“You have been formally charged with Sedition, Treason against the crown and this great nation of Lupine, and for the attempted murder of its monarch, Queen Quaman the fourth. As a secondary charge, you are accused of the attempted murder of the Queen’s Protector and servant, Narden Tior, consort to the late General Randerno Tior. How do you plead?” The bailiff read the charges as though a list of groceries to be bartered for at the market in the middle of the week. It was enough to make one’s skin crawl, especially when the next words that could come from his mouth could be pronouncement of her death sentence.

“Innocent!” The single word was heavy in the air, but not unexpected. A small portion of the crowd gave pleased whispers to one another, but an even larger portion of the crowd was jeering quietly in the pews behind her. She had served these people her entire life, and the moment there was a crisis, they had turned on her. Her anger flared, and she clenched her fists inside the heavy shackles that bound her to the floor before the Judges podium. He was like the devil himself before her in scarlet robes that seemed to sway in a breeze that non-existant in the stifling courtroom. Sweat was pouring down the back of her blue tunic, which was at least clean for the proceedings.

She shook her head to force her hair out of her face, and the guards standing next to her bristled in preparation for an attack that never came. She had not put up a fight when she was arrested in her own bedchamber, had not lifted a finger as the shackles we secured around her wrists and bit into her fair skin. No doubt she was chaffed raw and the wounds would become infected should they not receive attention, but that was not her main concern at the moment. Her neck was. The judge nodded and the scribe took down the words spoken.

“Very well,” The bailiff began to drone on again, and it was hard to listen. “It shall be noted the accused has entered a plea of innocence of the crimes so charged, and that trial proceeding to prove her innocence shall commence come tomorrow after mid-morning ceremonies. Reidel Tior is to be confined to her cell until that time, and shall have no visitors.” The man’s expression finally changed on his fat face, to one of a mix of sympathy and revulsion mixed into a gloriously horrific look that made an anonymous royal in the attending crowd gasp. “May the Glorious One have mercy in these proceedings.” He finished, and rolled up the scroll as dramatically as the fool could muster. He had never attended such a trial as this, one of the Queen’s guard a betrayer? It only happened once in a lifetime.

Reidel snorted as the man postured on the small dias that served as a stage. This really was just a circus. Had she not been of royal blood, this would have ended in a beheading days ago. The formalities presented here were to make the rest of her detestable ilk feel justified as what would probably be her friend brought the sword- which she would request instead of the normal axe- down on her neck.

She hung her head as she was lead passively to her cell, she could navigate the marble halls without the two ever present guards at her side, and probably would have headed there even if they decided to let her go. They towered over her by at least six inches each, the one on her left held the chains that bound her, while the one on her right kept a hand on his sword, which she knew he was not an expert with. He was more used to the halberd of Lupine’s infantry troops. “Jorn, did they not let you take your stick into the courtroom?” She asked pleasantly, making a casual joke that under normal circumstances he would have snickered at and made a snide remark about chosen weapon of twin daggers that were normally attached to her hips.

Today, the large man looked away briefly and growled, “I don’t talk to traitors, bitch.” She flinched as though at a physical blow, and returned her gaze to the floor. Not another word was spoken until she was back in her cell, and the heavy wooden door closed on her. The shackles had mercifully been removed as she entered, but she had had her friend’s sword at her throat the entire time. The clunky metal keys slid in the lock and groaned as the lock tumbled into place. She was alone with her thoughts again, and the memory of the incident replayed itself over and over again in her head, as though a story teller had lost their place and would start over after reaching a certain point, and no amount of talking could convince them that they were wrong. The image of her mother’s face twisted in agony as poison meant for the Queen wound its way through her body. The Queen’s look of despair when the General found a vial of poison in her uniform, and the revulsion that those around her spat at her as she was led away in chains to a cell that held no hope of escape. “What the hell am I going to do?” She whispered to no one, and a faint scream of another prisoner being executed for whatever reason came crawling back to her. “Thought so.” She said in a mournful answer as she collapsed into a pile of filthy hay, “I just wonder who will be coming to my funeral.”

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“Baylova, sweetie, Run!” Her mother commanded her with a catastrophic urgency in her voice, and the banging on their door became louder. She looked at her mother with her teenaged eyes, but did as she was told. She stopped for a moment at the backdoor and whispered a quick goodbye just as the hinges gave way and a group of armed men charged into the small house that was hardly big enough for she and her mother. One of the men took a quick look at her mother and ran her through with the ragged and pitted edge of his weapon.

“Mom!” She cried, and the men all turned their attention to her with leers on their faces that could only foretell horrible things for her. She ran out the back door as fast as she could and emerged into the main thoroughfare of the small town of terrapure in no time at all. The panic in the street made it relatively easy for her to elude her captors, so she hoped, for she didn’t dare look back and see the Lupine slave force baring down on her. The city was mostly on fire, the minute school building that she had attended when not working, the blacksmith’s shop, and the butcher shop were all aflame. She heard gruff voices behind her and turned swiftly into an alley that would lead to the river. But the buildings that flanked the alley were a part of the inferno, and she choked on the smoke.

“The little slut went down there!” One of the voices shouted over the roar of the flames, and she fought to make it farther through the alley and to freedom on the other side. But as she made her way, and the river with it’s cool water that could save her was in view, a dark figure stepped into view. He would have been handsome in his uniform had he not been smiling so maliciously. “I seriously think you have miscalculated the situation.” He said calmly, as though his dark hair were not wafting so close to the orange flames that cast dark shadows over his lean face. He leaned in and offered his hand, and without thinking Baylova took it as a message of salvation. His smile was not malicious, it was nervousness, and he was here to save her. That is, until he forced her into the stinking arms of one of the slave gatherer’s arms.

“Enjoy gentlemen, but I must be on my way home. A traitor is being executed the day after tomorrow, and I have to be there to wish her a farewell.” He whirled around, and Baylova wrenched her arms free of the slaver who was holding on to her, but another one was directly behind her as she ran for the river and dove in, and he was gaining on her. She felt his rough hands latch hold of her ankle and tried in vain to break free of his bruising grip, but his seemingly obscene strength held fast and she went under. Water filled her lungs as her body fought for breath under water, and she sputtered as the world went dark.