Chapter 42 But Why Haven't The Killers Attacked Us Yet?!
I am Aynur, daughter of Ragal, the oppressed and fugitive king, the throne was stolen from him by his evil brother, and I will not sleep well until I have the Floral Throne.
I didn't know the attitude of the Negress yet. An ally like her would turn the scales of an entire battle, but it seems I'll forget that I texted her, and it seems she'll never come. But what I already possess so far may make a difference. The most learned ones on the earth have responded to me, the wise Noveo, who lives from the General Ruin until now, and the warrior of the sea-jinn Solaik, the Knight of Knights, and both of them have the capabilities and experiences that make him an ideal ally, in addition to what I already possess from Rokoshta's sword abilities with Amed, Arch and his bird, Tribal Warriors and Dwarves' Army.
But the killers were late for their second round.
The first round fell with only one of them, a warlock of Akradar. I don't know why, maybe it was only one of them tested, or he thought that our abilities were less than his power to penetrate, but my plan succeeded in hiding me from his tyranny, and almost got him into a deadly trap himself, had he not used his supernatural abilities to escape. They say that he has advanced to old age, and thus was able to escape, but I did not understand how supposedly the old men are much weaker and slower than my fighting men.
What magic is this that makes a person age in moments?! The wasted world has been plagued by witches and wizards, and I am still cursed with Bone Magic that Korra has cast on me, so no creature can love and kiss me. Soma is the guard and the damn.
But why haven't the killers attacked us yet?!
They are late. Is that because of our tight military controls or our security allies?
Insomnia prevented me from sleeping, so I was thinking as I watched the progress of work in the silos after the sky darkened. The grain storage was good, and the guard cats did their best job and hunted mice efficiently. Wahara went to the laziest and most hairy cat and chose him as a substitute for her late dead cat. I said to her with a smile, "What will you call it?". She noticed two supernumerary limbs on his sides, covered with thick hair, making him the type that the Washinians call Winged Cats, and they are blessed with it "(Crow)," she said, gazing at his shiny black fur.
The Kandorians were pessimistic about the black cats, especially winged ones, but I did not share this gloomy with them.
Then Fossan, who was walking behind me like my shadow, said to me anxiously: 'Ma'am, you shouldn't ramble so much outside the palace, I don't like it now, for the later their attack is delayed, that means it is imminent, and it may happen at any moment now.'
I was not of that princely type who watched everything from his ivory tower, but I liked, in the first palatial residence befitting a ruler, to set myself an example of the watch over the ground, and direct supervision, if I were to build a strong network of relations that would help me regain my throne, let it be a loyal, devoted network. Appreciate the value of work, effort, and sweat.
Before leaving the palace, I passed by the suite of the honourable wise (Noveo) and with me (Marzouk).
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