“Do you know who violated the legion outpost?”
“I do not.”
“Do you know who it is that murdered Marius, high centurion of the Twenty-Fifth Legion, in such a cowardly manner?”
“I do not. But how I wish I did, so I can throw a banquet for her!”
The woman’s voice rang out brazenly as she said this, so that the entirety of Kingsworth could hear. Nervous laughter rippled through the crowd in response.
Still running, Loran drew her sword as she approached. The legionary guarding the square entrance must have heard her footsteps and turned toward her. He raised his shield against Loran’s blow but too late—his shield and his arm were sliced in two. The shield caught fire as the legionary grasped his burnt stump of an arm and screamed. Loran raised Wurmath again as a nearby legionary lunged toward her with his sword, out of reflex more than bravery it seemed. But his sword split like firewood to an axe as itlanded against Wurmath’s blade. The legionary backed away with fear in his eyes, and Loran did not bother pursuing him. Instead, she stepped into the square and shouted, “It is I. I burned your outposts. I killed your Marius. I am the Princess of Arland.”
The sight in her missing eye returned in a rush, and she threw off her eyepatch, which had caught fire from the heat in her left socket. She touched her cheek. Scales. The crowd parted, giving her a path to the centurion.
Loran spoke to the people in the square as she walked forward.
“Return to your homes. The Twenty-Fifth Legion has no more business with you.”
A moment of hesitation, then compliance. Hurriedly collecting the children and the elderly, the citizens vacated the square. The legionaries hesitated, not knowing whether to stop the crowd or not. The centurion spoke.
“Let the rabble go. We have what we want.”
Loran was awash in guilt as she sensed the eyes of the people on her.It’s my fault. I should’ve kept my anger at bay. I was foolish, and these people paid for it. Buildings were destroyed. A young man was killed.
Loran stopped once she was within throwing distance of the defiant old woman who had been dragged out of the crowd. She stood before the Powered chariot still, two legionaries holding her in place for the centurion’s questioning.
The square was otherwise empty, save for the massive Scorpios chariots now taking up defensive positions around the square. The legionaries on foot stayed close to the chariots and kept their shields raised. A few readied their crossbows.
The old woman seemed to be missing an arm. A gust of wind made her empty sleeve flutter.
Loran heard the voice of not the centurion but the old woman.
“You are the one claiming to be a princess of this land?”
“I am.”
“And you are the one who burned down the Imperial outpost?”
“I am.”
“And you are the one who slew that centurion, Marius, I believe was his name?”
“I am.”
The old woman with great difficulty straightened her back and shoulders.
“This crone you see before you followed the king to the battlefield twenty years ago when the Empire invaded. I lost my right arm then. My husband was killed at the king’s side as well. And twelve years ago, during the purge, my son and his wife… I do not know where my grandson is or what he is doing. Countless people have fought the Empire and lost their lives. If you are truly a princess of this land, the one who will be our king, the burden you bear will be heavy and the road you travel long. So promise me this: that you will see the end of this tyranny.”
Loran’s throat had closed, she could not answer with her voice. She only managed to nod.
A smile spread on the old woman’s wrinkled face. Her remaining arm shot into the air, and she shouted, “People of Arland!” Her amplified voice shook the city. “Come forth and bear witness! Behold, our future king!”
The centurion, who had been listening with his arms crossed, finally nodded to one of the legionaries. The legionary plunged hissword into her back. The old woman fell to the ground, her left arm still raised.
Loran stifled a scream and began to walk forward again. Her grip on Wurmath tightened, and the sword gripped back. Her left eye heated up, flaming with an intensity she had never felt before.
The centurion raised his hand in a signal. The chariots took their positions and trained their crossbow tails toward Loran.
Loran leaped forward like an arrow, and the crossbows fired at her in unison. Not one managed to hit her, and the bolts glanced against the flagstones instead. Crossbows reloaded, clicking all around her. Loran charged the nearest chariot, Wurmath swinging above her head.
