Executioner König

In the dimly lit chamber, adorned with flickering torches, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the stone corridors. The door creaked open, the large man walking in, clad in a black shirt and leggings, a wide brim sammuthut hat, effectively serving to hide his eyes as he tilted his head down, a black cloth tied around his nose and mouth. Blonde stringy flowed down his back and shoulders, nearly brushing his shoulders.

The grand hall was adorned with opulent tapestries, beautiful flowing lace curtains and ornate chandeliers. The king and queen, clad in regal attire, sat upon their thrones, watching intently as the executioner approached, heavy footsteps ringing through the room. The guards tightened their grip as the full height of the man was revealed, the hulking behemoth surely the closest thing to a giant they had ever seen.

You, the child of the crown, although it had been a long time since you had been a child, sat on a soft pillow next to your mother’s throne, eyes wide in awe as the large man approached the steps to the throne. He sighed heavily, kneeling slowly, clearly taking care to be gentle with his large size as he bowed to the royalty. Underneath the brim of his hat, his eyes traveled to you, the expression in his eyes unreadable.

"Are you the one they call König?," Your father asked, his hand moving to hold your mother’s, clearly shaken by this giant man.

König nodded once, moving his head down lower in his bow.

Your father continued "You have been called upon to fulfill a grave duty in our kingdom. Our own executioner has been called to serve in the ongoing war effort, and we require your expertise in his absence."

König nodded again, appearing almost ancient in his slow and deliberate movements.

Your father gestured for König to stand. “Unfortunately, due to high tensions, we cannot allow you to leave the castle grounds. You will be staying in the old wine cellar, but do not take this as an invitation to forget tradition.”

König stood, “Understood.” He mumbled, his voice laced with a harsh German accent, eyes traveling back to you for a moment, burning intensely before they returned to the king, suddenly tired and haunted again.

Your father waved his hand dismissively, and König spared a last glance to you before turning to leave, the guards going to escort the large man to his new home.

As time passed, curiosity continued to gnaw at you. He had been there for a month already, and you hardly knew a thing about the man. You had seen him in passing, his executioner's mask hiding everything except those piercing blue eyes, burning with an intensity you had hardly ever seen him take with anything else.

One night, you had finally had enough. After bed, you had successfully snuck past the guards and had snuck down the steps into the cellar itself, allowing yourself in- you were royalty after all.

The stone walls, once cold and neglected, now bore the marks of meticulous restoration. Layers of paint in somber hues covered the rugged surfaces, providing a sense of solemnity and gravity. The flickering light of candles mounted on iron sconces cast dancing shadows, adding an eerie ambiance to the chamber.

Against one wall stood a sturdy, oak table, its surface polished to a deep sheen. Upon it, an array of implements awaited their duty – a well-honed axe, gleaming blades, and other instruments required for the solemn task at hand. Hanging nearby, carefully arranged, were leather gloves, their worn appearance a testament to the countless times they had been worn during past executions.

A large, heavy door, reinforced with iron bands, offered an imposing entrance to the room. The door bore a screaming skull tapestry- König's insignia.

The air carried a faint scent of aged wood and incense, mingling with a slight hint of metal. A solitary, narrow window high on the wall allowed a scant amount of daylight to filter through, casting a muted glow upon the room.

Despite the somberness that permeated the space, a touch of solemn comfort had been introduced. A simple, worn chair stood in one corner, its cushions covered in dark velvet.

It was as you were entering this space, surprised with how it transformed, that the door was slammed shut behind you and a low whistle, followed by a throaty chuckle, pierced the air. "Na, na, na, was haben wir denn da? Eine kleine Maus?"