The Mistress' Revenge

"I am not sure why you would propose such a thing, Lord Marshall," Joel cuts him off, standing between him and I.

"We live in a Kingdom where a Great King's body lies cold today. This won't be the day where you kill our voices too," her eyes stare at him fiercely.

"I can have you imprisoned, lesson-ed and reduced to nothing but another corpse, girl. You have disgraced my presence uncountable times," Marshall steps down from his horse.

"Leave the girl, alone. I would take whatever you have to offer," I dragged Joel back by her arm.

"You boy, must be either too foolish, or too brave," the cold metal of Marshall's sword knicks me on my throat.

"I am going to have your neck for everything she said," his snarl turns cool.

I take my stance, turning to look at this stranger of a girl. Her eyes are determined, set on Marshall.

"Joel, don't be so stupid. Apologise to Sir Marshall," the young man asks her to. His voice shaking as he holds her arm. "Please," he insists.

"How about you give me a sword, and bring it to the ring, like a man of Steel," I seethed, and Marshall's eyes stuck on me.

"Fine then, you street rat," Marshall reaches for one of his men's swords. He pulls it off its sheath and tosses it to me.

"Let's see how much of a man is left in you when I am done with your throat," he spits.

I have always waited for this moment. The past few months, I have found myself waking up in the middle of the night, and imagining Marshall's blood on my sword. He took my father away from me.

"Sir Marshall," I heard José voice, ringing from the crowd. "You cannot do this. There's no honour greater than the honour of the Late King. You cannot taint this day with the bloodshed of a man," José screams on the top of his lungs.

"Sir José, have you truly forgotten that this man, and this stupid wench of a girl, dishonoured my name," he growls.

"You are making yourself a subject of misery by paying heed to the words of the common folk. And you..." He turns to me. "Run as far as you can. I do not want any misfortune to cast grey clouds over my liege, His Highness, Duke Canton's wishes," he says.

"I will take care of the scoundrel," José says, meeting my eyes. "And the girl. Sir Marshall, please bring glory to our beloved Late King's name," José announced loudly.

"You stay out of my fucking way," Sir Marshall spitted, as he walked past me. He mounted his horse, and then his herd of loyal dogs followed him to the procession.

José screams order, and the crowd walks forward. At the Centre of the city, the Golden Chariot arrives. Followed by the casket that houses my father's remains.

"Good people of Gestalt," the procession begins. "Pay your last respects to your most loved king. Announcing, His Majesty, the Late King Bartot Canton, the first of his name."

I watched as they held the gilded casket over their shoulders. Not an inch of it was devoid of the gold embellishments.

Knees touched the ground. Swords were held up, and gazes lowered. Only Joel and I stood, frozen.

"Kneel, you bastard," Marshall seethed, and I realised that I was being disrespectful. I knelt down to the ground.

"Joel, pay your respects," I hissed, and she looked at the casket longingly.

"This isn't how you pay respects to someone who was betrayed," she says softly, and gets down to her knees next to me. "Especially when they are betrayed by family. Isn't that why the Spear's magic killed him?"

I didn't want to answer that.

"You have too many bright ideas, for one little girl," I tell her, almost teasingly.

"Well, what do you even know about being a little girl?" She scoffed, and I bit back my laughter.

"Do not raise your voices," José instructs, as he steadily rises.

"Good people of Gestalt, rejoice in the memory of your King," the procession departed on its way to the burial site.

The crowd dispatches. The shopkeepers bring down their curtains as the music slowly turns melancholic.

Then a strange silence fills in. Whisps of incense smoke floods the air. A soft lull of music strings pour in. The sky turns indigo.

"Tell me, Your Highness..." Joel turns to me. "Why are you hiding here? Would you not put your father to his resting place?" She asked.

"Carmy is one lucky boy," I chuckled. This young girl was too bright for someone her age. Sharp. Witty. And perhaps, strategic.

"How'd you find out?" I asked, and she looked at me as if I had asked something stupid.

"Your eyes, Your Highness. Green eyes. Like dragons," she said, nonchalantly.

I turn on my knees to face her, as she brushes off the dust from her cloak.

"My mother. She told me everything about the dragons," she added fondly.

I took a good look at her. She was barely thirteen. Who could be telling her such brave tells?

"Don't be alarmed, Your Highness. I am not like other people," she says. "I have seen dragons."

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to hide my amusement. I watched as her lips curved into a smile.

"I've seen them with my own eyes. Felt their scales... I heard their roar. Your Highness, they are majestic beasts."

"Majestic?"

Perhaps she read too many fables. Maybe, she could jest. But from what I know, didn't Joel seem more sensible than half the people I had ever met?

"They weave magic with their fire. They fly past storms with their wings. Their blood can cure ailments. And indeed, they are noble and intelligent," Joel says.

I find us alone, with José in an earshot. Whatever it was that Joel knew, this was not the best place to talk about it. Regardless.

"Find me, at the palace, little girl. Perhaps, I will put your mind to a good use," I tell her and she curtsied.