Awaiting Gallows

April 25th 1722 - Entry 3

After leaving my burned husk of a former home behind, I went to the next place I was familiar with. The local pub. But I wasn't there for the normal reasons. I wasn't interested in drinking myself senseless, or even drinking at all. I had a score to settle. The Fletchers.

Now, of course, I had no real indication that they were headed to the pub, but they were as regular there as I was, and therefore they would come here to celebrate. Jack offered me my usual, but I waved him off. I got a few incredulous looks from the peanut gallery surrounding me. I didn't order anything. I didn't sit down with one of the whores that occupied the booths in the back. I just sat down at the bar. For people who recognised me, and knew my routine, I appeared to be acting very peculiar. 

Little it was to their knowledge, I was actually being very meticulous in that moment. WIth everyone so drunk, nobody noticed the hand reaching behind the bar, to the longsword that Jack kept there for emergencies. When I heard a carriage stop, and some loud voices shouting and laughing, I knew it was time. I unleashed the sword from its sheath with a satisfying sound that struck fear and sobriety into everyone present as they gazed down the blade that was shimmering in the dim light.

I didn't give anyone a chance to cry out. I gave nobody the opportunity to warn the three men I knew were going to enter. I took the distance between myself and the door in three strides, and without hesitating, drove the sword through the door, splintering the wood as it went. I heard it strike something, and I heard a gurgling sound from outside. I pulled the sword back through. It was coated in a sticky, thick red film. I never turned the door handle. I didn't need to. I must have looked inhuman as I kicked down the door, right off its bronze hinges.

Julius' corpse was lying there, now covered by the door. I stepped over him, hearing a few satisfying crunches as my weight and the door's combined crushed some of his bones. Bruce and Don Fletcher had apparently wasted no time in making their getaway. The fat bastards were already haring their way away, a good twenty metres away already. I cursed as I began to give chase. They had a head start, but I was faster and I knew it.

After a few minutes of running, the two men had already begun to tire, and I was gaining on them rapidly. Then Don caught up with Bruce and shouted, "Father! Help me!"

And you know what he did? You know what that son of a whore did? He pushed Don, his own son, down into the dirt towards me. Maybe in an attempt to preoccupy me, maybe in an attempt to trip me, I will never know. Because neither happened. It occurred to me that there was a chance, however slim, that Don Fletcher had not been there. There was a chance that he was an innocent in all this. Then I remembered the girl from that day. I ran him through anyway.

Up ahead, Bruce Fletcher had ducked behind a barn and was out of sight. I occurred to me to just keep going and chase him more. Then I thought smart. Bruce wasn't exactly an honorable one, oh no. He would try anything to save his own skin. The business with Don from before was proof enough of that.

I circled around the other side of the barn, and sure enough, there the bastard was. Waiting, knife in hand, at the corner of the barn with his back to me. I knew I couldn't afford to hesitate, so In a few running leaps I reached him. He turned and saw me but it was much too late. In one quick movement I disarmed him. Quite literally. I cut his arms off.

He howled in pain and crumpled to the ground. Then he looked up at me in a pleading manner. The bastard. He had no problem burning down my farm, but now, as he gets what was coming for him, he asks forgiveness. I raised my sword, and then he struck.

It was fast. Faster than I would have thought he would be able to move in his state, but he still pulled it off. He launched himself upwards and hit my jaw with his forehead. The sword flew out of my hand, and I fell to the ground. My head struck something hard, and started to black out. The last thing I saw was Bruce Fletcher crumpling to the ground next to me.

When I woke up, I was on the Cesare.