The Wandering Witch VOL. 1 - The Prelude Arc (COMPLETED)

5.2| A Public Execution

    There was no room for failure in their plan of escape. One simple mistake, and it could cost them their lives. The plan had its risks, of course, but Noct had already organized a backup plan in his mind just in case. He had decided that if all else failed, he would have to flee the scene, prize or no prize, satchel or no satchel. Naturally, that also meant that he would have to abandon the girl.

    Easy.

    The two of them were led through a thin cobbled hallway with rows of dark and empty cells on either of its opposite sides, straight towards a set of stone stairs situated at the end of the corridor. The flickering torchlights mounted on the walls cast looming shadows, as though reminding them of their impending fate. Their footsteps echoed dully. For the entire time, the two guards that accompanied them made no attempts at a conversation, if not counting the drunk one's quiet giggling and muttering. Noct did his best to ignore him. The witch by his side remained quiet as well.

   When they arrived at the foot of the stairs, Noct saw the dim outline of trapdoor right above their heads. The first guard climbed up and grabbed onto the rusted handle. With a low grunt, he swung the door upwards. Noct winced as an unexpected sunlight streamed in from the gaps. He had been locked inside the cell's darkness for so long that even the minimum amount of brightness pained his eyes. He tried blinking away the dark spots that had materialized in his vision, almost losing his balance for a moment. When he had, it was only then when he realized that it was not just the sunlight that was new to him.

   There was a loud and massive crowd gathered around them. Most of them, he observed, were from the lower class, dressed in rags and caked with dirt. They had formed in a wide arc, shouting, whispering, and muttering among themselves. "Witch." "Die." and "Demon." were some of the words Noct caught them saying in low and loud voices. Some had looks of hatred on their grimy faces. Others had looks of fear. The majority of them, though, seemed to be amused, smiling and laughing as they pointed at the witch and the thief, their voices mocking and filled with glee. They were the spectators to the execution, Noct realized. Citizens who had nothing else to do with their small, insignificant lives. Scums of human civilization who enjoyed seeing other people die in front of their eyes for the sake of their own selfish entertainment.

    This is horrible. Noct breathed in and looked down at his hands. He breathed out. Calm yourself.

    He glanced behind him and saw that his assumption had been right. They had been imprisoned under one of the guard houses, an average-sized two-floored building made of cemented brick. The trapdoor had opened directly into the corner of the Roxas Square, the very same place that Noct had robbed the girl at. It seemed kind of ironic, even, to think that they would be executed at the very same place they had parted. Noct cast a glance at the witch again, wary of her reaction. She didn't seem fazed, however.

    "Moooove, boy." The drunk guard behind him urged since the thief was blocking his way out. Noct obliged silently, stepping to one side.

    "Ah, make way, make way!" The voice of another guard carried loudly over the noise as he squeezed and emerged from the center of the crowd, approaching the four of them. At a glance, this one looked much proper than the first two. He was well-groomed, wore his armor better, and his brown beard was trimmed neatly.

    "So... these are them?" he asked as soon as he was within hearing distance.

    "Aye," the first guard answered. "The witch and her accomplice."