Sir Jernal marches towards the throne with confident strides, his red cape flowing behind him as his footsteps thud dully across the carpeted floor. He is wearing a full set of newly oiled armor sporting a shiny griffon insignia across one breast. Without pause he scales the steps to sit in the empty seat next to Captain Maydan, shocking no one but Kyros and Cathra, it seems.

“Well, well,” Captain Maydan drawls, “look who has recovered enough to join us. The hand suits you well, Captain Kanson.”

Sir Jernal holds up the wooden stump of his right hand, looks at it, then puts it in his lap. “I believe the sentencing of these two falls inside my duties, Lord Commander. They were knights of the South Gate when they committed their crimes, and I am its captain for sure.”

“The master has returned to reclaim his house,” remarks Captain Relish.

“This is madness!” declares Sir Gregorn Tigarn. “Their sentences have already been decided, Jernal! Cathra Stelias shall publically announce her crimes and be sent to Maria’s Battlefront. What more do you want?”

“That's Captain Kanson, sir,” corrects the new South Gate captain. “And this sentence is fair but it’s lacking. I believe a public announcement of crime includes fifty lashings, for sure.”

The hall is silent.

“I believe he is correct,” says Captain Relish quietly. “But I didn’t think…” he turns to look at the Lord Commander, who has gone very still.

“You scum!” Sir Gregorn roars, lurching up to yank his sword from its sheath. “You simply wish for payback!”

Sir Jernal does not move from his seat. "You accuse me of such lowly actions?"

"I accuse you of murder!"

“Stop it, Sir Gregorn!”

Kyros expects to hear the Lord Commander’s voice, but is shocked to see Cathra stepping forward.

“There’s no need for you to take the stand of a dead woman.” With a sigh of steel she draws her sword, all 30 inches of firey metal. “I can do it myself,” she says, and charges.

“NO!”

Kyros feels time slow around him. He stands there horrified, his mouth frozen around Cathra’s name as he watches her leap up the stairs, only to be brought down by one swing of the Lord Commander’s sword.

“Cathra!”

He lunges, reaching, straining against the spears that are holding him back.

Cathra crashes to the ground with a heavy thud, blood smearing across the carpet.

With a surge of animalistic strength, Kyros shoves away the spears and the knights and everything. He rushes to Cathra’s side, falling to his knees to gather her in his arms.

Cathra tries to struggle away at first, but her body gives out and she collapses into him. Kyros fights a wave of hysteria as he watches the patch of red flowing across the bandages on Cathra’s neck. He presses his hand against the wound, willing, praying for it to stop. But it won't.

In utter desperation, he yells to the knights around him, “She’s hurt! Get a healer, someone please!”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

No one moves.

“What are you all doing? Help her!”

From the top of the podium, the Lord Commander’s voice rings out through the chaos.

“You are stronger than this, Cathra. Prove to me your indomitable will to burn, the fire within you which thaws out the mountains. Prove to me you still have these things, and that is what you shall do.” He tosses Cathra’s sword towards her, the one she just tried to kill Sir Jernal with.

The blade slides to Cathra’s feet, and as if touched by some kind of magic, Cathra opens her eyes and practically crawls out of Kyros's arms to pick it up. Then, with one hand pressed against her neck she stands, defiant and strong, to face the man on the throne. She raises her sword with her other hand, pointing it at the Lord Commander.

“You’re damn right.” She spits out a mouthful of blood straight onto the carpet. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do, right after I cut that bastard Jernal in half.”

“I’ll have your head for talking like that, traitor!” One of the knights on the ground yells out and charges at her with the point of his spear. Cathra leans back, letting the spear slide across her body. Then, using the knight’s momentum against him, she lets the knight cut himself on her sword.

The knight falls, howling.

“You should learn to use your weapon first,” Cathra tells him.

With enraged shouts, all the other knights in the room start to advance, their weapons ready to draw blood.

“Die, wench!”

“Traitor!”

“I’ll teach you all to fear!” Cathra starts to swing, but her body suddenly locks up and she cries out in pain. Her sword slips out from her hand as she falls to one knee, clutching her side. The knights are almost on her, but Kyros is there with spear in hand.

“No one touches her!” he shouts, sticking at anyone close enough. “Unlike that fool on the ground, I know how to use this!”

The knights do not heed his warning. One of them lunges at him. Kyros sees through the attack and sends his spear burrowing into the knight's shoulder.

"Hah!" He shouts, but his celebration is short-lived as eight more spears lance at him.

“ENOUGH.”

The entire hall shakes with just that one word. The knights all stop dead in their tracks. Everyone turns to look at the man standing at the top of the blood-stained stairs.

The Lord Commander surveys the people below him with eyes of cold steel. For a second, Kyros thinks he sees Cathra’s grey eyes looking out from within the Lord Commander’s gold-speckled ones.

I’m getting delirious. Next thing I’ll see is Cathra’s hair growing out of the Lord Commander’s bald head.

The Lord Commander’s helm shields whatever emotion the man may be feeling, but Kyros can hear the edge that is now in his voice.

“I will remember your rudeness in interrupting this hearing, Captain Kanson.”

Sir Jernal scratches at his stump. “For sure, my lord.”

“As for what you have said.” The Lord Commander pauses as if weighing his words. “Public admittance of one’s crimes shall be performed in tandem with lashings corresponding to the crime. Captain Relish, it is my understanding you have recently reviewed the laws around this issue.”

“Yes, my lord,” the captain of the East Gate answers. “Although there have been no records of traitors given a chance to join the Battlefront, if memory serves me correctly, fifty is the appropriate amount of lashes that should follow in a public admittance.” His smile is forced. “It looks like our one-handed captain has done his homework.”

“Ohoho!” Captain Maydan seems to light up in pleasure. “Fifty! Well oh well. Our Woman Knight has really messed up this time! Sent to the north in ribbons! Hoho!”

Kyros drops to his knees, the spear falling from his slack hands. “Mr lord,” he pleads, “don’t do this. Not to Cathra. You cannot do this to her.” He looks to each of the captains sitting to the side of the throne. “How can any of you sit by and let this happen? Is this your idea of justice?”

“The evidence is there,” says Captain Relish, gesturing to the mess of documents still strewn on the ground. He gives his sandy head a shake. “Make no mistake, boy. This is a punishment I do not feel happy to be a part of. But alas, there is no injustice as I see it.”

“Aye,” chirps Captain Maydan. “You’ve simply been blinded by her womanly charms, boy.” He shrugs. “Of course, that was at no fault of your own, aye? It’s simply bad luck you’re here today.”

"Simply bad luck?" Kyros wants to jump up there and strangle the bald fat man. We’ll see whose luck is bad when the day comes for you to stand where I am.

“We are done here.” The Lord Commander lifts his greatsword up stiffly and drops it down once again. The clang rings across the hall, silencing all.

“The King’s law is just and it shall be followed. Fifty lashes, following a public admittance of your crimes.” His massive shoulders rise and fall as if he’s sighing. Then for a few long heartbeats, he does not continue to speak.

“And then exile,” Sir Jernal finishes. “For sure.”

“No!” Kyros yells, but Cathra pulls him down to her. Even hurt, she’s still stronger than him.

“Don’t,” she tells him weakly. “No more.”

No more what? He wants to ask, but when he sees the look in her tried rain-gray eyes, he knows.

She is beaten, he realizes. She’s given up fighting.

And that is the final blow for him. He too, yields then.

When the knights approach, he does not fight them. When they pull him up roughly by the arms, he does not protest. When they grab Cathra, he does not look.

Let them take us, he thinks. Let them do as they please. We’ve lost today, but tomorrow, we fight again.