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The Queen’s Daughter
The five great generals sat in the room, doing nothing of importance, talking about nothing of great significance; just sitting. Sighing and feeling sorry for themselves. Peter the Steel had passed away a week ago, and so far the five hadn’t budged a bit except to eat. Of course they had discussed about how they were going back to their homes in the morning. But every time that morning came, they stayed where they were and mumbled, ‘maybe tomorrow’s morning.’
It wasn’t until Kaden-their new messenger since retrieving the King for them that one day-burst in through the door of their small room that they would get up and leave.
“The Kalshirians have attacked us! The Kalshirians have attacked us! A small town outside of the city! They’re camped right now outside of the town that they attacked!”
Each man had sword in his hand naturally, and so fast it would’ve seemed to the naked eye that it had never been done.
“They picked a damn wrong time to attack us. It’ll feel good to spill blood.”
“Do you need any other men to help you?”
“Not when each one of us has no want to live or quit being mad at the world, what better way to quench that want than to attack it?” Samuel Mountjoy asked.
Kaden frowned, making Samuel’s lips split into a grin. And then the five charged out into the hall, through the palace, through the courtyard, through the streets, and then through the main gate of the city, Corroth.
The town was literally on the outskirts of Corroth, being only one hundred yards or so from the wall of the city. Used as farms to grow some of the city’s food. There were thousands of these little towns around the city. From where the five stood, they could see the strange warriors walking around in the streets of the town.
There was no response.
The five went at a full sprint to the town, swords raised up their heads, screaming like madmen as they flew into the streets of the village. At first the Kalshirians were spread out and at work, easily being struck down and slaughtered. But they soon came together as a force, now aware that they were under attack.
The Kalshirians though were a little shocked at the amount of men they were being attacked, and how big a number that little amount of men had killed. All five of them at a time went in from building to building, and killing the two to three unaware Kalshirians, only to return to the streets to find a bigger number than last time waiting for them.
The Iron Gate twin generals played the battle with a sword in each hand, gutting soldiers, piercing hearts, and gouging their eyes out. Robin the Quick was given the title for one reason, which of course was obvious. He was though, faster than one would have assumed a man clad in armor to be; moving from man to man, running his sword through, and then springing off to the next. He was entirely, a blur.
General Stoleworth’s sword was a war hammer, fitting perfectly his great muscular bulk. With each drop of the hammer followed the crack of a skull, or the breaking of the armor and ribcage as a whole. And General Comstray had but one sword in his hand, crafted by dwarves, light as a feather. And he used its lack of weight to his advantage. He was nearly as quick as Robin was.
As if there was an invisible boundary that the Kalshirians couldn’t cross, the five moved through the streets untouched, without a scratch even. No bruises, they continued. Kalshirians screamed as they fled. But the five hadn’t been quenched yet, and so they began to chase after them. They didn’t let one Kalshirian get away. They slaughtered every last one. And from that day on, the five were known and feared by the Kalshirians as the Smirking Soldiers; men who found the ordeal of battle funny, and a reason to smile, for that’s what they were doing the entire time.
* * *
Jonathan, Thomas, Micah, Eric, Jeffery, Haman, and Zao, sat in a private dining room in and inn that Haman, Thomas and Jeffery had stayed the night in upon returning in the middle of the night. The discussion was obviously of the defeat that they had suffered by failing to having King Andrew join their side, but it was also about the other ways they could accomplish their goal.
That’s why Basil Hadenfern, Philip Aserton, Fobbs Roden and Christopher Street in the room with them. They knew everything about everything that went on in Carron, and they knew everyone who knew anyone that was doing something suspicious, or could help them do something to cause suspicion.
“So,” Fobbs said, a pudgy man in a shabby brown over coat, “what do you want us to do about it?”
“Well, we want you gentlemen to think of the best way that we could convince King Andrew to join our side.”
“We could kill him,” Philip suggested.
He was thin and tall, with some nicer looking clothes on, although being the most wanted thief in the city, they were sure that they weren’t really his.
“No, I doubt that we should kill him,” Zao replied. “And besides, if we wanted to kill, Haman and I could easily do it without you fours’ help.”
“Just a suggestion.”
“Anybody else have any ideas?” Jonathan asked. “What about you Basil? Christopher?”
“Well, we could campaign our ideas in the streets and claim things like, King Andrew rejects the idea of peace. King Andrew does nothing but confine himself in the shadows. And then we rally the mobs demanding a new king.”
“See, now that Basil my friend, is a good idea.”
“So when do we start spreading the word?”
“Well…we could start now, it’s only midday.”
“We need a team though. Right now we only have what…nine people? Yes, we will need more than nine.”
“Well I’m sure our guards have heard everything, and I’m sure that they could lend us a hand.”
Two guards stood watch outside the door, and there was a guard at the end of the hall who could signal the guards if someone was coming. If anybody heard their conversation, they could report them for treason of the King. One torch was lit in the corner of the room they were meeting in, keeping the lighting very dim, and faces shadowed incase they were caught. The torch could be doused, and swords drawn quicker than the snap of the finger.
“If we establish outposts of our men, then it will be easier to meet and communicate,” Micah said. “Of course that is, once we obtain the other men. It would be a good idea though. If guards discover one of our outposts, then we will still have many more men with us to help the captured. Fees can be raised once we have the people on our side. I’m sure they’d be more than willing to donate money for bail.”
“Those are very good points,” Jonathan said.
“Indeed, they are. I think then that our plan is sound enough. This should be our first outpost,” Basil said. “Then we can separate and put in charge our men once we have them. Lets begin recruiting for to-day then?” He asked as a question.
“That sounds good. We’ll meet back here at sundown. Make sure that these guards don’t leave their post then. They’ll keep an eye out for any suspicious people, or happenings,” Jonathan said.
“So then, who goes where?” Haman asked. “Are we splitting into groups?”
“A good plan. Micah, Basil and Fobbs will go together; Christopher, Philip and Zao will go together; and finally, Haman, Thomas and Jeffery will be a group. Eric and I will be a group of two. Remember, back at sundown. This very room.”
The four groups walked out at the same time, and then parted their ways in the streets that the doorway opened up to.
“So Jonathan, do you have any ideas as to what we should do to get people on our side?”
“Well, I don’t really know how, but I know who.”
“What do you mean ‘who?’”
“I know someone who will join our side without hesitation.”
Eric shrugged and left it at that to follow him. Jonathan took both of them to the housing quarters of the Rothian Domain. Eric looked around a little curiously, as if never seeing the place before.
“Why here?” He asked. “Surely there are more people in the streets that we could convince than in here.”
Jonathan knocked on the room that used to be his. Of course Eric had heard the entire story by now, but he still had not met this mysterious woman that Jonathan had told him about. And then, standing in the doorway, as the door opened was that beautiful and supposedly mysterious woman that Jonathan had told him about. On accident, Eric began to smile at her.
“Jonathan, what are you doing here? I thought that you had left?”
“No. And we won’t be leaving for some time now. There’s something I want to talk to you about though. It’s very important.”
“What is it?”
“There is a group. It was started by nine of us, but that number is too small to accomplish what we must. We are to begin to convince the people that the King is a coward, and declines the idea of peace. Things like that so that we might either try to get a new King, or have the people threaten to so that he’ll listen to what we have to say, and hopefully follow up on doing it as well.”
“That sounds interesting,” she said in a dry tone. “Jonathan, there is something that I find now is a good time to let you know.”
Eric’s heart began to beat faster as he knew that the news couldn’t be good. Her expression were downcast eyes, shadows hitting every part on her face that could be reached. It was certain to be grim.
“King Andrew is my father. I cannot have you do this Jonathan. I must report you for treason!”
“No!” Eric screamed as he drew a knife if put it to her throat, the tip slightly piercing her skin to draw a small amount of blood.
Tears ran down her cheek as she gulped and quivered greatly. Her eyes never met theirs, and no pleading was made. Jonathan put his hand on Eric’s arm and lowered it. They walked down the hall without looking back, except Jonathan one time to call back:
“He will know soon enough. And soon enough…he will be dead!”
He laughed like a madman.