The monotonous thumping of drums filled the Lionmane town square. Crowds had been gathering for some time eagerly preparing for what would come.

The drums thumped louder as the murmurs of conversation started to grow. As the rhythm reverberated ferociously the crowd's reception became hostile as a man surrounded by several halberdiers were escorted into the main square.

It was almost impossible to identify this man from his initial appearance. His blonde curls were stringy and matted. His face and body looked devoid of muscle and fat as his skin appeared like it was barely clinging to the bone. His left hand sported three fewer fingers and his rags for clothes were dirty and ripped.

A few weeks ago he had been welcomed into the home of the Emperor of Isovine. A few weeks ago he was a knight of the realm. A few weeks ago he was Sir Dederick of Harpyford.

It didn't take long for the first person to start throwing their forgotten rotten food at him, and it took even less time for the masses to follow in their footsteps.

As the rotten food clashed in his face, they cheered like they cheered when his lance shattered against the Widow Maker's shield some moons ago. They once treated him like a hero, and now they treated him like he was vermin

Roars from the crowd crescendoed the closer Sir Dederick moved towards the executioner. The tears streamed down his face as the anger around him became more volatile and his time on this earth became shorter.

Sir Gervais stood upon the rampart overlooking the proceedings from the Lionmane Keep. There was no smile from him, nor was there anger, just a deep sadness that seemed to drag the life away from his gaunt face.

He watched on, staring as Sir Dederick was dragged towards the executioner's block. The guilt that tormented his soul was overbearing; it was he who had brought him to this place, it was he who had arranged for his life to end this day.

"Why do you do this to yourself, my love?" a soft voice calmly asked behind him, causing him to break away from the devastating trance.

The sight of Lady Arianne beaming her loving, but concerned, smile caused his heart to skip a beat. As he smiled toward her briefly, the guilt that he felt was more pronounced than before.

"I have to accept all the responsibility for the road that has taken this young man to this point." Sir Gervais replied.

Lady Arianne placed her soft, tender hand on his face. "You did what you must. The Emperor must be obeyed, for the sake of the realm and our daughters."

He leaned his head into her hand "How can you be so calm about this?"

A small smile crept onto her face "Because I know and see the turmoil inside of you. I must not add to it for it would increase that already heavy burden that lays upon you. You know what would happen to our family were you to disobey. So often it is necessary to be what we don't want to be."

"It's getting harder, you know?" Sir Gervais replied "The Emperor's requests. I fear that one day he will ask me to do something I simply can not say yes to."

Lady Arianne lowered her hand and turned to leave the battlement. She stopped after pondering her next words carefully and turned towards him. "Lets us hope that day never comes."

Returning his gaze towards Sir Dederick, he watched as the halberdiers took their perimeter positions around the executioner block and Sir Dederick stood weak-kneed just behind it.

As a priest of the golden sun took his place by the side of the devastated knight, the hostile crowd started to lower their voices to hear what was to be said.

"Here stands a man accused of sodomy and devil worship. Crimes, that under the decree of the great Emperor, Arnaud third of his name, are punishable by death. Evidence, gathered by defenders of the realm and faith, have been considered irrefutable by the great Emperor himself. His sentence, despite its severity, fits one whose blood flows nobility. Sir Dederick of Harpyshore, you will receive the executioner's axe and as your blasphemous head is severed from your shoulders, I pray the gods give you the same type of mercy that the great Emperor has bestowed upon you."

There was a massive roar as the crowd cheered in excitement and bloodlust. Sir Dederick stood, tears rolling down his dishevelled face, weak-kneed and shaking.

The priest raised his hands once more to silence the crowd. "Do you have any last words?"

Broken, shattered and despondent, it appeared that Sir Dederick would collapse under ridicule and shame but as he briefly looked toward the sun-stained sky his reddened and tear-stained eyes displayed something else.

Defiance.

Instead of resignation, a spurt of anger flashed across Sir Dederick's face. Pure anguish darkened his eyes as with all his might he pushed himself to his feet. As the once timid, naive man opened his mouth, his coarse fragile voice spoke out, "I stand accused of crimes I did not commit, my confession, coerced from my lips after days of torture from the Widow Maker himself. My only crime is that I married my beautiful wife, who has conspired with the Emperor for my removal and into each other's bed chambers. I curse them both and demand a trial by combat with the Widow Maker, Sir Gervais Vanderbilt."

The cheer that accompanied his challenge echoed like thunder throughout the courtyard, but despite the cheers, Sir Gervais looked on, aware that the outcome would not be what the young knight had hoped for.

The priest raised his arms again, turning towards the crowd to gain their attention. "The accused denies his charges and demands trial by combat," he paused for dramatic effect "yet from his mouth he speaks words of treason. You undermine this great empire with your baseless accusations."

The crowd looked on, eager to hear the consequences of Dederick's actions. They looked on, wide-eyed and anxious to see what would come of the man who dared to defy the Emperor and raise slanderous accusations against him.

Slowly turning his head toward Dederick, the priest looked toward his prey, his head held high and his arms stretched wide like a pious peacock. His arms lowered and his voice boomed out, "The great Emperor, Arnaud third of his name, decrees, due to your insubordination, that your tongue be removed. Once you are unable to speak slander no more, you will be hung, just as you hang your lies to the people who stand before us today. Finally, just before you face judgment to the gods, you will be strapped to the wheel where your body will be broken, just as you attempted to break this great empire into many shattered pieces."

There was another massive cheer, one even more ferocious than before. As the executioner grabbed hold of Sir Dederick, the once-loyal knight cried uncontrollably.

Sir Gervais frowned. The screams, caused by the once loyal knight-errant, created a shiver down his spine. This knight had done nothing wrong and even acted nobly. In his final moments, he spoke the truth, although very naively, and as a result, he would end his time in this existence in the most excruciating way possible.

Glancing along the rampart, Sir Gervais noticed the fragile elegant figure of the blue-haired woman. Her light blue dress fluttered in the breeze as her pale freckled exposed arms, pulled his attention toward them.

He was immediately drawn toward her beauty; her soft cute lips blushing in the bright sun. Her petite figure called for him to protect her and her long blue hair flowed in the breeze as if beckoning him to go to her. Yet as Nimue turned away from him, Sir Gervais felt the anger of today's events overtake her art of seduction.

"Do you take satisfaction in your husband's demise?" Sir Gervais asked with venom filling his voice.

Spinning around toward him like a whirlpool in a stream, her blue eyes turned toward him, strikingly beautiful but without a hint of regret.

"My Lord, you have already gained a false confession from my husband, do you plan to do so with me?" she asked, her voice purring with antagonism.

"What do you plan to gain with your arrival. Should you end up in the Emperor's chambers, you will only confirm the words of an executed Knight. You will put the entire empire at risk." Sir Gervais responded.

Her smile was equally bright and menacing. Stepping toward the fuming spymaster, her hips swished with ease as the alluring temptress purred with sexuality with every step. "What happens behind closed doors remains behind closed doors. Besides, should tongues start wagging, then the empire will have fewer tongues."

Almost disarmed by her enchanting smile, the hint of malice behind her words kept Sir Gervais on his guard, "You have no power; you can not do these things."

"Power is subjective, my Lord. A few weeks ago, I was considered a commoner; in a few weeks, I shall be a voice to one of the most powerful men in the world. Do you think I have not planned this moment, that just because I was born of the fairer sex that the realms of politics, manipulation and power are foreign to me? While men are heads of their establishments, heads face the direction the neck turns them. I suggest, my Lord, that you remove yourself from matters that do not concern you unless you want to place your neck and the ones you hold dear at risk."

Before Nimue could step away from the exchange, Sir Gervais forcefully grabbed a hold of her arm, "It does concern me; the realm concerns me. For all I do is for her and her protection. And should you threaten my family again, you will certainly gain yourself an enemy today, and I promise you that I am not an enemy you would wish to suffer."

There was an ungodly scream from the courtyard, a devilish piercing screech that seemed to penetrate Sir Gervais with dread.

Nimue smiled, her blue eyes glistened, "that was my husband's tongue being torn from his mouth, and you misunderstand me, my Lord. It was not a threat, but a promise, for threats, imply words but no action. Now please remove your hand and return to your spying for we have no more to discuss."

Sir Gervais was familiar with threats, from low and high born, and rarely did they concern him, yet the way her voice purred and oozed confidence, it made him deeply troubled.

Nimue was low-born, yet she spoke eloquently, the command in her voice and the confidence in her words left Sir Gervais with the feeling that he had been outsmarted by a creature that he towered over.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Sir Dederick hiked up into the air by the neck. Spotting the young dishevelled knight gasping for air, Sir Gervais immediately released Nimue's arm.

"Good day, my Lord," Nimue spoke softly, curtseying and smiling as she glided toward the castle interior.

With every step swaying effortlessly away, thoughts of the dying were quickly extinguished, yet as Nimue's eyes gazed toward her dying husband, a wry evil smile gleamed on her face.

It seemed that she took great satisfaction as she watched her husband struggle to breathe with his legs dangling in the air

Watching Nimue float back to the castle, Sir Gervais realised that he was perhaps dealing with evil personified. The story of her past, being from a village in the south, was all a lie. She had manipulated her way into court and the favour of the Emperor. She had used Sir Gervais, among others, as a tool to rid herself of her husband, a man who had a simple but positive reputation, and now she was free to accept advances from the Emperor of Isovine without fear of consequence.

Every man had a weakness, and as a man who spent a lifetime finding and exploiting them, Sir Gervais knew this with certainty. The Emperor's weakness was his lust for the fairer sex. If the Empire knew how true the rumours of harems and bedding other noble wives were correct, there would be civil unrest from all corners of the Empire.

Nimue had one saving grace when dealing with the Emperor, she was opinionated, and no woman would dare to be allowed to express any type of opinion in front of the Emperor.

While normally, women of that type would be discarded, Nimue was alarmingly different. Not only was she seductive and manipulative, but she was charismatic, frightfully intelligent and oozed an unspoken power.

Foolishly, Sir Gervais had verbally sparred with her and placed a target on him and his family's back. As her influence was bound to grow, so did the danger that she possessed, and if Sir Gervais did not put a stop to it soon, perhaps the next screams that haunted the courtyard as Sir Dederick's body and bones were being forcibly broken, would that of Sir Gervais himself.