias replied pleasantly. He withdrew his hand and folded his arms. “However, Article Seventeen of the Royal Engineering Charter prohibits operating Crown machinery without its designated safety mechanisms. Paragraph four specifically includes ceremonial installations.”

By noon, the charter had arrived and Elias had been proven correct. By twelve-fifteen, the royal solicitor had confirmed that proceeding would constitute criminal negligence. At twelve-thirty, the Minister learned that the only engineer licensed to certify the necessary repairs was Elias himself.

“Then reinstate his license!” the Minister demanded. His patience had finally deserted him, along with any remaining dignity. “Surely His Majesty can authorize a temporary reinstatement?”

“Certainly, Your Excellency,” the solicitor answered. He consulted the relevant regulations before closing his book. “The petition requires royal approval, three departmental signatures, and a hearing before the Engineering Council. I estimate four weeks.”

The Minister collapsed onto the prisoner's bench.

Lieutenant Brenn regarded Elias with newfound appreciation. The condemned man had spent the morning repairing the instrument intended to kill him, only to discover that the repairs themselves made his execution impossible. “Well, Thorne, it appears you've bought yourself another month. I suppose you'll be wanting breakfast tomorrow after all.”

“Perhaps,” Elias replied, studying the Minister. He had been waiting for an opportunity to raise a rather different matter. “Although His Majesty might prefer to pardon me once he learns where the missing treasury shipment actually went. I should very much like to explain why forty thousand crowns disappeared from the accounts three days before I was arrested.”

The Minister slowly raised his head.

Elias smiled.

“After all, Your Excellency, you're the one who signed the withdrawal.”