Chapter 18

"Had the men that deemed themselves as powerful as to summon Death lost all humanity in their hearts, when even the skies that had seen the mightiest of all beasts and treacheries of all eras shed forth descending tears, to their innocent victim's Perish Song?"

~

Western Cliffs of Shillingston,

Verging over the Eastern Banks of the Prussian Farriage Sea,

Kingdom of Tristendyre,

Tempestuous Eve of the first Phriday of the Second month,

XXI Year of Regency

"Don your face with the liveliest spirits; we will overcome this adversity, my dear", said Lady Minerva to Crescence as the couple ascended the cliffs of Shillingston towards the gathering of people.

The grand showers rained down in surges, causing the journey difficult on such uneven and streaming terrain. The papers in her hand, beneath the capes, were wet.

The brazen fits of her gown (that were in the shape of ornamentally built gardbraces and vambraces and a plackart) grew cold; the feathers that bedecked her shoulders were drenched; the frills in the model of coriander leaves, that hemmed the ends of her long skirts were garnished with mud by the time the two had reached the scene of execution.

Lady Minerva took her place in the forefront of the lines of Chiefs and Elders of the Imperial Castle. She was aware that the execution of her apprentice was a smear of disgrace to her honour, but such notions seemed trifling at the facing of losing her innocent child.

After all, she had talked to the Royal Librarian, Chief of Archives and Artefacts, earlier and he had shared his concerns on how Imogen was dearly beloved amongst the various elders.

It was evident that the Castle's department heads were more inclined to feelings of sympathy than abhorrence towards the damsel.

The Lady reached her gaze to see Imogen looking cancelled and desolate like the very breath was snuffed out of her being as she was staring at the verges of the cliff wherefrom she was destined to be cast.

For a moment, when Lady Minerva saw the girl's pupils dilated and eyes void, her greatest fear for this moment began to rise and take the form of dangerous and regretful reality, her grasp of the papers slowly fading.

Had the child seen the advent of Death?

~

The Execution was orchestrated as per the agenda of proceedings:

The Arch-Eccleissor announced the following in defending the absence of Princess Mercedes Duvessa at the occasion:

"Her High Grace, Princess Mercedes Duvessa, Heir of Her deceased Majesty Sable Duvessa, has foreborne attendance at this Execution convened, for she is observing a fast of speech and encounter.

It bears imperatively upon her Royal Highness to hold this fast against the day of her Coronation, which will be hosted over-morrow, the day following to-morrow. On account of her fortnight-long, sacred refrainment from utterance and company, Her Highness shall solely make her next appearance at the Enthroning Investiture.

Hence, the proceedings of this Sentence shall be instituted by the foreordained and Honourable Regent Jehoram."

The addressed Regent Jehoram uncased the scripts and held out a scroll bearing the calligraphed lyrics of the Laws in pertinence to the Criminal system of conduct and cited the portion of Statutes that pronounced her sentence:

"Every convict shall be foredone to death by execution on the event of his or her abscondence from bequeathed punishment or fetters of chartered hostage. In the occasion of assistance from colleagues or associates, the hands of said acquaintances shall be deemed to be tainted with similar crime and shall be subjected to face like execution."

"This is the condemnation ordered by the Laws of Tristendyre and Imogen, shameful orphaned child of the Castle, is charged guilty of offense. She will be executed by Noyade in consequence to her trespasses.

Before the outlawed maiden is delivered into the infoldment of the Prussian Farriage Sea, and subsequent death, any that wish to speak shall be granted permit."

Lady Minerva, the Chief Physician stepped forward. The assembly bowed to her outset, for they reckoned it was words of wisdom that would follow.

"As regards the commotion from earlier this morning with the strange engravings upon the Pillory", she began, "I have deciphered the words and if granted, I may deem and exploit this forum as a privileged opportunity to expound its dormant literature."

The men of highest status bowed their undivided heed to the words that she was afforded to say. "You may proceed." The entire chain of events had been haunted by the mysterious value of these words, for they had endless possibilities of what could be insinuated.

Lady Minerva cast a glance to see Imogen's eyes and their embers. Shoving the tethers of weakening grief aside, she steadied her poise and placed forth her revelation:

"The cryptic sayings graven against the stone are of an archaic language, Thamizh. Its words have been forged in alphabets of the name of a Prophet and in numbers that are the reference to specific portions of his prophecy.

These are censures of condemnation and I am aware of precisely whom they have been directed to. Would you, Your Majesty, still desire to hear the end of my findings?"

There was impatience written on their faces as the men urged her further deliverance of words.

"The name of the Prophet is 'Esaias' furthered in translation to our language as 'Isaiah' of the ancient age and the portion of his prophecy that was named herein is 28:17, being the seventh-teenth verse of the first score and eighth chapter. The relevant scripture, I shall cite here:

'Judgment also will I lay to the line, and righteousness to the plummet: and the hail shall sweep away the refuge of lies, and the waters shall overflow the hiding place.'"

Lady Minerva paused for breath and proceeded to secure her game:

"I affirm that my answer is pristine and right. And as the Honourable Regent himself has granted, I reckon I have earned a prize. As conqueror, I aspire to inherit the release and reinstatement of my apprentice."

The Chief Physician turned her gaze to eye Imogen, but found blood-shot eyes that sustained no traces of hope, not even the faintest.

The Regent's countenance appeared morose as he traded glances of judgement with his Eccleissor. "There was no mention of a guerdon being the reward named by its receiver. The for-destined sum of money will be awarded you on the Day of the Royal Princess' Coronation."

Thunders shredded their way down to the earth from the glaring and nightly firmament, at the tempestuous horizon. Yet, the voice of its ire reached the gathering at Shillingston.

There was an algid moment of absolute dread when the cold silence of the outside had finally begun to settle into Lady Minerva's hoping heart.

Flashes of lightning lit the heavens, as a bolt of levin tore across the darkling skies like the whole celestialscape had been split asunder. This seemed to be the end.

It was like a deafening cry piercing through the congregation that money meant of null value at the face of losing a beloved child.

Lady Minerva spat her final words of spite on the face of the Regent:

"Now this portion, I have found to be the verse that has always been quoted at the conclusion of the Letters of Nathan, the prophet that warns. And I repute you should already have discerned whom these words have been intended for. I hope you take the warning, for I regard these words of Judgement to be prophetic, being stated in the very Bible."

There was an ill silence where sparks of hostility transpired between the two, the sounds of the rainstorm holding sole will of resonance.

"Very well, m'lady; we shall take it here forth. Your insight shall be entertained", said the Arch-Eccleissor, continuing with the Execution proceedings and the Chief Physician stepped back.

"Have you a final wish to speak?" was the question posed to the damsel whose feet and hands were shackled. Imogen nodded and turned to see Lady Minerva. With granted moments of speech, she kissed her cheek and the two wept in their agony.

"I cannot bear to behold this, my child; we have been wronged; this fate unfair that has behoved you", cried the Elder, a new sight for the kingdom, for the lady had forever born a calm and wise demeanour that hardly slighted to falter.

At that moment, with rolling thunders and ceaseless rains, there were wild and erratic things staged before their unassuming eyes.

The Chief of Arms and Weaponry, Sir Kenley Knight paced a step forward to steady the Royal Physician, hoping this tribulation of heart and soul would not swear to deteriorate her health.

The scene of her Ladyship in such disarray was greatly worrisome for the absolute finesse in the arts of healing and medication and potions that she had mastered in her years of doctorate were unparalleled in the Kingdom and if an unsightly case was to befall her at these trying hours, this ordeal would have caused them more than the execution of law's required acts of justice.

After a few moments, Lady Minerva assumed her stance of dignity, by physique, eyes still pouring her sadness. Per-haps, it was merely the sedimentation of reality into the depths of her conflicted heart, vanquishing the delusive contentment that had been comforting her all of this time.

Imogen gave her Lady a soulful and tranquil smile, her dimples being her sole charm at that moment, as the rains poured down exceedingly.

Crescence raced to their side despite the crowds, an avalanche of tears flowing down her face and wailed her most sincere feelings. "I will miss you, dearest. To my very end, I wish to live with your memories worn as a garland over my shoulders."

Imogen smiled, through the bursts of emotion. "This one thing I wish of you both, that you would forgive these men, and hold no contempt."

It was a gallant statement to make after she had seen the various conducts of ruthless wickedness. But, there was an ocean of peace that had swept her.

It was grace that truly tuned a person to divine traits; in all her years, she would never have dreamt the wildest vision of pardoning these men for the injustice, but if this was her final moments on earth, she would rather forgive than chain her soul down to this dirt by bearing against these men.

She purposed in her heart, to even forgive Jaycob, whose hands, she suspected, were besmirched with the blood of Jehu.

After all, in the strangest ways, she knew that kindness was an arbalest that stuck the very heart. Lady Minerva reflected the smile and nodded, whilst Crescence chose her arms in vengeance.

Imogen, ever the damsel whose hair was as ignited flames, whose service was as hospitable as a mother's, whose charm had the competence to quell the storms of despair, now stood in the most humbled guise, starved, in her final moments, drenched and feeble, yet a passive calm of serenity written over her lips.

She turned to the Eccleissor for yet a wish more: "May I request an elixir to diminish my senses as I am hurled off the cliff?"

The man addressed seemed perturbed, like he was ferreting about in the burrows of his mind for a reason to decline the request. "No, it shall not be granted, for you are seeking means of protracting the hours before execution. The rules are worthy of amendment only by power, and you hold none such. Hence, this request is denied."

The man that was authorised to read the agenda of affairs was called upon to step forward. He began stating the disposition of the maiden's demise:

"May the Chronicles of Executions be brought forth."

Two men clad in official garments stepped forward, bearing a large book with rusted golden trimmings over its face and golden rings over the thick stem thereof. They placed it upon the stone dais that stood before the gathering.

The ventral cover of the bound book was long and reached to fold over a third part of the front, fastened by a seal bearing the coat of arms of Tristendyre. This seal had been broken more number of times during the tenor of Regency than in all the ages of the Royal Generation's reign.

One of the men bowed and produced a casket bearing the Royal Signet ring that was modelled to hold the symbol of the Kingdom's crest and a thorn beneath that was potent with the proficiency of breaking the seal of the Chronicles of Executions.

The Regent's temperament evinced no sight of hesitation for the outlandish deeds that were corrupting his hands; none even for the magnitude of reputation and sacredness this book held, for this man had exploited his ungranted right of execution on far too many victims, imposing their death to the point of being numb to the grave depth of it.

The Arch-Eccleissor, his ally, differed not, for he shared the calloused hardness of heart to be immune to the sensitivity of their deeds.

A noble stepped forward to hold a large shield over the book, lest the rain spill forth and confuse the fashion of the text and ink.

The Seal was broken, instigating the diarising of her name therein on the verso of the great book, as a criminal worthy of death sentence.

"May the Certificate of Death be documented", compèred the announcer.

The Deed was brought to the dais and her name written there-into. Imogen's eyes were condemned with the woe of watching her own Writ of Death being recorded to materiality. The cause of Death was mentioned to be 'Execution by Noyade', in context to the Section of the Law whereby the sentence was served.

Lady Minerva refused to sign the document and there were other lords and ladies called upon to resolve the establishment of her execution.

"The Criminal will now be cast down this Cliff of Shillingston, into the undertaking Prussian Farriage Sea, fathoming about a third part of a fur'long, descending to her certain death", was the statement made.

Now, the order of the units measuring length, as adopted in the Kingdom of Tristendyre is so:

The shortest unit of scale was expressed in "Frinzes" measuring about the length of the bisection of one's thumb, where the digit's joint is flexible and upward to the tip of the nail bound.

The second degree of measure was known as the "Tread", being about 8 frinzes in approximate value; commonly, the distance of a sole of one's feet from the tip of the longest toe to the back wedge of their heel. It was frequent occupation of men in the Kingdom to measure the land, based on the average length of one's foot, by stride.

The third commonly used component of spanning range was the "Fur'long", used in architecture, agriculture and dragon defence. There were several other fields that adopted the use of this measure, but these mentioned were more frequent, for the fur'longs were used in enlisting the expanse of land or beast, forming from the union of about 660 treads. It was a large measure that farmers adopted in their profession and even seafarers in fathoming depths of the seas.

"You may now commence the proceedings", said the man that called events to order and two of the escorts seized her arms and took her to the challenging edge of the crag.

The winds billowed out her unlit, wet hair as her gaze was shed down the traumatic heights of the ridge that made the fleeting bed of her footing.

She beheld, in dusky vision: waves of the seas seething scornfully and clashing against the steep and rugged surface of the cliff, algae spreading, foams bubbling and fading into the waters, fog clouding her scarce sight, rains raving feverishly and adding to the ballistic turbulence, night, hate and then Death.

She closed her eyes in prayer as she was thrust off the ridge of the rocky pinnacle.

The sound of screaming pierced through the air until it was heard no more. And yet, despite the cessation of the blood-curdling screams, it sounded in every heart.

The waters and the winds raged on and the Book of the Chronicles of Executions was sealed again.

~