His Corpse

Fritus' corpse is examined by Callum's guards. His head is picked up by Callum, herself. The stench is horrid. Beer and organs don't go together. Two of Callum's guards puke at the sight of the head alone. Callum starts breathing through her mouth. She orders her guards to grab a body barrel. And throws Fritus' head off to the side. She enters the tavern, where Dathma has already sheathed his axe.

"Things are always interesting where there are Executioners." Callum said.

Dathma bowed to Callum.

"I must apologize for this horrid site, but I cannot allow my victim to be harmed. It is my duty alone to bear the grief of taking his life."

The other executioner across the room also walked over and bowed to Callum. But he didn't speak. Instead, he and his victim immediately left the scene because they were not involved with the killing. Callum stood firm despite her lower stature while in the company of both Executioners. After the other had left, she spoke directly to Dathma.

"You need not apologize. I just ask you and your victim to leave the scene. I thank you for keeping the situation from escalating too far."

Dathma nodded and took Casimar with him as he left. The ex-prisoners followed them. The rest of the tavern folk followed suit. All that remained was the tavern's owner, the bartender, and Callum with her guards. Callum's mostly peaceful town had collected up a grave sight. All the citizens outside saw as Fritus's head and body were carried away. A few puked at the sight. Most averted their eyes. People watched as Dathma and the prisoners strolled along the city. None of them were shaken. Only they themselves knew why. The prison they came from prepared them for this. Dathma was trained to deal with this. Understand it. Accept it. Death had no odd look to him. The group decided it's best to rest up and leave the next day. However, the next morning. Callum showed herself waiting for them nearby. Wishing to speak to the group. She said she wanted to hear from those who provoked the man. Casimar and Rilia stepped forward. As they did so, Callum pulled out a necklace.

"This was hidden in the man killed yesterday's pocket. On it, it is a symbol that could only belong to a member of a prestigious family. I know not the family, or how powerful they are. But this certainly is not a good thing."

Casimar and Rilia remained silent. Dathma looked upon the symbol. Curious about it, but did not inquire further.

"I and you, need this situation to be kept quiet. It's obvious you plan on leaving the city, but word travels fast in the world. Be careful, you never know who'll recognize this symbol. Next time, maybe just keep your thoughts to yourselves."

Callum left the group for their travels. Off they went back out into the Spalis's wilderness. It was quiet as they moved along the dirt roads. In the back of the pack, Rilia smirked. She had killed someone from the highest echelon of Spalis society. Someone who played friend with the King. It was a death she relished. She wanted to know more of the dead. How powerful was his family? How high up was he? And how could he have fallen so low? The road to Ladrio seemed easy now, but in their haste, the group had taken the wrong road and now were headed down a road untaken.

Back in the capital, the saddest breath ever had been taken. Dehydration crept into the Queen's body, all the tears had made her thirsty and weak. All she did was breathe in and breathe out. She felt nothing. Did nothing. Just stayed in her cage consisting of old stone and prison bars. The guards only come by to taunt and offer moldy bread. Her concern for herself is gone. She breathes in and out. Nothing more, nothing less. Until, a feeling comes across her. One from her stomach. Every time it comes, it changes her. She decides to live on a little longer. But today, a thought had begun spurring.

Why live on? Why continue to feel this anguish? What is for the child or for herself? The child probably wouldn't live through this. But the hope of them surviving still gave her something to hold onto to life for. She knew for certain that she couldn't stay locked away if she wanted to live and if her baby hadn't any chance of surviving. She pondered on how to gain favor with the guards. Her first step was being able to step outside of her cell.

She couldn't say she needed a restroom or anything of the such. The guards wouldn't care. She needed something different, something that would force the guards to enter her prison. It didn't need to get them in there happily. It just needed to force them to open the door. So, Amerala screamed. She screamed again and again. But the guards only told her to knock it off. She went on and on, her vocal cords were destroyed. But the guards were so angry they opened the door to her prison. She sat on the ground as the guards approached. She tripped one onto the ground and made a run for it. As she exited, the only guard grabbed her hand. She bit it and kept moving. She kept moving through the building she found herself in. Turning and turning looking for a door. Until she took the worst turn possible. And was pinned down in a corner. The guards grabbed and began dragging her back to her cell. But she dragged her long un cut nails across the wall to leave a mark so she knew where she'd gone before when she got out next. She was already planning her next attempt as the guards carried her off.