The sunlight raced the length of Tomas Seville's enormous broadsword as he raised it high. A thunderous roar filled his ears and echoed off his brain like the pounding of waves on the Theasian shore. For a moment the seven foot long blade felt as light as the air in which it hung. Time stopped, the moment that was a mere blink of an eye took on the feel of days, weeks, maybe years.
Seville was a knight, honorable, chivalrous, gallant. He was the eldest son of the late Lord Valmar Seville, and husband of Lady Nicholla Seville. Sir Tomas was the father of four sons, Edmar, Boris, Rennalt and Tomas, and the heir to the Seville lands that stretched for leagues along the coast, making him easily the second most powerful man in the kingdom of Theasia behind only King Pallard the Wicked. His estate stood upon a hill overlooking the lands he governed, the people he protected, and the gifts he'd been given for honor and servitude to the king. Yet, only title above all others, above Lord Commander of the King's Shield, above Sir Tomas, above husband and father felt more natural, more respected: The King's Executioner. His Justice.
The blade cocked back further in his hand, the din of a raucous gathering grew louder, making the ground tremble beneath his feet as he looked right. The muscles in his lean arms tensed in preparation of the blow to come. The king stood to the rear, in his red velvet robes, the long, curly black beard he'd grown hanging to the middle of his broad chest. Several gold and bejeweled rings glittered on his fingers as the mad grin curled his lips. His pearly white teeth sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight.
"Behead him," he said. A simple command, one that Tomas Seville had heard before.
The sword swung down quickly, his aim was true, practice. The massive blade passed easily through the condemned man's neck, spine and throat to exit beneath his body which twitched violently on the stockade he'd been secured in.
"Justice!" was the call from the maddened crowd that Tomas heard beneath his black cowl. Justice indeed for the guilty, he thought as the man's head rolled across the platform and stopped, his eyes wide, jaws open, gaping at the crowd gathered in perpetual surprise at the crowd below.
- Note:
This was a piece of Flash Fiction I'd written, first one I'd written in almost 7 years I believe. I had a lot of fun writing about a character whose name magically appeared in my head and the ideas formed within an hour. Please enjoy the story.
Seville was a knight, honorable, chivalrous, gallant. He was the eldest son of the late Lord Valmar Seville, and husband of Lady Nicholla Seville. Sir Tomas was the father of four sons, Edmar, Boris, Rennalt and Tomas, and the heir to the Seville lands that stretched for leagues along the coast, making him easily the second most powerful man in the kingdom of Theasia behind only King Pallard the Wicked. His estate stood upon a hill overlooking the lands he governed, the people he protected, and the gifts he'd been given for honor and servitude to the king. Yet, only title above all others, above Lord Commander of the King's Shield, above Sir Tomas, above husband and father felt more natural, more respected: The King's Executioner. His Justice.
The blade cocked back further in his hand, the din of a raucous gathering grew louder, making the ground tremble beneath his feet as he looked right. The muscles in his lean arms tensed in preparation of the blow to come. The king stood to the rear, in his red velvet robes, the long, curly black beard he'd grown hanging to the middle of his broad chest. Several gold and bejeweled rings glittered on his fingers as the mad grin curled his lips. His pearly white teeth sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight.
"Behead him," he said. A simple command, one that Tomas Seville had heard before.
The sword swung down quickly, his aim was true, practice. The massive blade passed easily through the condemned man's neck, spine and throat to exit beneath his body which twitched violently on the stockade he'd been secured in.
"Justice!" was the call from the maddened crowd that Tomas heard beneath his black cowl. Justice indeed for the guilty, he thought as the man's head rolled across the platform and stopped, his eyes wide, jaws open, gaping at the crowd gathered in perpetual surprise at the crowd below.
- Note:
This was a piece of Flash Fiction I'd written, first one I'd written in almost 7 years I believe. I had a lot of fun writing about a character whose name magically appeared in my head and the ideas formed within an hour. Please enjoy the story.
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