Through the sinister gates, I stepped into a rotunda of chipped stone and marble. Hanging off the ceiling’s arches, cauldrons burned with raging fires that basked the room with warm light. As I proceeded, the faint hint of smoke and decomposing flesh filled my nostrils. My body winced with each hard cough I made. My eyes watered up as my hooves were stained from the soot which covered the tiled floor.
With goggles resting on my forehead, I pulled them down to cover my eyes. Lighting my horn within an azure aurora, I levitated a wet, brown rag out of a dirty water bucket that sat in a corner. Draping it over my nose and mouth, I took two ends and tied it behind my head. With a sigh, I gazed forward while remaining expressionless and stern. This was the only way I knew how to act in regards towards the duty I’m tasked with carrying out.
Cloaked in black, rugged leather, I’m known simply as “The Royal Executioner.” I’m the last pony any criminal sees before they meet their end. I control their fate and death. It’s not a glamorous job, or one I think about often. As grim as it may sound, I don’t care about who I’m killing, why they were sentenced to death, or how they are killed. I just collect my bits, kill, wash the blood off, and then go home.
Witnessing death countless times washes away the senses carelessly. I’ve grown dull to the act of watching blood stain the floor while the weapon of choice cuts through the flesh of the guilty. I personally don’t obtain an emotional high or thrilling rush of excitement from a blade severing the head or torso of another equine. It’s not my fetish and I find that idea quite uncivil and ludicrous.
I just do my job and mercilessly kill the guilty.
As he lies on a table of wood in the middle of the room, his hooves were strapped down by ropes which stretched him out. His eyes were covered by a blanket until I approached him and removed it. Opening his eyes and adjusting them, the pony gazed up and stared directly at a mechanism suspended a few feet above his stomach. A sudden cold sweat ran down his face while he breathed in deeply and coughed.
Chosen by the judge of his trial, for the first time he saw Equestria’s infamous pendulum. The blade’s sharpened metal shined in the light while it lightly swung. The pony’s eyes grew wide while he clinched his hooves tight and bit down on the cloth that gagged his mouth. Tears began to roll from his sorrow filled eyes as the sudden realization of his situation had overwhelmed him. He felt shock, terror, and mercy simultaneously rushing through his senses. This left him coughing, gasping, and screaming while sweat blackened his brown coat.
...and I just watched him squirm helplessly.
A moment had passed by before the nerves within his body began to settle down. His eyes still twitched, switching between the pendulum and I. Even though his voice was muttered by the cloth, the pony tried to shout at me. It was pointless. With my experience, I knew what he was already yelling about.
Why haven’t I killed him yet?
Life itself is a gift. The point to it is to live for every moment you’re given. Believe it or not, there’s still a part of me that's equine. There's still a part of me that shows pity for those who are sentenced to death. It’s a fate no one wants to face in their life, but there comes a time when we must embrace it. While I've come to terms with my eventual death, I at least give the criminals a chance to do the same.
Frozen in place, I glared at him while my hoof firmly grasped a rope. I patiently waited for him to settle down. A few minutes had passed and the criminal went from squirming within his bonds to laying on the table motionless. His eyes remained fixated on the pendulum. He knew death was coming for him.
It was just a matter of when.
An hour had passed by and the liveliness of the equine had been silenced. His breathing slowed down as the grip of his hooves on the ropes had loosened. His eyes were closed while a tear dripped to the floor. Broken and weary, the equine coughed, sighed, and then opened his watery eyes. Looking at me, I felt the defeat within him and the circumstances of his anguish. He didn’t want to, yet he knew it had to happen. The criminal knew it was time for him to die.
That’s when I pulled on the rope.
The pendulum began to build momentum, swinging fiercely from side-to-side. As the blade swished with each pass, the wood holding the mechanism creaked. It produced a sound similar to a ticking grandfather clock.
Tick!
Pulling down on another rope, I slowly lowered the blade and watched the equine take his final breaths.
Tick!
The blade grazed his stomach. Blood spilled onto him. The equine flinched from the pain while his eyes focused on the cut.
Tick!
This pass sliced him open. The blade, floor, and walls were soon splattered with red streaks. The sudden blood loss made him faint.
Tick!
A lifeless body was severed a few swings later. I had thrown off my hood, untied the rag, and wiped the sweat from my face once I knew the criminal was dead. I took in a deep breath before letting go and coughing. The smell of blood and flesh filled my nostrils. I quickly levitated a fresh rag and covered my nose and mouth once more. On my command, masked guards came in to clean up the scene and escort the body to the morgue. As I began to leave the room, I still heard the pendulum coming to a rest.
Tick!
