Ethan let out a low chuckle, soft at first—then it built into uncontrollable laughter, echoing through the square like a madman's song. The executioner, axe raised high, froze mid-motion. He frowned, confused.
What was so funny?
He glanced down at the laughing prisoner, a flicker of unease crossing his face.
"…Tch. Crazy bastard," he muttered under his breath.
"Are you really sure you want to kill me, Your Majesty?" Ethan called, still chuckling, though now the sound was edged with something sharp, malicious. A smirk tugged at his bloodied lips. "Do you even know who you're burying? Kill me, and you'll never touch the real bastard behind all this."
Whispers snaked through the crowd, spreading like wildfire.
"What is he saying?"
"He's bluffing, right?"
"Trying to talk his way out of death!"
"A few clever words to save his neck? He's insane!"
