He was one kick away from death, standing on a wooden crate with his hands tied up behind his back, with a rope around his neck.
Scores of slaves and soldiers crowded in front of the gallows, some watching in shock and others not caring.
"Victor!" a rough and clear voice yelled apprehensively.
Victor's bruised and determined face looked to the side to see Damian hastily run onto the gallows deck, only to get grabbed by soldiers, preventing him from helping Victor. Since Victor's shirt got torn by ground and stone when being dragged to the gallows, he was now shirtless. His tanned skin had a few scars on the hips, accompanied by a skid-mark on his back. His body was alluringly fit, boasting a lean and muscular structure, despite the bruises.
Jane pushed through the crowd with her curly wet hair, arriving in front of the gallows, looking up at Victor and meeting his eyes.
Victor clenched with hidden fear on his jaw and looked away, throwing concern into Jane's mind.
The guard beside Victor was eager to kick the crate from beneath his feet but gave the crowd a lecture after commanding other soldiers to throw Damian into the crowd.
He breathed a sadistic laugh as the soldiers flung Damian into the crowd that gave way, falling with a hard crunch on the ground before Jane.
Jane was slightly shocked, yet concerned. She helped Damian to his feet and calmed him down. Even if he's a stranger to her, she could see his concern for the man on the gallows. Damian looked at her with fury, holding a hand over his sore shoulder while realizing her kindness, then turning his attention to Victor.
"This boy," the guard pointed in a lecturing tone, "is an example of the consequence a disobedient slave suffers," the throaty voice bawled out, his finger pointed at Victor.
"This is what shall happen," he started, stepping over to stand beside Victor, "when you disrespect a guard," he continued.
"You have no right to hang that boy!" Allaric's voice sliced through the air with a confident shout, gaining attention as the crowd gave way for him to approach the gallows.
"Allaric," Damian mentioned, surprised at his presence as Allaric stepped by, Jane glanced at Damian with a blink, wondering how a slave gets to know the stockade's staff.
"Now who else is going to do it," the guard deflected, pulling his sword from its sheath.
Allaric drew his finely sharp sword beneath the dark of night, the only light around a tint of orange from all the torches that flared about.
"Certainly, no lazy guard," Allaric mocked. Damian never knew that Allaric had a dark side. The guard grew angrier, clenching his unarmed fist with boiling fury.
"I shall be the one ending his life," the trenchkeeper spoke, throwing a cold shiver to make Victor's hands sweat as the trenchkeeper stepped onto the deck.
"I do not think so," the guard responded, pointing the sword dangerously at his face.
"No one is going to kill him!" Allaric shouted, causing an argument between the three of them, enraging Damian to rush onto the deck in a jump.
"How dare you!" the guard shouted, kicking the crate from beneath Victor's feet. Shocked breaths from the crowd erupted from their voices, some bellowing in the joy of seeing the situation unfold. What a sadistic place.
Just before the rope would jerk on Victor's neck, Damian swung his arms around him and tightly grabbed his legs causing Victor to fearfully gasp just before his head got tugged by the rope.
The swing of a sword above Damian's head made Damian clutch his eyes shut as he got ready for the blow.
CLANG
The block of a sword denied the swift descend of the guard's sword to Damian's neck.
Damian quickly sighed and looked up at Victor while holding his legs with his arms.
Allaric was busy with a swordfight, dodging and blocking the guard's blows with practised ease.
Damian glanced around in search of something he could use to cut Victor free. He cursed when he found nothing.
"Allaric… help!" he called, barely looking at how Allaric kicked the guard to stagger a few steps backwards.
He turned around and quickly ran with creaky thumps to swing his sword at the rope above Victor's head, slicing off but one inch of hair as Victor descended through Damian's arms.
"Are you okay?" Damian caringly questioned, pulling the cut rope from Victor's neck and throwing it to the floor.
Victor pushed hard on Damian and took a dodging step backwards, sending Damian to fall on his back when the sword barely missed him.
Allaric parried to the side before the sword stabbed into the wood in a splintering sound.
"Stop this instant!" A voice yelled, sending instant fright in the eyes of the trenchkeeper and the guard.
"No one is killing anyone!" the voice shouted, his voice raucous and throaty.
Sedric appeared from the crowd. His expression was furious and disappointed.
"General…"
"Hush!" Sedric interrupted, instantly silencing the trenchkeeper.
"Get every slave to their cells!" he shouted, rushing surrounding guards.
"So," he started, stepping onto the wooden deck of the gallows as the guards commanded all slaves to line up and to be taken to their cells.
"You," he pointed at Damian threatening, "get to your cell," he signalled, deviousness in his eyes.
A guard grabbed Damian and tugged him away, leaving Victor standing alone by the rope on the floor.
Victor sighed as Sedric approached him.
"Get back to work you fools!" he mischievously ordered at Allaric and the trenchkeeper, "but you," he aimed at the guard, "get this boy to my keep," he instructed as Allaric started speaking.
"He did nothing," he defended, only to be shouted at by Sedric.
"I'll have a word with him…" Sedric smiled, deviously, as the guard pushed Victor from behind, indicating that he must move.
"And get the slave a shirt," he said as the guard pushed Victor to walk onwards.
The chamber inside the keep was quite spacious, as to the narrow and high gothic window embed into the smooth stone wall that was built from large stone bricks, though it was finely polished. In front of the window was a desk, the woodworking of it a noble style, boasting a polished surface.
For the time being, Victor was alone in Sedric's chamber, his office. He paced around in the room on the wooden floor, browsing at the bookshelves and the interesting colours of books upon them. A chandelier of candles from above the beams had spilt its warm glow of light to fill the room, though some light came from the moon outside through the narrow window.
Before he was thrown into the room, he was given a shirt made from cloth rags. It was at least a better one than the sleeveless one he had before, also being slightly cleaner. It was sewn the same way as his previous shirt, the only difference being the one he wears now has long sleeves that hung over his hands.
He paced the room, waiting for Sedric to barge into the door. He bit on his lower lip as he scanned Sedric's desk, seeing a feather's tip placed in a small vial filled with black ink, a scatter of crackled paper with a candle of overflowing wax. There was much to see, like the many torn flags that hung beside the window on each side. It must've been from the places or regions he defeated.
Victor fingered the armrest of Sedric's noble chair, its pristine patterns a boast of aesthetics, while the cushion of it was a red and gothic fabric.
He admired the noble beauty, having never seen it before.
The door swung open in a ghostly creak before Sedric entered the chamber without expression upon his old face.
"Get away from my side of the desk," he shooed away, flicking his hand as if throwing trash away.
Victor nervously stepped around the desk until Sedric stood before his chair.
"You may sit down," he granted, speaking in an unusually calm tone.
Victor took a glance backwards to assure that he descends correctly onto his wooden chair, facing Sedric across him with a dead stare.
Victor silently started playing with his fingers while awkwardly glancing around.
"You've caused a lot of trouble today," Sedric scornfully claimed, staring Victor with sadistic eyes.
Victor only glanced up at his eyes and swallowed his words.
"Are you not going to speak?" Sedric scowled.
"I wasn't the one being ordered to go to these chambers," Victor answered, slightly hateful.
"Why do you think I brought you here?"
"Because you're probably going to lecture me,"
"Not quite,"
Victor looked slightly confused, tilting his head aside in thought.
"I could have left you to your fate, you know?" Sedric claimed.
"Yet you didn't," Victor snapped, madly creasing his brows.
"You were lucky," Sedric deflected.
"Only because a friend defended me…"
"You're arrogant unto oblivion," Sedric snarled, darting to stand up, sending his chair to skid with screeched on the wooden floor.
"If you don't die on our next objective," he started, slowly stepping to the window behind him with his hands clasped behind his back, "I'll personally deliver you to expire," he stated, trying to threaten Victor, but being the hardened young teenager Victor was, it wasn't easy to do so.
"How so," he managed, not showing any slight fear.
"Because the stockade is going to overwhelm an outpost," he stated, slowly turning around to meet Victor's fragile little eyes.
"When?" Victor puzzled, the objective unknown to him. This was a shock to him, the stockade and the slaves have never attacked an outpost and in these days… it's one of the most dangerous military defence lines.
"In two days, boy," Sedric proclaimed, picking up a paper from the desk.
"Why haven't you trained us yet, it's been a few days since our last battle and now you expect us to do it again, After a few days?" Victor questioned. With every objective that was set, the general and his soldiers would inform groups of slaves they used to fight in the war. The slaves would be trained and prepared, but this was for some reason no exception to the next objective.
"No, we have been informed that the outpost we must attack is already of a plan to attack us in a week," Sedric answered, his words quick with slight concern.
"But why are you telling me this?" Victor snapped.
"Because it's worse than most battles, and It's the last stand for you," Sedric carelessly worded, gesturing as he spoke.
"The reason I'm telling you this, Victor…" Sedric started, resting his hands on the table, "you have nowhere to go, no future and no point in life… so I'm just letting you know how you will die," he teased, sending fury into Victor's eyes.
"And I have a perfect battalion I'm going to position you into," He claimed.
"Why so?" Victor questioned.
"When I and the other generals plan the event tomorrow, I'm going to place you at the dangerous task, with other slaves of course," he claimed. But something clicked Victor's mind, a plan of his own was brewing.
"So, you hope this objective would kill me?" Victor assumed.
"Indeed, and if it doesn't work, I'll make sure the crate gets kicked, but take your position as punishment for your actions today" Sedric deviously smiled.
"Now, let my guards drag your pointless life into your cell,"
In the dark gloom of the cell, Damian waited, worried to death while whispering sentences to himself. He sat against the wall between the sleeping rags, sitting under the iron-barred window where-through streams of moonlight filtered.
He jumped at the noise of the door being slammed open, sending the orange tint of torches to fill the cell.
A body was thrown onto the cold stone floor before him, causing the young Victor to groan with acute pain.
"Victor!" Damian alleviated, quickly coming to his feet then hastily pulling his friend to his feet.
Victor sighed and the door closed, casting the room into the blue gloom of moonlight.
"I am being punished with a chance of death," Victor responded, stepping aside to sit on his sleeping rug against the wall.
Damian's jaw dropped then he became furious.
"It seems like I must plan a death," he cursed, wishing that Sedric should die.
"I have a plan," Victor claimed, looking at Damian who descended onto his sleeping rug on the floor, "or at least I have an idea."
"Are we thinking the same?" Damian wondered aloud.
"We're going to escape the stockade."