Staring at Death

Marek looked at the masses in front of the stage, took a deep breath and raised his hands to silence them.

A few moments later the noises quieted around him, and so he opened his statement.

"Citizens of Landow, for some time the settlements around the Fabious river who relied upon it for their trade had suffered at the hands of bandit attacks. They have sunk ships, killed crews, and raided caravans."

Upon this, the people shouted in indignity.

"Today, you all know that My father, the Marquis of Landow, along with myself and my brother as well as the brave personal guards had ridden out and successfully brought them to heel."

This time the crowd cheered. Marek turned and pointed to the shackled prisoner and voiced.

"This is the surviving leader of said bandits, this is one of those that planned and gave the order to attack. Good people of Landow, she had been brought before you here, so what say you of here fate?"

"Hang Her!" shouted someone from the crowds.

"Yes, she must die for her actions." Someone soon followed suit.

Soon the people started to shout chaotically for her death, to the point that all other noises were completely overpowered.

William looked at all of this, very surprised at how worked up the people had become.

'I have to give it to him, he's not bad at this whole speech thing. I mean, if we disregard stage fright, I could definitely give a better speech, though that would be because of the countless movies and history books I know of. So good job to you muscle head.' William thought, he was never going to tell him this out loud, but he could permit himself to give him some credit in his head.

After the people quieted down a little after a couple of minutes, Marek turned toward the prisoner and spoke.

"You have been sentenced by the Marquis to death, now the people have spoken and sentenced you to the same fate, therefore by the authority given to me by the Lord of Landow I Marek, son of Ulric shall follow their will. Do you have any last words woman?"

At his question, a guard went ahead and ungagging the prisoner, who by now looked terrified. As soon as he did so, she shouted.

"Please, I only followed orders, I did not kill with my own hands, please forgive me, please..." Before she could go on Marek gave the guard a signal, and he gagged her once more and spoke.

"It is too late to regret or ask for forgiveness. You took up arms against the lords, contributed in the planning of the looting and destruction of merchant convoys and caravans by your men. Now you will suffer the consequences of these actions."

At this Marek once more gave a signal and a few soldiers headed for the prisoner; one was fixing the noose around her neck, while another was unshackling her from the chains around her legs that were linked to a wooden pillar.

She struggled hard throughout this process, but it was to no avail; she was in a terrible condition, with scars plastered all over her body, an obvious sign of torture, probably to extract information. On top of this, she looked weak and malnourished; so combined, this made for a very weak and ineffective struggle overall.

Soon everything was set, the people became so quiet that everything seemed to be still. Like the calm before the storm, as all waited with anticipation for the final moment.

William too looked on, not really with anticipation, but more so just feeling stressed for some reason.

Marek lifted his hand up among the complete quiet, broken only by the muffled screams of the prisoner, who by now had tears running down her cheeks.

Then Marek dropped his hand, giving the signal for a trap door to be opened under the prisoner as she fell.

At this moment, as if time once more proceeded as normal, the stillness was shattered by the cheering of the crowds, watching as the prisoner struggled and choked, flailing around only for the noose to tighten further around her neck as the air and even blood was barred passage.

William looked on, at this; he looked on at this image that displayed so clear a contradiction, that he doubted he had seen something like it before.

He looked on as on one side people cheered full of vigor and energy; he looked on as they watched with joy or sometimes anger and hatred at the stage.

While what looked back at them, was a being that struggled with as much if not more energy, not in joy but in fear, they struggled to live as everything in their body became alive, as every cell expended all energy at this moment of life and death.

But alas, the flesh could only endure so much, and so the struggles slowly abated, as the fear intensified, and with it came hatred; hatred for the end of life.

He could see it all in their eyes, all of them, all their emotions, their desires, at that moment he could see in such clarity, such transparency.

His mind told him that this was justice; this was normal, and he agreed with it. He had not the will nor the energy to care to change any of this or think of the morality behind it much further.

Yet looking at the prisoner, as her struggles drew weaker, as her tears streaked down, he could not look away, she slowly and in front of his eyes faded to nothing. And so he felt some sympathy.

The crowd silenced by his subconscious mind, he stared, as the last light faded from her eyes, as her limbs and fingers ceased their movements, he found himself staring at a corpse.

A corps that stated back, empty, a husk left in this world to rot away and could not help but wonder. "What had she thought and experienced in her final moments? what was it like to see countless people cheer at your pain and suffering? what did she think about as her consciousness became muddy and unclear?"

He looked on at the corp's still open eyes as they lifelessly stared at the crowds, then turned around and quietly left.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

That afternoon, the castle district, William's personal chamber.

William looked on from his balcony at the city; the sight was beautiful as always, as the sun drew nearer to the horizon, painting the rivers a golden hue.

He looked on at this deceiving allure, this surface beauty, and wondered.

'How many will I witness? How many will I watch die in front of me while in these strange yet familiar lands? and finally, will I too find myself in that same place? Observing strangers looking at me as life slowly left my grasp.'

He looked on at the city, and by greater extension the world; this world that was no doubt full of wonders, yet, oh so filled with danger and understood.

He was not ready, not ready mentally; he judged things as he did back on earth, he needed to learn to take care of himself, and for that, he will need to learn to take a life first, otherwise one day someone will no doubt take his.