General Payton stood on the auditorium roof, his body restrained by rusted shackles that dug into his skin. Dark bags hung heavily under his eyes, and he struggled to stand straight, appearing malnourished, sickly pale, and dangerously thin. It seemed as though even the slightest breeze could send him tumbling to the ground.
The wretched man surveyed the sea of people before him. Over ten thousand had gathered to witness his public execution, turning the spectacle into a Caesarian Triumph. Payton had imagined inspiring such crowds in his dreams, but now, after weeks without sleep, he wondered if it was a nightmare.
Eighty feet below him, the emperor stood on a platform with a cold expression, surveying the sea of people with a bold stare. "Do you seek justice for the futures this villain has stolen from your friends and families?"
