Judged

Back to RPStories

"Hoppe hoppe Reiter

Eine Melodie im wind

Mein Hertz schlägt nicht mehr weiter

Und aus der Erde singt das Kind."

("Hop hop rider

A melody in the wind

My heart beats no longer

And from the earth sings the child.")

– Rammstein: Spieluhr.

Judged.

I held her in place with my hand, the other holding the haft of the great axe that Brother Seltus had let me have for the use. Aydith was on her knees, cuffed, defenceless, unable to escape, and awaiting the sentence to be carried out. The few spectators, a few State Guards included, stood in a rank, watching. I told Imoen for the second or third time that if she wanted to witness the deed, she was to step in rank or get out of there. She chose the latter, apparently not having the stomach to see me do it. It angered me a bit that she, the one I was once the guardian of, wouldn’t support me in what she had helped come to pass: Aydith Cook’s last minutes.

I thought I could sense her tension, maybe some of her fear as she was waiting for her life to end. The State Guards had no executioner present. I am a Knight of the Holy Order of Paladins, charged with defending the Church and the tenants of the Light. This was my duty. I was just doing my duty.

I lifted the axe, and it felt like the time stood still as Aydith’s attack replayed in my mind, of how we had chased her down afterwards. Then I remembered Heather, Louise’s daughter, alive, smiling and gurgling. I remembered how she took hold of my finger, just like Iohannes and Annika do. I remembered her scent, the baby smell that is so wonderful, so hope-instilling. The one night that I had her in my care also came to me.

And then, her lifeless body, her bloodied blanket, the pale face. She looked like she was asleep. I remembered that so well. Even with the visible lack of breathing and the bluish tone her skin had taken didn’t change that – her purple lips. She looked like she was only sleeping. Yet then the realisation had hit me.

She was dead.

The one who was the cause to her death was kneeling beside me. Now I would make her reap what she had sown. The texts were going to be proven true. No one can do so much harm without paying for it in the end. Aydith was going to pay. She was going to pay for using Ormsby’s daughter as a messenger and threatening to harm my children. My children! I’d be damned before she would lay a finger on them – on my little gems. My blood and flesh!

I was angry as I let the axe descend, its weight giving it the speed necessary to sever the head from the body. I was still angry as I felt the slight resistance Aydith’s neck gave the executioner’s weapon as it delved into her flesh and bone, cutting off the main blood veins and the neck bones. No more words of deluded shadow would ever again escape her mouth. No more dark magic would be chanted and brought to this world by this foul person. I was ending it here and now.

And as some blood drops spattered on my dress, I knew that it was over, that it was done. I had killed her; stopped her for good, finally, after long last. Justice was served, I told myself.

It is true.

Serene and confident, relieved and honourably I handed Brother Seltus his axe back, ordering the Captain of the State Guards to burn the body and place the head on a spike as a warning to other shadow wrecks and traitors.

I am a judger. I did judge, and was entrusted the death sentence for Aydith, which had now been carried out.

Then I left for the Cathedral, pausing only to tell Imoen, who stood behind a corner, that it was done. It was over. She had heard the whole thing. It was then that I noticed that I was shivering. I was still shivering when I went to the Cathedral, informing Lord Shadowbreaker that the daemon consort named Aydith Cook breathed no more. He saw the blood on my dress, asking if I stood too close. I didn’t reply, merely nodded at him.

I didn’t tell him that I had done the deed. I was off duty officially. In truth, it shouldn’t even have been I who held the weapon of the executioner. I had taken matters into my own hands.

I finished it as quickly as possible, pausing only a brief moment by the stairs of the altar, hoping to find peace. It eluded me, so I went home, ignoring the by-passers’ staring as they noticed the blood drops. I rode past them, keeping my head high.

I kept this façade of strength till I got home. There I met Nouala, Vii and a few others that I didn’t really know. Then I broke down, embracing Nouala as I sobbed, telling her what I had done. Vii only remarked in dissatisfaction that I was short-sighted to have executed her. That only made me angry at her. I replied in kind, telling her off that she’d never fought the shadow wrecks, never felt how personal such a struggle becomes. In the end, she conceded, I think.

That night ended with me getting to my bed, just staring at my sleeping twins till my body shut down and I fell asleep in that dress, stained with blood drops. I woke up that way, as well.

Two days later I met Karina in the Cathedral. I was still struggling with what I had done, with other painful memories as well. I was close to telling her of so many other things, but they're mine, my own burden to carry and struggle with. Not hers.

She told me like Nouala that I had done the right thing.

Yes, I’d have done it again, if I had a chance to relive that moment. But I can’t help but wonder if I couldn’t have done better. I know I could’ve with so many other things, other events, other losses – failures.

I know I can.

I think…