King Erilin was being clothed by his maids in his bedchambers the morning of the execution. He had sipped plenty of ale upon his waking, taken a hot bath, had his crown polished, and now the maids worked tirelessly as a threesome getting garments and linens and embroidered royal clothes upon King Erilin's body. The door was swung open and lord Rayudus entered with two royal guards following him in as the door then shut behind him.

"Lord Rayudus, how kind of you to report this morning."

"Lord King, you summoned me."

King Erilin was facing away from Rayudus as he spoke now. The maids were busy trying to grease his eyebrows in a fine line across his forehead, but his eyebrows were thick and stubborn.

"Today is a big day for all of Weptswur, Rayudus. The greatest crime of the new age will serve justice. Today, Terran's head will fall from his shoulders," King Erilin took a seat so that one of the maids could slip his leggings on over his feet, "That rat of Fallon's was found, Rayudus. He shall be hung this very day before the Slayer. It will serve as a fine demonstration and appetizer for all of our visiting guests."

"Uh, lord King, you mean to say Ser Charion will be hung? I am lost, what was he—"

"What has he done? Oh, Rayudus did you not hear me at the councilmen's meeting yesterday? He is a rat and I will not have some mercenary wandering these castle walls doing my son's bidding. He is imprisoned so that he cannot interfere here. Does that much make sense to you? You used to be sharper, Rayudus. You have grown soft and dull over the years."

"Lord, I am as devoted to your cause as ever. Erm, I actually do have news for you, lord."

"Well, go on then, what is it? It'd better be pleasing news. I do not have time for more anguish and pain. I still labor my son's death."

Rayudus' lips curled into a thoughtful twist. I cannot tell him, for all I know he might take my own head if it does not please him. But if I do not tell him of Fallon's escape, I am surely to blame, thought Rayudus.

"Oh no, Lord King, it is simply that I was going to tell you that the execution is set for the Dead Man's Courtyard in the east sector of our castle walls. It is a confined area surrounded by thick castle walls on all four sides as well as railings overhead to place lookouts upon. I conferred with Lord Gorren, whom you appointed as temporary commander of our castle's knight watch until Nerault's replacement is found, and he will have the castle on high security with half a hundred archers lined upon the railings and the entire king's guard inside the courtyard to protect against any outside threat."

"Good. Ensure Nightclaw is close to the action as well and have him bring his Ki'vatsu. It never hurts to have too much protection. We cannot risk an outsider squandering our plans. The Slayer must die, Rayudus! He must pay!"

"Indeed, lord," squeaked Rayudus.

"Is my son still in the dungeons? The two twisted sorcerers as well?" King Erilin was partly distracted by his mail that was hoisted over his head and rested upon his hefty shoulders. His long blond hair sat frazzled on top of his shoulders as well.

Rayudus murmured an affirmative, twisting his fingers together awkwardly and begging for the it to come to pass with no further questions. He was wrong.

"I hate it when you speak in mumbles. Speak it proud, are they locked up? Because if not we are in a great trouble, Rayudus, and there will be war within our own walls until we find them!" King Erilin was having another fit of rage that Rayudus was noticing since the king lost his son. Grieving did not pair well with stress and leadership, Rayudus noted.

"Lord King, I would not tell it a lie. It is true, we need not worry about that. I'll be in the King's Hall to address all the lords and noblemen that the execution starts on the hour, in an hour. The gathered lords and ladies are excited to get underway. It will be magnificent, lord King."

King Erilin ignored Rayudus as he slipped out noiselessly past the two guards who stood with spears firm in their grasp on either side of the door. Or at least Rayudus thought he had slipped by. The spears came down hard on each other to block Rayudus path. His heart skipped out of his chest and he turned ever so slowly to face his king.

King Erilin gave Ayudus his full attention now, swatting away a maid who tried to tidy his collar and she yelped as the back of his hand caught her in the cheek.

"You thought you could get away with it that easy, eh?" The King's cheeks quivered lightly above a soft smile that hid a contempt underneath it.

"I, uh, well, what is it, lord King?"

"You thought you were just going to stand idly by and enjoy the death of the Slayer just as easy as that? No, I need you to do something for me, Rayudus."

"Anything, lord." Rayudus held his breath as King Erilin approached him and stepped inches from his face. He could smell the ale in his breath.

"I want you on the outside today. Away from the courtyard, standing watch on our great wall that faces the south. I want to be sure we aren't taken by surprise should Dansington fall and somehow we do not hear of it."

"Are you sure you do not want lord Gorren to do that, as temporary commander?"

"No. I want to keep him closer. I trust you more, Rayudus. You have always served faithfully."

"Aye, lord King, it would be an honor. Consider it done, I shall prepare to stand watch soon after I inform the King's Hall of this evening's procession."

"And here me now, Rayudus. If things go south..."

"yes, lord? Anything, I am willing..."

"If something goes wrong today, and I no longer live as King of these great castle walls...I want you to take my son's life—he will never live as a King." King Erilin's face contorted angrily into a scowl as he stared down at the bland tiling of his bedchambers.

Rayudus' legs lost feeling and he thought he would fall through the floor. He nodded curtly, "Aye, lord. If that is your wish and it comes to that, I shall serve in obedience to your will which is bounded by blood to these walls."

Rayudus bounded down the narrow twisting stairs with his heart pounding out of his chest. Time moved as fast as he'd ever known it as he took his position beside the Queen upon the raised dais and rang out the announcement that the execution will take place inside the Dead Man's Courtyard. His eyes scanned the crowd and he saw peasants of the castle's confines, bishops, lords of Weptswur who had come from far, he saw the Queen's sister and her noisy fool, and lastly his eyes met lord Gorren's. He swiftly left the dais and before he knew it, he was standing amongst the castle's watch along the great south wall that faced the long treacherous plains before them which eventually gave way to thick forest. Rayudus glanced down the line of the castle's south wall and found it to be thin on men. If a great army were to raid these walls, the arrows of every man upon this wall would never make a dent. Rayudus shrugged the thought aside, Dansington would hold firm, they always had. It was too soon after the war for a real army to formulate anyways. He didn't even believe the tales that were told of Mestranes creatures. I've never seen a skinchanger and I doubt I ever shall, pure myth. Rayudus smiled to himself, thinking of how he had been given a great deed by his King. He would have little to nothing to do this day. His skin prickled however, and his throat swelled as he remembered the night before. He looked down at his boots and remembered the look they had yesterday as he walked across the wet grass to meet Ser Charion and hand off the keys. He must have been caught shortly after...but Fallon is freed and on the prowl. Rayudus looked beyond the wall to the trees that appeared as small green blobs in the distance. A raven squawked overhead, and he wished greatly that he were a raven. Such little responsibility, and so safe flying all alone in the great big sky.

Terran squinted as hard as he could from the blinding light of the afternoon sun. The guards jerked him out of his dark hole in the sewers. Terran barely managed to stay on his feet as he felt the soles of his feet touch solid ground for the first time in days. He had no idea how long he had been confined inside the narrow hole. His body was stained with the stench of the sewers and the guards cursed and muttered insults that did not reach Terran's ears. His head ached worse than he had ever felt from the bright light. He was ushered onward and eventually he was hoisted up by his armpits as the guards took him to a new location.

When it felt like they had wandered across the entire castle they finally emerged through a side door of a huge palace. Before Terran was what he had feared in his dreams, or maybe it was just his thoughts—he hadn't been able to distinguish the two. A wooden platform with poles and ropes attached stood at the center of the platform and a man with a great broadsword stood on the platform with a dark mask covering his face. Terran could tell by the blurry outline of the executioner that he might be the tallest man he had ever seen. His hip was wide, and his belly hung slightly over his belt.

The roar was deafening to his ears. Terran glanced around the courtyard and to his right he saw the snarling faces of hundreds of people. They were confined to one side of the courtyard but the men who held them back were struggling to keep them back. Terran realized they were not merely guards standing before all of the onlookers, but knights. Knights with great spears and swords hung about their backs. A shield sat in their other hand and battered away at the encroaching peasants and noblemen. They wore their magnificent armor and helms over their heads. Terran heard a few insults ring out louder than others and tears threatened to escape his eyes, but he wouldn't die a man of fear.

The guards hoisting him up threw him to the ground and spit on him, and Terran grunted in pain from the hard dirt he found himself on sprawled out on. The chants and screams from the onlookers grew louder. Terran gathered himself and hunched over upon his knees. He glanced up to see the face of Edmund Nightclaw. By his side were two Ki'vatsu and Terran shuttered at the sight of them. Their eyes were blank and cold. Nightclaw's face remained unwavering and still, and Terran wondered whether there was a soul somewhere inside of that body. Dirt rose from the ground and caked his throat and so Terran coughed wildly and he was kicked in the stomach by someone, he didn't see who. The crowd loved it and so another kick came, and another. He crawled away from the foot that wouldn't relent but as far as he crawled the kicking followed until his head slammed into the base of the platform which he knew was waiting for him.

He was raised to his feet and he swayed limply. His eyes flickered up to see two people in great throne chairs at the opposite end of the courtyard, flanked by men who could only be Ki'vatsu based upon their intricately designed cloaks and golden hilted swords. At least thirty royal guards stood behind the King and Queen with half-helms that showed neutral faces, some scowling, and even a few bared a smile but Terran knew it was at his expense.

As he ascended the couple stairs up onto the platform, Terran studied the faces of the Ki'vatsu that stood guard by the King and he spilled a sob and a tear flowed from his eye. It was the cold, blank stare that met his own that reduced him to a single tear. He knew that face. Hildebran stood like the rest of them, but he did not own a Ki'vatsu cloak or cape so Terran recognized that chain mail as Hildebran's. He called out to him as a last gasp, but he was drowned out and the guard that accompanied him drove a knee up into his rib cage.

Terran stumbled forward and felt rusted shackles encase his wrists as he was centered on the platform before the gathered crowd for all to see. He glanced sidelong and saw a man standing beside him. His face was knit into a snarl, baring dirty brown teeth and a tight face. Terran recognized him as the man who had thrown him into the sewers that first day he had been captured. He wondered what the man had done to warrant an execution beside himself.

The crowd jeered them, and a few threw various pieces of food or coins at them. Terran closed his eyes and drowned out the noise until it was just him. His good hand rubbed his over bad hand which was now just a black nub where the curse had eaten away at his limb.

The trumpets sounded from overhead above even the banister railings overhead where archers had an eye on every person that moved within the courtyard's confines. The blaring sound quieted the wild crowd of peasants who wished to see the Maldur Slayer's head rolling on the ground like a fruit. The King and rose from his jeweled seat that had been set up for him and ascended the plank boards of stairs that led up to where Terran and Charion stood shackled at the arms with the executioner standing in his concealed black mask. Nightclaw stood with his staff down below the platform but with his lead Ki'vatsu, Erdezo, standing beside him with the hilt of his blade in hand, ready for anything that should threaten his master.

Somewhere behind the crowd of diverse peoples stood a man leaning against a wooden post underneath the cover of wooden planks which the archers overhead stood upon to keep a watchful eye. His forest green cloak was unhooded, but his men were lined behind him, and not an eye had spotted them, for they had intentionally arrived late to avoid detection. Now they stood, and their leader, lord Gorren stood with legs crossed, his upper body leaned slightly against a thick wooden beam. He listened out across the courtyard beyond the row of royal knights which stood tall before the onlookers to prevent anyone from slipping out any further towards the vicinity of the king and the execution.

Gorren slowly glanced side on at one of his men who had come with him from his kingdom back home and saw the glint of steel shining underneath the concealment of his green robes. The booming voice of the King sent the courtyard to quiet as he prepared to have Ser Charion's head lopped off like a senseless animal.

"This demonstration is a declaration of what happens when a constituent of this kingdom conspires against the wishes of its upright and glorious leader. I present the first of two necessary killings this evening, Ser Charion Marbringer of Weptswur!"

The crowd roared its head and fruits landed short of the platform, splattering against the wood. Some bounced off the helms of the knights who stood firm against the ever-pressing swarm of onlookers.

"Ser Charion was found at the late hour of one past midnight this morning and has committed treason by conspiracy to free a prisoner of this castle, after stealing the keys off one of my most trusted councilmen. That being said, his intentions were to bring harm upon this kingdom, and in essence he has an evil heart that seeks the destruction of a castle that brings justice to a dark world and protects this realm from great evil. For that, Ser Charion will face his death."

The crowd was beginning to send the knights back with their shoving and pressing so the knights turned their spears sideways to use the shaft as a push back, but their feet slipped back in the dirt. The sand was slippery under their armor and metal boots. Lord Gorren turned to peer across the courtyard to the other side of onlookers where a man was slouched low with a tattered peasant's cloak and tattered trousers. The face portrayed short stubble and determined eyes as Gorren's eyes locked with him. At least Ser Charion will die a success, his master is free. Lord Gorren tried to read Fallon's face as the two stared between hundreds of faces separating their own. Glancing up to the exectioner's platform, the King had stepped aside next to Nightclaw and Ser Charion was being forced into a kneeling position before the man with the death sword.

A councilman gave the orders for his execution and the deliverer wound back his arm. Gorren looked back to Fallon but he was gone. Gorren knew it was time. He shoved his way around to the peripheral right side of the swarming onlookers and shoved his way between lords and bishops until he found his way to the front where only a couple knights prevented fools from sliding in unnoticed from a side. Gorren's men discreetly made their way after him in their green cloaks and tunics. Some even wore mail and appeared as an everyday warrior, or perhaps a mercenary. Gorren thought it was quite odd that Fallon had simply disappeared. He was supposed to give the signal. Have I gone too early?

The arm of the executioner came down brutally and the sound send shivers down Gorren's spine. Charion's head toppled softly to the ground with crimson red staining the sun-dried wood. The sun's glare had softened now, and the evening brought pink skies and red sun. Something's wrong, that shoudn't have happened, thought Gorren. The problem became apparent. Gorren snuck an inconspicuous glance upward along the balcony that encircled the square shape of the courtyard's open space. A Ki'vatsu wandered about that stretch behind the archers as they aimed faithfully. Gorren knew that Fallon's two accomplices he had captured initially waited for the signal amongst the king's archers; one with his dragon horn and the other with his bow in hand and quiver on his back. Gorren saw Nightclaw's face through the crowd as he stood beside the King contently next to the platform. Charion's body was tossed aside carelessly and Terran was instructed to kneel in his place. Fresh blood met Terran's knees as he bowed his head with his arms behind his back.

Terran's eyes glanced upward at the balcony encircling the courtyard above where archers lined up. His breathing was coming ragged now in fear. If there was a plan to save him, or even Charion, it seemed to be failing. He saw no savior here. He turned his head slightly to meet Hildebran's face, but his face stared straight ahead, and his head was shoved back to face forward by the Ki'vatsu who stood beside the executioner on stage.

The King came back onto stage to preface the next execution.

"This is the death we have been waiting for, for justice!" The crowd roared in applause.

"The crime against the realm was committed by this treacherous slayer and he must pay for damning us all!" The King raised a fist as he yelled, and spit flew from his mouth.

"The Maldur Slayer, Terran. Let his death be as swift as his name." The King made his stead back down the steps of the platform and re-took his position beside Nightclaw. The executioner finished cleansing the blood of Charion off his blade before slinging it back behind him for his second execution of the day. The sky boiled a bright red overhead. Terran closed his eyes and his last thoughts were of that fateful day in Mestrane; the golden meadows. He still did not know why he had felt the compulsion to kill that Maldurian, but he would never know now.

Terran's eyes flung open at the sound of an arrow whizzing over his head by inches and thudding home into the throat of the executioner who stumbled backwards with an arrow in his neck from the weight of the sword behind his head. The onlookers of lords, peasants, and noblemen screamed in horror and scramled back inside the doors of the palace that connected to the courtyard. Terran felt the cold of steel against his neck and saw the embroidery of Rednork's finest swordsmen upon the sleeve of the arm that clutched the blade.

Screams and bloodshed ravaged the courtyard as chaos erupted like lava from a volcano. Gorren's men hacked through a chunk of Weptswur's guard of knights who failed to notice their concealed approach to the weak spot of their line of men.

A Ki'vatsu fell from balcony above and the snap of his neck was audible to Terran even over the shouts and cries of men. Overhead, Fintan allowed a second arrow to breeze by Nightclaw's face, but it narrowly missed, and he cursed his luck. That attempt had not been so pinpoint as his first that had thudded home into the executioner's gullet. The archers from over top concentrated their aim at Nightclaw but Fintan held their release with a fist, and they obeyed their new leader. The King's guards who had stood as back up to the Ki'vatsu had been slaughtered in the chaos and now the Ki'vatsu stood with blades to the King and Queen's throat. There was nothing preventing the death of the royal court besides the command of Nightclaw who had all bows from above pointed at his head.

Fallon had disappeared entirely from the courtyard, from what Gorren could see. But now he stood with his men, around ten of them, surrounded on all sides by the knights of Weptswur. The reinforcements from Fallon and his command had not arrived as planned and now Gorren's stalemate at the front gate of the courtyard added to the brief pause in activity amidst the bloodbath and hectic array of events.

Wind sputtered a Weptswur banner in the sky that hung from the south tower where watchmen continued their duty faithfully despite the turmoil down below. The air had a blue tint to it from the descending sun. Things had come to a standstill. Fintan stood with sweat running down his brow and across his cheeks as the quiet meditation of his apprentice wore on in secrecy by his feet as Vince kneeled below the boards that Fintan's forearms rested on to steady his bow. Vince held the dragon tusk in hand with brows knitted and muttered silently to himself. His face was pale as snow and the ends of his hair hung wildly over his eyes.

"You kill Terran and fifty arrows bury themselves at once inside that thick skull of yours, Nightclaw." Ferovr's eyes ever left the alignment of his fingers along the bow string he held so tightly over that railing.

"You do that, Magi, and the King dies, and the Queen with him," said Nightclaw.

"No, it doesn't work that way, Nightclaw. I should have you killed and be done with it. Those Ki'vatsu you have enslaved have no part in this. If you want death, come and fight me yourself." said Fintan through gritted teeth.

"Go ahead then, Magi. Do your magic without your stone and have me dead. The Ki'vatsu are still sworn to my cause. You can't win that way; your plan is flawed." Erdezo still stood with sword drawn at Nightclaw's side. Hildebran's blade was near choking King Erilin, and the King shuddered foolishly at the threat of his death and the Queen stifled tears.

Fintan still stood with one his hands fixated on the bow and the archers waited for his release, for they knew to mimic him if his bow releases an arrow upon Nightclaw. Vince grunted and winced from the strain of the horn. He came-to and muttered from his spot on the ground.

"He's here! He's here, master." Vince's voice croaked like the death of an old man, but Fintan heard it. He paid it no mind as to not raise suspicion from below. The last thing he wanted was a panic death of Terran and the hope of stopping Steed's army to be diminished for good.

Fintan wanted badly to kill the King, to let him die. It would alleviate the stakes, and Nightclaw would have nothing to hold on to. But Terran's life was in the hands of the Ki'vatsu who held him. He had thought of it earlier, however, that since killing Nightclaw would not merely liberate the Ki'vatsu, but instead enrage them, for the spell would not be lifted. Therefore, he should have all the Ki'vatsu killed. Yet, he could not bring himself to kill innocent men, for it was no their doing; but it is the spell of Nightclaw's dark magic that bounds them to his dark will.

Terran tried to whisper to Hildebran but it was no use. He does not know me now; he is a different man. An extension of his sorcerer is all he is. Terran's whispers only earned a tighter yank of the flat end of the blade across his neck, and the tears flowed helplessly down his face. It was either his life or Hildebran's, but not both.

Fintan saw the stone glow on the end of Nightclaw's staff and his eyes widened. Nightclaw would be receiving the same word that Vince had foreseen. King Steed was here, and he meant for Terran to be dead. A sorcerer serves his master to all ends, and Nightclaw was one of them.

"Release!" The archer's arrows rained down on Nightclaw like hail stones and they punctured his body like thousands of little needles, and he fell to his face. The stone of his staff fell from its levitating position at the end of his staff and rolled across the dirt ground of the courtyard. All but one arrow had made it to Nightclaw, and that arrow had come from Fintan's bow. Instead, it landed in the chest of Hildebran, whose reflexes had not responded quick enough, and it failed to slay Terran by the throat.

The cries from the mouth of the King were cut short by the slicing of his throat by the Ki'vatsu's blades and the Queen endured a brutal death by his side. The Ki'vatsu rallied as the six of them and then Gorren's men shoved their way by the King's Knights, who knew not where their loyalties lie now. Gorren hacked and slashed as he struggled to meet the impeccable strokes of the swordsman, but another wave of arrows rained from above and Gorren heaved a sigh of relief, losing only two men before all six Ki'vatsu lay flat like an animal who had been picked off by its hunter. Fintan and the archers raced down from the stairs leading down from the balcony and Gorren knew him to be the Magi that Ser Fallon had captured.

"Ain't need no Ertorin stone today, did ya?" Gorren had a wide smile on his face that was met by an unflinching scowl from the unphased face of Fintan.

"This is isn't over, it's only getting started. Quick, grab the Slayer and come with me."

Fintan hadn't taken one step before a trumpet rang out from the south toward up above where the once flapping banner of Weptswur was now ripped from its stilt by the winds.

"What is that?" asked Fintan. Vince groaned and moaned in a cold sweat, unable to stand now.

"That's the war horn, somebody has arrived at our gates," said Gorren who looked astonished. Fintan had no time to wipe off that stupid look of surprise, for he knew they must act quick.

He shouted at the King's men, "Your king is dead, you'll do as I say now. Get to the front gate, gather all the men we have from behind these walls. Archers, assemble along the south wall, and Gorren tell every noblemen, bishop, and peasant that this place has to offer that today, he defends these walls with his life."

Vince's fingers had coiled around the horn again and he hollered, "INCOMING!"

If the skies were not already red, a flaming ball of thatch and shrapnel sprayed through the air and punctured the skin of men who were stood a hundred feet or so on the other side of palace. The screams told Fintan everything he needed to know.

"Move! Now!" Men scattered and ran. Some knew where they ran to, others did not. What they did know, was that it was no fable and no tale that, indeed, Mestrane's forces had gathered, and they were coming—straight for Weptswur's strongest fortress.