The sky was already turning faintly light, its glow seeping through the curtains to illuminate the windowsill and bedside. Lübeck had slept poorly all night. Today was the day of the public execution of the rebels. No matter the crime, ending so many lives without any casualties among the security forces felt fundamentally wrong to him—a moral unease gnawing at his conscience.
Emma beside him slept soundly, her slumber as deep as ever despite the approaching dawn. Her gentle breathing revealed faint veins beneath her fair skin, her full breasts, supple skin, and thick hair radiating the vitality of youth and life.
He heard faint sounds from the kitchen beyond the door—Ruth had already begun preparing breakfast. Lübeck tucked the blanket around Emma's shoulders, dressed himself, and stepped out of the room.
His gaze swept through the living room toward the kitchen. In the morning light streaming through the window, a faint mist seemed to swirl within the room, slowly rolling and rising. He couldn't tell if it was convection caused by the rising temperature as light filled the space, or air currents forming from the gradually warming stove in the kitchen. Its gentle, quiet movement seemed to freeze this momentary snapshot of the early morning, interwoven with the decades Ruth and Lübeck had walked together.
Lübeck pulled a chair into the kitchen, drew Ruth to sit in his lap,
“Rest a while. Don't stand there waiting,” he murmured, holding her close.
Ruth said nothing, merely resting her head against his shoulder. Lübeck took her fingertips—slightly cool—and tucked her hand into his coat pocket.
“Miller mentioned the other day about helping adopt two girls. Their father died in battle, and their mother plans to remarry. I refused then, but now I think—why not adopt them as your daughters? When you grow old, you'll have someone to care for you.”
Ruth lifted her head from Lübeck's embrace, smiling at him.
“How old are they?”
“One is three, the other five.”
“Oh, they already have a mother. Raising them won't make them any closer to you.”
“Oh.”
“If my little sister proves reliable, I'll count on her and the children she bears you.” Lübeck understood she meant Emma—a kind-hearted girl. Yet he feared her own children might harbor favoritism toward their biological mother, preventing equal treatment.
“Well, then I'll instruct my children to honor you as they would their own mother.”
Hearing this, Ruth smiled.
“Ah, I don't count on other people's children. If I can count on my little sister, that's good enough. Besides, who knows? Maybe I'll even outlive you?”
“Don't speak such unlucky words. We'll both live to be a hundred, okay?”
“Okay.” "Ruth nodded with a smile.
Though the thought of Ruth leaving him first held a certain bittersweet sorrow, Lübeck felt that being present for her final moments would be his way of repaying her years of devoted companionship. He couldn't bear to imagine how she would face life alone without him.
The beauty of the morning light carried a hint of heaviness as Lübeck rode by carriage to the execution grounds on the outskirts of town. Since the founding of Sanctuary, this place had only punished common thieves and violent criminals—never carried out capital punishment, especially hanging. When Lübeck arrived, the area was already crowded with ordinary onlookers and the condemned's family members. Numerous soldiers maintained order; the large-scale public execution served as a deterrent.
Lübeck's carriage entered the execution grounds from another direction. He located the head of the security squad overseeing the execution, inquired about today's procedure, then spoke briefly with the judge and Sheriff Trudy present to exchange views.
By then, the sun had risen high. The weather was warm and humid, signaling the approaching busy season of sowing. Yet despite the major incident in Sanctuary, many citizens still came to watch.
As the town hall clock struck the hour, the first group of criminals destined for hanging were led to the gallows. Lübeck observed the proceedings from the rear. These initial prisoners were the masterminds behind the rebellion—their plans and incitement had sparked the large-scale armed conflict, resulting in heavy casualties. Upon the execution platform, the judge was reading aloud their crimes and sentences.
Lübeck glanced at the prisoners still awaiting execution in the carts. Some peered toward the scaffold, others huddled in corners, while a few strained through the gaps between the gallows' pillars to scan the crowd below—perhaps searching for familiar faces.
Lübeck rose and walked along the path beside the scaffold to the front. The crimes had been read aloud, and each prisoner was now being identified. As he stepped onto the scaffold via the wooden planks, the command was already being shouted:
“Prepare for execution.”
At this moment, a single command would trigger the removal of the footboards beneath the prisoners, sending them plummeting to their deaths with snapped necks. A deathly silence hung over the scene, the sound of Lübeck's boots on the wooden platform seemingly audible even to the last row of spectators.
Lübeck stepped to the center of the platform and addressed the crowd below in a loud voice:
"Fellow villagers, fellow countrymen.
I, Lübeck, brought you all here to build this sanctuary together. For twenty years, this has been our new home. You chose to trust me. I led you out seeking a better life," Lü Beck declared, glancing back at the condemned man on the gallows before continuing,
“not to send you to the gallows.” He turned back to the crowd.
"Look at what has become of us now. Many from the Bauer family are dead. Many from the Schmidt family are dead. Why? For land? For profit? For money? For women? For power. Why, when we have food on our tables and peace in our lives, do we forget why we fled our original home? We escaped the persecution of the Church, yet now we bring their slaughter to our doorstep—to this new home that should have been better. While some still haggle over gains, have they ever considered—" Lübeck turned, walked to the nearest prisoner, pulled a stack of newspapers from his satchel, and held them before him.
“Look at this. The Black Death. While you were calculating your profits, did you ever think you'd already escaped the Black Death?”
Lübeck moved to the next prisoner and showed him the papers.
“Look at this,” he said, then turned back to the audience.
“Cholera. Everyone here—we've all escaped cholera.” Lü Beck stepped forward again, flipping through the papers.
“Look—war, typhus, syphilis, war, slaughter...” Lübeck kept flipping through the paper in his hands, muttering loudly, seeming somewhat unhinged.
“My fellow citizens, many of you here—I remember your faces. I brought each of you here myself. I hope you can cherish your present lives, care less about profit, and cherish your fellow citizens. After all, it is together that we build this home we share.” As he spoke, Lübeck waved his arms vigorously in the air, urging his compatriots to follow his lead.
Finally, murmurs began among the audience below the stage. Then ripples of commotion spread through the crowd. Suddenly, someone raised their arm and shouted:
“Captain Lübeck, we support you!”
“Yes, we support you!”
“Captain, we support you!”
Seeing the crowd finally react and voice their solidarity, Lü Beck felt a sense of relief wash over him. As he gazed upon the familiar faces and figures—though weathered by time—still dancing alongside him, his eyes welled up with tears.
102Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHnuSjLxkxf
102Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuyUSHZt9AJ
and then Add to home screen.