Emerging from the tavern, Terry Ayr no longer needed to ask for directions.
The streets were alive with motion, every pedestrian surging toward the same destination. Quickening his pace, Terry wove through the crowd, following the thrumming tide toward the gathering place.
In the heart of the city, a newly erected platform loomed, stark against the midday sky. At its center, a woman, dressed in ragged garments, was bound to the pillory. Though her face was streaked with dirt and her hair hung in disarray, it was clear that beneath the grime lay an exquisite beauty.
Before her, instruments of punishment were ominously arrayed. Soldiers flanked the platform, their presence a weak semblance of order rather than a true deterrent.
Prince Shook, clad in regal finery and gripping a longsword, paced the stage, his voice carrying over the restless throng as he recited accusations against the woman's father.
"Her father committed unforgivable crimes against our people! As a member of this empire, it is my duty to uproot such treachery and ensure no remnants remain to threaten us again!"
How many times had Prince Shook rehearsed these pompous lines? Yet his theatrics proved effective. Among the crowd were those who had suffered deeply under the old regime, their grievances reignited by his words, their voices swelling with cheers and curses alike.
"Kill her! Burn her alive!" roared the masses, their cries mingling with jeers and vitriol.
The prince smirked—a sinister curve of his lips—as he seized a whip and lashed it cruelly across the woman's back, showing no trace of mercy.
"Stop this!"
A young, piercing voice sliced through the din, silencing the mob momentarily. Heads turned, eyes narrowed, seeking the source. From the shadows near the execution platform, countless hidden gazes also fixed on the child who had spoken. Seeing it was just a boy, an elder in the darkness gestured, and his forces held their positions.
Terry Ayr strode onto the platform, placing himself between the bound princess and the prince. His gaze locked onto Shook's, unwavering.
"You spoke of her father's crimes. Tell me, what sin has she committed? By what right do you torture her?"
Feigning righteousness, Shook replied, "The remnants of any imperial traitor must face justice. This is the will of the gods."
Terry sneered. "Gods? What nonsense. This is nothing but a farce—a ploy to consolidate your power."
Turning his back to the crowd, Shook's expression grew cold and menacing.
"Boy," he hissed, "if you want to save her, tell me where the other imperial remnants are hiding. Otherwise, spare me your naïveté and leave before I have you arrested."
Terry's lips curled into a defiant smirk. "And if I refuse?"
Shook's eyes gleamed with malice. "Then you will be judged as one of them—and die at her side."
Terry's voice dropped, sharp and unyielding. "Try me."
"Guards! Arrest this brat!" Shook bellowed, waving his hand.
From the crowd, a squad of elite swordsmen emerged, their blades flashing as they advanced.
Terry wasted no time. With a sweep of his hand, he opened the summoning portal. The first to emerge was Eiko, his loyal undead warrior.
The portal's ethereal glow drew gasps, and Shook's face turned ashen as more undead began pouring out.
"What... What are you?" Shook stammered, his bravado faltering.
The advancing swordsmen hesitated, uneasy as Eiko led the undead forward. Yet before they could act, Terry heard a sudden, urgent voice resonate in his mind.
"Master, there's trouble!" High Sun's deep, gravelly tone carried a rare note of alarm.
Terry's heart sank. High Sun, the steadfast general, would never raise an alert unless the situation was dire. Checking his command roster, Terry's stomach twisted—thirty soldiers were missing.
"Eiko, take them and leave!" Terry commanded.
Without hesitation, Eiko moved to free the princess, but a jet of water shot forth, forcing her back. An elder mage, cloaked in flowing robes, stepped from the shadows, his incantations summoning a shimmering barrier around Shook and the princess.
The elder unleashed a barrage of water arrows, forcing Eiko to retreat. Meanwhile, the swordsmen clashed with the flying undead, their blades gleaming as they fought to hold their ground.
Realizing he couldn't save her, Terry's gaze softened as he looked at the bound woman.
"Sister," he called, his voice trembling. "Forgive me... I must go."
The word struck her like a thunderclap. For the first time, the princess reacted. Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at him, her brother. Her lips curved into a bittersweet smile as she nodded, resolute. She would show her brother her strength, her grace, even in the face of death.
Choking back a sob, Terry barked his final order. "Eiko—retreat!"
Without question, Eiko obeyed, seizing Terry and withdrawing through the portal with the remaining undead.
The elder mage, now alone on the platform, did not pursue. His magic was defensive, and his duty lay in protecting the prince.
Shook, however, was livid. His fury turned on the princess, and with sadistic fervor, he continued lashing her.
The crowd cheered, their bloodlust insatiable, but the elder mage looked on with a heavy heart, his gaze distant. He knew all too well the prince's cruelty, yet he was powerless to intervene.
And so, the empire's last princess, battered and broken, smiled through her tears as she faced her end. Under the relentless strikes of the whip, she died, her defiance etched into the memory of all who bore witness.