700 years before

  Of all the kings who had ruled the third spire, they all shared one trait: amethyst-colored eyes. As time passed, a saying came about that there were only two things certain in life: death and that the ruler of the third spire would have amethyst-colored eyes. Until one day a child was born with eyes of the sea, as if they called to the very tides themselves. It was the scandal of the century, yet the king knew his wife and knew that this was his son, but he couldn't let the public know, for the disgrace that it would levy on his house, so instead the midwife was put to the blade, and a miscarriage was declared, but the king and the queen could not kill their child, so he was sent away. The years came and passed, and another heir was born with the necessary eyes, and all seemed to forget the nameless child born with blue eyes. One day there was to be an execution of a thief, and just like all the other executions, the king had to bear witness. The town gathered, the watch was called, the winds blew and echoes spread. Names were forged, stories grew proportionally to their absurdity. The tavern's crowds were fanned, as people celebrated their shared humanity; while some of the more cynical citizens reflected on the briefness of life. Then the time would come where the guilty would walk to his death; one oddity of this time period was that the accused would be expected to physically and literally walk to their execution unbound or impaired. This would give the guilty an opportunity to show true Honor, by walking to their death they would both elegantly and gracefully accept death, so that in the afterlife they would have something. There were also twenty armed guards who were ready to shishkabob the guilty if they showed even a small inclination to run. From atop his throne, the duke gazed down into the eyes of the criminal. Then he started to walk like all the others who came before him but his stride was different in some way the duke couldn’t name. “Your grace, are there any accommodations you wish for “ the man clothed in black said. He said nothing else nor did he move for that was not his place. He was sworn to the throne of the duke that meant he would not move or speak unless it was in the best interest of the throne; and he wore black, not any kind of black but the deep black of night. Everything born of cloth that touched his skin was black from his undergarments to his bed sheets. For the color symbolizes servitude for the darkness serves the sun coming and going as the sun wills it. That is why those who take a life of servitude refer to it as “Taking The Black". He saw the eyes of a deep blue that he had only seen once before. As the ax seemed to fall, he felt fear, for he thought the person who was to be executed was his son, but as he stared deeper into the man below, he knew that this was not his son, and his fear crept away, and as he gazed longer into the man, he thought about what life did that man have before this, and what impact did he have on the world, and felt a sadness for this man for his story; his flame would be put out in a few seconds. The blade struck the man's neck, and then the man was dead, leaving nothing behind but an echo of a scream. This memory stuck with the king until one day a high man of law owed him a favor; the king decided to use this favor to create an act permitting that men and women sentenced to death would be given the option to have their story put to pen and ink, and in exchange, they would be given a small boon. He named this act a decree of “truth” after the man who shared eyes with his son those long years ago. As time went on, the name of the king who first made this decree faded into the mists of history, but the decree stayed and grew until it had become part of the culture of the people who inhabit the third Spire.

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