Third Person's Point of View
11th Century, February 18, 1100
Blackstone Plaza, Cavendell Capital
The Blackstone Plaza was silent.
Cold stone stretched wide beneath a gray sky, and the air felt heavy, as if the Altos Empire itself were holding its breath.
Guards stood in long lines. Nobles watched from a distance, wrapped in their dark cloaks as if they were already mourning. Common people filled the far edges of the square, whispering but never too loud. Some were shocked and could not believe it, some quietly rejoiced, while others felt pity for the current situation of their Empress.
At the center stood the cruel Empress of the Altos Empire.
She wore a simple, plain white dress. No makeup. No jewelry. No crown. Nothing marked her as royalty anymore.
Chains wrapped around her wrists and ankles. They were heavy, making her walk slowly. Still, she stood straight. Her back was firm, her head held high. There was no fear on her face. No tears on her cheeks. Only calm was visible.
She looked thin and pale, but not broken.
The execution platform loomed in front of her. Dark wood, clean, and prepared for her.
A royal herald stepped forward and read the charges aloud. His voice echoed across the plaza—words about betrayal, ambition, cruelty. Treason. Crimes against the Empire.
She did not react. She listened carefully, as if the words belonged to someone else.
When the man finished, he asked, "Hast thou ought to say?"
[Do you have anything to say?]
For a moment, the Empress said nothing.
Then she lifted her eyes and looked at the people—not at the council, not at the guards, not at the nobles who avoided her gaze.
Instead, she looked at the crowd—her beloved people.
"I have performed my duty," she claimed. Her voice was soft but clear. It carried across the plaza without effort. "That is all," she said, and for the first time, people saw her smile—neither forced nor fake. It was a genuine smile that only the people of the Altos Empire witnessed at that very moment.
A murmur spread, but it was quickly silenced by the guards scattered around the plaza.
High above, on the balcony of the Old High Council Hall, the Emperor of the Altos Empire stood. Red, black, and gold against gray stone. His face was unreadable. His hands were still.
He did not stop it—did not even try to do so.
The order was given, and to him, his wife deserved that verdict because of the crime she had committed against the Empire.
The execution guards moved closer. Chains rattled as they guided her forward. She walked on her own, step by step, slow and steady. The white of her dress stood out against the dark platform like a quiet defiance.
She did not struggle and did not look back.
When she reached the center of the platform, the wind lifted her unique long white hair gently. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes.
There was no prayer, no plea, no regret—only silence.
The sentence was carried out. She would experience the most tragic execution in the Altos Empire—losing her head.
She did not dare to open her eyes, even though she felt the blade piercing her flawless skin. She had been ready for days, so she felt no nervousness whatsoever.
"This Empire shall forget me… yet the future shall amend thee," she whispered, not minding the pain.
[This empire may forget me, but the future will make things right for you.]
When it was over, the plaza remained quiet.
Only the sound of wind against stone—and the beginning of a history that would erase her name, but never her presence.