Explosives filled the sky with dull clouds of soot as the platoon marched. There were sixteen soldiers, and among them, a family of three. The land was flat and barren, cracked by the scars of war. They tread over bodies, tents, even those who still clung to what little life they could muster in the dust bowl. They continued on east. Within a few hours, the platoon had reached its destination: The cliffside.

Their gold cloth uniforms were dirtied and torn from battle. Their faces were hidden by black masks. Even when faceless, it was clear they all carried harrowed expressions.

Now at their destination, they stopped at a cliffside that led to a ravine down below and were met with a scenic view of the mountains in the distance, all covered in sooty fog with their bases covered in flames. Most importantly, a single man gazed at the platoon with narrowed eyes. He had a slant face and a sharp chin with messy, almost wet brown hair that clumped and drooped down his face all the way to his cheeks like curled tendrils. He bore the same dull gold uniform as the soldiers, only it had not a single impurity to destroy its spangle and lustrous woven color. Just like the other soldiers, it had silver buttons that were sealed down the right side of the uniform. His pants, poofy as they were, were still untucked from his beige suede boots. His hands stayed in his pockets as he looked beyond the edge of the cliff, far out to the inferno that surrounded the distant mountains. He grinned, finally speaking in an easygoing, almost whimsical tone: “You were sent out with fifty, yet I see only twenty of you marching.”

The tallest soldier, a mountain who towered over the rest with ease, stepped out of the platoon. “Commandment Gaston!” He yelled out in a tone both fierce and loyal to his commander.

“Yes, Branko?” The commandment responded.

Branko saluted. “Permission to speak!”

Gaston turned around. The grin on his face was ever-wider, yet no laughter came from his face. It was as if the grin was just stuck onto his face with no way to disturb it. His face was rather young as well. Not a single scar or wrinkle besmirched its pale white skin.

“You can speak freely. I’m no fan of the force’s protocols. Just speak.”

Branko lowered his tone. “Of course, commandment.”

“Don’t call me commandment. Call me by my name. Regardless of the coalition’s protocols, I find it more polite.”

“Yes, Gaston. . .”

“So, Branko. What is your report? More importantly. . .” Gaston looked on at the family being held by the platoon. “Who are these pretty faces?”

“They’re church militants. At least, the father and mother are. We found them in a chapel. They were treating a wounded Glascanian lieutenant.”

“Then you must have razed the village?”

Branko’s eyes quickly darted from side to side. He quickly looked back at the rest of the platoon. They too held uncertain faces. Branko’s head began to sweat. He adjusted his mask.

“I see.” Gaston walked over to the family.

“Wait, Gaston! We. . . We did it. It’s all been destroyed.”

Gaston nodded. He stared at the family. The father and mother were both covered in white wraps. Their hands and feet were bound. The child was given only wraps on his face and wore a brown jacket and white shirt. “What’s your name?” Gaston asked the child.

“I don’t know if I should say. . .” They looked back to their parents whose mouths were found as well. They didn’t have the energy to break free nor try to speak through their bindings. “You’re a stranger after all.”

Gaston chuckled. He reached for the pistol on his belt. He patted the child on his little brown-haired head, scuffing up his short hair in the process. The child carried a look of innocence and youth, as a child should. His complexion was pale and his brown eyes were small, almost beady. His hair was dry as straw and straight. One could say Gaston merely scuffed it more than it already was. He had a constant half-open jaw and a look of curiosity. Gaston grabbed the child’s arm and gently tugged. He slowly opened the child’s fingers, placing his pistol in the boy’s hands. The boy immediately seized it with a tight grip and pulled away. Gaston let out a hearty laugh before bending down to one knee.

“Child, my name is Gaston. That is the name you heard my men call me. Now, what is yours? I believe I am no more a stranger to you than I am. . . A ‘friend’. Yes, I am now your ‘friend’.”

The child shook his head for a moment before looking at Gaston’s face. His unphased grin commanded the child to give up his name, and after another minute of silence, he relented.

“I’m Kaiser. . .” He spoke in a soft voice.

“Greetings, Kaiser. A proper name. I say, I think I like it better than my own. Now, Kaiser, do you know what you have in your hands?”

Kaiser nodded. “A gun.”

“Not just any gun now, child. See how the barrel is made of metal and the grip is wood? Ahh, but it’s just not any wood. It’s cedar. See the brilliant red finish on it? It’s a sign of power. Red means power for us Drauxian. Now, I want you to read the inscription on the grip.”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Kaiser tilted the gun and examined the inscription. Carved into the wood in smooth, tiny letters, was the phrase:

Answer the call of the third herald,

That he may pray for you to draw blood, one must draw blood,

That he may pray for you to take something, one still follows,

For the ultimate heaven touches only the dominating.

-Wiegraf, Messiah of the White & The Sunset Knight

“Did you read it?”

Kaiser nodded.

“Good.” Gaston chuckled and stood back up. “Now, you know how to use that gun, yes?”

Kaiser shook his head no. As he did, his father and mother began to struggle. They fell to the floor and tried to mouth out pleas. But, the bindings silenced them. Gaston smiled at the sight. Kaiser tried to turn around, but Gaston pulled him back and made him face him. Gaston was easily twice as tall as Kaiser. The boy was short even for a child. He began to whimper.

“Put your index finger in the little hoop. Now, aim and pull the trigger. Ah, not just yet. Here’s what I want to know. . . Which parent do you love less?”

Kaiser hesitated. His voice cracked as he tried to muster any words. Gaston gave no impatient expression. He only smiled at the child and awaited their response. Finally, Kaiser spoke. “I love them both the same. They’re my ma and pa. I can’t just. . . Pick one over the other.”

“Oh, really? I suppose it was stupid of me to think otherwise. Silly me.”

Gaston walked over to the two who were now writhing on the floor. He looked over them and clicked his tongue in disappointment while slowly shaking his head.

“What are you going to do. . .?” Kaiser sniffled.

Gaston began his speech: “I’m not going to do anything. It’s your choice now, Kaiser. I’ve always wanted to explore the intricacies of human nature, but I was never cut out to be a man so passive.”

Branko’s face tensed up as Gaston spoke. With every word came memories of the past that were just like what was happening now. At least a dozen before Kaiser had shared the fate Gaston was about to inflict upon them. Every word, every pronunciation of every syllable, it was like a recording of the past being replayed for Branko.

“They say I was too bold to be a thinking man. But, what’s the point of contemplating things that will never happen? So, I’m going to give you a choice: Your mother or your father? Which one dies?”

The two who were bound tried to worm their way out from Gaston’s boot. He stepped on them harder, even kicking the father. Kaiser winced. His eyes began to tear up.

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

“We’re in a war. Nobody is innocent. Not you, nor your parents Kaiser. So, make the choice. Which one dies? You have to be the one to pull the trigger now. You are both judge and executioner. I give you both these rights out of respect.”

Kaiser snapped back, “I don’t wanna be either! I just. . . I just want this to stop. Please.”

Gaston shook his head and laughed. “Same old, same old. Then again, what should I have expected from a child?”

The commandment drew a second pistol from his belt and pointed it at the mother.

“No, don’t!” Kaiser shouted.

The boy raised the engraved pistol Gaston gave him. He pointed it right between the commandment’s eyes. It was heavy to hold even with both hands, but to Kaiser, the weight was nothing compared to the weight Gaston had just placed on him.

“Go on, shoot me,” Gaston ordered Kaiser.

Kaiser flinched, expecting the loud bang of the gun to deafen his ears. But, no sound came after he pulled the trigger. Gaston was still standing. No bullet had been fired. Kaiser fired again. He fired for a third time. Without another word, Gaston executed the two on the ground. Branko looked away. Kaiser looked straight ahead and continued to pull the trigger of the gun. No shot came.

“See what you’ve done?” Gaston walked up to the boy and tore the pistol out from his hands. Kaiser took a step back. At that moment, his face was filled with fear. The burning flame of passion in his eyes was quickly extinguished as Gaston pointed his gun at Kaiser. “You would rather let a man such as I take charge of your life. Not only that, you would let me command the fate of the people you love. It’s spectacular. But, I believe we’ve wasted enough time. Goodbye, Kaiser.”

Branko’s breathing quickened as Gaston’s finger slowly began to press down on the pistol’s trigger. His heartbeat was so swift, he wasn’t sure if it was still beating. His hands shook. His head was hot. He breathed in, but couldn’t stop. Finally, he exploded with a shout of fury. “Gaston!” The warcry deafened the rest of the platoon. Even Gaston hesitated for a brief moment. He pulled the gun away from Kaiser and immediately turned to Branko.

“What? We’re done here. I’ve decided the fate of these miscreants you’ve brought me.”

“And this gives you the excuse to kill a child?”

“I see your endgame now. You wish to spare the child? This child, with no parents, no village or house to call hearth and home, you want him to continue on living? Now, just what kind of life is that?”

“No, Gaston. None of that matters. But, I can’t let you do this. This is madness. As lieutenant of this platoon, I carry authority independent from even you. These are my men, my soldiers.”

“You threaten me to keep one child’s life? He already has nothing. What more could he live for?” Gaston relaxed his pistol. He pushed Kaiser to the side and walked up to Branko. The Drauxian lieutenant stood a solid foot over Gaston and weighed nearly twice more. He wore the scaled lobster tail cuirass of the Drauxian barricaders.

“Like I said: I don’t know and I don’t care. But, I won’t let you shoot a kid. We’ve done enough already. It’s time for us to leave.”

Gaston got closer to Branko and stared into his face. He lifted up the lieutenant's black mask and stared at his marred face, through his blue eyes and into the very man’s soul it felt like. Then, he walked away. He saluted the lieutenant. Branko slowly pulled his mask back down and returned the gesture.

“You are a decisive man, Branko. You have caught my intrigue. Do what you will with the child. We will be returning to the base of the mountains off the cliffside to finish our work. We do not need a barricader for this.”

“I will return to the camp. The child is coming with me.”

“Do with him what you will. His fate is in your hands now.”