The Shadow of the Accursed Executioner

Chapter 5: The Black Executioner

Earlier...

Living away from the Capital, and the people who despise me for the job I do for the king. For all it were to take is one look. A sight, then to cower away with tears down their chins or provoked into hatred, as I continue execute the next member of yet again another family for the sake of high justice. But living away from the Capital, to live away in a cottage, with Floria and Ayu, will keep them safe.
My family-safe, from the bitterness, the hatred, the citizens hold against me. As Floria continues to cook by the fire of the hearth and Ayu frolicking outside by the boat, as she continues to catch wild insects with an old jar.
"So, have you heard of the rumours lately?"
"No." I replied, piercing the meat, a stew of Floria's cooking.
"They're calling it...an affliction."
"Like a sickness?" I said, chewing away.
"No." She replied, now sitting beside me, nudging her hips beside mine, and wrapping her slender arms around my armoured bicep, as she brought her lips beside my ear with a breath to smell of sweet berries. "...A spell-" She hissed.
"That is a load of shit" I replied, now shuffling away, though only a little.
"A spell which affects peoples' bodies. 'To lose purpose and existence', they say."
"And you believe that?"
"Of course not." She replied joyfully.
As Floria continues to watch me gulp down the remains of her tender stew, the juices streaking down my chin. As now I clapped a clean bowl against the table as she leans with her head against my shoulder, to stare through the cottage window with a dreaming gaze, as rays of the sun continue to beam through the slits of our home.
"How much longer?" She asked.
"My warrant hasn't ended."
"How long?"
"I don't know."
"Then promise me this." She grabs my thick hands, hardened they were, as hard as shells, as hers were pretty, tender, and slender. "That after all this is done, you find another line of work."
"And leave our home? And risk you and Ayu at the Capital? I can't."
"Ayu needs learning, Ghen." She begged. "There's nothing here for her. She barely speaks."
"...Floria." I said, admitting to her. "I...have killed someone's son, someone's daughter, someone's mother or father, uncle, aunt or cousin in that city. Yet, I am still protected by the power of high justice. Whether the reasons were deemed fair or not, the people of the Capital have begun a revolt. Toward me. Toward a single man. It's no longer safe in the city. I can't risk you and Ayu-"
"But they won't hurt you." Floria begged, squeezing my hands. "They won't. You have a reputation!"
As Floria remained seated, to think in her place, and now, yet regardless, I rose from my seat, to now prepare for the Capital.
"Thank you for the meal." I said, grabbing my helmet, then equipping my gauntlets.
Now grabbing my pointless blade by the hearth, I headed for the door to embrace, yet again another lonesome venture for the Capital.
Out I went, stomping my way through a dense path in pitch-black armour, glowing with a metallic shine, along with the helmet protruding the famous symbol of the king's headsman. A small symbol, depicting a pointless blade. A black helmet to seal one's true identity, with grits as menacing as an unsightly black soul.
"Ghen!" Floria called out to me, so sudden. She stormed out the cottage eagerly as she raised her thin dress, catching up to me in a matter of moments.
I lowered my pointless blade as I glared back. For she raised my visor, to passionately smooch my mouth, my raggedy face, to please me with a long kiss with her deepest breath. Then she closed her eyes as she placed her hands against my black chest.
Staring down, she raised her head as she revealed her eyes.
For now tears had begun to streak down her cheeks.
"Come back in one piece..." She wept. "Because you have a daughter waiting for you."
I acknowledged her sorrow, and her love for me-and even more so, than I ever could, for Ayu.
As I venture for the Capital once more, as Ayu hid behind her mother's dress, staring innocently like a lost child, like I were a stranger.
Then I turned away, squeezing through many layers upon layers of bushland, with many dense trees and shrubs, and a few which hung as fruit trees. The cottage had reside within, hidden, which was tucked away by a rural path (which only I knew the way to traverse, and back). For gradually trees whittled down as dead wood, to look as though it were only a scorched wilderness farther away, leading for the hills toward the Capital for many miles.
But first, I were to meet an informant under the marked tree, as I vanish through a mirage under the sun.