Quest - His Emerald Eyes | Page 3

As Bradwynne saw that it was the execution area where the old man was being held, Bradwynne gritted his teeth in anger and self-loathing. He was angry on both the leadership of the village, for executing a man without trial or arraignment, and himself for letting the old man be arrested in such a hostile surrounding. Why did he said those words anyway? Was it because he was hopeful that the guards will settle it in a normal way? Or was it because he wanted to save his own skin? He was seething in anger thinking all about it, and those words of the guard beside him was not helping. And what, they were laughing? They were laughing because they captured an Yladian thief? They were laughing because they finally proved that they thought that Yladians deserved the epithet of dirty knife ears?

The anger rankled in his heart thinking of those things, but everything did not stop there, as they had finally reached the scaffold where the old man was about to be hanged. As he saw the old man there, he tried to run towards the scaffold to save the old man, but he came to late: the lever was pulled, the floor came down, and after a futile struggle, the old man gave up his life. Bradwynne was aghast at this notorious display of injustice, and those guards still laugh about it? As the guards prattled on about him being late to pull the lever, he muttered, "If I knew that this kind of notoriety will happen, I would have cut that rope." As the guards were about to grab him, he dashed towards the scaffold, manipulating his UI so as to re-equip his blades, and with a quick slash, he cut the noose off, and caught the body of the old man. After he set the old man to the ground while muttering a spell, he then shouted, sword in hand now gleaming white, "Are you not ashamed of yourselves? You have denied a person of his right to a proper trial, and moreover you executed a poor person that you forced into a bad situation just because of your prejudice! Are you really this base, you damned Falderen guards? You are a greater scum of the earth than what you call dirty knife ears, as you don't think of justice, but of your own prejudice! Now repent on what you had did, or I will relent on telling this to the Astorean people that you are preventing Yladians to a right trial. But if you do not, I would have to tell it back to Astorea, and you should be prepared to face your fate. For the same denial of a trial you have done to that man, I will assure you that you will be denied of your proper trials!" He then readied his sword to attack anyone that would dare to attack him. "I AM BRADWYNNE LAMBERT, SWORD PRIEST OF ASTOREA, AND HERE IS MY JUDGMENT!"

 

Bradwynne was gnashing his teeth in anger as he faced the guards around him. He knew his death might be sure, but he would deign to take a lot of them with him as he would go down in a blaze of glory. It was his only way so that he could wash his guilt over his inability to keep a promise to a child he had learned to love as his own child. He was a traitor, a turncoat, one that had shunned the person that he cherished the most for his own safety. He masked his own guilt with those of who he thought, and wanted to believe, was at fault. His own inability, with his perceived inability of the Falderen to offer a honest trial on Yladians. His self-condemnation, with his condemnation of what he perceived to be a racial discrimination. He would hope that there was a turning point, but there was none this time.

A person, who looked like a nobleman of that region, tried to snap him out of his frenzied condition at the moment. He intently listened to his every word that he had offered to him. It was all sensible, appealing to his sense of justice. After all, the old man, that old man he had learned to forgive with all his heart, was a criminal in this region, had victimized many, including himself. After all, because of him, many families had starved due to lack of the means to buy food. As he was listening to the person before him, he was very receptive, but still there was this lingering feeling of guilt before him. Something that could not be solved by the man's words alone.

As the man was almost finished with his words, Bradwynne suddenly burst out laughing, a laugh that was mixed with deep sadness and guilt such that someone could look at him as a crazy man. He then said, tears bursting through his eyes, in a voice mixed with anger and sadness. "Please do not make me laugh like that. Proper channels? After all that commotion and deadly threats about that person like there, and how barbaric your guards act, I would dare think that you are lying to your teeth. And about you said about him victimizing a lot of people so much as to merit him death, do you not think that it was too much? From where I came from, robbers, although their crime were treated as heinous, did not merit such a drastic measure as hanging, or punishment to death, which was only reserved for those people who had actually killed someone. And, did not he return those which he had stolen? That should have been a proposition that he wanted to change for the better. You know, if there was a greatest victim of all his deeds, it was I. And I assure you, if I knew that he did that only to be rich, surely I would have sliced him into halves for what he was doing to the populace. But when I had actually found the reason why, I already knew that that person does not deserve death. His whole life at the dungeons or compulsory slavery, maybe, but not death. As I have faced the people here, I have known the reason why he had to steal. Wasn't it because you did not provide better opportunities to Yladians as a whole, since you still believe in that rubbish notion that they were cursed. Proper channels, you say? I would dare think that if other people of my country would see what I have seen, they will laugh at what you have said this time. I brought him to you to be judged in the right way that I had expected from a magistrate, but what did I see? A huge banquet of barbarity that I have never seen before. And, sorry to inform you, but he would leave a young relative in his death. From what I have seen in this village, I am not sure that you could provide your so-called proper channels to that child to live as normally as your human citizens, however talented he may be. No, I dare say that you will not dare provide those to that child, because isn't it your desire? To root out all the Yladians in the whole land?" He then took a spit on the ground. "I spit on your greatly decrepit justice system, I spit on the barbaric spirit of your guards and more, I spit on the racist spirit of all the people in this village... no, of the whole Falderen. If you promise that this kind of barbarity and racism would never happen again, then I would gladly sheathe my weapons. But if you not, then I am prepared for your swords, as I am prepared to die for my beliefs. You're not my enemy you say? Well I will tell you this: I am the enemy of all people who does not respect another person due to his race. I would have thought that we had already settled this with the former war, but I dare think that I have mistaken. Your words were wise and gentle, but with all I have seen, how will I dare entrust you with my person? You should give a reason for me to trust you, for I have seen a lot of treachery of a same form with my eyes." He would not lower his weapons, and would wait for the man's response.

 

Fast.

Bradwynne narrowed his eyes when he suddenly saw the noble-looking man lunge towards him, and, by sheer strength, ripped his weapons off him. Although he was definitely surprised, given that he knew he had a very veritable mastery level. Maybe this man was a hero that happened to govern this place, and might have encountered numerous monsters that had threatened any place, whether fighting for Falderen or fighting the threats in the village. And it was still sharpened enough for him to wrest the grasp of his swords from him, even though he was a very skilled swordsman. But he knew he, or anyone here, should be trifled with, and he had always stood ready. Now focused on the assailant, he quickly saw him about to throw a punch. So his expertise was martial arts. But he was also quite versed with it, and he knew where that punch would land: on his face. He then waited until the time he would actually throw it, and so would be too completely swayed by the momentum. When that perceived motion came, he then twisted his body backwards, and so the fist sailed harmlessly at the front of his face with the exception of his bangs became ruffled with the punch. As he then was about to rise up, he then saw the person about to grab him, and so he returned to his bent position, and then, shifting his weight to his arms, then did a simple but quick backflip to keep him out of reach of the person. As he stood up smiling, he then quickly assumed a stance that was commonly used by a known kung fu personality, but the stance then quickly relaxed, but still maintaining the smile on his face. It was not because he was already surrendering to this person because of the lack of weapons, but he then thought that maybe this was enough. He had already vented his frustrations, and had already received the response, and so he was now content. At least he could show to that child that he did show enough frustration on the death of his old man.

"Do you think, I, of all people, who was of the foremost in enforcing the law in Astorea, had not considered that? That he, while he is yet living, was a pickpocket, and a recidivist at that?" His face broke into a confident smirk. "I already said it! Clearly you did not listen! And who said that I came here for the sole reason that my compassion for the old man exceeded my sense of justice? I only watched how you would act in accordance to the principles of the place where I came from, and what I saw in here, I would dare think that it is very abysmal. Secondly I do not believe that pickpockets, even if they are recidivists, deserve a death penalty. Thirdly, I see this as an issue of social justice as well as law enforcement matters, as I had seen after I advised him to show his ears to your citizens. When I see your people had the same backwards mindset that equates Yladians to spreaders of curses, I see it as a clear failing of social justice. Although I do care about your losses in the financial way, and wanted to help you about that, if you say that Yladians are the cause of some famine or other unnatural calamities, I would have to fight against you. I say this, and will fight for it, not in behalf of that old man, but of my own principles, and what I believe in as the foremost Sword Priest and as an officer of the country where I have originated." He then moved towards the corpse of old man, and then placed it on his shoulder. "I always try not to fight, but neither I could trust you after all this. I wield my weapons not to fight needlessly, but to defend and uphold my, as well as the Astorean, principles of justice. I will never trust you with leaving me alone, and so, maybe doing that would increase my trust in you, albeit a little. There is a child waiting for me to return anyway, although I fear on what will be his response when he will see his old man dead, after all I am the one who led him to his death. But if you dare attack me again, I tell you one thing: there are myriad ways to fight without a weapon, and I had all of them, like you do. And even if I fail right now, I will dare think fighting for my principles about justice will not be in vain." He then would move quietly towards his weapons, sheathe them, and would leave the place to the house of the old man. But if the noble or his guards would dare to fight him before he would walk away, he would have no choice but to fight them, even with his bare fists, albeit blessed by his white magic.

@Izzy

 

Bradwynne did not answer as the person shouted at him about everything being a misunderstanding. For him the only thing that mattered was the things he saw from his point of view, and neither the old man nor the person here would not change that. He had seen everything enough to form his conclusions, and nothing could stop him from thinking that way. His opinion still stood, and there was no misunderstanding, at least none from his side.

He then glanced sideways at the guards which parted to make way for him. Although it could be said that they were at least obedient to their leader, their body chemistry as well as their faces implied that they were not happy with what the leader had told them to do. It was as if, they would want to attack him, had not the leader told them to never attack him. But it would be better for him to stay vigilant, and so, he grasped the hilt of his katana with his free hand while side-eyeing them as he walked clear of the area.

Now he would have to carry the corpse of the old man to their house where the child waited. As he was thinking of what to say to the child, tears started to trickle from his eyes. Should he tell the truth to this child, that his old man was a thief, and was executed because of his sins? Whatever the child's response, he would shoulder everything. After all it was justice served, although he did not want the kind of justice that was meted on the man. He should be firm in this situation, and move this child to Vintergard, where he knew better opportunities for the child would be given to him, unlike the situation here in this blasted village. He would bring him to Vintergard, whether the child liked it or hated it, or whether he liked him or hated him. It was for his own good.

@Izzy