Chapter 3
The Sword of Vengeance Shines: Meiko
This hut is old and falling apart. I open my closet. My father was a solider. I can wear his armor. Those have been the only thoughts that have gone through my mind since that day. The day that my love stood in the square. I never saw his face that day; the guillotine cast shadows over his face. Still, I think that had been smiling. Even today, I still blame myself. I could have intervened at the last minute. But I didn't, all I could do was fall to the ground and cry. I had been so helpless that day. My love had went against the princess and had to pay the price. The princess shall pay, she must pay. With her head if she must. And if she is to pay with her head, then I must be the one to accept payment.
I run my fingers over the cold armor. It was slightly too big for me, but I will manage. I slid the armor on, fastening it to my body. I was about to close the closet, but something caught my eye. My father's sword, still lying in its polished scabbard. I took that too, and slid it into my belt. It seems that I would also get revenge for my father's death. The princess had taken all our food and my father gave what little we had to me.
I threw the candle to the ground, it caught fire and the flames spread. As I walked out of my house, what was left of the hut was consumed by fire. I could never go back.
I traveled to the city. There, in the square, there was a riot. The people were screaming, calling for change. Even the cities were now victim to the princess's whims. Everyone was suffering. There was some sort of debate going on. The people were arguing amongst themselves. Should they fight against the princess, and risk dying? Or should they summit to the princess's will?
In the center, there was a young man in a blue coat. He was the loudest of them all. Arguing down everyone who said they shouldn't fight. Protesting loudly against the princess.
But even with such determination, the people were still undecided. He threw up his hands angrily and stormed out of the square. He walked over to the ally where I was watching from. He noticed me, the warrior girl in armor carrying a blade. I don't know what he thought of me. But what seems most likely to me is that he believed that I was a mercenary. It is the only thing that explains what he did next.
He walked over to me and said, with a sort of fierce determination, "Help me." I must have looked reluctant, because he continued, "I don't care how much it costs, I'll pay. Just help me."
I asked, "Why are you also against the princess?"
His eyes were firm, and filled with sadness as he answered, "She killed my one true love."
"So we are the same." I replied. I didn't know what to do. Still I would try.
I stood straight, "I will help you." He looked grateful and ran away down the alley, "I have soldiers, I'll go and get back up!"
I walked into the square. At first I was unnoticeable. But as I headed to the heart of the crowd, people began to point at me and look, moving out of the way. I stopped at the center of the square. The people around me moved away and quieted.
I took a deep breath, "The princess is evil and inhuman. She has wronged us in many ways."
The people nodded in agreement, now calling for change. Some still looked slightly doubtful, but the majority of the crowd was now yelling for the princess's head. "Now, we're going, come with me!" I called to the crowd and walked down the street towards the castle. The crowd all followed me. The crowd kept getting bigger, people ran out of houses pouring in from side streets. They grabbed weapons: some had blades, some had bows, most just grabbed what kitchen knives they could lay their hands on.
We rushed through the streets, pushing back the soldiers. Our group, no, army, soon arrived at the castle. I drew my sword and pointed it at the soldier standing at the gate, "Let us pass!"
Most of the soldiers rushed at us. They fought better than most of our number, but we had many more people. When the drafted guards saw that our army consisted of mostly civilians, they defected to our side.
My blade slashed through the neck of the first to come at me. There was one good thing about this whole mess. The army was greatly weakened from the battle with the country of Nreeg.
Our attacks we not futile. We were gaining ground. I hate to say it, but I was at the front. My sword was coated in blood. I fought with the toughest soldiers. I was fueled by anger and this thirst for vengeance. That thirst threatened to consume me.
Someone in our army ran up behind me. He knocked me to the ground, a knife poised over my neck. This was it, I was going to die. I can't die, not yet. I haven't got my vengeance. My attacker fell. I was shocked, who was my savior? A blue arrow had pierced his neck.
I looked up. The man of blue who had asked me for help was riding on a horse. Riding in front of a true army. He was the prince of Ulbe. Reinforcements had finally arrived. We pushed the gate down and stormed into the castle. This is the time for vengeance.
I ran through the castle into the throne room. The voices of the people resounded throughout the room. On the throne sat the princess. A small fourteen year old girl with more power than she could handle. I ran up to the throne and pointed my sword at her neck.
She looked up, and I knew something was wrong. No princess of evil would have eyes that looked that innocent and sad. No one who had grew up in a palace would have hands that rough.
I stared into the imposter's eyes and lowered my sword slightly, "Why?"
I had heard that there was a servant that looked like the princess. Was this him? Why was he going to die for an evil ruler? He stood up, "You're so disrespectful!"
That night I slipped down to the cell where he was held. I had not spoken of my susspisions to Prince Kaito, for he would hunt down the real princess. Although I could see no logical reason wrong with that, the only conclusion I could come up with was that the princess was my fight. I suppose even that reason was greatly flawed. When I entered the dungeons, I was slightly shocked by the sight that I saw. He looked pitiful, a boy wearing a frilly dress and pretending to be a girl.
I coughed to get his attention, "Why did you do it?"
He looked up at me, still pretending in vain, "I have no idea what ridiculous notion is in your head."
"You are no princess. You are only her servant!" I said, slightly louder in frustration.
He sighed and gave up the previously held pretense, "Does it matter? I am as evil as she is. The same blood runs through my veins."
"Tell me where she is."
"I cannot."
"You must! She is evil! She is vile!"
"I will always protect her. She must live," he paused and looked up at me, "What did she do to you?" he asked, curious.
I replied gruffly, "What makes you think she did anything to me?"
He gave me a look, "You have a clear grudge against my sister that could not have been caused simply by the way that she mormaly treated the citizens of this land. Therefore, she did something to you. What was it? Maybe I can help."
"Unless you can revive the dead, there is no way that you would be of any help," I snapped. It was absolutely none of his buisness.
"I am so sorry," he said quietly. His voice had a deep sorrow and sincerity about it that I had not expected. "Who?" he asked.
"If you must know, she killed the only man I ever loved," I turned and stormed out of the dungeons. Why did he want to know? Why would he refuse to tell me where she was even knowing what she did? Why protect her? She was the one person in the world that least deserved protection. Where has that evil flower run to?
Time dragged me along, and I found myself questioning everything I did. I held the rope that was tied to the hands of the fake princess. He would be executed today, for a crime that he didn't commit. My mind yelled that this was wrong, yet I gave the rope to the executioner anyways.
His head lay in the guillotine, waiting for the blade to come down, ending his life. Somehow, he was smiling. I followed his gazed. In the back of the crowd, standing in a corner, was a figure dressed in a black cloak. I leaned in slightly to see under the hood and saw to my amazment, the real princess.
I opened my mouth about to tell the guards that the real princess was there, not here. We were so close to the real princess. But something stopped me. Why? I could not voice the words and yet I found no reason why I should hesitate. It was something about her, that evil princess, something about the sight of her there, dressed in peasant clothes, looking like a pauper. I could not see for sure, but something glistened on her face. Was she... crying?
Why did I not protest? I now knew the answer. She was not here to stop the execution, she was only a spectator, helpless. I closed my mouth. The blade came down with a swift chop, sending an arc of blood onto the ground. The princess fell to the ground and cried. No matter how cruel history is, it does tend to repeat itself. We are the same, princess. Vengeance is an evil too.
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