Dexter was unsure when he was taken from the chamber, clothed and placed in front of the guillotine. His mind was still muddled from the pain. Mindlessly, Dexter watched as others perished while he waited for his turn. He dully watched heads fly, blood flow, and the crowd scream in fervor.
It was not until his head was placed on the lunette that he snapped back to reality. He turned his head up and forward at the crowd. There were no signs of pity, only fervid excitement, and anticipation.
The sticky blood coated his neck, and the tangy metallic smell suffocated his senses. He could not breathe. He was going to die. A feeling rose up in his heart. He was unsure whether it was fear or relief.
He felt death caress his neck. Goosebumps rose, and his eyes filled with tears. Have I sinned?
Suddenly, he saw them. As one of the oldest urchins on the streets, he took care of many younger ones. There was no one to care for them, only themselves. As broken as it was, it was a family.
Hidden far from the crowd, the children peeked their heads out from behind a building. Dexter's heart wretched. They should not watch this. They were far too young. These children should play, be happy and yet look at them. Dressed in rags, with their skin sunken in because of the lack of food, and hidden in the shadows for the fear of being looked at in disgust, called dirty. He hoped that the older ones would take these children away. Their eyes should not be sullied and their hearts remain pure as long as possible.
From the corner of his eye, Dexter saw the lavish parlor that overlooked the execution grounds. An obese man sat on his plushy chair, outfit covered in eye-striking frills, with a goblet of wine in hand. The face of the man was red, evidently drunk. Dexter felt as if he could smell the alcohol suppressing the tangy blood.
That man was Count Tripe. Clearly, he was deriving pleasure from executions. Why was such a wicked man the ruler of all these lives? Like a candlelight, a small flame of fury ignited in Dexter's heart.
Look at him! Count Tripe. He sat in Luxury, breathed in Luxury, ate in Luxury while his people starved to death! How can he watch as they died in front of him for his wicked pleasure? They can not protest, they can not fight. Why is the world so unfair?
Dexter felt the wind of the mouton falling. It was the wind that stroked his fire, turning the candle flame into an inferno.
Bang!
The guillotine shattered. Pieces of it flew into the crowd. Parts of the wood were charred black, as if a fire had burned it. Dexter was unharmed, but his legs shook. He faced the crowd and saw the people panicking, cowering in fear. Slowly, he turned his head. The Count was off his parlor and rushing towards him with guards. The man's face was livid with rage as the Count ran towards him. In actuality, it was quite comedic as the man's body jiggled as he ran.
Dexter was a little absentminded. What had happened? It startled him when the wind picked up around him. Two people appeared by his side, wearing shimmery black cloaks that covered their bodies.
Mages. Even the ignorant Dexter knew who they were and what they represented, so how couldn't the Count?
Count Tripe stood in front of the two, sweating. He sought to catch his breath before saying, "H-honorable mages, it is a pleasure to have you grace m-my presence." It was a stark contrast compared to the attitude that he had shown Dexter before.
The two mages ignored him. They stared at Dexter. The left one said, "A child with magic potential. The first outburst I presume?"
Dexter stared at the mages. He was a little skeptical after the torture he went through. Why was his outburst now? Why couldn't it have been sooner? If it was, he wouldn't, he wouldn't have...
The right one nodded. "The time is convenient too. First semester should start soon."
The Count weakly laughed. "Honorable ones, this child is a criminal. I think-"
The left mage interrupted the Count, "-You think not. Imperial law states that all who show the potential of magic will receive compulsory education at the Imperial Magic College regardless of status."
The two mages felt impatience. Who was this noble to doubt them? Nodding at each other, the two grabbed Dexter, each with an arm in hand. "Let us go." Magic swirled up around them, and they were gone.
Count Tripe cursed. "Those stuck-up bastards! If that child becomes a mage..."
Even the emperor had to show respect to those in the Magic Association, much less a little noble like him.