2
As you groggily awaken, the world seems to sway slightly. You feel stiff and try to stretch. Your inability to spread your hands brings you back to your grim reality.
“Ah, you're finally awake.”
The hoarse voice that called out to you belongs to a rugged fellow with a blond beard. His clothes, though dirty and torn, still bear a faded blue and a few traces of a coat of arms. Like you and your two other traveling companions, his hands are bound at the wrists with strong ropes.
With his clasped hands, he points to a small fortification that is beginning to appear at the end of the path, emerging from the dense forest.
“This is Krak-the-neck, as we call it. Last outpost in the northwest of the kingdom of Nonearby, if we exclude a few watchtowers. It will also be our final resting place.”
The presence of guards riding around your wagon is reminded to you by a brutal order to be silent. Shortly after, the convoy enters the small, artificial clearing bordering the fort, a building made of thick stones surrounding a small village.
The gates open, and the wagon crosses the small settlement under the hostile gazes of the inhabitants. They are probably the families of the local soldiers.
Finally, your journey ends, and you are roughly ushered out of the vehicle. You join a line of prisoners, many wearing the same faded blue clothes as two of your traveling companions. At the end of the line, a notary writes down the names of the prisoners, who are then led further into the middle of the courtyard. There, a block awaits them, along with an executioner whose axe is constantly at work.
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“Down with the Empire! Olrik is the true king of…”
Crack! The axe silences the last boast of the blond-bearded man. Shocked, you realize the line has moved forward and you're next. Mechanically, you give a name when asked. The notary looks at you in surprise, then turns to the man who seems to be leading the fort:
“I don't have this one on my list, like the previous one. I don't think they're rebels. What do we do?”
“Well, if they're here, there must be a reason. To the chopping block with the others!”
The man ahead of you, the one among your companions who wasn't wearing rebel colors, tries to protest, but, seeing the futility of his attempts, tries to escape. A vain effort: he's immediately pierced by an arrow fired by an archer. Now it's your turn to move toward the chopping block. Observing the spasms still shaking the body pierced by the arrow, you decide the axe will be less painful.
Kneeling, your head on the bloodied log, you close your eyes, awaiting the fatal blow. Suddenly, a monstrous roar shakes the sky, and you hear the murmur of great commotion:
“It's the dragon! Fire! Ahhhh!”
A smell of burning, screams of pain, a cascade of heavy noises and impacts surround you.
Opening your eyes, you see that the fort's roofs are ablaze, while the wall has a gaping, enormous crack. Several huge stones litter the ground around you, having come from there. One of them has crushed your executioner, and only the axe's blade still protrudes. Quickly, you wear down your shackles against the iron, finally freeing your hands.
A quick glance reveals a nightmarish scene. A gigantic monster fills the air with its presence, breathing devastating fire upon the soldiers still standing. Everywhere, the cries of the wounded and the fleeing echo through the air.
You pick up a dagger from a corpse, then tap the secret pocket of your clothing where you keep your “professional” tools and your money. It's not much, but this minimum will guarantee you a fresh start. You hastily cross the collapsed wall, leaving your captors to fight with the monstrous dragon. Before you, a wide river separates you from the kingdom of Faraway where you can begin your life anew.
Taking a deep breath, you dive in… and immediately regret it: the violent current carries you, whether you want it or not, to 51 (Memorize 151).