Author's Note: The previous chapter was one of the most difficult chapters for me to write, for obvious reasons. Here is yet another intense chapter. I know some of you are eager to know what will happen next. Unfortunately, I am still editing the rest of my story and making major changes in some parts. Although I won't be able to post a new chapter everyday, or sometimes even every other day, I will try to add something new whenever I can.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this chapter, though I am certain you will notice Joachim is not exactly in his right mind...
Oh yeah, one more thing to note. I used what happened to Catherine to explain Joachim's later desire to fight Leon (his hatred of whips)...also, very peculiarly, one of Joachim's in-game weaknesses is ice. I always wondered why. I hope the "cold" imagery associated with him (the color of his eyes), his father, snow, his white hair, and winter (a season which symbolizes death/darkness, as well as when he was extremely ill due to the cold) will shed some light on a few things...
Special Thanks:
Rahar Moonfire: I am glad to know that my previous chapter inspired so much emotion from you. The whole point of that chapter (for me) was to get the reader to react to Joachim's grief. I always thought that Joachim's rage (shown in the game cutscene before Leon fights him) stemmed from great tragedy. It seemed like all the pain he had inside built up until he couldn't handle it anymore. In this chapter, you will see some of that showing despite the fact he isn't a vampire yet. Everyone has a darker side, after all. :( As always, thank you so much for reading and reviewing.
theghostisreal: Thank you for taking the time to comment on my work. Chapter 11 was one of the most difficult passages for me to write, simply because of its delicate subject matter and the fact it needed to be done 'tastefully' (if that makes sense). I hope you will continue reading and I look forward to hearing what you think again if you decide to follow this story. Your comment made me feel like my hard work was worth it.
MarishkaBelmont: Thank you for reading my story and reviewing it. Although Joachim is my favourite character from LoI, I still find Walter extremely fascinating. The fact that Walter hides a great deal of himself from others makes him fun to write, especially when it comes to WalterXJoachim. I always wondered what happened between those two. Although capable of benevolence, it's clear that Walter is also capable of great cruelty as well. I hope you will continue reading and look forward to hearing from you again :)
Chapter XII
Joachim confined himself to his chamber and sat in front of his bedroom window, staring at the village in the distance. The dried remnants of tears still stained his cheeks while he stared at nothing in particular. It was a painful way to grieve, however, if chance happened to place Catherine in the same room as he, he knew his throat would be unable to speak a word of condolence. The woman had suffered enough without having to witness his depression as well. A loud knock on the door startled him but he had no intention of getting up to answer it. Instead, his attention returned to the windowpane. From somewhere in the room, a loud squeak resonated as the heavy door was pushed open, followed by the sounds of steps clinking over the floor. Despite knowing who had entered, his monotonous expression failed to reveal the sting of rage coursing through his veins.
"Joachim…I am sorry for your loss." The voice belonging to the caller was hesitant; trying to reach into the young man's bleak thoughts. The attempt for some form of conversation grew more desperate. "…Will you forgive me for what I did?"
The young lord's dull blue eyes stared at the one who asked so much of him. A long moment of silence continued until Joachim forced himself to respond. "You dare to ask me for forgiveness?" He chided, whilst allowing an emotionless chuckle to sound from his throat. "Do not flatter yourself. I will never forgive the cowardly dog that abandoned me to die."
"You do not understand!" The younger knight stood as still as stone but stepped back under his lord's intense glare. Maurizio's presence was no different than a rabbit placed before a wolf. At any moment, Joachim could have grabbed the young man round the neck and strangled the life out of him with his bare hands. The knight's voice weakened. "There were too many of them! I called to you to come inside the manor but you did not hear me!"
"Whether or not I heard you has nothing to do with this." Joachim hissed through his enamels, and as if some unseen force had animated his former statue position, he turned toward the young knight stiffly. "Because of your incompetence, I was unable to protect Catherine. You are so selfish I doubt the fact she miscarried matters to you in the least. Your apologies are meaningless."
"I had no idea she was carrying a child! Nevertheless, you cannot expect one lowly knight to sacrifice himself-"
A cold sneer wavered over Joachim's lips. "I expect honor – which obligates you to serve your lord. You did not serve me, and you should feel grateful I have decided to spare you. If I were like my father, you would be drawn and quartered by now."
Maurizio's eyes glimmered anxiously, as though appearing summon enough courage to respond. The lord had trapped him where there was no escape and no excuse. It was probably a miracle alone that caused him to come up with one. "I was serving you. Why do you think I came to warn you they were coming? Why do you think I summoned Lord Walter for aide? It is not my nature to leave a friend in harm's way."
Joachim wanted to believe what he was hearing. It was true that his knight came to tell him of the news but it must have been obvious by his haggard appearance that he had not slept through the night in months. He had taken after his father for being rather observant, and in such distressing times it was clear he refused to rest amidst threats of an uprising. A flicker of distrust seeped through his pale blue eyes, whilst his thin frame stepped toward the knight. The look of incorruptibility Maurizio wore was enough to make him maintain his incredulous glare. "You want me to overlook what you did because of that?"
The knight's head nodded, and then lowered so the chestnut color of his eyes was hidden by the shadows. "I want you to forgive me – if not that – then allow me to keep my title. It is all I have, and without it I am nothing."
"You are nothing with your title. You are not even worthy of being a knight. Forgiveness is meaningless, now." Joachim's throat released another unemotional chuckle. In darkened room the sound was so ominous Maurizio took another step back. "What's the matter?" The young lord challenged, his pale form radiating with the sad beauty of a fallen angel. "Are you afraid…I might change my mind about sparing you? Don't be, because I have other plans to make you of use to me."
Maurizio made a deep bow, his dark brown hair falling against his smooth, handsome face. "I will do anything you ask."
Joachim's scowling lips twisted into a mocking smirk. "You will do anything I tell you. A lord never asks to be served." Satisfied by the knight's returned silence, he moved so close to Maurizio that he could feel fear emanating off every inch of the man's body. The knight made no attempt to hide behind a brave mask, for the dangerous look of hate consuming Joachim was unpredictable. Not even Joachim himself knew what grief and rage made him capable of, except the single goal he brooded over throughout the lonely passing hours. It was almost unspeakable how it pleased him when he instructed. "Go into the village. I want you to find the three men who lashed Catherine and bring them to me."
Maurizio's bright brown eyes did not dare clash against the cold glare of the lord. The words lingered like hot breath escaping into the air on a crisp winter's eve, so that it clouded the knight of a will to stir. "As you wish, milord. Is it your will for me to arrest them?"
Joachim stepped closer again so the gap between them narrowed. "Yes."
After watching his lord's movements, Maurizio's throat swallowed hard, and his voice shook like a leaf battered by a storm. "On what charge shall I arrest them?" He asked.
For a moment, the lord paused, allowing his silence to make the knight uneasy. The idea of voicing his thoughts aloud was out of the question. He remembered the uncaring but hushed way in which his knight had retreated, and it was a decisive moment he would not soon forget. If Maurizio failed to follow through with his order there would not be another opportunity to be redeemed. It had not come to pass yet, which prompted his unblinking eyes to pierce through the man's nervous exterior.
Joachim's reply shattered the silence like it was made of glass. "Murder."
The knight's eyes widened, the thin line of his mouth falling agape to his response. "The creature was stillborn! You cannot blame its death upon them, no matter how great your sorrow, since they did not actually kill it-"
The lord's reflex upon hearing the words was quicker than a bolt of lightning. In a matter of seconds he backhanded the knight across the face, defying the illusion that he was too frail to deal a harsh blow if it was necessary. "Shut up!" Joachim hissed, watching the knight stagger back with a hardened gaze. "I am the lord of this district and I may administer laws according to my whim. Their crime will not go unpunished. Defying a lord alone is punishable, regardless."
"How do you plan to have them punished?" Maurizio's wild eyes stared at him with the starkest image of dread.
Never before had Joachim's once fragile body emanated any form of terror, however within the darkened room the young lord seemed almost inhuman. Hollowed eyes never ceased to glare down at the knight, accompanied by a face expressing nothing but visible disgust. Joachim pointed his index finger at the knight, amused by the fact that Maurizio jumped back as if it was a threat to strike him. His voice died to a low whisper. "The punishment for murder is death. Have the serfs build a scaffold in front of the manor steps. I want a lesson to be taught to any who dare to challenge me."
"Yes, milord." The knight backed away so far he was nearly out of the room, like a dog retreating from its master's wrath. "I will see to it they are arrested immediately." Maurizio continued to back away into the safety of the surrounding shadows, however the lord's cold eyes were ever watchful, so the frigid blue irises stabbed daggers that could have immobilized the man if he so much as tried to turn around. Joachim pressed his hands together in the form of a prayer and held them in front of his lips. Locks of pearly white fell against his contoured cheekbones, his stance straightening with his head held high, so that his glaring eyes could look down upon the man as if he were nothing but an insect to be crushed. In the darkness his slender figure radiated a terrifying beauty, though it was a strong contrast to his icy threat.
"You must not fail me. Otherwise it shall be you who greets the scaffold at dawn."
Can thou not see my pain?
Hath this world left me to cry?
Burdened by my sinful stains
A soul with no wish except to die
Where art thou my dear child?
Departed beyond heaven's gate
As my soul lingers in a life defiled
Knowing I am who God should hate
The dawn was just an hour away before another subtle knock sounded against the door. Unsurprisingly, the lord remained seated in front of the windowpane with his head resting in his hand. It was too early for Maurizio to come calling and he was in no mood to deal with the servants. Regardless, the door slowly opened and the armored form of Walter stepped calmly inside the room. The other lord's pale skin gleamed in the darkness but the pair of deep starlit eyes unnerved Joachim's thinning patience.
"What do you want?" Joachim looked away from the window and stared at Walter's stagnant expression. A dim flicker of annoyance flashed across his face until his ears caught the sound of the man's voice.
Walter's glittering eyes lowered when they made a brief contact against the young man's. "Your wounds are deep." The red-haired lord's voice became quiet from the evident lack of response. It did not appear to cause an ounce of surprise to waver Walter's calm disposition. "I do not know the pain of losing a child, but I do know the pain of having to live after losing what one holds dear. Indeed, your anger is understandable."
Joachim's stern expression wore a fleeting look of curiosity, before the reaction was overcome by a defensive scowl. "I have no time to concern myself with you. Is there a reason why you must torment me at this hour?"
"Forgive me, for I did not think this was a form of torment." Walter took the insult gracefully, as though already anticipating it. "I thought it would be considerate for me to pay my respects. There is truly nothing that exceeds grief."
"No…I do not imagine there is…" Unnerved by the other lord's perceptive stare, Joachim avoided eye contact and turned his head toward the window. Despite his obvious lack of interest, he noticed from the corner of one eye, Walter looking beyond him at the fading nightscape. The other lord seemed almost pressed to continue the conversation, keeping both of his starlit eyes upon the youth and drawing Joachim's gaze upon the man's pasty visage.
The young nobleman refused to admit that the red-haired lord's calm voice was somewhat soothing. "When the villagers learn what has happened, they will be less likely to attempt another uprising."
A low sigh parted through Joachim's lips, and for a brief second, his eyes unveiled the profound sadness plaguing his heart. "Perhaps. Peace came at the cost of my unborn child. I doubt it will last. Not only that, but my child died before it could be baptized…"
"I see." Walter placed a hand over his chin, tapping his gauntlets against the smooth flesh that appeared as white as milk in the moonlight. The lord's deep red armor gleamed like the dying embers of fire, and soft locks of red hair coiled against his face and broad shoulder blades. Walter carried a more imposing presence, one that demanded the attention of all who dared to look upon him. It was no surprise since he practically towered over Joachim, making the pale and sickly lord look like nothing but a ghostly apparition. Yet, Walter's normally smirking face was gentle, and one of his hands rested upon Joachim's shoulder.
The gauntlet-covered fingers trailed up the youth's supple neck and gently stroked the fine flesh covering his throat. Joachim could not help but feel lulled by the man's touch. In a bold move, Walter leaned around him and pressed his face against the lord's ivory hair, his eyes fluttering closed, as though picturing the young man's sadness in his mind. His voice was as soft as a summer breeze and so quiet that Joachim could feel his breath tickling his ear. "Never mind the church. They know nothing of your sorrow."
"Of course, you think you are the only one who does?" The young man tried to turn and see Walter's face for himself, however he stilled from feeling the man's hand slide beneath his chin and lift his head to expose the smooth curve of his neck. He allowed his lashes to flutter closed when he caught a single glimpse of the man's dark eyes studying his face.
Joachim tried not to stir when Walter's gauntlet-covered fingers ran through the strands of his hair, touching the white tresses that were finer than silk. "I have been on this earth long enough to know the meaning of grief." A modest but pained smile crept across the corners of his lips, whilst the coils of his side-parted locks curtained his left eye behind a veil of red. "You need not grieve alone. Your life is too young to be spent brooding. You are like a God whose sorrow washes the world away with his tears. If I may add, your beauty is greater than any God, and one with your grace should not be wasted."
"I do not understand what you mean by…wasted?" The spell the man had cast upon him broke during that moment it. The young man pulled away from the lord's touch as if it burned his flesh raw, his cynical expression failing to hide the apprehension whirling deep within his soul. It was feeling he could not outright explain but something inside him warned him not to fall into the attractive trap of comradeship with that man. "The way you speak to me…I find it…inappropriate." Joachim's lips quivered, whilst his body shrank away from Walter's touch until he pressed his back against the windowpane. "I don't know who you are. I don't know why you are here, or why you are specifically interested in me …but I must ask you…to never visit Creightel or my manor again."
It took a moment for Walter to react, but after appearing to take in his response, he drew away, his lips pursed in thought. The hands that caressed Joachim's flesh and hair slowly lifted, leaving the young man's decrepit figure huddled near the cold glass. After an uneasy silence, Walter's dark eyes glinted. "As you wish. It does not surprise me, for one who carries your kind of grief prefers seclusion. Perhaps I appeared in your life to hastily, considering that murder is a substantial burden for a young lord to bear." The smile Walter wore faded, as his eyes drifted to the streak of light beginning to appear over the distant horizon.
With one light swish of his cape, his armored frame retreated into the shadows of the room. Nevertheless, the man's pale skin and glinting crimson armor made him visible within the darkness. Joachim's body quivered from noticing half of Walter's face was cast in shadow, whilst the half he could see stared at him with a strange power to pierce into the dread he tried to hide. The silence allowed him to hear the other lord's quiet sigh, as well as the barely audible whisper that somehow echoed through the room. "Lord Zaeviean was protective of his wife. I imagine that although he seemed cruel, he never let you out of his sight. Do you ever wonder what he was protecting you from?"
Joachim felt a lump develop in his throat but forced himself to answer. Each word he spoke seemed to make the other lord more satisfied. "My father rarely spoke to me. All I was to him was an heir. Not a son."
The smile returned to Walter's lips but it was not a smile Joachim found particularly comforting. The other lord seemed to emit a low chuckle to himself, his dark eyes blinking in the shadows until Joachim's body stiffened from seeing what he could have sworn was a dull twinkle of red appear within them. "Your father kept you alive this long. Tis' a pity he met his end so soon. I suppose it means you are no longer under his watchful gaze." The moment Joachim pressed his back hard against the cold windowpane in alarm, Walter's sweeping frame moved with stealth-like steps toward the doorway. It was almost as if the man controlled the shadows themselves, holding the ability to move and hide within them on a whim, or reveal himself whenever the occasion called for it. The timing of his arrival seemed too coincidental but the thought barely crossed the mind of the young nobleman, who watched the other lord pause and turn to glimpse at him once more. Joachim's fragile and pale appearance had always been one of his most noticeable characteristics. He could not help regretting that fact when Walter added under his breath. "Not everyone is meant to die…they simply disappear into the darkness as I now must. I believe you and I will meet again very soon."
The first of the sun's golden light peaked over the distant horizon, defeating the grasp darkness secured over the land. The light was warm and welcoming; however it did not awaken the young lord who stepped outside to take in the dawn. Joachim's eyes were alert, though filled with sorrow and exhaustion. One could not overlook the outlines of fatigue etched against the flesh his delicate lashes touched. He was so tired he almost stumbled down the steps but he regained his senses quickly, inexplicably drawn by the looming scaffold in front of the manor. The wooden structure had a crude design to it, for it had been constructed quickly. When Joachim's gaze locked on the ropes tied to its overhanging beam on the platform, a faint grimace of rage shadowed his face.
Maurizio tromped up the path with the accused in tow – precisely on time. The knight's sword was drawn and clutched by a tense hand, whilst the man's eyes darted to the somber lord. All three villagers walked in a line in front of the knight, with their hands and feet shackled so the clinking sounds of chains filled the silence of the early morning. Not a single lark or warbler dared to ease the tension by singing, for it seemed the entire world had fallen to a standstill, or perhaps cowered under the grim stare of the white-haired lord. There was no joy within his eyes, no sense of emotion - only pain.
Upon arriving, Maurizio promptly lined the men up in front of him and stepped back so Joachim could survey the culprits. "Milord, I have brought the accused before you. Do as you will with them." A nervous glint appeared in the man's eyes when he gestured to the three villagers before hitting each of their legs to knock them down onto their knees. Immediately, the men cried out and attempted to stumble to their feet, however Maurizio's sword gleamed under the dim light of the sun, and once again cast them into a restrained silence. The opportunity prompted Joachim to raise his head and hold it high, so that the sneer spreading across his taut lips was as visible as his rage. It seemed to satisfy him when he allowed the silence to drag on for a lengthy time, until the sounds of his metal soles struck the earth, and his slender form began to pace back and forth in front of them. Each step echoed through the air as if the sounds alone would swallow them up, if not the sinister glare his eyes cast upon them every time he looked over his shoulder at their faces.
Finally, he turned his back and looked over his shoulder again, his voice as icy as a winter breeze. "Do you know why you have been brought before me?" He heard the men shift in place, and turned upon hearing what appeared to be the youngest of the three reply. The youth looked no older than Joachim himself, yet his dark eyes failed to meet the glaring lord for an instant. Every part of the shackled peasant trembled from head to toe so visibly his chains rattled.
"I know not, milord." The young man paused, seeming to shrink back from witnessing the unchanging aura of coldness upon Joachim's ashen countenance. "We committed no crime. It is you who have committed crimes against us, for you are nothing more than a monster-"
"How Pathetic." A mocking glint reflected through the lord's eyes following the emotionless laugh that escaped his lips. Every part of him emanated a contrasting feeling of despise. "You think t'was I who killed my own people? Ignorant fool that you are, I am not surprised you would believe in fictitious creatures. Nevertheless, you are here on the charge of murder. What say you to that?"
"Murder! What murder do you speak of? We have not murdered anyone!" The oldest looking man of the three was quick to interject. He had a heavyset face and build, appearing to be a man who worked in the fields, for his muscles were strong and his skin browned by many hours spent in the sun.
Joachim's unwavering sneer never faltered for an instant. The young lord turned toward the man and stooped over him, the fine corners of his lips twitching impatiently. One of his delicate hands clenched into a fist, and in barely a whisper, his voice cut through the air like a dagger through flesh. None of them would understand his torment, nor the eternal stain of grief concealed inside his belligerent soul. Their ill-bred response to his grief succeeded in ripping open the festering wound within his heart. "I do not wish to hear your incessant falsehoods!" he hissed through gritted enamels. Two of the men except the one he addressed immediately tried to retreat from his rage by keeping their eyes averted. The look of imprudence Joachim noticed within the oldest of the trio drove him into a state of hatred in which he could find no absolution. As if a great force had ripped his vocals, his voice screamed the accusation in their faces. "That woman you scoundrels cruelly beat was carrying my child. My flesh and blood grew in her womb. Not even God will save your wretched souls, for I intend to hang each and every one of you until the air is strangled from your lungs."
"How can you hang us for killing something that never lived?" Defiance consumed the face of the man who dared to challenge the accusation, as if the prospect of death brought no fear within his soul. Instead of cowering from a voice that should have made his blood congeal, he stared the lord in the eyes as if they were equals. Although socially the idea was impossible, death faced every man on earth regardless of his status, and no man could escape it forever. It was a thought that plagued humankind, and Joachim could not deny the man's bravery – or perhaps lack of common sense – for trying to win against one of his immense antipathy. It was a pursuit he knew would be denied before it could be heard.
"Your subjects are dying, and nothing has been done to ease our own sorrows! We have families as well, and we shall not stand by and allow them to be slaughtered by you!" The man's voice was audible and calm, for a moment drawing Joachim's chaotic thoughts together, however just as swiftly the poison of spite sank its fangs into the young man's fragile sense of judgment. Without warning, his voice was swift to condemn as it was at attempting to be convincing. "What would you know of our pain, you being a useless lord who has done nothing for us? Have you gone from murdering to raping now? I imagine you could always make another unholy creature grow in her womb-"
"Shut up!" Such words struck one of the deepest nerves in his body, causing his heart to suddenly pound against his ribcage as he sent the steel-clad soles of his left boot against the peasant's face. A bloodied cry of anguish echoed when the hard steel collided into the flesh and sent spurts of blood sprinkling into the air. Joachim lunged forward and seized the man by the front of his shirt, yanking him so hard that the man's blood-covered face jerked forward until their eyes were mere inches apart. For all the time they talked he did not know the man's name, and it mattered little to him concerning the fact he grasped the handle of the dagger he kept beneath his robe. Normally he would have reached for his sword, but his hours of mourning gave him no time to think about having the servants bring it to him.
Joachim's other hand grasped the man's cheeks and pried the peasant's mouth open, his voice trembling with rage. "How dare you insult me! You're tongue is so foul I may as well rip it out of your mouth!"By then his grip was so tight he had a will to crush the man's skull in his bare hands, yet the gleaming blade of his dagger parted back his maw until with a single motion, he sliced the tongue in half. "Have you anything else to say?" Joachim's voice screamed in his ear amidst the peasant's tortured shouts. Blood quickly gurgled the man's cries, as the red liquid dripped down the corners of his lips and seeped into the ground. Without waiting for an answer, Joachim made a huff of disgust before his boot collided against the peasant's ribcage. The frail lord had succeeded in knocking the well-built man onto the ground. "If you think I am a monster," he whispered. "You do not know what true monsters are…" Joachim walked around the fallen man, his eyes glaring upon the sight of blood and the tormented screams of anguish he had created. "What good is a tongue to a dead man anyway? The pain you feel now is nothing compared to my own! What say you to that-"
Before he could finish his sentence, the man's lips pursed, and then spat a clot of blood onto the top of his boot. Joachim watched the crimson liquid drip onto the ground. Without even batting an eyelid, he pulled the peasant's writhing body forward. "So, it seems you do not wish to listen to me." A cruel smile played across his lips as he pressed the bloody dagger against the man's whiskered cheek. "I suppose if you cannot listen, you won't have use for ears." A low chuckle reverberated through his throat as he brought the dagger to the man's ear. He took his time slicing it off, while his pale eyes watched the torrents of blood spatter over the ground and slide between his fingers. It was warm and thick, its smell suffocating and foul, but he did not relent until he sliced the dagger completely through. "How about the other ear?" Joachim chided amidst the man's horrific screams. "What good are ears to a dead man, unless to hear the sound of your neck breaking? I know I do, so perhaps I will let you keep the other one, and give you this one as a souvenir. Shall I have your family place it in your pocket when they cart you away in a wooden box?"
The only response he received was an anguished scream, yet the young man's eyes stared as if he was entirely deaf to the cries of human suffering, for his own internal screams suffocated everything else, as if a part of his soul was drowning. Perhaps that was why he always felt so lost, for the waves of sorrow sought to drag him beneath its murky surface, wherein there would be no escape or redemption. Like a man fighting to catch his last breath, so too was his soul fighting against his inner darkness.
Joachim let go of the man and let him drop like lead onto the ground. He could feel trickles of blood squish between his fingers, whilst his eyes glanced down at the sight of crimson liquid dripping from his clenched hands like droplets of rain. When he looked at Maurizio, the knight wore a mask of horror across his features, but it failed to reach the depths of his pounding heart. Amidst the continuing sounds of his prisoner's weeping, he kicked the man over onto his belly, before inflicting several harsh blows against the peasant's ribcage with his ironclad boots. Joachim's pale eyes narrowed, and the corner of his lip twitched with each sound of flesh tearing.
What shall you do now, God? Destroy me? Do it then, for I care nothing of what happens to me now.
Joachim kicked him so hard he felt one of the man's ribs snap, which made him remember the sharp snapping noise the whip made when it was brought down upon Catherine's body. A loud sob returned his demand, yet his brow furrowed in disgust, and he made a scornful snarl under his breath. "That's not good enough! If hanging makes you fearful, that is nothing if I wish to have you tortured. I am certain I could find an iron cage somewhere and leave you to burn alive over a scalding pot. Not even hell's fire could match what I would enjoy making you endure-"
"Stop it, Joachim!" A single voice broke the surrounding silence, summoning him back to his rational mind, but he did not relent until Catherine flung her arms around him. He heard her sobbing against his shoulder as her hands covered the tense muscles in his arms, whilst her gentle words filled his raging thoughts. "I have seen enough death! Please, let them go…let them go Joachim…for I do not wish to see more pain wrought within you. Killing them will not ease your grief..." She rested her head upon his arm and drew him into a sullen silence. He turned and looked upon her tear-streaked face, noting the once vibrant glitter in her emerald eyes had been reduced to a mere shell of its former self. For though she tried to conceal it from him, he could sense a forlorn emotion of emptiness within her, as if a part of her own fragile soul had diminished. It pained him so greatly his throat tightened, but he had not the heart to push her broken spirit from this embrace, which she quickly sought out until he wrapped his arms around her and pressed her against his chest.
Joachim's gorgeous lashes fluttered closed, and he kissed the thick locks of her raven hair with his lips. Catherine stirred in his embrace after a deep sigh befell his aching chest, and the sound of his trembling voice whispered. Nevertheless, though he addressed her in the calmest way he could muster, a stark coldness played upon the edge of his somber tone. "You would have them live knowing what they did to you? I wish I were so forgiving. No one except you showed me any pity. Perchance if I were not a wicked monster like my father, I would spare the lives of these wretches, yet the son of a coldhearted creature is doomed to become one himself."
"But you are not a cruel man like him! You are a loving man who is capable of so much more than this!" Catherine clung to him tighter, refusing to leave his embrace even when his distant nature displayed an unsettled air of rejection within his eyes. "How could you do something so despicable? Nothing will come of this except despair! Can you not see I love you, and I want you to be happy more than anything in the world – even more than my own happiness? Please…come inside and rest."
"Regretfully, I must decline your request, for I am not tired – I cannot sleep knowing these men still breathe whilst my child is buried. I simply cannot." She winced from watching him pull away from her wanted touch. Joachim's eyes opened to look at the sun growing higher over the horizon, a contrary scene to the sinking feeling he contained within himself, yet could no longer prevent from flickering across his ashen visage. Tired eyes looked down at her tearful expression, but without trying to gather strength to overcome his mounting impatience. He turned his back to her, as well as the sunlight, and cast his sullen gaze upon the scaffold. "You cannot tell me how to rule my subjects. What is right and what is wrong is not your concern." The cold words made the woman's mouth gape, following the quiet choke of hurt that escaped her throat to find his gaze did not dare trace the sheer image of distress within her eyes. The young lord kept staring ahead to avoid any measure of doubt from crossing his mind. In the light of the dawn, his pasty white skin and haggard appearance did not hide the increasing frailty of his weakened body, or the implication of his impending fate. If he continued to abuse his already tiring frame, he was almost certain his life expectancy would be cut down to mere weeks or days. He prepared himself to await the pale horse with the pale rider, the bringer of death and the liberator of souls from the entrapment of flesh and bone. He sighed, muttering under his breath so only her ears could hear. "I am dying. You do not understand what it feels like to know your life is slipping away. If there is a God, I expect God will deal with me when that time comes…soon. Until then, I am free to do whatever I wish on this earth."
Catherine's eyes blinked away the tears with her frantic reply. "Why not let God punish them? What gives you the right to condemn them? If you think your life is fading away, why waste what is left on sorrow and agony?"
Joachim walked toward the scaffold, stiffly regarding the crude structure whilst Maurizio began to herd the three men toward it. Not a single one of the men spoke. His lips quivered for a moment until he was certain he regained his composure long enough to provide her an answer. "My right to condemn is granted to me by my title. I have proof of their crime because I witnessed it myself. You should know the precious thing they took from this world. Why should I trust in a God who would condemn our own child?"
She shook her head in dismay, trying to reach out to him but he almost knocked her back with the wave of his arm, quickening his steps so as she followed her equally fatigued body could not find the strength to meet his pace. "How can you be so selfish?" Her accusing eyes glared against his backside. "Has hatred made you blind to the fact I lost something dear to me as well? My suffering is no less than your own, yet you scorn me for not succumbing to madness-"
"Be silent!" He whirled in place, his cold blue eyes stabbing against her with a kind of unexpected will to incinerate her where she stood. The lady skidded to a sudden halt and closed her lips together at the sight of his trembling frame, which resembled a hollowed tree battered by a relentless storm and left to fear the breath of the wind capable of tearing its roots from the earth. The young man's lips quivered, but not a single tear filled his hardened optics whilst he glowered at her bewildered disposition. In that brief moment, his throat vibrated the dreadful thoughts coursing through his mind, at last making his resentment known. "The burden of that child's ill fate falls upon my shoulders, and I do not need you impeding my judgment!"
"If you think I am the cause for your madness, then I now know you care nothing about those whom you destroy!" Catherine's bright emerald eyes seemed ignited by a kind of agony he had never witness within her beautiful features before. "I did not want you that night for selfish reasons. I gave up my most precious possession – my body – to you alone. Perchance none of this matters to you though, since hatred seems to have married you instead of I." Her face had paled almost as much as his own. Without another word, she turned her back upon the sight. His elegant lashes fluttered closed to ponder over which was most likely. Nevertheless, when he opened them again and cast his hardened gaze upon the three peasants standing on the scaffold, with each of their necks secured by a rope fashioned from his own hatred, the only response he gave was a lukewarm nod.
It took not a second for him to wince at the sound of the wooden shutters being released; whilst his eyes watched their bodies descend downward, noting in his twisted thoughts how each of them resembled demons being cast down into hell. Then, as if God himself sought to save them, their decent was halted by the sudden strain of the rope that sealed their fate. Their flailing legs kicked in search of freedom like flies caught in a spiders web, unable to escape the terrible choking grip the robe bound around their vulnerable throats. Their feet dangled just inches off the ground below them, forever out of reach, and forever unable to rescue them as the air was slowly drained from their lungs. It surprised him how not a one suffered a broken neck that would have ended their ordeal before their deaths were prolonged, however the darkest part of his heart wished them all the suffering that could be made imaginable, and his eyes did not blink for a second, almost transfixed by the sight of their writhing forms silhouetted by the warm glow of the rising sun. Joachim kept his composure, for his face told no tale of remorse or horror to account for what he witnessed. It seemed he resembled a spectator who noticed nothing out of the ordinary, like a hawk content upon its perch, its razor-sharp talons fixed upon the inevitable struggles of prey strung in front of its vigilant gaze.
After what was only minutes, and felt like hours to the observing lord, the struggles of each man faded into indiscriminate twitches. Even to their last breaths, their bodies struggled like birds snared by lime, unable to escape the object that ensured their demise was immanent. Nonetheless, when they were finally released from agony, all that remained were lifeless forms swaying back and forth under the mercy of the wind's lament. It was an image so vivid and morbid the young nobleman fell silent, yet his dreary thoughts still tried to drown him in the reality of his situation.
What have I become? I have confirmed all that my subjects accuse me of – I am nothing more than a vile monster. Nothing exists within me, and nothing can exist through me. My family line will fail…and so will my life.