The entire empire was in turmoil; an unprecedented event had shaken the world: the execution of Count Kradur.
He was known as the Light of the Empire, an unparalleled prodigy in his youth, the Guardian of the North to the populace, and a symbol of loyalty to the crown.
Why would such a great and respected man suddenly face execution?
Accusations included machinations with the Coven of Witches, attempts to summon demons, and pacts with infernal entities.
This man was charged with the murder of innocent people, and the list of his alleged crimes was extensive. It was for all these reasons that he was condemned to die.
One might legitimately wonder how a person, once wielding such power and prestige, could have been caught.
Surely, he could have committed these acts with impunity, hidden in the shadows.
After all, this kingdom was rife with corrupt individuals, those who had made pacts with evil, and certainly, those who committed atrocious acts in the name of order or justice. So, how did he end up in this predicament?
In the grand square, a scaffold had been erected.
The atmosphere was sinister and oppressive; most of the county's inhabitants had gathered to witness their lord's execution.
Mixed emotions were visible on every face: disgust, fear, anger, and a myriad of other negative feelings.
Nobles from various corners of the empire were also present; the Emperor himself had sent emissaries, as this affair was truly unprecedented. The county was shrouded in an air of death, a profound silence reigning as everyone held their breath.
Finally, two knights arrived, marching toward the great square.
They escorted a man in his forties: Count Kradur Naas.
He was covered in wounds, and his gait betrayed the immense suffering he had endured.
His gaze was vacant as he followed the guards; the powerful man of yesteryear was now so emaciated that his bones were visible, and he suffered from severe baldness, having lost almost all his hair.
The knights showed him the greatest consideration possible given his former prestige, refraining from any disrespectful actions. Upon reaching the scaffold, Kradur Naas was forced to his knees.
Unlike everyone else, he remained calm and uttered not a word. His face was empty, his gaze hollow; he had resigned himself long ago. Though he harbored many regrets, if the possibility were given to him to go back in time, he would sacrifice everything to seize it. These regrets concerned the way he had lived his life, for ultimately, his choices had led him to this very moment.
A child approached the scaffold, accompanied by an adult. The child was barely thirteen; the scene was certainly not suitable for someone so young, yet he was undeniably there. Both ascended the scaffold. In a final effort, Kradur lifted his head toward the child, only to meet an indifferent gaze. After all, what did he expect?
The man accompanying the child whispered, low enough for only those present to hear.
"So, Count? How does it feel to die? To think you've dragged the Naas name through the mud. It's truly shameful."
The speaker was none other than Kradur's twin brother.
"Hypocrite," Kradur rasped, coughing, the word requiring immense effort. As he was about to say something more, the accompanying child spoke.
"Cut it short!"
Kradur's brother immediately fell silent.
The two knights shivered; after all, this child was terrifying. It wasn't a matter of power but of demeanor. Though he appeared harmless, he seemed to embody fear—a multitude of evils contained within a small body.
The public, unable to hear the hushed conversation, nonetheless shared the same thought: what was such a young child doing in this place, especially under these circumstances?
It was simply cruel. Kradur lifted his eyes. Beyond the world's indignation toward him, he understood their thoughts at that moment and smiled, a self-deprecating grin.
"Very well, let us begin," Kradur's brother announced. He then recited all the crimes committed by his twin, under the disgusted stares of everyone present. As he spoke, Kradur replayed his life in his mind. He closed his eyes, seeking to empty his thoughts. He had so much, yet in the end, it bore no fruit, only to be falsely accused and condemned.
"For all these reasons, the disgraced Count, Kradur Naas, is condemned to death!"
The moment had finally arrived, but what happened next shocked everyone and marked history.
It wasn't because of Kradur Naas's last words: "I'm sorry!"
No, it was because the child accompanying his twin brother moved behind Kradur, close to the knights, and drew one of their swords. His speed was not great, nor his strength, so the knights saw him act, yet they could do nothing. After all, the child was Cifer Naas, the son of Count Kradur Naas.
The child approached his father calmly. He lifted the sword above his father's head and brought it down. A sharp thud echoed as the blade met the bone of the neck. He had slightly missed his mark, but Kradur would die regardless.
However, due to the lack of physical strength, he would suffer longer. Kradur's scream tore through the air, chilling everyone's blood. All those present would surely never forget the nightmare of that scene.
The knights bit their tongues until they bled.
No matter what the Count had been accused of, the good he had done was still present.
Yet, he wasn't even granted a decent execution; they couldn't even finish him off. After thirty minutes, Kradur died. The only phrase that left his mouth was an apology, but later, everyone would remember and lament it. After all, he wasn't sorry for himself, but for them; he had left a calamity in this world: Cifer Naas.
The horrified public struggled to comprehend what they had just witnessed.
The image of this young boy executing his own father, the fallen hero of the Empire, would haunt their nights. A deathly silence had fallen over the square, broken only by the muffled sobs of a few souls. Nobles exchanged wide-eyed glances, a cold terror seeping into their hearts.
This act, of unfathomable cruelty, had transformed a public execution into a macabre spectacle that would resonate through the annals of history.