A Life of Dreams

Chapter One: An Execution of Necessity

The drums rolled as the young man named Siveo was walked up the wooden steps. The masked man standing at the top of the platforms eyes bored into him as he made his way slowly through the jeering crowd. He hesitated for a moment, prying his eyes from the man to look at a little girl in the crowd to the right. The cold wind blew her rich blonde hair across her face; covering her slight childish grin. Her big blue eyes seemed not so different from the man in blacks. Both full of anticipation and despising him for what he was... a criminal condemned to death for everyone to see.

A screaming woman pulled the child away from the sight of the young man just as he was shoved on up the stairs by one of the guards. The ropes that held his hands dug into his wrists even more as he was jerked around by another guard at his side.

At the top of the stairs the masked man grabbed him by the arm, almost gently, leading him to the front of the platform. He felt as if he were walking through a foot of mud. His legs more reluctant to move with each step he took closer to the center of the platform. A deep, muffled voice boomed from under the mask for all to hear “Know now, that I do what I do, in the name of justice and the gods. Not out of pleasure or for my own personal enjoyment.”

Siveo stifled a smile at that last part. He could imagine the man smile under that mask as he said it. Hundreds of executions and “examples” each year had to mean that whoever carried out these perverse orders day by day were sick in the mind.

“You have been sentenced to death by beheading by the Queen of Balaria for high treason and the attempted murder of a captain of the royal guard of Balaria...” His words trailed off amidst the shouting and cursing at him from the mass of people that had gathered to watch the event take place.

“This is so wrong.” Siveo thought to himself. Last week he was in the royal guard, a no name foot soldier, but still a serving soldier to the throne, loyal and honest. Just a man trying to make his way in this world. Now, he had been sentenced to death for events that were out of his control entirely. And on top of all that...

He felt a hand touch the back of his neck as a bag was being placed over his head.

“Wait!” he yelled. “I didn’t do anything! Roth! Brother! Tell them! I’m innocent!”

The young mans muffled voice faded into the jeering of the crowd as his head was shoved down into the wooden groove on the large chopping block at the front of the stage. The masked man swung the top of the block down locking the man’s head into position. A priest came up the platform and began making prayers to the gods.

“In your hands we deliver this vile spirit. Arthos, Yaeroth, and Nasbit, do with it as you see just. Cleanse our lands of its evil, and our hands of its death, make his transgression...” the priest carried on for a few minutes then pulled a small knife from a fold in his robe and made a small prick on his finger. He squeezed from the bottom to the tip of his finger until a large bead of blood dripped down. He made a series of marks on the back of the young mans neck with the blood from his finger. The executioner walked over and kneeled in front of the priest bowing his head to the ground, exposing the back of his neck. The priest, again made a series of swirls, dots, and lines on his neck, then walked off of the platform and into the crowd.

The drums began pounding vigorously now. The masked man rose as a guard handed him a huge wide bladed axe. He checked the blade for sharpness with his finger. Then moved towards Siveo. In one fluid motion the man strode stealthily nearer. The closer he got to him the faster he seemed to be moving. He began to twirl the giant two-handed axe to his side, making swirling and swooping motions above his head, picking up speed all the while, moving faster, and faster and faster. The axe began to sing a faint song as it sliced through the air overhead over and over. The drums abruptly stopped and was replaced for that long second with the whir of the axe. A small turn and jump and the axe came down with a metal to metal sound as it sprayed blood, slicing through the neck of the condemned criminal.

Cheers, whoops, and even screams went out all along the crowd in front of Roth at the thrill of the kill. But Roth’s eyes were fixed on the basket that lay in front of the headless man in the block. Small tears began to trickle down the handsome man’s face. A hand softly grabbed his forearm.

“Are you ok Master Roth?”

“Yes... I am fine Lord Damerol.” Roth quickly composed himself into the former man that Damerol had always known, then added “It’s been a long day councilman, I believe it’s time to go home. Pascal!”

A large lad of about 18 appeared at his
side “Yes Lord?”

“Pascal, fetch the horses, I want to be home before nightfall,” he gave a tired sigh “and see to it that Arruse woman and her family get paid for their hospitality. Tell them they are welcome to call on my services at any time.” He forced his still charming smile and put his hand on Pascal’s shoulder “They’re friends of Lord Roth now, they don’t need to worry about a thing. Tell them to just ask, and it’s as good as done.”

“Certainly sir.”

The young man hurried off as Roth turned to address Damerol. “I will be calling upon you shortly I think Lord Damerol.” he paused for a moment looking at the fine lion crest on Damerol’s blouse, deep in thought he turned and looked into the old councilman’s eyes “yes indeed, there are matters I wish to go over with you. Namely advice from a wise man who has seen much and knows more.” Roth winked and was returned with a smile from the man.

“As you wish Lord Roth. I’ll leave you now, and... I am truly sorry for the loss of your brother.”

“Yes.” He answered as he looked back up towards the platform.

The crowd of people were quickly dispersing and he had a clear view of the corpse that lay still kneeling, headless, on the block. He stared for what seemed like hours then slowly turned his head to look up at the royal palace. From a large window in one of the balconies he could see the queen looking out over the remnants of the proceeding. He glared with all the rage he could muster as she cooly watched from high up in her palace. High enough to be safe from the poverty and corruption that she was spreading.

“Sir, the horses are... what’s the matter mi’lord?” Pascal followed his eyes to where Roth was glaring. “Don’t worry Sir, I’m sure you’ll think of some way to make her pay.”

The tall lord looked down on his young squire with his beautiful piercing blue eyes. Then gave a weak, yet confident smile “Of course I will master Pascal, of course we will.”

The young man swelled with pride at being called master Pascal. “In whatever way you need them, my services are yours, even to the death Lord Roth.”

Roth smiled again at his young pupil “Come Pascal, remember? Before dark.” He raised his eyebrows at the lad as they turned to the stables.