Before the horrific scene of destruction, there was one person who remained silent throughout.

The young princess stood still, both her eyes and body quivering in sheer terror. The nauseous smell of burnt flesh invaded her nostrils. The soot-like debris that fell from what remained of the castle walls stuck to the back of her throat. Maddening screams echoing through the air pierced her eardrums. All of them combined sent a reflexive gag to her throat.

Britain’s entire legacy, spanning over millennia, destroyed all in one merciless slash. But it wasn’t one of a foreign foe – it was the result of their own undoing, a tragedy caused by their own hands. It was their action that drove the perpetrator to his ultimate decision, and it was their own soldiers that had caused the heretic to draw his blade towards the people. Peace, prosperity… none of it mattered anymore. Not when the hard work of past and present rulers was all torn to shreds after just one attack.

And yet, standing amidst them all, right next to the horrified princess, the symbol of authority was still unwavering. It was as if nothing could melt her icy-cold stare, not even the carnage of her people. Like the white walls of Britain’s palace that had kept them safe ever since the dawn of time, Queen Elisabeth’s gaze was forever unchanging.

“Mother…” Bea muttered, frantically clinging onto her mother’s dress with teary eyes. “Is… this, all of this, within your plans? Is this destruction, this chaos truly what’s best for our nation? Is this pain and suffering what you wanted to show me?”

As their eyes met, the woman only uttered her same frigid voice:

“Indeed. Are you seeing this, o’ foolish heir of mine? They are undoubtedly evil. You give them an inch, and they will take a mile. They are naught but a menace to our peace, our future. There is no salvation for them, only ruin on the path they tread. Take this scenery and engrave it in your heart, for this is the price to pay if you choose to side with those demons.”

Faced with such words, the fire that had been slowly burning in the princess’s heart finally burst into motion.

“‘Good’, ‘evil’... We are ‘good’, and they are ‘evil’. They oppose us, and so, they are ‘evil’. But what about them? To the people of that clan, to the boy pointing his sword towards us with contempt, what are we to them, Mother?

“Did we not rob their right to live for fear of an unknown calamity? Did we not push them to the point of no saving, forcing them to stand up? All of this fighting and suffering, who was the start of it all? Was it them… or was it us?”

The boy stood there, his armor had long lost its shine. The three-headed lion on his breastplate – once Britain’s symbol of courage – was now covered in stains of dirt and blood, as if crying out in pain. His eyes no longer bore the same kindness and mischief that the girl once knew. However, she could still see it – they hadn’t turned fully blinded by hatred just yet. There was darkness in those azure eyes, but it was also mixed with a sense of panic and guilt – the boy didn’t mean to cause the incident on his own.

At the same time, her chest was also pierced with a thousand needles. The boy did not fully bear hatred, but hatred still indeed existed within him. And she was guilty of causing it as much as anyone else.

Amidst the carnage, the boy muttered something, but its content was lost just as quickly as it appeared. Another rummaging shook the ground as the boy pointed his sword downward, and soon enough, a tree grew, connecting his position to the wreckage of the castle. As he rode the slithering branch towards the pair of royals, both parties knew that conflict would inevitably continue.

Bea tried to cry out. She never wanted this to happen, and she certainly wouldn’t want her family or friends to murder each other out of grudge. But no matter how much she tried, her body was still frozen stiff. No matter how much she tried, her voice refused to sound. Even if she knew that his blade did not ask for her head, she couldn’t help but want to reach out to him.

In the end, she still couldn’t do it. But another could.

Before the blade could reach the Queen’s neck, another shining sword crossed its path, sending sparks in all directions. Appearing before the young princess was the same white attire that had followed her through thick and thin. The same back of the same boy who had dedicated his entire life to her. His hands were always quivering back then, and they were still quivering even as he stood protecting them. Yet, he was still the first to move, and he was still the first to stand his ground.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Peter, stop this!” Pedro shouted with all his might, his eyes flared not with rage, but with empathy. “There’s been enough damage already! We’ll fix it somehow, so…”

“Fix it?” The boy before him answered, his voice grunted with each hateful word. “Fix it? You and who? The girl standing behind you? Don’t you get it, you idiot?”

He pointed his sword towards the still unflinching woman:

“This woman has staged everything! I was never supposed to be forgiven! There would only be death that awaits me! Do you honestly think you have that much power? You’re nothing but pawns in her game! You, me, Bea, no one is on equal terms with her! If I don’t stand up to defend myself, then who will?”

The boy finished with another slash, but it was promptly blocked with a swing in the opposite direction.

“But look around you!” Pedro cried out in return, his sword hand still shivering from the shock. “It may be self-defense, but don’t you think that this is too much? Innocent people have died!”

“They’ve only died because the Knights forced my hands! I never meant to aim at them, had it not been for the imbeciles that cut the tree!”

“Then why on earth would you conjure that giant blade of light? No matter how you’d control it, someone would get hurt from that!”

“There would only be angels!”

“And why are they not as deserving of life as anyone else?”

“Do you even know what you’re saying anymore? It’s them! How much do you think I, even you, have suffered because of them?”

The argument continued, each sound they slung towards each other was accompanied by a swing of the sword. Pedro had the superior techniques, but Peter was unmatched in power, and so, the two kept going in a stalemate, neither backing down on their strike… on their words.

In their heated battle, neither of the boys had noticed a small portal appearing behind them, next to the mother-daughter pair. With a swift tug of her dress, Queen Elisabeth had already rid herself of Bea’s grasp, and disappeared within the portal in a flash.

“Mother…!” The princess cried out, but she could only be so fast.

Her mother was already gone, leaving behind only words of mockery:

“This childish play doesn’t interest me anymore. See it to the end, o’ foolish heir of mine, and if you live to tell the tale, let it be your first lesson on your path to the throne.”

Tears of anger and frustration flowed on the princess’s face. Even to the end, her mother was still her mother – cold and uncaring to everything around her. She was the main instigator of this conflict, but ironically, even when she was gone, the fighting continued. The two boys didn’t even notice her escaping anymore – they had long lost interest. Right now, their eyes were locked to each other, and their battle had evolved beyond means of self-defense or simple combat. As their blades clashed, so did their ideals, and both were too prideful to back down, especially not from each other.

Soon enough, knights flooded the ruined hallway, surrounding the pair with a barricade of spears and shields so tightly knit that not even an ant would be able to escape. But before the other knights could make another move, the dark-skinned boy had already shouted with all his might:

“No one dares make a move if you know what’s good for yourself!”

The words of a measly squire, now carried the weight enough to lead even the harshest of men. With an air of awkwardness in them, the knights forgot for a moment that they were his superior and just stood in wait. Through the boy’s order, the small hallway had become their final battlefield to clash their blades.

“Your Highness, at least you should back away…” One of the knights in front lightly tugged the princess by the hand, but his request was simply brushed aside by the girl whose eyes were still glued to the fight.

Within Bea stirred an incomprehensible emotion. Nothing was quite right with her – not anger, disappointment, sadness, regret, guilt. It was none of them, yet it was all of them at once. Her two closest friends clashed their blades, their pride, but to her… she couldn’t tell. Not their reason for doing so, but their decision to do so.

The two boys, their fight was merely a childish squabble, no matter how lofty or how powerful they’ve become. Once a victor had been decided… nothing would change at all. There wouldn’t be a crown to award them with some meaningless title, nor would they wear their opponent’s belongings like some badge of honor. All that awaited them after their battle would be more pain and suffering, only a bloody field that lacked the strength of men to be rebuilt. Even if they finished their fight, everyone would only be worse off. For Pedro, he would have forsaken the people in his need, and his knightly conscience would never forgive him for the rest of his life. For Peter, he would ensure his survival for the short term, but what lay in front of him would only be a road filled with bloodshed, constantly fighting pursuers who wished to claim his freedom.

The princess knew the boys were engaged in a meaningless fight. But more importantly…

Even if I knew all of that, what good would I be able to do if I can’t get them to listen?

As she helplessly watched her friends crossing blades, Bea swallowed her tears to admit the truth of the matter. Her mother was right all along – she was naught but a fool for believing that peace could be achieved with only mutual understanding. Her companions were the biggest proof – even if they could somehow reach an understanding with one another, some things could inevitably only be conveyed through force.

Tell me, Peter, Pedro… Why do you fight?

When she least expected it, a voice suddenly sounded, as if coming from deep inside her own mind.

[Why do you fight, indeed… An excellent question, young heir of Britain.]

At this moment, the side of Bea’s hip rang. The ornamental sword that was meant for her coronation, which she had held during the time of the trial, was now ringing as if calling to her.

Before the girl could react to the issue, a blinding light had already engulfed her eyes.