A parade came to town in early spring.

I arrived in the city of Granrik amid great buzz and merriment. Traveling from the country, I found the outskirts of the former Vandalian capital virtually emptied of people, and for a time feared a plague had passed before me, but that was not the case. Everyone able had gone and crammed themselves along the sidewalks of the broad central street to witness history in the making.

I went swimming into that sea of people, wondering what had gotten them all so worked up on an ordinary weekday. One elderly woman seated at the mouth of a narrow alleyway then told me the Emperor himself was coming to Granrik. The very same Emperor, who a year ago had faced Vandalia’s host in a field of battle as an enemy, and seized a decisive victory in a grand show of strength.

Instead of going on to burn and pillage the defeated, as the Vandalians would have done in his place, this Emperor had joined the land into his own and embraced his former enemies as today's dear subjects. Foot soldiers were pardoned and sent back to their farms and families. Life continued for ordinary Vandalians, perhaps even better than it had before, and for that the masses were very grateful.

For me, an emperor had hitherto been but a title on the pages of odd books about things that happened many lifetimes ago. Realizing now I might see one such a fantastical figure today with my own eyes, I began to understand the general enthusiasm. So I stayed there waiting by the street, where his majesty’s retinue was said to soon pass by.

Standing tiptoe, I could just about see past the heads and shoulders the wide drive lane and Granrik’s watchmen spread out far and wide along the length of it, struggling to contain the jubilant masses, who all wanted to catch a glimpse of a fairy tale. I waited past noon and stared at those sun-bleached cobbles until they seemed to melt together in my eyes, and I grew sweaty in the heat, and my legs were numb. But at long last, I saw them.

First came infantry.

You could hear the footsteps from a mile off, unified and heavy. Into my view marched a row of bannermen bearing green flags with the sword lion of Vandalia; the crowned eagle of Ferdina on deep blue; the golden peacock of Astria on a paler blue; and upon yellow-white, the gallant falcon of Lombaria. The banners flew high, high against the sun.

Then followed orderly ranks of tall, gallant men in dark coats and high, sparkling steel helmets with long cheek guards, strong swords sheathed on the hip. Some bore spears, some kite shields, others bows.

There came an orchestra; soldiers bearing drums, trumpets, flutes, and bagpipes. I felt the tunes they played were better described as sheer noise, but that noise held a strangely lofty tone, like it blew not from the instruments themselves but from beyond the volumes of time and the dawn of man. The crowd raised their hands and cheered and whistled.

There came cavalry. Warriors saddled on great, black steeds; horses completely unlike the unwilling, bug-bitten, malnourished beasts I’d seen in the country. Their gait was sharp, figures proudly upright, and fur combed terribly sleek, harnesses and saddles crafted of the finest leather. There were at least two hundred or more.

And then came the Emperor.

A large, open-top carriage of black wood rolled after the cavalry, drawn by three pairs of cloud-white stallions. There were several passengers seated aboard, and I observed—with some disappointment—that they were all ordinary humans, men and women of varied ages. They were all dressed quite splendidly, but none of them was above six feet tall, and I failed to tell which one was supposed to be the Emperor.

Then someone shoved me hard from behind.

A bearded, haggard-looking man pushed past me and the other spectators. In his right hand, he gripped a wide-bladed dagger. Seeing the man was armed, the nearby people quickly drew back—as far back as they could get, while packed like salted fish in a barrel. The man squeezed on to the front row and past them, and when upon the road, raised his steel up high for all to see, and shouted loudly, his voice laden with wrath,

“Viva Vandalia!”

The sight of his blade left little doubt of the matter——that man had come here to kill someone.

He had come here to kill the Emperor.

He had timed his strike well too, in such a gap when the overworked sentries had their attention elsewhere, and were too late to block his path. There were bodyguards following along the Emperor’s carriage too, but the assailant seemed confident he could slip past them. At the very least, he would stake his life on the attempt.

The man dashed for the black carriage.

And before I knew it, I was running after him.

Even looking back years later, I couldn’t be entirely sure why I did such a thing. All I could think at the moment was how it was wrong to kill people. Twice as wrong, if the victim was someone the people seemed to love so much. I didn’t want to see those many smiles be undone by grief and terror. Though I had no personal stake in the matter either way, I couldn’t allow it to happen.

The man’s attention was solely on the guards in front of him, and he never saw the girl running in his shadow. I caught up with him as he slowed, jumped high on his back, and we both tumbled onto the street.

Kneeling on his shoulders, I pushed his face against the street with one hand and wrested the dagger from his grip with the other. I got a cut in my palm, but finally got the blade away through his fingers while his enraged howling filled my ears.

Then we were encircled by horsemen.

Under their menacing shadows, I suddenly grew worried.

Could they see what happened? What if they thought I was the villain? I hurried to throw the dagger from my hands, got off the man, and knelt down, my palms pressed on the sandy stones of the road. An instinctive gesture of surrender. What a dog would do.

Free of my weight, the assailant made an attempt to run, but the guardsmen grappled him back down soon enough, less gently than I had. I waited in a terrified daze, my gaze down, not daring to make a sound, wondering if my figure wouldn’t soon be pierced by those shiny spears.

I couldn’t tell how much times passed. Minutes? Hours?

Then someone took my wrists and gently raised me.

A young man knelt in front of me. A man dressed in a deep blue suit with golden buttons, epaulets, a white silk ribbon across the chest. He had a kind face, light blue eyes, and a short beard framing his mouth. Even without anyone to introduce us, I knew then it was the Emperor of Ferdina I was looking at.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“You are hurt,” the Emperor said, noticing my bleeding palm.

He took from his pocket a clean handkerchief, and wrapped it around my cut hand, tied it up with a little knot. It was a rather clumsy treatment, but his concern for me seemed genuine. He then held my hands and said,

“It was a very brave thing you did, young lady. May I ask your name?”

For a brief moment, I couldn’t even remember my own name.

“I...I’m Lunaria,” I finally stammered in answer. Then, worried he found the lack of a family name too suspicious, I hurried to add, “of Hallast.”

I wasn’t born in that town, but it was the only place where I had lived that had a proper name, so it was the best I could give. A white lie.

But the Emperor didn’t doubt my sincerity in this.

“Miss Lunaria,” he said. “I would like to express proper thanks to you, but I’m afraid this is not the place. My chamberlain will give you an address and a time where to come tomorrow, and hopefully, I may reward your bravery then. I would be very delighted to speak with you more.”

“...If that’s what you want,” I mumbled.

I had no idea how to speak to royalty back then.

I watched the Emperor return to his carriage and the parade resumed, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The bagpipes and drums played again. The sun was bright.

The banners flew high.

I came to half past five in the morning, the same as any other day, not needing anyone to wake me. I glanced across the room and saw Corporal Thiselt still soundly asleep in the other bed, snoring a little. She had kicked off her blanket and lay sprawled in a very unlady-like posture.

I got up, put the blanket back on the Corporal, went to wash up, got dressed, and made the bed, and only then realized I didn’t need to make the bed, this wasn’t the imperial palace, I was a guest at an inn. Did the trip tire me that much?

No, that irksome dream had to have thrown me off.

I’d never dreamed of that day before, so why here and now?

It was the day when my life changed, if you wished to wax lyrical about it. A day I would’ve gladly erased from my memories, including its sequel. The next day, I had looked for the address given to me, not because I desired rewards, but because I was afraid what would happen if I didn’t show up. Maybe they could somehow find me and throw me into gaol for defying the Emperor’s will?

The destination had been Castel Rivhold, the house of Granrik’s steward. Of course, nothing at all would’ve happened even if I didn’t show up. Rather, I would only have saved everyone’s day the second time. But I was there promptly on time, and since his majesty had promised to see me and insisted to be a man of his word, the whole day’s schedule had to be adjusted to make room for the surprise number.

A dirt-poor vagrant made the Marquis of Bataria and an ambassador of Gaulea wait an extra hour—the grand first achievement of my urban life. The Emperor’s young wife had also been there and she was not at all pleased to have her husband pick up young girls off the streets. I couldn’t understand that either, and only wondered why the Empress stared daggers at me the whole time and didn’t speak. And I certainly didn’t please her with what I did next.

Over fine cups of pricey tea, I’d confessed to his majesty how I’d come to the city in search of work.

“Do you have family in Granrik?” he had asked with feigned innocence.

“No,” I had openly admitted.

I didn’t know a soul in Granrik. Further, I blabbered about how the only family I had left in the world was my older brother, who had gone abroad to seek fame as an adventurer. I’d never been so loose-lipped with anyone before. What got into me then? You wouldn’t suppose there was such an evil snake in me, which resided close by the hearts of all women, which made me seek his sympathies? I refuse to acknowledge any such a thing.

“Is there any particular reason you must stay here then?” the Emperor had asked.

I denied there being such reasons, still clueless as to his motives.

And before I’d realized, I was thoroughly ensnared.

“So it is decided,” his majesty had announced and set down his tea cup like a judge’s hammer. “Ms Lunaria, you will come with us to Valengrad, and we shall find work for you there. That’ll be that.”

In a blink, he had switched from his dignified state figure act to casual speech, viewing me already a member of his household. The option to decline was never expressed. He had made the decision, like many others before and later, without consulting his wife first, and for that I would have her grace’s undying enmity, probably till the end of my days. Though none of it was my own fault.

I rubbed my aching forehead anxiously at the mere memory of that day.

Somehow, that casual exchange had sparked the unpredictable chain of events, which had brought me to Faulsen today, nealry five years later, escorting the hero of humanity. I'd been fifteen then, a clueless country girl, now nineteen, a lady-in-waiting to an imperial princess. A lot had happened in an astonishingly short period of time, but a lot was there still to do.

For one, sending the hero on his way and going back home.