Beckyann had just left the blacksmith's
shop, her plate mail clinking lightly as she walked across the
cobblestones of the Canal District in Stormwind. She'd been running
errands all day, with the final stop at the blacksmith the last item
on her 'to do' list. Although Acherus had many smiths and skilled
craftsmen, it was just as easy to purchase menial supplies like
horseshoe nails from the smiths in Stormwind, and it gave Beckyann an
excuse to get out, even if she was in a more 'official' capacity.
As she made her way through one of the
arches that curved over the pathway lining the canals, she turned a
corner and nearly walked head-first into a man who was dashing the
other way. Try as she might, Beckyann was unable to fully avoid
collision with the frantically running man, and he bounced off of her
saronite breastplate with the unpleasant sound of flesh meeting
metal.
Beckyann rocked slightly from the
impact, turning as the man fell into a heap beside her. Behind him a
crowd of people dashed down the path further up, their angry shouts
incoherent for a moment. Beckyann glared down at the man who was
sprawled across the cobblestones, her baleful eyes blazing enough to
bore holes in him.
“Watch it, buddy!” she growled.
The man groaned, shaking his head as he
came to his senses and sat upright. He frantically clutched at a
parcel wrapped in brown paper that he'd been carrying, trying to get
back to his feet after the collision. As he started to rise, Beckyann
could hear the sounds of the crowd finally catching up, their shouts
now perfectly audible.
“Thief! Thief!”
“Stop that man! Don't let him get
away!”
“He stole my wares!”
Beckyann grinned, her runeblade coming
out in one smooth motion and leveled at the man in an instant. He
froze, horrified as he saw the Death Knight looming over him, his
body quivering in fear. He sputtered, his words almost incoherent,
“P-please, miss! M-my family n-needs this. P-please just l-let me
go okay? I-I promise I w-won't do it again. I didn't have no other
c-choice!”
Beckyann frowned, her arm moving to dip
the tip of her runeblade down. It carved into the side of the paper
parcel the man was clutching, splitting the side neatly and
exposing...a loaf of bread. Her eyes widened as the man looked up at
her, begging her with his gaze, “Please...think of my family..I
have children...”
Beckyann's world spun around her as the
words hit her like a physical punch to the gut. She could feel
something raging inside her as emotions and memories slammed into her
mind. She gasped, and to the man's ever-lasting surprise the glow
faded from her eyes for a moment as he stared into them, the green
twinkle there something long lost from the world. With the fading of
the magic came the resurgence of her spirit, and the memories it
recalled...
********************************
Lordaeron, Pre-Plague, The
Woodbury Estate
“Please...think of my family...I have
children...” the condemned man said.
Beckyann shivered where she stood in
the courtyard of the Woodbury Estate. It was cold this time of year,
the winter's grip on Lordaeron still strong even this close to Brill.
Although the chill in the air didn't help, Beckyann suspected that
she would have shivered even in mid-summer given the situation and
the man's pleas.
He lay across a stump, his hands tied
behind his back and the crowd of servants and retainers crowded
around the outskirts of the courtyard. Tears ran from his eyes, and
Beckyann felt them welling up in her own. Although he had committed
the heinous crime of stealing from his employers, she knew in her
heart that what was about to happen did not match the nature of his
trespasses, and she cringed as Lord Woodbury stalked around the prone
prisoner, looking at the rest of his servants with a stern gaze.
“Let this be a lesson to those who
would betray House Woodbury,” the aging Lord Woodbury said, his
voice firm. “We cannot condone thieves and traitors amongst those
who serve this House. There is tradition and honor here, and
criminals like this tarnish the image of each one of you and each
member of my family.”
Beckyann winced at this, looking down
at the young children standing in front of her. Although she had
pleaded with Lady Woodbury not to allow it, the family had insisted
that their children witness this 'just' punishment for the crime. The
children, ranging in ages from twelve all the way down to two, stood
solemnly before her, shivering in the cold of the winter. One littler
girl clutched Beckyann's leg, and she did all she could to soothe her
with a gentle hand on her head.
The eldest Woodbury heir, a young man
of fifteen, stood beside his father with pride in his stance as his
father nodded at him. Although it had horrified Beckyann, Lord
Woodbury had decided that his eldest son needed to learn how to rule
over his lands and vassals, and the carrying out of this punishment
would be done by his hand and in front of the entire family and
staff. As a tutor to the children, Beckyann would be forced to watch
along with the others, despite the disgust that threatened to make
her gag.
The prone man was flanked on both sides
by House Woodbury guards. Beckyann looked mournfully at one of them,
her eyes meeting Frederick's gaze for a moment before breaking
contact. In that space of time he had the chance to mouth the words,
“I'm sorry.” to her before she'd looked away.
They'd fought over this the evening
before. He'd argued that there was value in maintaining rule of law
in the House and across House Woodbury's holdings. She'd told him it
was barbaric and that she wanted no part of it. Part of her had even
considered retiring from her position and returning to Dalaran,
although she knew if she did so she'd never find such a prestigious
position again. She'd decided to stay with great reluctance, but the
bitter argument with her beloved Fred had left her feeling hollow and
worn inside. His unspoken apology only slightly lessened the impact
of what she was witnessing.
Lord Woodbury had finished his prancing
about the courtyard, his gaze having passed over all of his cowed
servants and vassals. Assured that they had taken the lesson to heart
about the consequences of stealing from his estate, he marched back
over to the prone prisoner, his words stern and final, “And so, by
my hand and word, I do hereby condemn this man to death for his
crimes. May the Light have mercy on his soul, and speed him to the
hereafter.”
Lord Woodbury nodded to his son, and
the boy hefted an ax that he was almost too small to lift. The
execution would be done poorly at best, and would take several
strokes at worst. Beckyann bit her lip, forcing herself to watch
until the last moment, so she'd be ready.
As the ax began to fall, she managed to
shoo the smallest of the children behind her skirts, shielding the
little one from the sight. She had two free hands as well, which
quickly wrapped around the heads and covered the eyes of the next
youngest children. Lord Woodbury might consider his sentence just,
but Beckyann had her own sense of justice, and she'd be damned if she
let him traumatize his children in front of her.
For as long as she lived, Beckyann
Eastberg never forgot the sound of the ax as it struck flesh.
****************************
Her runeblade fell from nerveless
fingers, clattering on the cobblestones. Beckyann found herself
actually gasping, the traumatizing experience of reliving the moment
making her feel ragged and bruised emotionally. She shook her head,
trying to regain a sense of her surroundings as she saw the man still
on his knees before her, begging her not to kill him.
“N-no...” She murmured, her voice
low. Behind her the crowd had finally arrived, all of them coming to
a halt a foot from the two, their voices angry and their fists
clenched.
“You've caught him!” one of them
shouted. By the looks of him, he was likely the unfortunate baker
that the man had stolen the bread from. The man surged forward,
reaching to grab the thief as the others shouted encouragement.
An icy cold grip clenched around his
wrist, holding his advance. He looked at the Death Knight in shock as
she affixed her baleful gaze on him, her voice a whisper, “And what
would you do to him, for stealing your bread?”
“I-I don't know...h-he's a bloody
thief,” the man sputtered. “He deserves a short rope over a long
drop if you know what I'm saying.”
Beckyann straightened, her unnaturally
strong grip pushing the baker away from her. He stumbled backwards,
his arms windmilling as he slammed into the wall of people behind
him. He looked at her in shock, murmurs rising up in the crowd as she
turned to face them.
Beckyann reached to her belt, and
everyone took in a gasp of air as they tensed, awaiting an attack.
Instead, she undid her coin-purse, tossing it onto the street before
her. It hit the ground and burst open, old-fashioned coins from
Lordaeron spilling out and rolling across the cobblestones. As the
clinking sound of the coins quieted and the last one stopped rolling,
there was a tense silence on the street.
“Now your wares are paid for,”
Beckyann said. There was something in her voice, some hint of anguish
that the people before her could not identify. Behind her, the man
scrambled to his feet, clutching the bread to his chest.
The baker shook his head, pointing at
the man, “He still needs to be brought to justice!”
Beckyann's gaze affixed on him, and
this time there was no mistaking the malice in her words, “Your
wares. Are. Paid. For.”
The man opened his mouth to speak
again, and Beckyann's fury erupted, “BEGONE!”
Half the crowd bolted and ran right
away. The baker's eyes nearly popped out of his head and he dove to
the ground, scooping up the coins before he too dashed away. As
Beckyann turned to retrieve her runeblade, she saw that the man she'd
saved from the angry mob had also run away. She shrugged, sheathing
her blade and still trying to sort out the raging emotions within
her.
As she walked away, a part of her felt
lighter, as if she'd made right something she should have fixed a
long time ago.
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