[Osric's POV—Throne Room]
The silence that followed my words could have shattered glass.
The nobles froze. Some gasped behind silk-gloved hands. Others glanced at the Emperor.
But my eyes never left the maid.
She sobbed now—finally realizing that this wasn't just some royal formality. This wasn't a slap on the wrist and exile. This was blood. Mine. Hers. And the price she was about to pay.
The Emperor didn't speak for a long time. He just studied me—cold, calculating, as though weighing a new weapon he didn't forge himself.
Finally, he said, "Then see it done."
A royal decree.
An execution, gifted to me.
"Guards," he commanded, "drag her to the execution chamber. Osric will deliver judgment himself."
The chamber doors burst open. Two imperial knights stepped forward, faces grim beneath their helms, and seized the trembling girl. She screamed, pleaded, and clawed at the floor like a beast about to be slaughtered.
I didn't blink.
I simply followed.
No hesitation.
***
