Fate and Freedom XXV: Execution

The slaves watched on with silent distress as they were led into the central plaza, a long set of steps leading to the Frozen Spire just behind the crowd of imperials., who were rasing thier fists repeatedly in the air, shouting "Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!" again and again, in the Old Language, the language of the Wyrms.

Gale and the others all stood in rows, thier weapons confiscated, thier wrists encased in monolithic blocks of ice, except for nina, who was haled in place by chains made of pure shadow. The small band of hunters had bee brought here seperately (probably so that they couldn't co-ordinate an escape), so Gale had no idea where her two sons were. She looked to Mizu, whom the soldiers had beaten up for fun aon the way here, beside her for comfort, but his face was as troubled has hers. Suddenly, she was hit my the harsh butt of a weapon, drips of salaiva mixed with blood dripping from her lips.

"Face your superiors, wench!" the tinny voice of a soldier hissed as it's owner slowly marched by.

"Leave...her...alone..." Mizu wheezed tiredly. The soldier stopped, then tured around, marched over to Mizu and kicked him in the stomach, making him yell out in pain. The soldier spat on the floor next to him and walked away.

"I'm scared, Makoto. What're we gonna do?" Skylar whimpered, looking to Makoto next to her for support. Makoto's eyes stared blankly ahead.

"I...I don't know, Skylar," she said with disdain.

"Shut up, both of you!" a soldier barked from behind them.

"Look, there," Altair whispered out of the corner of his mouth, so as not to attract the harsh attention of the imperials. The hunters looked ahead to a throne of pure ice that was shouldered like a royal carriage by four soldiers, in which Kazir sat, his eyes cold and professional, although their pycopathic twinkle could never be hidden. The soldiers remained in place for a moment, before setting the throne upon the stone ground, allowing Kazir to get up. We slowly walked forward onto a podium of ice that he foremd as he moved, a set of small stepd leading up to an ice statue shaped like a winged beast, a dragon, one might presume; a crude, arctic lecturn. As Kazir laid his gloved hands on it, everything and every one fell silent. He began to speak. It was entirely in the Old Language, but since the people of this land learned the language in class for years, they understood it fairly well.

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