That Morning in Berry Blitzkrieg

[Guu]

My name is Princess Bonbon Sunshine. I fear that I maybe getting too used to this.

I woke up late that morning. I was alone in my room much to my chagrin; that means someone had carried me up after the party. I always wondered if they had a hard time seeing as anything but a child considering my figure. I climbed out of bed and checked myself in the mirror. My hair was a wreck, stains from tears were still there, and even my clothing wasn’t on straight. I must have made myself a fool last night. I hope my people don’t think less of me with how I behaved. They were so nice to throw that party to cheer me up, but wound up sobbing my eyes out anyways.

I sighed heavily. Royalty shouldn’t be seen that way.

On the plus side, I was a lot more prepared for what is going to be a fairly rough day for me. All those negative emotions I let out really took a lot of stress off. Maybe I could keep a warm smile again, one that’ll bring hope to my people in dark times!

I looked out the window and onto the city streets below. There was my kingdom, Berry Blitzkrieg, up and about for another day. I smiled at its old fashioned simplicity. Why was it so difficult for a lot of people in the Omniverse to live this way? People in suits and dresses, making their way to an honest day’s pay. The thought of leading a life like that made her warm inside, but was quickly quashed by the rapping on the door, bringing me back to reality.

“Are you awake your highness?” The butler said in a faux chipper tone. “Your royal business in an hour, you need to get ready.”

My heart sank as I remembered what was scheduled for today. A frog in my throat, I choked out a reply.

“I-I’ll be done in a bit!”

I heard the footsteps walking back down the hall he most likely came from. I began to prepare for they day, changing my clothes, washing my face, brushing my long black hair. It gave me time to reflect. My poor kingdom was facing difficult times. Our friends left to create a colony in the Tangled, and when it failed, they returned to us. We were overjoyed when they came back, but they brought with them the crimes they had committed while secluded from the community. Jails packed to the brim, we’ve been forced to execute people for weeks just to keep the numbers down, many were once proud members of the town before. It was a heavy toll on everyone in Berry Blitzkrieg, me most of all. Especially now that freaky dead eyed girl has taken over what was left of the colony. That girl will pay her dues one day.

But last night, I had to give a very difficult order. One so difficult that it drove me to tears. The outburst was the strongest one I’ve had in weeks. I hate it when I make my subjects worry. For me, all this was just the price of being the leader, but it’s far worse when my people suffer along with me.

Finishing up, a leave my room and head down stairs. I immediately don a beautiful smile as I sense my people up ahead.

“Good morning princess!” They say, greeting me with a smile, acting as if the night before didn’t even happen. They guided me to the dining table and I had a breakfast of ham and eggs. Eventually, after having a pleasant but somewhat awkward time with my subjects, I begrudgedly moved towards the exit of my Castle and make my way to the gallows in the middle of town.

The whole town was there. It’s not uncommon for people to come to executions as either a form of entertainment or to see justice done, or at least that was the case before the recent string of hangings where the numbers plummeted. However today I knew they were not here for any of those reasons. They were here for moral support. They knew what I was about to do was rough, but had to be done. I felt pride and love for my people, but at the same time, this also meant I couldn’t back down now.

I climbed upon the platform, waving to my subjects. The executioners prepares five nooses, each attached to a lever. The crowd parts, and I wince as the visage of the guilty appears on my senses. They’re led up to the stairs where they file in a line before me. A middle aged couple, an orc, a young man, and, the thing I’ve been dreading most of all, a child, 5-years-old.

The guilty, shackled both by foot and hand were guided to their nooses and strapped up, standing on tiny platforms that was a lever pull from giving way and a grisly demise. The child was placed in the middle. I had intentionally requested this so I may ease my way into that execution, but not ending with it.

I moved to the first in line, a young man, early 20s, coarse black hair and goatee. I was not shocked someone guilty of such a crime had a goatee. I had a theory that people with odd facial hair had a tendency towards evil. I could never get any science done on that fact though, so I never bothered to make any motions to illegalize it.

“Franceford Viggle.” I said, I couldn’t help chuckling a little bit under my breath at the name. “You are guilty of murder and rape of Hannah Gilford. You’ve been sentenced to death. Any last words?”

I felt his spit impact with my face. I motioned to the executioner as I pulled out a handkerchief. The cranking of a lever being pulled, and the sound of the snapping of a neck rang in my ears as I wiped the criminal saliva off my face. As the executioners pulled out the body of the young man, I moved on to the Orc. To be honest, the orc didn’t stand out enough for me to distinguish; he looked like every other orc.

“Aglar.” I said, wincing at the odd name. “You’ve been found guilty of being born evil and with fornicating with a human woman and barring cross-breed offspring. Any last words?”

“My wife… my daughter… what will happen to them?” He sputtered out in what I’m sure is a weak attempt to gain sympathy. It didn’t work.

“They’ll be held in our prisons until we decide their fates.”

“If you have any soul, please spare them. They don’t deserve any of this.”

“That is for the people of Berry Blitzkrieg to decide. Drop him.”

Drop, snap. Now it was time for the difficult one. The 5-year-old was a little more than three feet tall, had wavy brown hair and glasses. She wore a mangled dirty dress from her time in the child section of the prison. She stood precariously on her little pedestal, her head barely reaching the noose. She was sobbing uncontrollably.

“Amy Johansson.” I said, a frog almost stealing my words. “You’re guilty of being an accessory to both theft and treason. For this you’ve been sentenced to death. Do you have any final words.”

But her only response was the uncontrollable sobbing. This really hurts. I would usually let off a child this young, but letting her live, even in suffering, would only encourage the behavior that her current state brought about. I didn’t like it, but it was for the good of my people.

“I’m sorry.” I said as I signaled to the executioner. I turned away at the last second, trying to not gaze my eyes on her death, but my senses betrayed me and made me feel every second, up to the point where the sudden stop silenced the girl’s sobbing. I wait. I waited until the executioners took down her body and dragged her away from sight. I could still feel her, but it was enough to get my mind back on focus.

I turn my attention to the middle aged couple. They had requested that they’d be hung together, a request that I have honored. Two executioners positioned themselves behind the pair, prepared to pull the levers.

“James and Harriet Black.” She said, still a little choked up from the last execution. “You’re guilty of tax evasion and siding with evil for financial gain. You may have your last words.”

“I have a request.” Spoke the middle-aged man. The women simply continued to look down solemnly “I want someone to deliver a message to our daughter.”

“It’d be dishonorable to deprive you of that right.” I said without hesitation.

“Tell her… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being a failure of a father. I wasn’t there for you, and that is horrible. I hope you can forgive me for what I’ve done. I thought I was doing what was best for my community.”

“Simple enough.” I said.

“Please, bring that to her. Her name is Sylvia. Sylvia Black. She should be still in Ambrosia-”

“I’ve heard enough.” I replied, signaling the executioner.

Drop, snap. Once again, I fear that I maybe getting too used to this.

[Gildarts]

The coins imprinted on his hands forming circular streaks of red lines. Their dense weight required some muscle, but it was not heavier than the pain that sagged at his shoulders. The young boy tilted his eyes under the shaded covering of his visor as tears streamed down his face. He stood in place, hanging on his place in the middle of the cobbled bridge. There was no feeling more disgusting than being betrayed. The consequences this time were too grim. The whispers in his own silence filled his ears as the confused boy felt his heart sink into the deep pits of cold despair.

The gold, it stunk of blood. The unnamed boy wondered why it wasn't red to match the stains on his own hands. Why did his treasure shine when it was so dirty? And why, oh why, did he willingly feed into his own ignorance and take the payout. It was cursed. He was cursed. And the wooden gate of the castle closed behind him in exile.

"DAMN IT! YOU CAN TAKE YOUR STUPID FREAKING MONEY! I DON'T WANT IF IT COMES WITH ALL THIS PAIN! I DON'T WANT IT! TAKE IT BACK! GIVE THEM BACK!"

"GIVE THEM BACK!"

"GIVE THEM... Back."

His depleted strength was replaced with sorrow so wretched, it made him fall to his knees. His weak shout had not been heard over the shrill shriek of the door, but what had been heard by many casting ears and littered the airwaves was the tune of treasure as his gold coins were flung to the ground, only to roll off the bridge's edge and into oblivion.

The water rushed below in a violent rage. There was no hope for its return as no one would be able to salvage the money without it meaning their own death. The chime of treasure caught the attention of a few guards, who shook their heads as they wondered if it was worth the jump. The closest, and angriest, stared at the point of his lancer, wishing the boy's aim has carried at least one of the three coins to his feet rather than over the edge. That little brat just threw away enough to buy him three castles and four wives! A sickened scowl parched the guard's lips as his eye twitched testing with restraint not to skewer him.

The boy was left looking at his empty hand. With a curious expression he tilted his gaze. The weight remained, the red imprints still etched in his skin. The agony of the betrayed and dead.

It had looked so lustrous in the gleaming sunlight, and now, the fond and tempting gleam had faded into an ugly saccharine yellow before plunging to the roaring waters below. It was so futile to go back on their trade. Worthless. Childish. His age wasn't the only thing that showed him he knew nothing. A folly that left him tricked, deprived, and he had chosen to lose it all. A deal was a deal and there would be no trading back what he had lost.

His honor too, corroded by the act. Deathly thoughts swirled in his head as he could not fathom the overwhelming waves of his own emotion. Sick with himself. So very sick. There had to be an end to this pain.

Worthless. So completely worthless were his vain words and now he stood stranded on his motionless legs before finally deciding what needed to be done. He would end the disgrace. He would end the shame. He would end the curse. He would end his life.

-

The size of his tears grew as he struggled to climb high upon the castle's walls. He wasn't sure why, but he had wanted to see it all before he died. The outermost wall would provide a good vantage point for this. Perhaps he wanted to see what he hadn't changed. The endless landscape of farmland and free. All while the guards watched him squirm without protest, he ascended to death one foothold at a time.

The resolution was sound in his mind while his hands struggled against the slippery rock. His fingernails soon grew bloody, but he didn't notice, for the scarlet kept his numbed fingers warm. His commoner clothes were splashed with the hisses of sprayed water. White and rushing just below him.

A missed mark left smeared blood on the wall, and his empty grasp left him hanging by a single hand. He was loosing his grip, and imagined looking down. Swirls of froth created vehement whirlpools that suctioned even the air and threatened to pull him under.

Fear, adrenaline, and a flash of excitement flooded his bones as he felt a surge of strength to resist what we would soon become. I shall arrive ON MY OWN TERMS! He thought proudly, for it was something – perhaps the only thing – that he could control. He felt the greatest sense of purpose as this thirst for life defied the great weight of agony in his chest.

Another hand grappled as his sleek boots kicked into the wall and he scaled it's flat vertical surface once more.

Last breath. The cupped claw of his small palm grappled over the side of stone. The watch tower, circular and serene, he had made it.

The single watchman wasn't quite sure what to make of the boy, who looked about ten to fourteen, as the soaking wet child heaved himself with blood soaked hands over the edge and panted himself back into reality.

Life surged into his lungs, yet with each breath he felt the tremendous sense of despair return.

"Well howdy there laddie, that's quite the feat you pulled, I'm questioning as to whether or not I should call the guardsmen on ya! Hah! I don' think one boy is enough to be considered a raid on our town though, wouldn't ye say?" Hearty laughter followed, it was soon smothered by the somber tone that was cast by the boy's pained eyes.

"Are... Are you alright there laddie?"

Silence. The guard frowned. Boots clunked up the wooden stairs from below and a trapdoor opened.

"Hey Georgie, yer' shif' is over! Georgie go home! Don ya hear me?" A new face popped out, it was twisted and swiveled like a rat. "Oh lookie here, ya made a friend. Go home Georgie. I'll look after the intruder. Unless you want what happened last time to happen again." The vile threat stung the air.

"There will be no need." The nameless boy met the rat-man's eyes as Georgie was nearly thrown down the stairs and the door slammed behind him.

"Oh? No need, boy? Just who do you think you are?.... Do you know why I took this shift?" The guard sneered, "Because I get a better view of the execution."

The youth hadn't heard the last part, he was too preoccupied, procrastinating his end wouldn't bring them back. He had climbed up on the ledge, hovering only on the thin lip of wall. Below his toes, a distance of air and water flowed. Behind his heels, the stable surface of wood and stone made up the watchtower. Past the guard's back, the town square, assembly had already gathered yet soundless and wordless were those who remained were forced to watch an unjust sentence.

For the moment, the rat-guard only watched the boy, intrigued, he would get another execution and wouldn't have to lift a finger. The queen wouldn't have to know and he would be pleased with himself. They would purge the kingdom one useless scum, traitor, or idiot at a time. One mere boy made no difference.

The unnamed boy held his fatigued arms and raised them from his sides to shape a "T." He wanted to feel it. The life of air stream beneath him, the extension of his fingers in the wind.

There was a clacking sound at the back of his mind. They paused at times increments, the sound, with an origin he didn't know made for the countdown of his demise. When the last one stilled, he would jump.

One. He took a step closer to the edge and felt another breath bring life to his lungs.

Two. Clacking almost sounded like tightening rope, but death slithered into the air prematurely. He wondered of this chilled sense, but rationalized it as the damp weight of his clothes and the blasting breeze from this height.

Three. The ratman did not attempt to persuade the child, despite having once been his age. True evil, sickening greed, and a falsely placed pride layered the man's persona. The lack of humanity matched the mood of the town square as the guard's head swiveled back and forth, not wanting to miss a single moment. The unnamed boy didn't pay him a second thought, especially when the man wasn't interfering.

There was a long pause after three, and the boy leaped forward with a spring in his step. He began to fall, fall, fall...

The thick crack of his head as it banged against the side of the stone wall made him dizzy and he felt nausea swirl in his chest and weightless gut. Dead... Was this death?

He was rather disappointed until he felt the throbbing in his back and skull submerge his meaningless thoughts. Eyelids flickered open as he searched for the source that kept him from death. He could not find it as he fought the suspension in the air. He only felt whatever it was choking around his throat.

His fingers immediately reached for the collar of his throat and looked up only for his eyes to widen. Caught by a freaking flagpole? It had skewered his jacket, clawed into the flesh of his back, and left his feet dangling as he was suspended in air. No one turned from the execution in the square. But that was when he saw it.

Them. The nooses. The corpses. A loving couple prepared to die. Last words cut off by a hanging thread.

The chill of tragedy froze his flailing struggle.

This was murder.

His hands fell from his shirt collar for a moment as he looked at them. Useless, weak, and small. Such were the thoughts of a boy, tortured by time. Yet the desperate words still hung in the air, waiting to be delivered. For the queen certainly had no intention.

He saw it. His fleeting honor.

I'm sorry... For being a failure.. Everyone deserved to get to say that, no matter how the dirty the deed. Even if the boy himself would never get the chance to.

His eyes steadied as he knew purpose once more. His death. It would have to wait a little longer than he would have liked, but his feet touched the ground as he wriggled lose from his slain jacket and leapt the remaining ten feet.

The sensation sparked in his ankles and he ran with a new destination. Ambrosia.