The Warrior's Execution
by maxathron
Copyright© 2026 by maxathron
Topiltzin stepped up to the podium. King John and his court rose to acknowledge Topiltzin’s presence. The court sat back down while they waited for the king to proclaim Topiltzin’s sentence. Topiltzin had spoken out against the king’s rule. He was a traveler in a strange land, wandering in search of work. When he found out about how the kingdom was run, Topiltzin openly criticized the kingdom. Peasants shouldn’t have almost all of their wealth stripped away from them to support the massive bureaucracy of the kingdom, restricted in education so they could not read, and their lives regulated to the bone so they couldn’t even build their own houses.
When the king heard of Topiltzin’s words, the king got mad. He personally ordered the King’s Guard to go forth and round Topiltzin up. The king wanted to make an example of Topiltzin. No one was to criticize the king or the kingdom, ever.
Topiltzin accepted his fate. He was brought to the kingdom’s capital to stand trial. The king and his court, full of bureaucrats just like the king, deliberated for hours. An informer on Topiltzin’s side brought him information. The king and court took so long because they were in disagreement of how harsh the punishment should be, rather than if Topiltzin was truly guilty or didn’t mean it.
Topiltzin speeded things up by straining against his chains and yelling at them to hurry up.
“You fail at even sentencing! What a waste of my time.”
This made the king and his court furious. They immediately closed ranks to discuss what to do. They came to an agreement and returned to the sentencing.
“The court has decided that there is only one punishment fitting for your crimes. You will be put to death. The court is lenient enough to give you your choice of death, however. It needs to be doable within an hour. No ‘dying of old age’ like the last one to try our patience.”
When the king finished, he and the court, as the rest of the courtroom of onlookers, waited for Topiltzin to respond.
Topiltzin stood there. The king hoped he would beg. The king and his court were fond of this out for crimes such as these. Begging and apologizing were palpable to their egos. The guilty would still be given a harsh punishment such as being crippled, but only after they groveled at the feet of the kingdom.
Topiltzin did not beg. He did not grovel. He did not apologize. The man stood defiant in the middle of the courtroom. His faith was strong.
“I accept this sentencing. I choose to die by honorable combat, against the king’s men. Should the king’s men run out or decline to fight, I will conclude my punishment over and free to leave.”
The king smirked. He was going to destroy this critic via the power of the state.
“I agree to your choice. You will be taken to the dungeon with your belongings. Tomorrow, your punishment will begin in the arena. Take him away, guards!”
The guards looked at Topiltzin and motioned out of the courtroom. Topiltzin did not readily move so they tugged on the chains a bit. Topiltzin gave the king and his court one last look of dissent and turned to be led out of the room by the guards.
Topiltzin was sent back to the dungeon and his personal property was given back to him.
The king was elated. The state would crush this detractor. No one criticized him or the kingdom. He shall be thoroughly beaten and then killed, in view of the people, to remind them of their place at the feet of the king and court.
Sleep was easy for Topiltzin. He was going to need all of this rest.
The next day, Topiltzin was brought to the arena with his personal belongings. He chose to leave some of it behind in a cell. He could come back for them later.
Topiltzin stepped out into the arena. The king and court were already waiting in their booth on the other end of the area, raised up at the crowd level. Crowds of people on the benches waiting to see the spectacle.
The arena was a standard urban arena. Topiltzin seen many of these in his travels. It was an oval, nearly a hundred meters in length and about half that in width. The pointy tips were where the main entrances were located. Secondary entrances were at the flat sides.
Topiltzin wore a skintight leather outfit with the markings of a great predator, yellowish-tan with black circles, head covered by a helmet-like structure shaped like the beast’s head with feathers coming out the back like a ponytail hair-style, a necklace of canine teeth from beasts he had slayed in years past, with a cloth around his waist and sandals, and a standard affixed to his back, with short flags representing his homeland and the individual warband he had served under. His entire outfit as well as his weapon and shield were colored green and gold. Green for his homeland. Gold for his elite status.
Topiltzin carried traditional weapons of his homeland, a wooden sword and shield. Technically the core of the sword was metal, an iron rod forged in a blast furnace, but the external sides were wood. The sword was weighted on the top, more like a club than sword. Bits of jagged metal adorned the two sides of the sword. It was designed to cut flesh but it was reasonable against armor.
His shield was a simple round wooden shield with a metal center and rim for strength, painted with several golden moons on a green background, and featherlike leather structures on the bottom to help soften attacks aimed at his legs.
He was a fighter, a veteran of the blossom conflicts that determined the origins of his homeland. He didn’t start this fight for his freedom but he sure will finish it. Topiltzin hefted his weapon and stood in the center of the arena.
The king with his entourage smiled. They all smiled. Not only were they about to see the death of a disparager, and with his death a reminder to the rest of his people, but this man was a barbarian, an uncivilized person from lands far away from the civilization and progress of his kingdom.
The king stood up. The king dipped his hand in a bucket of red liquid. This was a ceremonious symbol, representing a chunk of flesh being destroyed by the hand of progress. The flesh being the flesh of those standing in the way of progress, of course. His hand went into the bucket, all the way up to the elbow. The king pulled it out, sticky liquid dripping down off his hand and arm. The king raised the arm up over his head, hand clanged in a fist, liquid squirting from the fist being clenched. This was the symbol for the punishment to begin.
Guards around the arena seats saw it and signaled for horns to blow. The arena doors opened and the king’s knights entered the arena.
Topiltzin gritted his teeth and barred them for the world to see. He advanced on the first line of enemies, a formation of five armored men. They had swords and shields and wore padded clothes with a metal cuirass and helmet. The shield appeared to be wooden but the sword was definitely metal.
Topiltzin strode over to them. The first soldier made his move. The man raised his sword and brought it down, intending to strike Topiltzin’s seemingly vulnerable head. Topiltzin brought his shield up and made contact with the sword, blasting it back and counterattacking with a strike from his wooden sword. The man went down in one blow.
The soldiers’ comrades were surprised. Their man was dead. What kind of demon did the king send them to fight? Momentary hesitation allowed Topiltzin to cut down the second man with a vertical swing. The third tried to raise his shield but Topiltzin’s wood sword punched through it and he was dead too.
The last two didn’t know where to go for the brief moment before Topiltzin executed them where they stood.
“Is this the best you can muster, king? I have faced worse than this. Perhaps your army is weak, hmm?”
The king, shocked, set his jaw and ordered a new wave of men into the arena.
Topiltzin saw them to his left. They were no conscripts, even if Topiltzin himself was one himself, but solidly built soldiers from the provinces. They wore chainmail armor and steel helmet and carried into battle a steel sword and shield combination. There were four of them.
It was easy for these newcomers to surround Topiltzin. There were more of them than he could view with his eyes. One directly in front, two on his forward flanks, and one on his rear flanks. It was clear that they would attack together.
Instead of waiting for them to make the first move, Topiltzin struck first. He pushed into the guy in front of him, using his mass to run the poor man over and capping him with a strike from his sword. The three remaining fools tried to surround Topiltzin. They put in a few blows but Topiltzin’s shield blocked two of them. The other struck. They made Topiltzin bleed a bit, but he brought his sword down and killed the man in two strikes. The remaining soldiers, seeing their now two dead comrades, turned to run. They wanted no more part. Topiltzin had struck down half, and all that happened were a couple of flesh wounds.
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