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Description
…As she was standing on the gallows, facing the Parisian crowd she’d been hating for all her life, Antrague put forth her last effort to stop the trembling. Pain in her wrists from the tight shackles, the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, and the shouts from the variety of creatures that gathered on Place de Greve this evening to watch her be executed made it hard to concentrate on any thoughts.

Her memory went back to that distant day when she had a swordplay lesson with Robiyar, she recalled the words he said: “Everything in this world depends on a higher power. The only thing that depends on us is our honor”. What would her teacher think if he saw her in these tatters stained with clotted blood, accused of treason against the King and her country, sentenced to be hanged with her head uncovered, so the very last beggar of Paris could see the pain upon her face? Would he believe the accusations like everyone else did?

The execution was scheduled for the seventh toll of the Town Hall bell. Seven tolls like seven years of her service to the country. Service, that only one person was aware of.

One. She was afraid to raise her head and find him watching her failure and her disgrace.

Two. Even more Antrague was scared that he didn’t come to share that last fearful minute with her. After all these years she deserved this last little mercy.

Three. Cold drops of rain started to run down her muzzle. At least she could no longer worry that anyone would catch sight of the tears in her eyes.

Four. Now or never. Trying to ignore the exultant crowd she raised her eyes to the highest balcony of the opposite building.

Five. He was there. The distance was too far to see his face, but that very second she recognized the posture of the person she dedicated her life to. He was there for her.

Six. Through the deafening heartbeat in her ears Antrague heard the bloodthirsty shouts of the crowd as it watched the executioner behind her back getting ready to pull the rope. But she was no longer alone. Nothing else mattered.

Seven. “Long live the Cardinal”.

Description
…As she was standing on the gallows, facing the Parisian crowd she’d been hating for all her life, Antrague put forth her last effort to stop the trembling. Pain in her wrists from the tight shackles, the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, and the shouts from the variety of creatures that gathered on Place de Greve this evening to watch her be executed made it hard to concentrate on any thoughts.

Her memory went back to that distant day when she had a swordplay lesson with Robiyar, she recalled the words he said: “Everything in this world depends on a higher power. The only thing that depends on us is our honor”. What would her teacher think if he saw her in these tatters stained with clotted blood, accused of treason against the King and her country, sentenced to be hanged with her head uncovered, so the very last beggar of Paris could see the pain upon her face? Would he believe the accusations like everyone else did?

The execution was scheduled for the seventh toll of the Town Hall bell. Seven tolls like seven years of her service to the country. Service, that only one person was aware of.

One. She was afraid to raise her head and find him watching her failure and her disgrace.

Two. Even more Antrague was scared that he didn’t come to share that last fearful minute with her. After all these years she deserved this last little mercy.

Three. Cold drops of rain started to run down her muzzle. At least she could no longer worry that anyone would catch sight of the tears in her eyes.

Four. Now or never. Trying to ignore the exultant crowd she raised her eyes to the highest balcony of the opposite building.

Five. He was there. The distance was too far to see his face, but that very second she recognized the posture of the person she dedicated her life to. He was there for her.

Six. Through the deafening heartbeat in her ears Antrague heard the bloodthirsty shouts of the crowd as it watched the executioner behind her back getting ready to pull the rope. But she was no longer alone. Nothing else mattered.

Seven. “Long live the Cardinal”.