The Diablarist King

2 - An Alternative to Execution

ALEKSO

     Before me stands a man covered in heavy iron chains wrapped about his form. His hands are pinned to his sides and force his upper legs together while his ankles are hobbled. The guards who led him in act as though he is the most dangerous man in this whole castle. It was a pitiful sight to see him slide in to the room and then fall to his knees. Any traitor, I reason, should be treated like this, even if he's an old man who barely seems capable of committing such an act. His head is held high as one final act of defiance against me, and I have an urge to kick it in to the ground. The gall.

     "His name is Eldislav Hunter," Dungeon master Godric reads from his scroll. "He was found guilty of treason, and is sentenced to death by hanging."

     "He cost me a soldier in the Legio Mortis," Bishop Lambert stands to my left and folds his arms. He's a squirrely fellow, preferring to be around the dead than the living. He claims it brings him closer to God, but I know he has one foot in the pits of the underworld like I do. "He might be old but he is still fit due to his profession. I recommended we put his heart to the sword instead, and have him replace the soldier he took."

     The old man shakes his head. "Please, your highness, I have two young daughters..."

     "No, you have one." Godric replies as I start to pace in front of him. "Your eldest daughter, Josephine it says here, is dead, and your middle daughter is not your daughter at all. She is Edeva Delsor, and her real father is Henry the Usurper."

     Eldislav's face continues to follow me, and I resist the urge yet again to send my boot right in to his smug forehead.

     You are misreading him, but you should kick him anyway.

     I pause in my pacing and shut my eyes. Not now Kaz, I think at the demon. In the back of my head I hear a scoff and then look back down at Eldislav. Kaz has a point, I must admit. Though his head is held high, it isn't a look of defiance. There's a frightened, pleading expression in his eyes.

     "Eva became my daughter when I married her mother, your highness." he admits. "It was not an act of treason, it was an act of love. I fell in love with Winifred long before I knew she was Queen Winifred."

     Bullshit.

     "Bullshit," I snort. The three men, as well as the guards standing on either side of Eldislav, turn to me. "You knew who the queen was, and instead of turning her in, you kept her for yourself. Begging for mercy for the sake of your one surviving daughter? You should have thought of that all those years ago when they first stumbled to your doorstep in search of shelter or whatever happened."

     I waved my hand dismissively, and Eldislav frowned. "I was hunting in the woods for my supper, your highness, and I heard the soft cries of the little princess. She was only twelve, and her mother had twisted her ankle but she refused to leave her. I carried Winifred all the way back to my cabin."

     "How generous of you." Godric remarks. "And for that, you will die and leave your young daughter without a family." The guards pull Eldislav back to his feet and practically drag him out of the room, though he's strong enough even with all these chains to walk by himself. Godric, a tall svelte man, with his long hair braided behind him, leans against the doorway. He was dungeon master to both my father and Henry, and in reality cared not for why a law might be broken. He followed whoever was in power at the time, and I knew I could count on his loyalty to me. Eldislav's little fairy tale story was cute but would not sway Godric towards sneaking him out or trying to convince me to go easy on him.

     Commander Anselm, on the other hand, is a completely different story.

     In he strides, past the guards hauling Eldislav out, shoving aside Godric and Bishop Lambert as he approaches me. I fold my arms, only wondering what he'll say to me. He's always been a bit of a bleeding heart despite his bloody past and his prowess on the battlefield. I would say he is the angel on my shoulder, a counter to Kazaxon in my head. Kaz never likes to listen to him, since most of Anselm's suggestions aren't brutal or violent enough for his tastes.