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Razit had not been a rich man.
He woke up every morning before dawn to bake bread in his stone ovens. He was awake long before most in the city, and he had the biggest order of his life to fill with the Negotiations here. That morning, he had to wake up even earlier.
The night still stood in the city, its cold breeze still settled in the streets.
He had lit the fire in the ovens five hours ago before he had gone to bed, and now that it had burned, it was time to scoop out the ashes and load in the neatly arranged dough.
Razit was lucky, his shop had been so near the city's center that the Cathedral had basically been in his front yard. His family had lived there in the district for a long time, and they had no plans of leaving since the population boom. They’d been bakers, all, and over time refined their craft to be known as the very best in the city. This was why the eastern ambassador had come to his door placing such an absurdly large order - it would be feeding the kings.
As he went to the bakery, he marveled at the first warming of the sky. Soon, the rays of light would appear and color all the buildings in their highly contrasted shadows.
A crow cawed just above him, and Razit frowned. Not a good omen, crows. They did not spend much time in the city. But where came one was another, and another gliding through the sky.
The streets were quiet, not a soul out and about. His walk took him right past the Cathedral and its white steeples. Here, he heard many, many more crows.
Unsettled but curious, he scanned the sky, the trees, and finally, the walls of the colossal building. His bundle of dough dropped on the dirty pavement, and he backed away, thinking his eyes deceived him as to what was atop the facade, well above the large wooden doors.
But, as the vision had not gone as a nightmare would, he turned and ran, shouting, calling for anyone to hear.
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Val and Marat had stayed up, unable and unwilling to sleep. They remained quietly lying on the bed, each staring off into space, alone with their thoughts, if not their bodies.
The window, open to let in the breeze, let in the shouts and running steps in the distance. It was only first light, and it was too early for anyone to be up and cause a disturbance.
“They must have found him…” Val said nervously, standing and looking out onto the street.
The noise increased, with many people shouting now.
“No, that’s not it.” Marat was beside her, but they could see very little out the window.
“Get your things.” He told her, suddenly very serious.
“Marat…”
“What?”
She was staring at him very strangely, he could not understand why she had not done as he said.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“You aren’t limping…”
“...what?”
He looked down, suddenly aware that he had not felt his leg since… since the night before. He always felt the leg that was not there, but the false one that was most certainly there had been broken and bothersome since he had elected to climb that wall.
But she was right; he had not only forgotten the discomfort but had run down the stairs and the street after her.
He glanced at her, motioning to look away.
She did not, and he had to pull his pant leg up anyway - revealing a suspiciously smooth and hairless skin beneath.
“All-Father…” He mumbled, stunned, his fingers dropping the pant leg.
Val stood with her mouth gaping. For a second, she thought, was it the other leg? But no, here he stood, whole.
A shattering scream from the street knocked them out of the moment in which both had witnessed nothing short of the impossible. They scrambled to get out of the room and onto the street.
People were running toward the Cathedral, muddled words here and there talking about gods knew what.
As their pace went from hurried walk to running, Val could not help but notice how Marat would glance down at his boot and a smile would threaten to appear on his face, lingering at the corners of his lips
A crowd had already been gathered around the Cathedral, but it was no secret anymore as to what had brought them there.
Several crows circled the tallest tower, and even more sat on the delicate curves of the white walls and their carved decorations.
It was above the doors, high enough that a man standing on the back of a horse could not even hope to reach.
There, tied between three separate pillars, were ropes. They were taut, with no give or slack, all connecting in the middle above the tympanum of the doorway. Where they met, a figure was suspended. Each wrist was tied up with two, and the third rope was around the neck, ensuring its head was held high to look upon the courtyard despite the torso being slouched forward.
The figure was nude - stripped of both clothes and his manhood, blood soaking his thighs and running down the walls beneath. His beard was cut roughly off as if with a dull blade.
Closer, they could see that the man was cut from the chest down to his nethers and horizontally across his heart.
He must have been up there for a long time, as his guts had begun to flow out - until they hung down, gently swaying against the morning breeze. A crow would swoop and try to get at the tangled mess but get frustrated and fly to a nearby perch until a different crow would attempt the same.
Even now, one sat pecking at the man’s eye, it’s efforts to pluck it out yielding some results.
Val covered her mouth, feeling nausea run through her like a chill and get stuck in her throat.
Even Marat looked on in disbelief.
It was not hard to miss that the man was covered head to toe in dark tattoos, the golden crown still upon his head.
Horses neighed nearby, their rhythmic steps shaking the ground as they approached. Marat pulled Val to the side, away from the street, hurriedly covering their faces with their hoods.
The mounted men herded the crowd back, forcing them to recede. At the head was a decorated white stallion, gold glistening in the buckles of his reins. Atop it, in full celebratory armor - clean and shining as a mirror in the young morning light, sat Johannes. His men had shields, swords, and helmets decorated with horse hair, ready for a fight.
He turned to the crowd.
“See before you the wonders of the state!” He announced mockingly. “The greatest army, arms welcoming those who seek its protection! Behold! Their King!”
Noise erupted; it was forced, frightened, and obligated. Cries were heard among the people, but the angry voices were just murmurs underneath.
The soldiers atop the horses shouted in approval of their general’s words, raising their swords and pikes into the air. The same soldiers that had come with the dusk vanguard.
“What’s happened?” Val whispered to him.
“Looks like Johannes has made a wardwright out of his king...” Marat said grimly, his eyes on the general.
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