CORRUPTED.
CORRUPTED.
REDACTED.
URAVELLING THE THRONE HAD BEGUN. She had raced down the corridor with a short sword in hand. Why now when she had returned from a diplomatic venture from the principality from the south? Would it even matter if she worried about such problems; for her, this is where her people would rise against the throne and eliminate them with extreme prejudice.
Adlib: She had no choice but to race to the end. To find her family and prevent their quarters from being drawn and scoured amongst the people. For they would never stop. For they would psychotically rip apart everything. Her rank and title within the kingdom meant nothing. She was alone.
Slamming her boots into the ground, she turned around in a flash. The black dress she wore hug her figure as it thrashed about from her sudden movements. Taking a breath to steady herself, she poised mind as she raised the sword by her side. She held it in a defensive posture as her footing slowly adjusted on the crimson carpet beneath her feet.
There were three servants in front of her, two maids and a single butler. All had served the kingdom their entire lives, and now they drew blades against her knowing her identity as the princess. Her existence never escaped the walls of the throne, but she remained as the diplomatic link in the free world. If there was anyone she could trust, it was the people she worked with day-in-and-out.
“There will be no trial for these crimes!” Her normal bell-like voice grew raspy.
They never answered her as the maids lunged forward, swinging a rapier and a knife.
As the first maid reached her, she danced around the wide attack and shot out her leg tripping the second. As the first turned around, she never realized that the princess had simply walked behind her, and by grabbing her by the mouth her fate was sealed as the silver blade the princess held tore across her throat splattering blood all over the floor and the princess’s arm.
A piercing smile grew on the princess’s lips as she sunk the tip of her sword through the heart of the second maid. Removing the blade and turning around, her brunette hair that had streaks of silver fell to the side as she tilted her head.
“Arish. A demon.”
“What is my full name?” She spat, “You have tarnished it with this rebellion. What more will it make?”
“The First Princess, Lecca-Maradel Emma Arish. The one that will bring the next king to ruin.” The young man said as he withdrew a short sword. Though the maids were easily dispatched, he would lay down his life for this cause. The slimmest chance he had at eliminating the princess was something he had to take.
Pointing the blade of his sword at the princess, he and Lecca-Maradel entered a standoff as he did a simple lunge. Lecca took a backstep and allowed the blade to miss as she for him to strike again. Her eyes narrowed as a bead of sweat rolled down her face. Again, he attacked making Lecca take another step back in a panic as the blade nearly nicked her throat. She counter assaulted seeing that the butler was consumed by fear; placing her foot forward she began to thrust her blade as he wildly swung his weapon around blocking some and narrowly avoiding others.
The tips of their blades made contact several times as the attacks varied back and forth. They barely moved from where they had initially started the engagement, and it was only by mere chance when Lecca spotted an opening. The butler had lost balance for a mere second upon one of her attacks being parried. To end this quickly before she grew anymore exhausted, she slashed upwards striking the man in the throat making him cough as he clutched his neck and fell to the ground spewing blood all over his body.
Lecca steadied herself as she caught her breath. “Perish like the others, but know you were a suitable foe.”
“Go to hell!”
Without another word to be exchanged, Lecca plunged her sword through the man’s throat cutting it open and drowning him in blood.
She had slain the butler, and not than a second later a door at the end of the hallway slammed open as seven men rushed out. Lecca’s eyes widened as the men she saw peering around the corner and moving in a tight group were Sailors from the Kingdom’s Navy. They all held long, cumbersome muskets as they scanned every corner of the castle paying no mind to dirtying their formal dress-blue uniforms that were already modified with ammunition bandoliers and makeshift belts for knives.
“Princess Arish!” The leading Sailor, a Petty Officer 1st Class, called out to her as he directed his men to lower their weapons, “The king request immediate aid in the Throne Room! We request you join us to reclaim the crown!”
“Very well, Petty Officer. Lead the way.”
“Let’s move it, men!” The 1st Class ordered as the broke out into a run down the corridor to the west.
In a scattered group they all ran down crossing piles of bodies that littered the castle from both sides. The stone floors were coated red and mutilated bodies still moved around the castle as they put up a last-ditch effort to protect the king and his remaining forces. Princess Lecca and the sailors were slowed ensuring that the corpses were indeed dead, and that those alive and moving weren’t hostile. It was a race to the throne room despite this and not wanting to find possible confrontation at the main entrance, Lecca ordered the men to pursue the auxiliary entrance on the second floor.
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Through a narrow passageway and staircase, the sailors began to ascend, “We got bodies!” the Seaman at the top called out.
“Charge ahead, sailor!” The 1st Class ordered.
“Aye, Petty Officer!”
At the top they sidestepped a collection of dead soldiers and guards as they moved down the final hall. The seven sailors moved on each side of the hallway not opting to be shot if the doorway was swung open or fired through. The door was already open, so the odds that the king was already in his last stand was at an all-time high. With the all the sailors aiming their muskets at the final doorway, they rushed ahead letting the barrels lead. If there was anyone that dared to peer around the corner, they would be met with a firing squad.
“Hold fast, we have movement on first deck.” An older sailor whispered as he peered around the door’s threshold.
“Tell me sailor, what do you see?” Lecca inquired trying to look over the taller men.
“The king is dead.” The man observed as felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. Forming two lines on either side of the miniscule hallway, the sailors practically stood shoulder-to-shoulder as they each placed a hand on the man in front of him. Lecca joined the right line as she did the same. Sharing a silent nod with the sailor next to her, a passage of squeezes went down the line until they reached the two-point men.
Stepping forward in complete silence, the two lines of sailors split off at the center line of a balcony overlooking the throne room. Their muskets remained straitened as the barrels swept over the open room eventually settling at staring at the 1st floor when they had completed securing the balcony.
“No saving them.” The older sailor whispered. Through the metal post on top of his rifle, he stared at a pile of corpses at the center of the room. Shifting his gaze to the corner of his eye, he saw the princess staring at the bodies; her brown eyes remained locked open taking in every little detail: torn clothing, a pool of blood, chunks of flesh scattered throughout the room, and a deposed king who laid burnt to a crisp at the top of the pile.
“Magic.” Lecca whispered clenching the railing before her.
“Wait—wait! There’s someone right there!” A sailor shouted as he saw a man bleeding out next to the throne. Looking to her left, Lecca saw one of the large curtains she slammed her boots into the ornate decorations on the railing as the sailors from her line moved with her. The men watching her snickered as she struggled to gain a firm grip on the curtain, but within a minute she slowly descended the cloth making small tears in the thin fabric. She planted her boot on the ground and scanned the room only seeing more corpses piled next to the main entrance making her frown.
Turning back to the throne the men joined her on the first floor as they escorted her to the injured man. Violently removing her short sword form its scabbard, she placed it right below the unknown man’s chin. He looked to be at least 25, and the clothing he wore as wholly alien; nothing more than a simple set of black trousers, a white button-down blouse, and a black overcoat.
“State your identity and affiliation or have your throat cut!” Lecca ordered.
“Landon! I’m from the Royal Guard!” He cried as more blood leaked from his abdomen. Both of his hands were already crusted with blood, and he couldn’t find it in him to stop putting pressure on the wound.
Looking at the sailors the men simply shrugged their shoulders. “And what of the events that occurred within this space?” She continued, keeping her blade against the bald man’s chin. “Who led the coup de grâce?”
“I never met the one that killed the king! Just the men that were there in the aftermath! They’re headed to the Church for the coronation for the new king!” He cried looking at the princess as if she were accusing him of treason.
“And my brother?” Lecca pressed the blade into his throat gently.
“Missing.” Landon croaked.
Did he survive? Lecca asked herself as she silently withdrew the blade from Landon’s throat. The man seemed relieved as she placed the blade in its scabbard. The sailors had already turned to treating Landon as he clung for the last strings of his life. Lecca reached out her hand and gently touched the marble throne. It had been ruined by a fire storm that crisped the surface and large holes caused by the impact of musket balls. This was the last time she would be the princess. This throne was no longer hers to ascend to. This kingdom was no longer for her to protect. These people—had remained beside her—had now betrayed her.
“What will you do?” She turned to Landon’s voice as he called to her with a weak voice. “After the new king is coronated, you will simply be nothing more than Lecca-Maradel.”
“Alright buddy, go ahead and shut up before you bleed to death—”
“I am still the princess.” Lecca stated making the sailors beside her look up at her. “Be it not by name—but as this calling that the people entrusted—this throne will remain barren by the Arish family.”
Turning around, she faced the death within the space as she placed herself upon the throne. Sitting upright and poised she stared at the charred corpse of the king that spread a nauseating smell throughout the entire room.
“My lady, whatever you need, my sailors will provide.” The leading petty officer stated.
Lecca solemnly smiled, “Even if yet bear the title of the princess of this kingdom, be it that the spirit of this nation will persist throughout the disaster that plagues these lands. My father was overthrown—I fight not to cry—but for the people to live, we must not give up the chance that what will come will be the hope of the world.”
“Powerful words, my lady.” Landon coughed.
“What are your names, dear protectors of the sea?” Lecca asked, approaching the men with a hardened gaze.
They all answered in seniority:
“Boatswains Mate First Class, Richter.”
“Boatswains Mate Third Class, Tommy.”
“Quartermaster Second Class, Thine.”
“Seaman, Ames.”
“Seaman, Zoccali.”
“Seaman, Inder.”
“Seaman, Jones.”
Closing her eyes, Lecca felt a twinge of lightning behind her eyes. Opening them they were consumed by a purple glow that presented an image of the men: they all laid dead on a warship that had made its final stand in the Petal Sea.
Feeling her hands tighten around the hem of her dress, Lecca composed herself as she gently bowed and curtsied to the sailors who had returned to treating Landon’s wounds.
“I can only humbly request that you all help me in this mission to ensure the kingdom’s survival.”
If your lives are to be extinguished, then let it be in the name of what you still believe in…
Publicly Available Information: Intercepted Transmissions 2:
We lost them at the helm. Their stories of heroes will be lost to the unforgiving blue. When the revolution happened all, I could remember were the long cries from mothers that had lost sons. The fathers screams as they hugged their loved ones, trying to survive the long night.
When my unit was ordered here, all that remained for us was to simply observe. Our commander forbid us from ever getting into the fray to complete our mission. And soon enough after, we were forced to leave.
I don't know what will happen from now on, but I pray that the kingdom will survive.