It is a sad and little-mentioned truth of absolute monarchy that the royal ruler will always have enemies. There will always be political opponents, religious heretics, personal foes and just people who think they could do your job better than you. And all monarchs know that the only sensible response to these people is to do it to them before they do it to you. The alternative, after all, is being a head shorter at the end of one’s reign than one was at the start of it.
The High Kings of Norch Canurg, an ante-deluvian realm little known whose very name is almost entirely lost in the mists of time, were the kind of rulers who preferred to decapitate first and ask questions not at all. But so much as the public enjoys public executions, no one much enjoys mass graves of those who have offended the king. (Goths had not been invented in the age of Norch Canurg, although there were a few necromancers.)
The kings of Norch Canurg therefore commanded that, although the beheadings and other more inventive executions would continue to be held on a high bluff overlooking the River of Merriment (which formed the eastern boundary of the Forking Realm), the corpses of the criminals, miscreants, traitors and innocent victims thus generated must be buried elsewhere. Thus it was that a trusty corps of gravesmen would carefully smuggle the bodies in closed wagons several miles to the east, across the river that came to be named for the king’s name for the mass grave, the Dire Bin. But the Royal House of Norch Canurg declined and died out long years before the realm itself did, and so it was the name given to the area by the gravesmen that would stick: forever after, it would be known as the King’s Burying.
Suburbs near Kingsbury: