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lerougeIt was... in retrospect... a terrible idea. He should have fled thefirst chance he had, he knew beneath all that bravado and confidence that he had bitten off more than he could chew. He should have never come this close to the Castrum, he should have bolted when he was sighted. So many should haves and could haves and would haves.
All for nothing now. Of course the place would have been well guarded, absolutely brimming with the empire's best soldiers, what with the newly crowned emperor within. He assumed of course that he'd merely be killed. After felling so many a man, fighting until he'd used up every last bit of aether he could spare, until his arm grew too heavy to lift and his footwork clumsy and slow, he only imagined he'd be shot dead right here upon this very field. In all honesty, he'd have preferred it, meeting a death so glorious, to die here and find himself reunited with long lost comrades. Finally absolved of twenty years worth of guilt.
Instead, bruised, exhausted and ragged, he found himself locked away and bound. Arms manacled behind him, unable to rise from his kneeling position on the floor due to the shackles upon his legs, he was left to ponder if perhaps there was a grander end meant for him. Twenty years a thorn in the side of the empire, after all. The last living member of the Crimson Duelists, what else could possibly await him other than death? Public execution seemed likely, one last humiliation before the end.
A... depressing thought, one he didn't consign himself to so quickly in spite of his fatigue. His fingers scraped against the manacles, seeking out any sign of a keyhole to pick as his head cocked towards the door, listening for the sound of approaching footsteps. If he could but have a moment, just a few moments... Perhaps he could still yet turn this all around.
All for nothing now. Of course the place would have been well guarded, absolutely brimming with the empire's best soldiers, what with the newly crowned emperor within. He assumed of course that he'd merely be killed. After felling so many a man, fighting until he'd used up every last bit of aether he could spare, until his arm grew too heavy to lift and his footwork clumsy and slow, he only imagined he'd be shot dead right here upon this very field. In all honesty, he'd have preferred it, meeting a death so glorious, to die here and find himself reunited with long lost comrades. Finally absolved of twenty years worth of guilt.
Instead, bruised, exhausted and ragged, he found himself locked away and bound. Arms manacled behind him, unable to rise from his kneeling position on the floor due to the shackles upon his legs, he was left to ponder if perhaps there was a grander end meant for him. Twenty years a thorn in the side of the empire, after all. The last living member of the Crimson Duelists, what else could possibly await him other than death? Public execution seemed likely, one last humiliation before the end.
A... depressing thought, one he didn't consign himself to so quickly in spite of his fatigue. His fingers scraped against the manacles, seeking out any sign of a keyhole to pick as his head cocked towards the door, listening for the sound of approaching footsteps. If he could but have a moment, just a few moments... Perhaps he could still yet turn this all around.
