Tales of Fire and Ruin

The Real Monster

I remembered the first time I witnessed a man hanging at the docks of the Thundercoast.

It'd been a sweltering summer day. The oppressive kind during which your clothes end up soaked in sweat simply by walking around outside. With the smell of fresh fish in the breeze and the taste of salt on my lips, I watched a ruddy man get dragged to the noose. He hadn't gone down easily. Thrashing his arms and kicking all the way, the man had shouted this was injustice and his trial had not been fair.

The man was a thief and smuggler who had wanted to steal me and take me away from the Thundercoast, my parents had told me. Because I was god-touched. He had his punishment coming. 

I remembered the stomach-churning snap of his neck, the dockworkers laughing how the bastard had finally shut up, and the way my parents had argued after we went home. Mother said I was to be the head of the Montbow family one day — I needed to be prepared for my role. If I wanted to show the town folks I was a powerful leader, it would involve personally handling the punishment of criminals on our lands. Father argued I was still too young to have seen it and they should have waited a few more years to let me be a child. My mother then retorted Conrad had been able to handle it, to which my father replied I had a very different temperament than Conrad.

Being made to watch a hanging had been the first time I learned the carvings on my chest meant more than only fun, praise, and buffets with pastries. It also meant responsibility and many people in the world who wished me harm or wanted to steal me away from my parents to raise as their own because I was god-touched. It meant if I hadn't wandered the streets alone, this man wouldn't have attempted to take me and he wouldn't have died.

The world could be a cruel place, and the man hanging that day had been a deplorable criminal and a stranger. Still, I could see his glazed over, lifeless eyes in front of me as if it'd happened yesterday.

Over the years I'd hardened and seen more death, even within Wildewall itself, at the execution of the half-elf. But I knew watching Oleander get run through with a sword by priest Landefort would forever scar me. I wasn't Conrad or Gisela, and I knew I shouldn't go to the temple square. This would break me. Worse than seeing a stranger die as a child and believing I was partially to blame for this fate. 

I was fully to blame for Oleander's fate today. If I saw him die, wouldn't be able to bear that guilt. And yet, I kept running.

Crowds still parted for me whenever they noticed my mark, wherever they could, as I rushed through the streets. Gisela had no such luxury and had to weave her way through. The distance between us grew fast and her shouts of protest, demanding me to stop walking, drowned out behind me.

When I reached the temple district, however, even I couldn't move further at a quick pace. Oleander's execution must've been announced, or everyone was gathered at the temples for the queen. I had to squeeze and elbow past people who whipped their head around at me in annoyance, then saw my mark, muttered a prayer with eyes wide as shields, and let me pass.

This time, it was the temple of the thunder god where the people swarmed. The building was tall with spiralling towers like the others. Patterns of branches like a tree, similar to the ones I had on my chest, adorned the bright white stone. Once I got closer, I saw a priest Landefort standing at the top of the staircases on a plateau. There were no ordinary guards stationed beside him for this execution. He was only accompanied by a man and a woman who wore body armours of plaited leather, the man with a strange cut-out at their stomach. I didn't see the logic in exposing one's midriff, which defeat the purpose of wearing an armour in the first place, until I'd manoeuvred myself to the front. With a sinking stomach, I realised what he and the women were.