don’t. It humanises him if they know what he’s really called.
Bathix’s voice spits menacingly from the screen. ‘This man is Head Kingsman Tay Porter. He has committed high treason against the King. For that there is only one
punishment.’
Even though he saved me and I worked with him every day, I never knew Porter’s first name. Suddenly my thought about humanising someone by knowing what they are called comes back to strike
me. We shared a moment where Porter told me what it was like in the early days after the war. He was the person who gave me the idea that there was a resistance. Without that, I would never have
found Vez and Knave and would have had no idea what to do outside the castle walls. I should have spent more time getting to know him but now it is too late.
The last time I saw him, he had aged dramatically but now he looks even worse. His face is smeared with cuts and dribbles of dried blood. One eye is black and completely closed.
Bathix pulls what’s left of Porter’s hair back, showing the camera the full extent of the brutality inflicted upon him. ‘Do you confess to your crimes?’
Porter opens his mouth, gasping for air. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse and painful. ‘The only crimes committed against this country are by . . .’
Before he can finish, the Minister Prime backhands him across the face, sending a mixture of spittle and blood flying out of shot. I wince too but Porter turns back to the camera defiantly, his
one good eye blinking rapidly until it closes. Bathix steps backwards and picks up an axe with a long handle. Two Kingsmen reach forward and force Porter into position. Any fight from him is long
gone as he allows his neck to be pushed forward onto a block. I want to look away but my body won’t obey what I’m telling it. Even my eyelids refuse to close.
The Kingsmen step backwards after tying Porter into place and the rest happens in slow motion as the Minister Prime crashes the axe down. Opie must have noticed what was happening because he
stands in front of me, his big shoulders blocking my view. He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t need to. When he moves aside, the screen has reverted back to showing the outside of
Martindale’s village hall and there are just over five minutes left on the clock. There are even more Kingsmen lining up, meaning we are outnumbered on top of our disadvantage due to lack of
weapons. This is entertainment for the masses. A game. Amusement.
The men around me are looking blankly at each other and I have no ideas other than giving myself up. From the far end of the room, there is a bang – Hart is standing on top of a solid
wooden table. He stamps his feet loudly and everyone turns to face him.
His voice is deep and powerful, the change in his demeanour since I injected him with the medicine barely believable. ‘My name is Hart and I was this village’s first Elite. I left
here more than two years ago. You stood in the streets, clapping and cheering. It was the proudest day of my life. I thought I was going to serve the country, to help us recover and make sure that
no one had to go hungry again. Instead, all of us Offerings were killed one at a time in Windsor. We were at the mercy of the man you call our King. He’s not the person we thought he was but
somehow I survived.’
He pauses for breath as a ripple of discontent flitters around the room. For most people, this is the first time they have had anything confirmed.
‘I was resigned to my fate,’ he continues. ‘I knew I was going to die in the castle and that my parents would never know what happened to me. The reason I’m here, the
reason I got to see my parents again and have them tell me how proud they were, is because of her.’
His arm shoots out, a finger pointing directly at me. The men at my side part to let everyone else have a view. I suddenly feel tiny, cowering under the pressure of their stares.
‘That’s Silver Blackthorn. She
Bathix’s voice spits menacingly from the screen. ‘This man is Head Kingsman Tay Porter. He has committed high treason against the King. For that there is only one
punishment.’
Even though he saved me and I worked with him every day, I never knew Porter’s first name. Suddenly my thought about humanising someone by knowing what they are called comes back to strike
me. We shared a moment where Porter told me what it was like in the early days after the war. He was the person who gave me the idea that there was a resistance. Without that, I would never have
found Vez and Knave and would have had no idea what to do outside the castle walls. I should have spent more time getting to know him but now it is too late.
The last time I saw him, he had aged dramatically but now he looks even worse. His face is smeared with cuts and dribbles of dried blood. One eye is black and completely closed.
Bathix pulls what’s left of Porter’s hair back, showing the camera the full extent of the brutality inflicted upon him. ‘Do you confess to your crimes?’
Porter opens his mouth, gasping for air. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse and painful. ‘The only crimes committed against this country are by . . .’
Before he can finish, the Minister Prime backhands him across the face, sending a mixture of spittle and blood flying out of shot. I wince too but Porter turns back to the camera defiantly, his
one good eye blinking rapidly until it closes. Bathix steps backwards and picks up an axe with a long handle. Two Kingsmen reach forward and force Porter into position. Any fight from him is long
gone as he allows his neck to be pushed forward onto a block. I want to look away but my body won’t obey what I’m telling it. Even my eyelids refuse to close.
The Kingsmen step backwards after tying Porter into place and the rest happens in slow motion as the Minister Prime crashes the axe down. Opie must have noticed what was happening because he
stands in front of me, his big shoulders blocking my view. He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t need to. When he moves aside, the screen has reverted back to showing the outside of
Martindale’s village hall and there are just over five minutes left on the clock. There are even more Kingsmen lining up, meaning we are outnumbered on top of our disadvantage due to lack of
weapons. This is entertainment for the masses. A game. Amusement.
The men around me are looking blankly at each other and I have no ideas other than giving myself up. From the far end of the room, there is a bang – Hart is standing on top of a solid
wooden table. He stamps his feet loudly and everyone turns to face him.
His voice is deep and powerful, the change in his demeanour since I injected him with the medicine barely believable. ‘My name is Hart and I was this village’s first Elite. I left
here more than two years ago. You stood in the streets, clapping and cheering. It was the proudest day of my life. I thought I was going to serve the country, to help us recover and make sure that
no one had to go hungry again. Instead, all of us Offerings were killed one at a time in Windsor. We were at the mercy of the man you call our King. He’s not the person we thought he was but
somehow I survived.’
He pauses for breath as a ripple of discontent flitters around the room. For most people, this is the first time they have had anything confirmed.
‘I was resigned to my fate,’ he continues. ‘I knew I was going to die in the castle and that my parents would never know what happened to me. The reason I’m here, the
reason I got to see my parents again and have them tell me how proud they were, is because of her.’
His arm shoots out, a finger pointing directly at me. The men at my side part to let everyone else have a view. I suddenly feel tiny, cowering under the pressure of their stares.
‘That’s Silver Blackthorn. She
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