The sun hung just off-center of the pale blue sky, beating down on the rough, dehydrated landscape. From the finely ground dirt protruded a large, cylindrical stake, and tied to it was a fairly young man--barely into his twenties at first glance. Air wheezed past his cracked lips and into his dried throat with each painful rising of his malnourished chest, but his expression seemed almost at ease.
“Why is it…” the man began, hesitating a moment to clear his voice, “Why is it that… when a king taxes his people into poverty just to build an army and expand his kingdom… he is revered… but when ONE peasant makes off with a single piece of silverware so he can eat…”
“It’s not my decision. Both of us know the law and the consequences for breaking it. I am here to enforce the order it protects.” A burly, aged man dressed in a thin, cloth-like armor interjected. “I don’t pretend like it’s fair…” He reached down to a stack of dried reeds and twigs, lifting the large stack by it’s bindings with little effort and dropping it at the feet of the restrained man. “...But order comes at a cost. Laws are vital to any society, and violation of this is an act against everyone involved.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
The older man holds up his index finger, his face strained as it sputters and sparks for a moment before igniting with a small flame. “Damn. Getting old.” He mumbles.
“I’d rather burn than starve. That’s the choice I had to make thanks to these laws which you enforce.” The young man spat, clearly irked by what the other had said, “And I’m not the only one. I hope you remember that when you hear the condemned children screaming as your flames lick their heels.”
There was a long moment of silence as the older man slowly ignited the brush, his unsteady finger disintegrating some of the smaller fibers before the wood began to catch.
“Everything comes with a cost. I can’t change that.”
The condemned man’s face relaxed, returning to its previous serenity, “No… this was your choice. You’d rather light the fire than be burned by it.”