Shouts of adamant refusal from the crowd. Wilfrid spoke up.
“The Twenty-Fifth Legion has vowed to make Arland into a grave with no tombstone! Where would be left for us to flee?”
Loran raised her voice so that it would carry through the crowd. “There is nothing more foolish than to think death is glorious. You must return home. And bide your time until our next chance.”
“Our dying here will not mean the end of Arland! Those who come after we are gone shall fight their own battles. But it is indeed those who come after us who must be able to say one day, ‘Here was our king, and here the people fought by her side’! If we abandon you now, who will take on the mantle of the king ever again?”
Loran remembered the days and nights she had walked with the intention of surrendering to the Empire. They had told her, then, much the same things as they were telling her now. This was, perhaps, the destiny of the people before her as well.
Then she herself must follow her own destiny. Loran now understood why the wings had sprouted from her back, as well as what she could do. What shemustdo.
“Wilfrid.”
“Yes!” Wilfrid stepped forward.
“This battle was never to defeat the faraway Empire. The day may come, but today is not that day.”
“But—”
“I am not saying we should not fight. Only that today, even if we should win, the Empire also has its tomorrow. That is what you need to prepare for. If we only take up arms and fight, we shall always lose.”
“We can win? You are saying, there is a chance we may win?”
Loran smiled. “That is the only part of my words you have heard! But please, whatever happens, remember today. I shall always be with you all. And I shall let the Empire know that as well.”
Loran took a step forward.
“Are you aware that, in the olden days, there used to be something called knights in Arland?”
“I have heard of them.”
“And I have read that a king may grant knighthood on the field of battle.”
Wilfrid did not seem to understand.
“Please kneel.”
Wilfrid knelt. With her sword in her hand, Loran lightly tapped Wilfrid’s right shoulder, then her left.
“With the authority invested in me by the people of Arland and the fire-dragon of the mountain, I dub you a knight of Arland. A knight serves her king, protects her people, and defends her country. Rise, Sir Wilfrid.”
Wilfrid stood.
“I am the King of Arland,” said Loran. She could barely remember how it had happened, but she could feel the truth of it.
“I have thought of you as so since I first saw you,” said Wilfrid, holding back tears. Loran sensed Wilfrid knew what her king was about to say.
“Sir Wilfrid, should I not return from battle, I bid you to look after this country. That even if we are once more under the foot of the Empire, today shall not be in vain. That all the hopes and dreams gathered here today shall not be rendered meaningless.”
“Your Majesty…”
Loran forced a smile. “But I shall do my best to return.”
She thrust the blade of Wurmath into the earth. Heat rose from beneath her feet. The pillar of light that had blazed that one cold night on her way to the fortress ascended once more into the sky. This time, it reminded Loran of the eruption of a volcano.
Her whole body felt warm, as if immersed in a hot spring. Loran’s heart was thumping like a drum. The sound was not dissimilar to the sound of the sleeping dragon in the volcano.
She spread her wings. They gracefully fluttered as if she had used them her whole life. Loran flew up, her heartbeat louder than ever. Too loud, it seemed, to come from so small a human body.
