“Spit on a grave!” Razam hissed, running behind Fara to grab her as she fainted. The scene before him made his stomach turn. Blood pooled on the floor, and much of it had turned black with the passing hours. But the bodies made Razam grind his teeth in horror and anger. None of them wore armor, moreover, some were the bodies of children. Most of them died while wearing their small clothes, now stained and torn with dried blood. Their faces rested against bloody tiles, some of their eyes were still open in death, their skins clammy.

Razam counted a few adult women, at least seven, but the children, the children were at least a dozen. There were a handful of men, totaling more than thirty bodies, all butchered in brutal ways.

Despite the lack of jewelry, Razam could tell that these people were royalty, or at least, high nobles.

In that moment, a shadow drifted in the corners of the hall. Razam noticed a man with a spear walking toward him, holding it defensively.

“Huh?” the man shouted. “Who goes there?”

He stepped into the light of the torches.

“Ah, comrade.” The man said, lowering his spear. He wore a tunic and no helmet. “I thought you were one of the traitors who worked for this scum.”

“Traitor?” Razam asked. The term seemed ironic in that context. “Sorry, I was downstairs. What’s going on.”

“We cleansed the palace.” The man grinned, staring at the dead bodies, as if it were a beautiful garden. “We’ll finally have peace and quiet, my brother, thank the Creator. Finally we’ll have food and peace.”

Razam shook his head.

“Right,” Razam said.

“Wait, you’re not one of my comrades,” the man said, grasping the spear tighter and looking down at Fara. “Where did you find her. Don’t tell me she’s a traitor who served these scum?”

“I…”

“General,” the man said, turning his head and screaming into the hallway.

“What is it?” said a deep baritone voice, from behind the arches.

“There’s two intruders here, I think they’re not our comrades.”

Razam swallowed, stepping back and placing a hand on his scimitar.

Then, Razam heard the echoing of boots in the hallway. He turned back, getting ready to run and carry Fara outside, but the man with the spear was already in front of him, holding the spear close to Razam’s chest.

“You won’t move until he’s back.”

In that moment, Fara opened her eyes, she blinked, taking in a deep breath. She brought a hand to her head. She gasped again, in shock, and Razam let go of her and she stood.

“Lord Creator!” she exclaimed, hand covering her mouth.

That was exactly when the general arrived. Razam barely took a look at her, he was a tall man with graying hair, a square face and a short beard. He seemed to gasp and took a step back, looking at Fara with wide eyes, and reaching for his short sword.

“Comrade, kill that woman at once!” the general ordered.

It seemed like that general knew her well enough. The spearman, however, was too slow to react. Fara was like a whirlwind, she even snatched Razam’s sword. He let her have her way. She immediately whirled like a typhoon and sliced the spearman’s head clean. It fell with a thud, blood pouring like a fountain.

The general did not like that. He took a horn from his girdle and blew it. Fara ducked and snatched the dead man’s spear.

“He betrayed us,” she declared simply, facing Razam. “Come with me if you want to live.”

Razam nodded, following her just as five men with spears and axes emerged from the corridor, running toward them.

She guided him back toward the chambers. But in that moment, more men started emerging from the corners and sections of the palace. And those were not wearing regular street rags but full scale armor, bronze scale armor upon riveted chainmail.

“Halt!” Fara exclaimed. “Stop at once, you are committing treason!”

But the men advanced in a wedge formation, spears forward.

“Should I?” Razam asked her, receiving his scimitar back.

“They’re really on the other side,” she hissed through her teeth. “If we engage, we delay. What about Vrarog?”

“He’s in a dilemma now, and he’s made up his mind that he’s going back to his kin. I said… That he’s got the right to.”

“Why did you do that?”

He sighed.

“It’s stressful. It’s stressful for him and for me. Really, you don’t want to look inside his mind right now,” Razam looked at the soldiers. “And we can handle this.”

Fara rolled her eyes.

“Follow me, then.”

Razam stepped back as Fara rushed back and turned toward one of the rooms. It was dark, except for the blue moonlight that seeped through a window. Razam followed. They raced toward the window, heavy armored steps following close, and she struck it with her spear. The window broke into a thousand shards.

“Are you good with climbing?” she asked, turning and winking an eye.

“It’s my specialty,” Razam said.

Fara rushed and front rolled toward the window, jumping out and expertly turning and descending. Razam jumped over it and did the same. Now, both of them were hanging from the window. Fara let go, pushing herself slightly forward and falling into a balcony, she rolled to the side. Razam did the same, landing on one knee. Looking up, he realized that the soldiers could not get to them anymore.

But they were still in danger. Razam looked through the gardens around the palace, where groups of soldiers and militia men in rags were entering.

“This way!” Fara said, leaping through a section of the roof and descending to the gardens. Razam followed, rolling to mitigate the momentum of his fall.

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“Is there like a secret passage?” he asked.

“More or less,” she said without stopping. The garden spread like a labyrinth, with pillars and sections of bushes, along with rose and lavender fields, barely visible with the torches that hung from the wall. On the opposite side, Razam caught a glance of two soldiers on patrol, the moon illuminating their silver armor. They noticed them and immediately took fighting positions.

“We’ve got to dispatch those two before they call on more,” Fara said.

Razam nodded and rushed toward them. The fight was short, they attempted to skewer Fara and Razam, Razam dodged to the side and quickly swung at his opponent’s ribs, slicing into the creases of his armor and drawing a thread of blood, like a paintbrush in red. Fara parried then killed his attacker with a thrust of her spear. Both men fell to the ground, lifeless. The way was free. Fara and Razam ran to open the locked gate just as arrows from the towers above began to buzz around them.

“Spit on a grave,” Razam hissed, turning back to see the archers from the towers. The infantry was already exiting the palace and rushing through the gardens toward them.

“What’s that horrible vocabulary?” Fara said while she disengaged the locking mechanism and lifted one of the locks.

“I’m surprised you’re in this business and have such a refined way of speaking,” he replied.

Razam rushed to help her with the last padlock and began to open the gate from inside by turning a lever. Razam rushed and…

What was going on?

Razam assumed that was the market street. Or it had been? It looked like the aftermath after a siege. The market stands usually guarded and protected, all the canopies however were torn, most of the merchandise had been gone, a few foods were down there.

“This way!” Fara exclaimed, springing through the street.

The gate was open again and the guards were already on their heels. Razam ran behind her, moving turning on a corner, then another.

“Faster,” she said, sprinting tirelessly through the streets.

Then, she reached a seemingly abandoned home with an iron gate, wood plastered the sides of the windows. She raced toward it and knocked on it seven times.

“We lost our father, do not let our mother down,” she said quickly to whoever stood behind the door.

A wooden segment moved, revealing a peephole. The door opened immediately. The man inside looked dangerous; he was older, with a square face that featured multiple scars, and green eyes that looked like not even a hurricane would make them budge.

The man made way and Fara stepped in, followed by Razam. The man closed the door immediately. The house seemed empty.

“Brother Arash,” she said, lowering her head. “This man is with me, I trust him.”

“Sister,” that so called Arash lowered his head. He was an older man with a stout face and shaved head. He had the build of a veteran, and his eyes were the same.

Razam looked forward and walked toward the wall. There was a secret passage hidden under the rug and the floorboards, with a staircase that led down into a type of basement.

“Fara, what is this place?” asked Razam, hands on the rocky walls, stepping carefully. The only light was the torch Fara had snatched from the wall. It trailed smoke as they walked down into the basement.

“A stronghold of the Khanjar,” she declared.

“Khanjar is…”

“A secret brotherhood, dedicated to preserving Arsacia. And do the dirty work.”

Assassins, Razam thought. “Like your friends who died, huh?”

“Yes. It’s a long story,” she said. Her expression had changed, she acted stoic and in control, but Razam could see a tremor in her hands and deep sorrow in her eyes.

Razam sighed. “Fara, what is going on? First of all, are we safe? I am sorry for what happened out there, you must be in shock.”

“Razam,” she said slowly. “I… I have learned a few things… I… It hurts, damnation, it hurts so bad. I cannot believe they’re gone. But I won’t allow myself to think that. I will mourn later. Now, we have to save what little we have.”

“That General who betrayed you, does he have anything to do with this Khanjar?”

“He was our Minister of Defense, but no. I don’t know exactly what happened but it seems like he neutralized the Royal Guard. I...”

“What’s going on?” Razam pressed. “I heard the kingdom was struggling, but this… This is more than a coup, Fara.”

Fara rolled her eyes and took a sharp breath. She grasped the spear tightly. It seemed as though she did not want to talk about what was going on, or that she was still processing it.

“It will come out, we’ll figure out what’s going on.”

“The man guarding the throne room…” Razam interrupted her. “He did not look like a soldier.”

Fara seemed to get tenser with every passing second.

“No,” she said through her teeth. “These militias and armed groups have been protesting for months. You know we’ve been blockaded by Murlia for more than a year now.”

“Well, what did you expect? If you can’t feed your family and the people in charge do nothing to help.”

“But what could we do? We could not open trade with them. They wanted to take us!”

“Are the people on the street, the regular people, gonna understand that? That you’re trying to save them by going out and looking for dragons?” He asked.

He heard her clench her teeth.

“But General Firazi did not do it for them,” Fara declared. “He’s obviously on the Murlian’s payroll. You don’t know that man, he’s as corrupt as they come.”

“In a good situation though, to promise things.”

“These people don’t know what’s in store for them,” she shook her head. “And Razam, stop asking all these questions… It’s… Not the time.”

“As long as they have something to eat, I doubt they’ll care.”

“You’ve no idea what you’re talking about!” she shouted, as they arrived at the bottom of the staircase. A tunnel extended ahead of them, illuminated by torches hanging from the roof. The air felt damp and humid.

As they advanced, they entered a section decorated with banners with unicorns and dragons. Candles lit that section and it was littered with wooden boxes and crates. There was the smell of food, fats and beef sausage.

Six men were standing in line, wearing black cloaks, with their only weapon being curved knives stuck into their girdles. One of them had a cane, the other had an iron armband with tiny sections that peeked out. They looked at Razam warily. Razam swallowed hard. They looked like tigers ready to spring at their prey, those muscles, that slight, calmed tension was the mark of a bodyguard.

“Sister Fara, are you the only one to return?” asked one of the men. He was much taller than the rest, a true giant of a man.

“Unfortunately, yes, brother Fahad” she said. “All the others were killed. My uncle Araman fell too. They perished bravely, but we have made a contact that might change everything. We have made contact with the dragon, though.”

The six men exchanged glances. The tall one, then, fell on his knees and the others followed.

Fara seemed as confused and bewildered as Razam.

“What is going on?” she asked.

“Sister, I mean, Your Majesty.”

“Wait…”

“The entire royal family has been massacred…”

“What about my sister, my uncle Raynan, all of them are closer to the succession. I came here to the Khanjar because…”

“All of them were killed in the past two weeks,” was the tall man’s response. They all placed their hands on their knives and placed their knives above their hearts. “Now, the Khanjar has to serve you, and only you as the Heiress of Jashad, you’re our true Empress. We will hold the coronation according to tradition, in the basement is necessary. Our comrades here are planning how to contact our supporters and get done with this.”

“Oh, Creator, let me ask you… What Empire are you talking about? What Empire is left?” she asked, her face a somber shade of despair.