As Vindr flies along the streets, the world blurs around me. The adrenaline in my stomach rolls in and out like the waves of an ocean. Each gallop propels strength into my limbs and fire into my heart. The reins chaff the webbing of my hands, but at this moment, I would not loosen my grip upon them for the world and all its bounty.

The streets are undeniably bare. Shops lie vacant and closed, and I see but one vendor upon the road, peddling his merchandise to nonexistent crowds without putting a lick of effort into his cry. Then, he catches sight of me on the road and stops mid-speech. 

"Ho, weary traveler! Stoop down from thy noble steed and pray grace me with your presence for but a moment. For, the day is hot, and I hold within my stores many marvelous secrets of which I would share with you!"

His extravagant, flamboyant manner, although it grabs my attention, does little more than distract me. Nonetheless, I slow my steed to ask him the obvious question. 

"Peddler! May the gods shine upon your graciousness. Had I more coin I would most certainly entreat you-" I knew that if I had rivers of gold I would not spare a drop on this merchant's phony cures and placebos, but he brightens at the false compliment. "- but alas, I must away. For, as you said, the day is quite warm, and I seek the shade of my abode. But tell me, goodman, where be the rest of your customers?"

The man waves his hand in a dismissive manner and flops, disgruntled upon his stool. "They be at the town square. Today they've caught an adulteress, and Prince John himself is to conduct the hanging. It was said that there was a cloaked man fleeing from her place a few hours before sunrise, when her husband was yet returning from- hey! Wait up!"

But, I have heard enough. I dig my heels into Vindr's sides, off he flies down the road again. This time, the pounding, thundering roar of energy drops to around my navel. Dread runs its icy fingers up and down my back, causing me to shiver into the heat of the sun. Why is my hand throbbing?

Shaking my head, I adjust my grip upon the reins, and lean forward against my stallion. Jagged, shadowy teeth of wood and stone rise around us and fall as we gallop through the vacant roads. When the low pounding of drums reaches my ears, my heart drops into my boots, and an old, familiar pain writhes around my stomach.

Then, we near the town square. My arms are shaking, and my teeth rattle against my jaws as I dismount. I don't bother tying Vindr off, but fly into the sweaty mass of people. The heat multiplies. The noise is terrible and silent- the kind of breathless murmur one feels in their throat instead of their ears. The gallows sport two hooded bodies, with their hands tied off behind their backs and their dresses spotted with rotten fruit and dirt. I can't tell who they are from this far away. I push closer, nudging and shouldering past man after man with my eyes fixed upon my targets. The drums stop.

My heart jumps into my throat as I see the ropes thrown onto their necks. I break into a run, using my broad shoulders to cleave a path through the sea of men and women. The drums roll to a stop, and Prince John takes the stand.

His Excellence today sports a crimson cloak with wrought golden-thread symbols. A ring of gold entwined with fine steel sits about his forehead, winding around a polished ruby at the very front. The crown pushes his golden locks down against his scalp in a very undignified, but comical manner. His eyes, however, challenge anyone and everyone in their icy blue stare. Opening a scroll, he speaks to the guard flanking his left, who raises a horn to his lips and blows. All murmuring stops. All motion stops. All eyes are trained upon the boy.

The prince clears his throat and begins to speak. 

"Today," he roars, sending his words across the the yard to the furthest pairs of ears. "Is a day of justice. Two women were caught conspiring against the crown, and one has betrayed my personal order to apprehend and detain an escaped prisoner-" at this, some murmuring goes throughout the crowd, but is quelled by another horn blast.

"If anyone has any information pertaining-" his voice cracks on the second syllable, coming out squeaky and high-pitched like a young maiden's, and eliciting a nervous laughter from the waiting crowd. His face burns as red as the ruby as he continues. 

" As I was saying, if anyone has any information pertaining to the traitor, it is his solemn duty to report to the crown. Let it be known that aiding or abetting this criminal will result in a fate such as hers," he gestures toward the woman standing to my left. I continue pushing forward, until I sit at the very front row. I am now close enough to see the droplets of sweat form upon the women's necks, but I can still discern nothing about either of them.

"The other has lain with a man besides he whom she had lawfully wedded under the eyes of gods and men. You all know the law. Let her serve as an example to all who let the will of the flesh conquer that of the mind. Any last words?"

The woman upon the right remains deathly silent. As still as a mountain lion with his eyes trained upon his prey, although her eyes are hidden behind the brown roughspun. The other, however, yells out through the bag something that I need not strain my ears to hear.

"This world is cruel, and I blame you, Prince John, and the people! Until King Maximus returns, this is to be your fate. You are to be tossed about by the whims of the crown you adore. I spit upon you, and your ridiculous fantasy of a life!"

A grumble rolls through the crowd, as the words are passed from person to person. Some start to boo and throw things at the women. The woman on the right stays still, but I imagine her to be smiling. Prince John walks directly up to the woman on the left, and speaks to all as he replies.

"Life is no fantasy. People can be dark and twisted, with crushed hopes and dreams, and a desire to drag others to their depths. Corpse-like yearning stains their eyes in a search for pleasure, distraction, anything. But these are still my people. My greatest achievement and my greatest failure. And you, wench, are not fit to stand among them."

The people murmur appreciatively, and some nod their heads in agreement. I, however, train my eyes upon the woman on the right. I can be reasonably sure that the woman on the left is not Lilly, as her voice was coarser than Lilly's lilt, but the woman on the right has given me nothing so far. And she is the one with the charge I fit.

I watch her slim shoulders move, as if she's fumbling with something. Something seems off here. The crowd around me stinks of sweat and dirt. The creaking of gears reaches me as the gaoler winds the chain to tighten the ropes, and the bags are now pressed flat against the necks of the accused.

"Good people!" yells the prince, turning his back to the women at the gallows. The drummers begin to roll their militant tones. The hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up as I eye the woman the right. Her shoulders have stopped moving.

"I give you justice!" screams he. 

Then, I see it. A glint of steel shines from behind the right woman's back. Her hands come free, and she takes a step forward. 

"Your Majesty! Look out!" I roar, and before I know what I'm doing, I leap up onto the stage, drawing Starfyre in the motion. My hood flies away from my face as my steel rings with the dagger in the woman's hand. The knife hovers a kiss away from the prince's back.

My riposte sends her reeling back, and I put myself between her and the prince. "You," he gasps, and I can feel him draw away. A thrill of fire ripples down my limbs as I hold the Sword of Dawn in front of the screaming, fleeing crowd.

"You!" She screeches, ripping away her mask. "You've ruined everything!" A guard rears up behind her, but she whirls and slashes, spattering blood away from the surgical gash across his neck. She picks up his sword, and I am upon her. 

My downward blow catches the hilt of her blade, but she bends around it and thrusts with the knife. A dull force hits my abdomen as my armor saves my life, and I reel back, panting. I swing high, expecting the traitor to rise, but she rolls neatly to the side, and out of view for an instant.

I swivel around, and see her sword rise over the prince again- a last, desperate attempt to spill royal blood. I bunch my legs and pounce on her, drawing my sword high above my head and channeling every ounce of heat and rage into this one blow. She gasps as the sword takes her at the shoulder, and the steel in my hand vibrates sickeningly as bone crunches beneath it. Blood squelches against the blade, and her body crumples to a heap of jagged white and glaring red upon the stage.

The prince squirms out from under the twitching, bleeding corpse, and stares at me. His eyes are wide with shock, his crown lies crooked upon his head, and there is a large stain of gore over his crimson and gold clothing. A single moment passes, and I chance a look at the corpse. She's not Lilly, but I know this woman. In the single moment, a paralyzing shock races up and down my body, filling it with recognition. It is Tesha, wife of David. Then, three armored guards with crossbows skid around the corner and the moment ends.

"Seize him!" roars the prince, clambering away from me. "Arrest him! Kill him!"

The crossbow bolts fly my way. One flies over my head, causing me to flinch down. Another sparks off the ground at my feet. Then, I am running. With one arm, I bring Starfyre down at an angle, and slice the noose off of the other woman's neck. I duck the last crossbow bolt, and before they can reload, I grab the other woman around her waist and run for my life.