Petr, a young man with a restless soul and a piercing gaze, walked along a narrow path leading to the execution house, where his new life awaited him. He was the son of a town scribe, but his family was impoverished and without hope for a better future. Petr had no choice as to which trade to choose, as fate drew him where others hesitated to look. His heart was beating fast as he approached the low stone house that stood alone on the edge of town.

The house that had become the home of Henry’s old executioner was unremarkable from the outside, with a shabby roof and windows that seemed forever shrouded in darkness. Petr knocked on the heavy wooden door, which opened with a creaking sound. He was greeted by a stark, quiet hallway where the only sound was the muffled crackling of the fire from the small kitchen.

Henry, the old executioner, was a man with a wrinkled face, long gray hair, and eyes that had seen too much human suffering. His figure was massive, but years of fatigue and the weight of the work carried out took their toll on him. Still, glimmers of extraordinary strength and wisdom remained in his eyes.

“Come on, boy,” he addressed Peter Henry in a deep voice that resonated through the stone walls. „I was waiting for you. I already know why you are here.‘

Peter entered without a word and closed the door behind him. Henry led him into a small room where a fire was burning in the fireplace. He motioned for him to sit on the wooden stool while he sat down on the other side of the table. There was a moment of silence, during which the old executioner examined the young man scrutinizingly.

“Tell me, Peter,” he began slowly, “what made you enter the path few dare to tread? Do you even know what it means to become an executioner?‘

Petr took a deep breath to overcome the nervousness that gripped him. “Mr. Henry,” he began, “I don’t have much of a choice. My family is poor, and the city has no other work for me. But I’m not weak. I know that the executioner’s craft is hard and that it requires more than just physical strength. I want to learn and do my duty, however hard it may be.‘

Henry nodded, but his face remained unreadable. „Kat is not just a craftsman, Peter. He is a man who stands between life and death, between justice and retribution. It is a fate that cannot be taken lightly. But I can see that you have determination in you. And that’s a good start.”

Then Henry got up and walked over to the wall where several tools hung that Peter had never seen before. Among them was a broad-bladed axe, reprimands and an iron gag. Each of these instruments bore traces of the past, and Peter could not tear his eyes away from them.

“These tools, Peter,” said Henry, “are an extension of our will. They are not weapons, they are instruments of justice. When you take them in hand, you must know that your task is not to kill, but to fulfill the right. And that’s something you have to learn.‘

Peter nodded, though Henry’s words sent shivers down his spine. He understood that his journey would not be easy, but he knew that he could not give up on it. This was his self-chosen destiny—or perhaps a destiny that chose him.

“Today we’ll start with simple tasks,” Henry continued as he handed him a stone whetstone “You’ll be cleaning, sharpening, and maintaining the executioner’s tools. An executioner must always have everything ready and sharp, because even the smallest mistake can be fatal.“

Petr took the sharpener and approached the tools. With each stroke he felt himself sinking deeper into a world that was invisible to most people, a world where every sound could mean the difference between life and death. With every movement of his hand he learned the patience, precision and humility that the executioner’s trade required.

And so began his first steps on the path to destiny. With Henry at his side and the weight of the future on his shoulders, Peter became an apprentice executioner. Although his heart was full of questions and doubts, he knew one thing for sure – his life would never be the same.