Niall's mother buried her face in her hands and fell to the ground.
"This man has plotted against the Emperor." declared the Pope. The crowd gasped. It was not unusual for people to plot against their leader, but a soldier? Unheard of. The Executioner gripped his axe.
"This man does not deserve death," exclaimed the Pope, "why should he?"
The crowd murmured amongst themselves. Niall was confused. What did this mean?
"Why give him the mercy of death," said the Pope, "when I can ruin his life?"
Niall's father was lifted up and taken down the steps of the stage.
"He will be sent to the forsaken desert to rot the rest of his pitiful life away." proclaimed the Pope. Niall's father was walked to a small, barred wagon behind the stage. The rest of the ceremony was a blur. Niall could think of nothing but his father. Niall did not know his father well, but something inside him decided he was concerned for him. Everyone took their seat at the table set by the slaves. Niall ate his food in silence as he watched his mother wallow in sorrow and despair. Not once did she touch her food.
"Mother," said Niall, "shall we leave." a silent tear fell from his mother's eye.
"No, it is forbidden." muttered his mother. She spoke true, no civic person could leave during a ceremony so important. Slaves wandered the table serving drinks to the civic persons. This was the only occasion that the civic persons were served. Often they had to get their own food resulting in fights and other conflicts. At the head of the table was Laeche. He was gorging himself on the roast birds and cream desserts. He was definitely a relative of Daelus. The feast dragged on as it was the last event of the ceremony. Suddenly, a slave tripped and dropped a basket of potatoes on Niall.
"How dare you!" exclaimed Niall. This was infuriating. The slaves were supposed to be well trained and careful. This one was definitely in need of a correction.
"I am sorry sir." muttered the slave. He whimpered as he picked up the potatoes.
"Is my slave causing you trouble?" said the Slave Master as he approached.
"He dropped the feast's potatoes all over me and the ground." said Niall. The Slave Master nodded and picked up the slave by the collar. The slave wept and pleaded as the Slave Master dragged him away. Niall's mother slammed her hand on the table.
"Niall," she hissed, "have I not taught you better than that?"
"But Mother," said Niall, "he had to be put in his place." Niall's mother opened her mouth for a retort but closed it in defeat. Laeche suddenly rose from his seat, wine dripping from his beard. The bards and musicians ceased their melodies.
"This has been a most wonderful Reverence Ceremony," he exclaimed, "The Pope was most kind to personally deliver the ceremony for us today." The crowd cheered. It was not often the Pope visited cities other than the capitol. Laeche fell over, drunk. He popped his head up and chortled. He was quite disgusting, but no one dared speak these truths aloud. It would be treason.
Niall and his mother walked the winding roads back to their home. The ground room was comfortably small with small lanterns hanging from the low ceiling. The wooden table was quaint and sturdy. There was a small stove in the back corner of the room, illuminating it with the sparks that came out of it. Blankets were strewn about the room. There was a warmth in the simplicity of it all. Niall walked upstairs to his bed. He sat down at the small desk beside his bed. He opened the small box of trinkets his father sent him from the frontier. A compass, an orc spearhead, a human candle. So many things that would be trash to others. Niall shut the box and sat on the bed. Laying down, he thought of the Forsaken Desert and its lethal sands.