Stories from Terravale #1: The execution of Cecilia.

"Why did she do it?"

The tautness of the ropes etches a reddened itch on her bound wrists and ankles.

"How far the mighty have fallen!"

A black cloth binds her eyes, shrouding everything in darkness.

"I heard they caught the wrong person; the actual leader is still on the loose."

The wretched smell assaults her bruised nose, causing it to twitch slightly.

"I knew it, I just knew that harlot would finally get caught."

The cacophony deafens her ears as their cries reach the skies.

"The empire has gone to hell if they let someone like that live."

Her knees ache from kneeling on rough stone, the weight of her feeble body threatening to break her pale skin open.

"Betrayer! Liar! Murderer!"

Her throat runs dry as the sun's scorching rays bear down heavily on the open yard.

"Kill her!"

Her body twitches uncontrollably, legs numbing by the second.

"Hang her!"

"Silence! Silence by the authority of the emperor!" A baretone, authoritative voice sliced through the din, as voices start to gradually quiet one by one. Their hungry eyes lay still on the two figures—one thin and scrawny, standing beside a kneeling woman. Her eyes are bound by a black cloth, her legs and wrists tied behind her back, both shrouded by six guards armed to the teeth.

"Ugh!" My canvas falls over as a staunching man pushes me forward, his sweat falling from his forehead, breath coming in gasps as he looks with eyes filled with unbounded rage at the kneeling woman. I slowly bend as I pick it up, a half-done sketch of the kneeling bound woman half drawn lay there, her slumped shoulders ever so weak.

Cough! Cough!

My eyes quickly follow the sound as the thin man adjusts his necktie, his pale complexion telling of his noble lineage. He gives the hungry mob a gloss over before he starts speaking.

"Citizens," the man began, his voice tight with restrained emotion, "witness today the dispensation of justice, divine and final." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "As you know, our brave army dealt a crippling blow to the rebel scum, capturing their... devil!" He spat the final word onto the ground, igniting a fresh roar from the crowd.

"Kill her!" 

"Long live the emperor! Long live the emperor!"

"Serves her right!"

I find myself getting pushed ever so forward; the reeking smell of sweat and grime chokes the air as I try to hold onto my stuff. The woman remained stoic, a solitary island in the tempest of hatred. The armed guards, silent sentinels, held their spears high, reflecting the sun's glare like a wall of cold light.

The thin man lips pressed together in a slight grimace, his dark eyes falling over the kneeling woman, before his head picks up again.

"Silence!" This time it only took a word before the crowd fully quieted down. The man continues, his pitch now carries a hesitant tone to it. 

"This woman, my dear citizens, Cecilia Qwasalires, led the damned rebels for 4 years, ravaging your farmlands! Burning your houses!" The mob wails and cries with each sentence, as the man's fervor echoes through. "Killing your children!"

Ugh.

The portly man who pushed me earlier snarls, veins popping in his forehead, his eyes almost painted blood from rage, as slow tears fall from his eyes, his gaze never leaving the woman.

"But no more!" The man draws a heavy breath, as his skinny hand slowly falls on a sheath strapped to his wrist. "Today justice shall be handed, today retribution shall see blood on my holy sword."

Shing!

He drew a heavy sword, the metal singing its deadly song as he unsheathed it. The crowd held its breath, anticipation crackling in the air.

"Today, by the name of the Emperor of the holy cantour," The shining sword slowly draws to a stop above the kneeling woman's neck, before stopping mere inches away. "I shall execute the former princess, Cecilia Qwasalires." 

"Any last words, princess?" The man says, his voice quivering ever so slightly. The woman didn't react, as if a sword that could cut her head like it was butter didn't stand above, as if a feral crowd that would rip her apart and drink her blood didn't surround, as if she was all alone.

Just as I was thinking the silence will never end, her previously slumped shoulders rose up, as her head slowly lifting up, the man's sword gently followed her movement upwards, as the sword wavered in his grip. As she looks up to the sky, the black cloth still binding her eyes, the dirt on her face, the dried patches of blood, and still her delicate features almost like a doll appear beneath.

She draws a deep breath before her cracked ruby lips open up.

"...You did good." Barely a whisper i doubt anyone could hear it over this, and yet i did.

The man slowly held his sword high right above his shoulder, as his face flickers for a second, his posture stoops, and his eyes grow dull. If I didn't know better, and I should've known better, as if a shadow of unfathomable sadness has possessed the man, as he takes a hesitant step back, before his hand tightens on his sword handle once again, His arm whipped forward, the sword descending with the speed of a viper. 

Thud.

Her head dropped to the cobblestone, as blood poured slowly from the stump, her body losing all its strength slowly fell forward. The man stood still, his face obscured from me as he slowly sheathes his now bloodied sword, his bony hand slowly lifts up, as three fingers swipe through the air, tracing the beheaded woman's body as it starts to light up in fire, and like thunder crackling the crowd goes into an uproar.

"Hahaha finally! Finally, we can have peace!" 

"The devil is gone, it's gone!" 

The man beside me started to moan, as he knelt on his knees with a painful thud, tears start falling from his reddened eyes as he hugs a makeshift necklace.

My gaze travels toward the thin man who carried out this justice, his figure so alone despite the heavy noise, so slumped and weak, despite him just single-handedly killing the leader of a massive rebellion. As he slowly lifts his head up, his dark eyes fall onto mine, and I find rage behind them, an uncontrollable wrath, but most prominently an unfathomable pool of sadness, but why?.

"Grandfather?" A young voice pulls me from my stupor, as I grasp for air, a paper falls from clenched hands.

The child in front of me quickly picks it up, as her confused eyes go over its content, before they light up. "This is Cecilia!" Her cheery voice can't help but slowly pull my lips into a smile, as she starts to jump excitedly. "By the saints! did you meet her? did you know her?"

My body creaks as I pull myself up from my chair, and I gently pet her head; she smiles brightly at me as she hands me the drawing, her eyes full of questions.  "No, I haven't met her; I've just seen her from afar," My hands stash away the drawing in a book, with practice ease. 

"Oh okay, by the way, an old man has come to see you; he's by the door, he called himself Albam" The child quickly chirps. "Albaz?" My voice comes hurriedly, as my heavy legs start fidgeting, as she confusedly nods.

"Be a good girl and invite the man to the guest house; tell him I'll see him in a minute." The child sweetly smiles, and and hurriedly leaves the room, as the silence reigns over me once more, leaving me defenseless to my thoughts.

The empire has fallen exactly three years after her execution, hasn't it? A massive coup led by the same man who killed her, as he beheaded the emperor and established the democracy as it currently is.

I weakly pick up a warm coat and my sturdy cane, as my gaze unconsciously travels to the paper I slipped into the book, one of its corners still showing. That man ousted himself as the true leader of the rebellion one year into the new regime and naming his deceased wife a hero of the republic.

A chuckle slips out of me as I shake my head and leave the room. Just when you think you finally had a grasp over fate, it suddenly pulls the rug right under your feet. The same people who condemned her, the same people who watched her burn, the same...now call her a hero. 

I pulled into a stop as i draw a cold breath, i wonder if it was worth it. The answer, like the woman's last words, remains lost in the wind, as i start walking again, the eyes of that man never leaving my mind.