Legend of the Dragon Princess

Chapter 6.2: First Blood

Like a butcher's chop, the sounds of flesh coming apart reached me. I froze, and while I did not see, I felt Ming's back stiffened. There was a moment of inert silence before the room slowly reeked of accumulating rust and stench of unnamed odors. What followed afterward was the guard withdrawing his sword, teemed of blood, of life, and of death. He stepped aside to where I could see the silver edge soaked in red.

Subsequently, Ming turned. In fear, I nearly recoiled from seeing his face. There, against his left cheek, a blotch of red brushed in. His eyes, deprived of light, glazed over with what appeared to be numbness and frost. No sooner did I laid eyes on his cheek, the blood slowly dripped down the side of his jaw, almost touching one of the long side-bangs that framed his face. Both his right sleeve and the edge of his misty-silver robe were not spared either.

"...Ming, I..." Touching my arm, I could still feel the scant heat of where he had grabbed to yank me back. That's right. To be warm meant life. My eyes flickered back at his clear, perceptive gaze. Ming has also killed someone. "Xie...xie."

Sometimes when I would eavesdrop or listen to my favorite servants—the elderly Jie Jie and the young, naïve Lan—they may talk about who was executed, who suffered public whipping, and who passed away. At least, that was before I traded places with Jing, my brother. Hence, death was nothing new to me. Why, our mother had died on a thin, straw mat and ragged sheets in the city inn both Jing and I worked at as young children. Many people died in the streets or the slums, either overrun by wooden carts, wagons, horses, starvation, disease, and other various causes.

But this was a different death. It was the act of killing that scared me the most, and for me to witness the act of killing, it demanded that a part of me must die—the part that viewed every person and living thing as meaningful. Not only that, it was the transformation that I found to be frightening too. Will you remain Human...or will that part die too? One cannot know—until they themselves snuff out the last breath of a living, breathing Human.

Soon, the executioner calmly rejoined his comrade. Their faces almost seemed ashen and chalky pale. Dressed in matching coal-black, the men stood next to one another, concealing the fallen corpse. Together, they could've easily been mistaken for ghosts, floating on a growing blood-lake.

Vigorous clapping sounds arose from overhead, and it took everyone a second to realize that it was coming from none other than the Empress herself. "Splendid, splendid!" Her loud, refined voice bounced off throughout the expansive golden room. To this, the two panels of high officials hesitantly followed her lead, clapping their hands as well. "What a magnificent show it was!" Slowly, she rose up from the majestic throne and golden sea of dragons, presenting us a full view of her jade-green overcoat with its large, broad sleeves and her lengthy yellow skirt. A servant went to steady her.

"She didn't deserve death." I stated, clear enough for the woman to hear. "She might've been innocent!"

Gliding down the steps, the Empress' lashes flickered like the wings of a garden butterfly. Her scarlet-painted lips twitched. "My son, my son, there were witnesses and testimonies from all around!" Two servants helped her down to the last couple golden steps. "I think you just had a rough day from yesterday and that traumatizing event from last night."

"Prince Jing, perhaps, it is best for you and Ming to leave." Spoke one of the high officials, stepping forward. Bowing his head down, he nearly flinched when the Empress averted her sharp eyes to him. "You must've suffered greatly to even feel—for that wicked woman!"

"If you mean to insinuate that I am only speaking from fatigue or madness, I am certainly fine and capable of making sound judgement." I declared in a low, baleful tone. "Or are you saying that I, a prince, have no right to share his opinion with an audience?"