It had been two months since then when I first donned the mantle of the royal executioner. My father, the previous executioner before me, Rickard Hargrave, decided to retire from this position because he was already too old to perform any execution. While he never botched any of his executions before, his failing health and weakening body made it difficult for him to carry out the deed, so he decided to let me, his son, take over this position so that he could stay at home, living his life in peace.

It was a daunting task, I had to admit. Ever since then, I had carried out seven executions, with all those condemned being heinous criminals who had committed the gravest of crimes such as murder, rape, treason and waging war against the crown. Mornings prior to the executions, an envoy from the Queen would come to my doorstep, delivering a sealed letter colored in red, signifying all the details that I needed to know about the condemned as well as the crimes they had committed.

The first thing I would do after receiving the letter would be visiting the prison where the condemned men were commonly held before the executions. My father had taught me that getting to know the condemned before carrying out the execution would ensure that I would never think that taking a life would become easier the more people I executed. Empathizing with the condemned would help me to understand that no matter how despicable their acts could be, in the end, they were just people who had done horrible things.

I remembered that one time when my father told me that executing the condemned was a grim duty, and it was necessary for us to carry it out. For the Hargraves, while we might take the lives of others, we were never murderers. We carried out the order of the crown that had deemed those condemned to be executed for their crimes. For the executioners, we were nothing but the swords wielded by those in power to deliver justice.

For years, my father had trained me how to perform an execution painlessly on the condemned. Making the condemned suffer was unnecessary, and all executions should be delivered with one swift stroke of the sword, with one stroke being fatal by beheading. The Hargraves had perfected a method of execution where a beheading could be performed without even spilling a drop of the blood of the condemned. Many factors would be put into consideration, such as the thickness of the condemned men's necks, the sharpness of the swords and the way the condemned moved while they were put on the chopping blocks. I had learned many things from my father, and so far, I had done quite a good job as my father's replacement.

Earlier this morning, I received another red letter from the Queen's envoy, which meant there would be another execution to be carried out later. But, the envoy wasn't alone this time. He was accompanied by an old friend; a young man around my age, clad in full armor of the Royal Guard. A rather handsome man with short red hair and angular face, the man gave me a familiar cheeky grin when I saw him.

"So, I heard you are a headsman now, Rodyle..." the young man said as he grinned at me. "Man, what a way to waste your talent at stabbing people in the face…" he shook his head as he held out his hand, offering me a handshake.

Laughing, I shook his hand and said, "Well, those bastards aren't gonna cut their own heads off by themselves, are they?" I looked at his gold-plated armor, which would tell anyone that the person wearing it belonged to the most elite fighting force in the kingdom. "So, did you get to wear this armor by seducing your way up the ranks again? Or did you start using your own skills this time, Malcom?"

"Now, now… what a nasty thing to say to an old friend…" The man, Malcom Ashfield, shook his head, though that cheeky grin still remained on that handsome face of his. "Captain Luciel did acknowledge my awesome battle prowess, and she's a very hard woman to please, you know?" Then, he scratched the back of his head as he added, "Well… it's easier to please her in certain areas, if you know what I mean…" From that mischievous wink and that small hickey on his neck that he immediately hid from your view, you understood what he meant.

"Oh Malcom, you wily bastard…" I said before we laughed together. It felt like old time, when we were still in the academy. And when we finally stopped, I immediately jumped into the business, namely the fact that Malcom was here together with the envoy. From the look of it, this job wouldn't be like the usual ones. "So… why are you here?" I asked Malcom as I gave the envoy a glance.

"Ah, well… about that, let's talk on our way to the prison, shall we?" Malcom suggested. I nodded and prepared myself to depart.

Wearing the mantle of the royal executioner, a black robe with silver trimming, fitted with two pauldrons on the shoulders, I departed from my home, following both Malcom and the envoy to the prison, where the condemned was kept before the execution.

"So…" Malcom began as I walked alongside him. "Have you ever heard of witches, Rodyle?"

"Witches?" I scrunched up my brow. "You mean… those old hags from the old legends and bedtime stories to scare children?"

"Well, more or less…" Malcom shrugged. "Still, you do know they exist, right? We even learned about them back in the academy, man."

That was true. Witches, or the practitioners of witchcraft and magic, were the real things here in this world. While most bedtime stories envisioned them as broom-riding old crones kidnapping children to be cooked in their sooty cauldrons, the witches truly existed. Most books in the libraries described them as the force of nature, wielding destructive power in their hands and were capable of annihilating a whole kingdom off the continent. Due to this, the crown had declared the witches as anathema, the aberrations that disturbed the natural order of this world, and those who were found as the practitioners of witchcraft would be sentenced to death if found guilty.

Due to that, when the crown outlawed witchcraft fifty years ago, many those who were the practitioners of witchcraft moved out of the kingdom in order to avoid persecution and sought refuge in neighboring countries. This event was known as "Mass Exodus", where most witches at that time left the kingdom. So, there weren't many cases of people being sentences to death for being the practitioners of witchcraft since then.

"That's the reason why I came to see you. The person you are about to execute is a witch, and I even saw what she was capable of first-hand," Malcom said. "I was as skeptical as you before I saw her, but when she showed us her power, I knew that she was the real deal…"

"You saw a real witch?" I inquire. Malcom was known for being one to add details in his stories to make them more enjoyable to listen to, but he was never a liar.

"Yup. We got some reports from eye-witnesses about seeing someone using magic, and they were too believable to ignore, so we sent a squad of our knights, including me, to the place where the witch supposedly resided," Malcom continued. "She did show us her magic to prove it to us that she's a witch, but she somehow surrendered to us without a fight. Still, we didn't take any chance and made sure she's completely apprehended, with manacles and all."

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"I see…" I mused. So, as the royal executioner, I would be the one to perform the execution on this witch. "Had this witch ever harmed anyone before?"

"Never. The testimonies from eye-witnesses told us that the magic she performed was mostly harmless…" Malcom said. "She entertained some children at the street with magic before we showed up and arrested her." He sighed as he scratched his head. "Well… the only reason why she was prosecuted in the first place was because she's a witch."

I said nothing as we continued our trip to the prison. Noticing my silence, Malcom tapped my shoulder.

"You think this is all wrong, don't you?" Malcom asked with unusual seriousness.

"Just because she's a witch, she'll be sentenced to die…" I brought my palm to my forehead as I muttered under my breath. Her only crime that would bring her doom was the fact that she was a practitioner of witchcraft. "That's… fucked up."

"Well, can't argue with you there. But there's nothing we can do about it. The Queen's decrees are our holy gospels. If she tells us to cut a witch's head off, we gotta cut the witch's head off…" Malcom looked straight into my eyes as he said that. "As the bearer of the mantle of Queen's Blade, you know that more than anyone else…"

Honestly, it sickened me that he's right. No matter what my misgiving was regarding this whole thing, I had to do my duty as the Queen's Blade and the Deliverer of Justice.

We remained silent after that until we reached the prison. The sealed letter in my pocket remained unopened because I had decided to open it once I was inside.

"I'll take over from here…" Malcom said to the envoy who had been silently following us. And then, Malcom took out a small bag filled with gold coins and tossed it to the envoy. "And here's to make sure you won't blurt out what I said about Captain Luciel to her. I can't imagine what she'll do if she finds out about me bragging about what we did last night…"

The envoy just grinned. "Pleasure doing business with you, Sir Malcom," he said before he left, stuffing the bag of coins into his pocket while humming a tune.

"That sneaky rascal…" Malcom muttered under his breath before he gave me an apologetic look. "Okay, look. I know you're the Queen's Blade and the arbiter of justice of our kingdom, but can you let me off the hook this once?"

"Well, you should know better than to commit bribery right in front of the Deliverer of Justice, but to ensure that you still get to bed Captain Luciel, I'll let it slide for now…" I said, smiling wryly at my old friend. "Come, let's get into business, shall we?"

Letting out a snort, Malcom followed me into the prison. This place was where those who were convicted of crimes were locked up. For those who were awaiting executions, they would be held in a special jail where they would stay in until the time of their executions. The witch was held there and was tightly-monitored by almost a dozen of guards. Fully knowing what a witch was capable of doing, these people weren't going to take any chance.

"As per the procedure, you go in here and have a talk with her," Malcom said as the guards unlocked the thick door of the jail which contained the witch. "In case if something is going to happen, use this." He handed me a red gemstone. "You know what this is, right?"

In case if the condemned suddenly decided to assault me while I was inside, all I needed to do was to squeeze the gemstone in my hand, and a force-field would be erected around me, keeping me safe while knocking the condemned out. It was a useful thing to use while dealing with troublesome convicts.

So, after taking the gemstone from Malcom, I stepped into the jail before the door was closed behind me. The jail was small and uncomfortable, but was big enough to fit at least three or four people. Sitting at the corner was the witch herself, white-haired and clad only in white dress. Her wrists and ankles were manacled while she was chained to an iron ball. What made such sight so horrific was that he didn't look any older than a teenage girl. In fact, I suspected that she might be younger than that.

She reminded me of my youngest sister, a fifteen-year-old ball of sunshine and happiness. The fact that a girl as young as her being kept in this very room, which once housed a few serial rapists and mass murderers prior to their executions made me sick. What made me even more furious was the bruises on her face and exposed arms, and I had to mentally remind myself that she was a witch, a supernatural being whose very existence could bring an end to a civilization itself.

Taking my time to recollect my thoughts, I slowly approached the girl, who lifted her head as she heard my footsteps. She watched me curiously, looking at me with those bright violet eyes.

"What time is it now?" The girl suddenly asked, and I stared dumbly at her, flabbergasted by the fact that's the first thing she said to me.

"I-it's… morning," I answered. When I sat right in front of her, I could clearly see all the damage dealt on her. Her skin, which I assumed was pristine once judging from her pale complexion, was marred with bruises and cuts, most likely from the interrogations. I had seen the guards doing some interrogations before, and I had to grind my teeth as I imagined what they did to her. "W-what… what did they do to you?"

"Ah, are you referring to these?" The girl pointed at her bruised cheek. "Those guards kept beating me even after I confessed to them that I'm a witch. It hurt a lot…" She lowered her gaze as she rubbed her cheek. "I screamed to them to stop beating me, but they didn't listen. They only stopped when that red-haired man in golden armor stepped in."

"Malcom…" I muttered. Of course he would step in if that's the thing that happened. Mentally reminding myself to treat him to a drink later, I decided to continue with the business. "Do you know who I am?"

The girl blinked before she saw the emblem on my mantle. "The Queen's Blade… the Deliverer of Justine… you are the Royal Executioner…" she looked into my eyes. Somehow, I couldn't see fear in those eyes even after learning who I was.

"What is your name?" I asked as I fished out the red letter from my pocket.

"Aura…" the girl answered.

"Okay, Aura… let us talk…" I spoke to her softly as I unsealed the red letter. "My name is Rodyle Hargrave, and I am tasked to carry out your execution at noon. Before that, do you have any possession or will to leave for your living relatives? If you have them, if I may add," I said, trying to keep my composure. When she shook her head, I proceeded to read the charges. "In the name of Queen Asharea Makelty the Second, the Queen of the Kingdom of Makelty and the protector of the realm, you, Aura the Witch, have been found guilty of practicing the forbidden art of witchcraft and being a witch herself, and will be sentenced to die as per the crown's will."

My shoulders felt heavier after I finished reading the charges. Looking back into Aura's eyes, I tried to muster my courage once again before I asked her one more question.

"Do you have any last words before we depart to the execution site?" I asked.

"Sir Rodyle… will it hurt?" Aura asked, her voice sounded childish. The face of my little sister came into my mind, and I had to bite my lower lip to keep myself from breaking down.

"…No," I said, working hard to keep my voice from cracking. "It will be quick and painless, I assure you…" Forcing myself to smile, I reassured the girl. "Just like falling asleep."

"I see…" the girl mused. "Sir Rodyle, if it's alright with you, will you stay with me until then?" She asked. "They didn't let me sleep last night when they interrogated me. May I sleep? Even if just a little while?"

The way she speak even reminded me of my little sister. "Sure. I'll stay with you, Aura."

"Thank you, Sir Rodyle… a-and, w-will you help me? These shackles and chains are making it hard for me to move on my own…" Aura said.

Helping her to lay down, I sat next to her. In just a few minutes, she drifted off to sleep, letting out cute snores as she slept. Sleeping peacefully on her side, she looked like an ordinary girl, a girl who really had no business being in here.

Honoring her wish, I stayed by her side, weeping quietly as I lamented over the sad fate of a poor girl, whose only crime was simply existing for being a witch.