Virgil
I ask no pity from those of the living, for I can not ask for that, which I have none of. I know what I am, and I know why I am what I am. I made the choice. I chose the path of silent vengeance, of unknown retribution. I took up this path when I was but a child of ten years old. I swore I would kill each and every one of them, I burned as many of their faces into my memory as I could.
As I grew, I hid from the world what was inside me. I hid it well. The first came by chance, a drunk wandering down a dark alley I was practicing in when I was but twelve years old. I had no fear as he approached, I saw his face, I knew he was one. I took my short sword I was practicing with and as he approached I slid it between his ribs and into his heart. Not a word was spoken by me, none needed to be said. He was here, I was here, and he would die.
It was a surprise to me how easy he had died. At first I wanted him to suffer, to feel pain, but then from somewhere a voice, "is it not better him not knowing why he died"? I was twelve, I did not believe the voice was real and thought it my justification for what I had done. The voice was forgotten. But the words never were. They all died without knowing. Only one would know the reason why, and he would be the last.
My family and that of four others were moving to a new place, to a new life my father and the other fathers said. We had been on the road for five days. We had had no troubles and had seen no evidence of banditry or violence along the roads we traveled. The few guards we had were growing lax. There were some comments and questions from our leader on the first evening when a few of the guards were "leering" at wives. The leader of the guards took the matter to heart and the last few days everything seemed fine.
We all awoke on day six, and loaded the wagons and got on the road in short order, after five days we were well practiced. The guards were well practiced as well. They all took off to points along the trail. Our leader slowed his wagon down and stood to call over the guard leader. He had we assumed an adequate answer for the leader continued unconcerned about the actions. As we rounded a bend in the trail all the guards were spaced along the trail watching left and right as if expecting something.
The lead wagon approached alongside the farthest guard after passing the others, the guard looked at our leader tipped his hat, then swung a large hook at his wagons wheel and fired off his pistol. All along the trail of wagons hooks were tossed to the wheels, pistols fired horse bolted, and wagons toppled. The guards jumped from their horse and went toward the wagons, about 30 men streamed down a small rise toward us.
The wagon drivers had their hands full trying to stop the horses from bolting and doing more damage to the wagons, they were unable to help do anything. I was thrown from our wagon, my father rushed to help me, he was killed as he reached me. The bandits took me, they made me watch, I do not know why they chose me to be the survivor, why they killed raped and murdered everyone else, making me watch it all. My heart died that night, and was replaced with vengeance and retribution.
I walked down the palace road, it was not restricted to people, the king was a good man. Every five steps I dropped a weapon. People starting looking and wondering as I walked. the guards started following me closer, They had a scribe retrieve the weapons I had left. I had no need for them anymore. I was shedding that which I had used in my vengeance, every five steps getting lighter as my heart was growing heavier.
I approached the palace steps, and continued my trek, fifty four weapons dropped so far. I continued to shed them. I approached the doors to the common hearing room, where the king would receive his people. I was not of his people, but he would receive me. I continued down the red carpet to the receiving dias, continuing to drop weapons. the guards were getting very nervous. I looked to the King and to his Armsmen, "Fear not Lord, and fear not for your Lord' I said to them both. "I have but one knife left, and I ask that you allow me to use it my Lord".
I looked right into the Armsmen's eyes as I spoke to the King. "I have left a trail of my crimes as many would see it, my vengeance and retribution on those that killed and murdered my family and five other families twenty years ago. Along the path I have walked seventy-two men have died. There is but one man left. None of the seventy-two knew the why, they did not even know the who. They just died. When I was twelve I heard a voice, it is only now I know what that voice was, and why it spoke and what my future is." I continued to stare at the Armsmen as I spoke to the King. I could see he was slightly flustered at me not directing my story directly at him, but he allowed me to go one. The Armsmen was frozen in place.
"Five wagons, my King, five days of travel, and then on day six the murder. I was made to watch each and every murder, each and every rape and atrocity committed by those seventy-two men. There is but one man left to die my King, and that is the man that held me and made me watch. That is the only man, of those seventy-two that will know why he died. That man my King is your Armsmen standing beside you". With those words I drew and threw my dagger, it flew true, it cut through his coat, and sank deep into his heart. I watched as he knees buckled, and as he fell forward.
I lived for another thirty years, serving the King as his private assassin. My retribution was fulfilled, my vengeance sated. My skills grew over those thirty years, and now I serve a new King, a new master. When I was living I was known as Virgil, though none knew my name til I came under the service of the King. In Death I retained my name, for my new Lord enjoyed the fear it provoked in the living.
Here is the link to @steemmonsters story contest entry. Steem Monsters Common Card Fantasy Story Contest! // Week 10 I have been having a lot of fun learning to write these little stories, I am not a writer yet, but I feel as if I am getting better, so take a chance on yourself, and try your hand at a short story.
