Fritus de Arabel, a supposedly esteemed member of the powerful de Arabel family. Fritus was large, tall, and very drunk. His stubble was so unkept and rough it could leave you with several cuts on touch. The de Arabels were a family full of many military veterans. Fritus was trained from a young age for the army. But much changed when Magito came to power. For long, the Arabels believed they would become the military adviser of the Kingdom, but instead Magito chose his brother. The de Arabels still had considerable power but they lost much favor in Spalis's high society. Fritus eventually lost his way in the army and needed to be discharged by his own uncle. His family hasn't seen him in months and he's ended up in Harten, a place where no one would recognize him.
Upon his entry to the bar, both Executioners stood tall and readied their weapons. Their boots dug into the wooden floor so much so that the old logs had cracks. No militia could be heard outside, yet. Fritus didn't care for anyone around him. He went straight for the bar.
"Boy tried to cut me off from some drink. Spot me some won't you Bartender?"
The bartender stood still for a moment. She looked around the bar, she wanted help. Her eyes pleaded for it. Both executioners still stood. Refusing to lower their guard. Casimar felt the weight of this opportunity. All of a sudden, he stood too. Dathma showed a wee bit of concern and confusion on his face. Rilia felt the same way as Dathma.
"Why are you being stupid Casimar?"
"I need this Rilia."
"What are you even saying?"
Casimar turns himself toward Fritus, which gets him noticed by the towering veteran.
"Something you want? Is that Executioner here for you? What does a man going to die want with me?"
"He wants you to leave."
Fritus stops leaning on the bar. A grin slowly shows itself on his face.
"You can't make me. Are you gonna force your executioner on me? Just let me drink and I'll be on my way." Fritus spoke without a care in the world.
"You murdered a man!"
"So? I'm Fritus de Arabel! Who cares about the lowly words of some commoner!"
Rilia engages with de Arabel now, insulted by his words against common folk.
"If you are so important de Arabel, then how come you drink among us? Why aren't you in the great cities of the Kingdom?"
The tavern's crowd were scared of Fritus but even then holding back the laughs was difficult. Control of the room left Fritus's hands.
"Both of you talk so much… behind the blade of an executioner." Fritus chastised back.
As Fritus began building back up control of the tavern, militia could havebe heard arriving outside. Leading them was Callum. A long sword in her left hand. 15 men stood behind Callum, caked in armor and with swords, spears, shields, and crossbows. From outside the tavern Callum declared de Arabel an enemy of the entire city and that if he didn't surrender he would die here by the militia's hand. Jokingly Callum said the bar would be renamed in his stead. Fritus' Fall.
Fritus' fist came crashing down into the clay brick bar counter. No one more would be insulted, no more would the de Arabel family be taunted. Fritus walked over to the dead corpse of the militia he murdered and ripped the spear out of its stomach. Entrails followed it. One stuck to the spear. It wrapped itself around the spear's tip. The metal tip wasn't recognizable as such. It wouldn't be hard to consider it a ruby from far away with the sun's shine. Fritus smashed the end of the spear into the floorboards. The room rumbled. It was at this moment, each executioner drew their axe. Dathma had one hand at the end of his axe and another right under where metal intertwined wood. Callum eyed Fritus through the tavern's broken door. She didn't move a muscle, trying to predict Fritus' movements. Her guards got in a general formation, ready to pounce on any order Callum gave.
Fritus didn't know where he wanted to go first. He knew the guards were the largest group but they hadn't entered the tavern, meaning he had a chance of escape. But Casimar and Rilia pissed him off, and they'd be easy pickings after taking down the executioner. A daunting task of its own. He also couldn't predict how the other executioner would act upon his moves toward Dathma. So instead, he took a hostage. Holding the bartender at spear point.
"No wonder you're here." Casimar spouted.
"What did you say little man?" Fritus countered.
"For a man from such a powerful family, you are nothing more than a savage freak with barely any humanity left in you."
Fritus snapped the spear in half and charged Casimar. Callum's guards readied to move on. The crossbows had their sights set. But nothing could be done, in a flash, Dathma cut off Fritus' head. His body went limp and fell to the floor knees first. His head rolled on the floor until it reached the tavern's entrance. Right at Callum's feet.
"You do not touch an executioner's victim." Dathma gravelly voice let out.
Everyone was in awe of the executioner. But one person was annoyed. Casimar said to himself internally:
"Relying on Dathma is weak."
He didn't show it on his face, but he knew he'd need more to become Spalis's King.