Public Execution

The wagon's bumps had been a rough lullaby, but Shen was still tired and stressed. He leaned against the rough-hewn wood and fell into a fitful sleep that only lasted until the glacial shock. A bucket of ice-cold water hit him, and he woke up with a violent gasp, his lungs fighting for air and his heart pounding against his ribs as if it wanted to get out. A chorus of deep, throaty laughter answered his shocked sputtering. The soldiers, whose faces were twisted in cruel amusement, thought his fear was the funniest thing ever. When Shen's eyes popped open, every muscle in his body froze. The life-threatening cold was a more immediate threat than any captor.

Rough hands pulled him up, and the manacles dug deeper into his sore wrists as a soldier pulled them tighter with a vicious tug. They marched him forward, toward the center of the Republic. The sound of his chains clanging against the cobblestones made a rhythmic sound that announced his arrival. Shen looked up and saw the gauntlet. There were a lot of angry people on both sides of the street. Their faces were twisted with rage. Their voices were like a tidal wave of hate as they yelled and jeered. Shen was not only an enemy of the Empire that the people of the Republic hated; he was also a traitor who had hurt one of their own.

As he was pushed through the angry crowd, the air filled with spit and curses. A rotten piece of fruit hit his shoulder, and a sharp stone grazed his temple, making a small stream of warm blood. But he kept going. They took him to a huge, pyramid-like building, a dark stone ziggurat with huge steps that looked like they went up into the clouds. People said this was the most terrifying prison in the country, a huge building of despair where prisoners went in but never saw the light of day again.

The soldiers pushed Shen inside, where the cool, damp darkness swallowed up the light from the door. His chains were always heavy and made him tired. He was very familiar with the sound of the iron door closing behind him. He was back in a dungeon again.

The cell was a small area of complete darkness and cold. There was a strong smell of mold, old water, and forgotten sadness in the air. The only sound was the steady plink... plink... plink... of water dripping from the ceiling, which was hidden from view. Shen fell to the stone floor, the cold seeping through his clothes as he tried to make sense of the last few days' chaos. The idea of getting away was a short, bitter joke; the fortress seemed impossible to get into.

The scrape of boots echoed through the long, dark hallway after what felt like an eternity of drops of water. Shen turned his head to look at the noise. A loud screech of protesting metal filled the air as the heavy iron door swung open a few seconds later. A man walked in wearing clean white robes with beautiful gold embroidery on them. The Republic Champion, dressed in polished steel, stood behind him like a silent, threatening shadow. Shen knew right away who the man in white was. Tetelyus, the President of the Republic, was there. Shen had met him before, when things were calm and polite. The man standing in front of him now was a stranger. His warmth had turned into a cold, hard look.

Tetelyus walked slowly and carefully, his fancy clothes standing out against the dungeon's dirt. He looked like he was in charge, and the barely concealed anger in his eyes only made him look more so. He stopped a few feet away from Shen and looked at the prisoner with disgust.

Tetelyus's voice was smooth, but it had a threat in it that was sharper than any blade.

Shen looked him in the eye without blinking. "You know who I am."

Tetelyus's lips curled into a thin, cold smile. "After what you've done lately, I doubt anyone in this Republic doesn't know."

"Are you going to kill me?" Shen asked, his voice steady and calm.

Tetelyus laughed for a short time, but it wasn't funny. Then he crouched down so that their faces were level. "Kill you?" he said again, this time with a mocking tone. "Dear Shen Takeda, do you know how much political and financial capital I have lost because of you?" It would be a huge waste of my money to just kill you now.

Tetelyus's eyes sparkled with madness, but Shen stayed calm. "I wouldn't expect a man like you to understand what I did," he said, his voice full of quiet, mocking pity. "You value power and money more than the people you govern, just like the Empire you say you don't like."

Tetelyus's face darkened, and the mask of politeness broke. "Power and money are the only things that matter in this world," he hissed, lowering his voice to a secretive whisper. "The people don't care about ideas. They care about how strong they feel. A lesson your naive idealism hasn't learned yet.

Shen's lips curled into a faint, defiant smile. "Then I'd rather be a foolish fool than a greedy tyrant."

The insult hit home. Tetelyus's jaw tightened, but he was able to keep his cool. "Don't worry," he said, and his voice became cold again. "Your schooling is about to start." I will show my people what real power looks like by publicly tearing down a so-called "hero" like you.

Shen shrugged a little bit, as if to say, "Oh, come on." "I can't wait."

Tetelyus's eyes flashed with rage. He stood up quickly and turned his back on Shen to talk to the Champion. "Get him ready," he said in a sharp, final voice. "Bring him to the place where he will die."

Soldiers rushed into the cell at the order of their president. They pulled Shen up by the chains, which hurt him a lot, and dragged him out of the prison and into the big, open plaza at the base of the pyramid. The crowd's roar was so loud that it hurt my ears and pushed in from all sides. Shen walked through the storm of hate, with the insults and curses of the Republic's people washing over him.

Shen saw that thousands of people had come to watch his death as they got to the center of the plaza. He could see a sea of angry faces all around him. Shen's calm in the middle of everyone's anger was a silent act of rebellion.

The soldiers pushed him toward a raised wooden platform and made him kneel in front of a big, old block. The crowd's roar grew louder, a peak of bloodlust. As Shen's head was pushed down onto the broken wood, a new wave of cheers broke out.

Tetelyus stood on a balcony above the noise, taking in the praise and the chaos. He raised his arms and shouted across the plaza. Every word was meant to make Shen look bad and the Republic look strong. The square was filled with hate-filled chants that echoed off the walls.

Shen closed his eyes in the middle of the storm. It was almost done. He could sense the executioner behind him, waiting for the signal. His life flashed before him, not as a story but as a series of feelings: the pain of battle, the weight of responsibility for the people he fought for, and the pain of the sacrifices he made. This might have been the last page.

Tetelyus finished his rant and threw his arm down, yelling one word for the executioner to move on. The executioner raised a huge, shiny axe high into the air, casting a dark shadow over Shen and blocking out the sun for a moment.