Neat rows of banner men held the flag of their kingdom taught as they lead the parade of surviving soldiers in a long awaited celebration. The recent war with a nearby state had taken five slow moving years for the nation to recover from. Fathers and brothers lost were no longer being mourned but congratulated for their noble sacrifice. The common people cheered with relief as they waved the King’s men passing by; widows threw white clover blossoms at their feet as the mounted guardsmen nodded in solidarity. Silver clad men narrowed their formation as they approached the grand stone keep. The horses were passed in to the care of stable boys and all too eager squires.

      Past the smooth granite arches of the keep rows of men lined the great hall shoulder to shoulder with Generals, Nobles, widows and wives with bitter sweet smiles. From the west windows the sunlight cascaded across the polished armor of the soldiers giving the room a heavenly glow. At the center of the room stood the beloved royal family, the gracious King who led the nation in war on the front lines, and his wise Queen who held the nation together in his absence, smiled warmly at their subjects. The iron framed doors sealed away the roaring crowd that had gathered just beyond the bridge to the keep. With his right hand the King commanded silence from the equally restless noblemen within the halls. He led his Queen up the velvet covered steps to her throne and kissed her delicate hand after she was seated before turning to welcome his people. In a unified motion the crowd bowed.

      “My loyal subjects of this esteemed country, please rise, for it is upon your backs the harsh burdens of war. So I ask that you rise. Relieve yourselves from the bloodshed, the deep sorrows, the ghosts of the family we’ve lost and the inevitable sins of war. Stand proudly for your fallen brethren and remember that their sacrifice allowed our nation to survive. I ask you to turn your eyes towards the lights of heaven, for it is His love and grace that blesses our peace, and it is only in His light that we can see the path of a better future. Rise, men of England! You shall know only glory from this day onward!”

      With dewy eyes the soldiers of the hall stood heavy hearted to gaze at their smiling King. The King gave them a calm wave before placing his hand over his heart, then seated himself on the empty polished wooden throne. A number of decrees quickly followed being announced one after the other. Two time honored Generals retired from the royal service after severe injury; only one general was capable of receiving his reward in person while the eldest son stood in the latter’s place. The last General was promoted and given extra land as an incentive. Thirty-five men were promoted, some knighted for individual feats of bravery, as the three head Captains of the Guard watched from the sidelines. Even the often solemn Captain Edwards’ eyes softened in approval which everyone later agreed was a sight never to be witnessed again in their lifetime.

      After the pre-drafted awards and accolades were distributed the nobles murmured impatiently for the King to announce the grand celebration. Restless the King came to a stand and the room simmered down to excited whispers.

      “I, personally, have one last man to bestow honor upon. I call forth the Royal Executioner!”

      Several gasps cut the air in response. Captain Blight, head of the royal guard, broke composure with a look of complete confusion. His eyes scanned the room but he failed to find the man who may have held the answer. Quietly a tall, broad man made his way from the rear right corner of the great hall. Soldiers were quick to move out of his path, retching at the thought of making accidental contact with the man in the dark hood. Other nobles did not mask their disdain, sneering as he passed. Ax in hand, the Royal Executioner knelt down elegantly before the King.

      “While it has been writ in our laws for an age, this esteemed honor is unbeknownst to you all, for only those of the Royal family can grant it to those who have sacrificed their lives to protect them. I sustained a serious wound during the penultimate battle against Lord Fitzgerald’s forces which gave our enemy a great advantage. Lord Fitzgerald stood before me with his claymore raised, ready to claim my life and victory over our country when, like a disease, Royal silently dispatched him. Upon his back he carried me across the battlefield cutting down any man who dared cross his path. He did not leave my side until I returned to the safety of our blockade.”

      The Queen raised a single brow; she was cautious not to disrupt the image of her poise yet she listened eagerly to her husband’s words.

      “Thus, by the sworn blood of the Royal family I may grant thee one wish so long as it be feasible; we are bound to thee. Speak your heart’s greatest desire!”

      Curiosity mounted as the great hall became pregnant with silent anticipation. Calmly, the Royal Executioner prostrated unflinching; a dark grey hood with genteel clovers embroidered around the edge made the man impossible to read, even to the King standing a few steps above him. Seconds turned in to minutes that ebbed by painfully. The King’s confident smile wavered with anxiety.

      Royal shifted his legs beneath himself then suddenly lowered his head to the ground in a never before seen act of respect. “Thank you for this great honor your Majesty. I have decided; do I have your permission to state my request at the present time?”

      The King paused as a look of terror crept through his face. “Dearest God in heaven how can this be?! Who-who is this man?”

      “What say you?” the King swallowed hard to keep his voice from cracking.

      Royal lifted his head and through his hood locked his gaze with his master. The soft color of his eyes alone were enough to spark memories of someone already mourned for. Shaken, the King had enough strength to fight back tears as confusion and sorrow seized him.

      “I wish for a bride.”

      “Come again?!”