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Petra felt the sharpest when she was alone—that is, herself and her sole companion—over any mission in which she worked alongside others. She was agile, precise, and acutely aware of the activity around her regardless of how small or quiet the footsteps were. A life of living from the land back home in Brigid trained her so. Hunts were her favorite, and despite the reassurance from the army’s leadership that it absolutely was not her responsibility, she still found time to break off from the group to return to her roots in a hunt.
Droplets of condensation in the clouds tickled her bare arms and face as she and her Noivern, a bat-like dragon with large, sound-wave releasing ears and a wicked cackle, soared through like an arrow in the wind. Neither spoke; her Noivern was of the rare kind that possessed telepathy, furthering the strength of the communication between them to near-instantaneous. Images passed between them in their minds as the dragon’s far superior eyesight scanned the forest below, searching for boar or other medium to small-sized animals they could dispatch.
They had ventured out a few miles from camp when Noivern slowed, tilting its head as the sound waves emitted from its megaphone-like ears returned a map of the topography below. Petra noticed a ledge jutting out from a slope in the forest and Noivern responded a moment later, stooping into a dive it broke with a parachuting motion, grasping onto the ledge below with its two-clawed feet and holding its wings out for balance.
Petra dismounted and nimbly leapt to the nearest sturdy tree. Now it was her turn—Noivern’s aerial capabilities were stunted in dense foliage, unlike Petra’s ability to use the branches as stepping stones as she hopped from tree to tree like a pebble skating over water. Noivern took off, gaining altitude until it was able to scope the surrounding area once more, providing the huntress with a top-down vantage point in addition to her own. There was a boar not far from where she had perched, and she crept closer to it with a soft step that would keep her undetected.
There, she thought as the light grey hide of the animal came into view. It hobbled along, snorting and sniffling about for fungi and plant matter to eat, unaware that it had just become a prized part of the hunt.
Petra reached behind her and unhooked her bow, sliding an arrow out from the quiver and lining up a shot with practiced, steady hands. She had just begun to loosen her grip on the arrow when Noivern’s attention shifted abruptly, the joint image in the back of Petra’s mind along with it, causing her to freeze in place as she heightened her focus on her dragon’s telepathic connection.
Noivern called out, the laugh-like sound carrying through the open air to the falcon bursting on scene engulfed in flame. Their species was not native to the area, so both Petra and her companion recognized it as the Emperor’s partner immediately. She ran back through her duties and the upcoming plans, determining she had not missed a task. This must be something else. Petra lowered her bow, although she kept the boar in sight as she waited to see why the Emperor’s Talonflame had sought them out.
With a screech and a wingbeat, the bird stretched its leg out to show a note with the royal seal attached to it—she would have to return to the hunt later. Glancing above her, Petra noticed a few branches large enough to support an ascension, so she swiftly lifted herself nearer to the canopy, her petite frame just light enough to allow the climb. Meeting her at the treetop was her Noivern, closely followed by Talonflame. Being half the size of the dragon meant the falcon could drop beneath the canopy to Petra’s side. With one hand clasped around the tree for balance, she reached out with the other and loosened the string on the note before sliding it off Talonflame’s leg entirely. Its job now completed, the bird found a nearby branch to rest on as Petra unfurled the note.
Petra,
Apologies for interrupting your hunt, but I must speak with you immediately. Intelligence arrived from Brigid that pertains to you as the crown princess. This matter is urgent.
Her Royal Majesty,
Emperor Edelgard
A thousand thoughts raced through her at once and she breathed deeply, settling her concerns into the background as she focused on her next objective, returning to camp. Discipline would win over fear, as it always did with her.
“You have my thanks,” Petra said to the messenger. “I will be returning at once.”
Talonflame chirped affirmingly and left, cloaking itself in flame as it accelerated into unmatchable speeds. A hovering Noivern followed as its partner swung through the forest back to the ledge on which they had first landed. Noivern wasn’t as fast as Talonflame, but it certainly wasn’t a slouch either; they made it back not long after and Petra approached the Emperor’s office, knocking twice.
“Ah, Petra.” Edelgard opened the door fully and beckoned for the Brigid princess to enter. Her Talonflame perched in a high corner of the room atop a hand-crafted pole that bent at the top, sized perfectly for its talons. “Hubert advised against showing you this, but I cannot in good conscience withhold such knowledge from you. If it were me in your place, I would be furious had I been kept in the dark.”
Petra’s brows furrowed and she frowned, her brown eyes watching intently as the Emperor turned her back to her and began rifling through the documents on the desk. Carefully, she asked, “Edelgard, what is wrong? You are giving me worry.”
The Emperor sighed, her hands forming fists on the table as she gazed over what Petra assumed to be war-related intelligence. Reaching for one document in particular, Edelgard spun on her heel and met Petra’s eyes with genuine concern. She held it towards the Brigid princess and shook it gently, inviting the other woman to take it.
As Petra read, Edelgard added, “Hubert was afraid you would insist we act, and it is not an ideal time, not without jeopardizing our efforts on the northeast front. We are days away from a pivotal battle with the Kingdom’s army, and cannot spare—”
“My brother and sister are taken hostage,” interrupted Petra, her eyes flicking up towards Edelgard.
“Yes,” confirmed the Emperor solemnly. “They are demanding you return and answer for what they believe to be a betrayal—for remaining here and supporting the Empire. Had they any leverage over me, they likely would have attempted a negotiation. Not that any such request would be entertained,” she added, her purple eyes narrowing in defiance. “In lieu of that, it seems they are appealing to you directly in the hopes that you will surrender yourself.”
“For what purpose?” Petra’s voice was level, but her heart ached. She missed her siblings dearly, and this was not how she wished to think of them. Was it not enough that she had been stolen from her home by the Empire, now her brother and sister must suffer as well?
“I find it implausible that they would go to such lengths and expect you to rule without consequence falling upon them, so it is more likely their intentions are of a more violent nature.”
Petra understood the meaning behind Edelgard’s words. The dissenters in Brigid feel she is a traitor, and they wish to remove her from the picture forcefully rather than risk assuming power while she still draws breath. Were they to attempt such a thing, Petra’s eventual arrival would easily garner the support of her people, and the rebels would lose control. No, they wished to reclaim her on their own terms, so they could execute her in secret and inform the masses she perished in the Empire.
“I see you told her, against my counsel,” came a low voice from behind Petra. Hubert had entered through the still-open door, his face a mixture of disapproval and diplomacy. Behind him, his Bisharp took up its post outside, posture as still as a statue. The evening sun glinted off of the metallic blades that decorated its lower arms.
“She has a right to know,” Edelgard replied firmly.
“To what benefit?” he asked, closing the door behind him. Petra felt his eyes studying her, searching for her response to the situation. “There is nothing we can do.”
Petra gazed towards the ceiling pensively. “If Edelgard will not be lending aid, then I must go alone.”
“Preposterous,” said Edelgard with a shake of her head.
“I must agree with Her Majesty, that is far too dangerous,” Hubert chimed in.
Despite the disagreement, Petra knew that was her only option. She could not leave her family in the hands of such deplorable people, and she cannot ask Edelgard to risk her entire war effort. Whether they approved or not, she would leave tonight.
Seeing the resolve on the Brigid princess’s face, Edelgard frowned. “Petra, surely you would not knowingly subject yourself to this obvious trap? I would like your word you will not go.”
“That is a promise I cannot be keeping,” Petra returned calmly. “Please—allow me this freedom.”
“I granted your freedom when I ascended the throne, you know that,” Edelgard sighed. “Although I suppose this is your way of reminding me.”
With a subtle smile, Petra flicked her gaze to the Emperor’s dozing Talonflame and added, “Do not have worry for me. To kill me they must first catch me, and I do not intend to become caught.”
Hubert chuckled. “I suppose there are worse odds than Petra’s when she is at home in the trees. Still, you are risking a great deal. Are you absolutely certain?”
She met his eyes unflinchingly. “I am.”
Hubert and Edelgard exchanged glances before the taller of the two gave a curt bow and took his leave. Only Petra and the Emperor remained. To the surprise of the huntress, Edelgard stepped forward and embraced her. The hug was brief, and when Edelgard released her, the slightest tinge of pink lay on her cheeks.
“Come back safe, okay?” Edelgard said as she turned her back. “You are an invaluable asset to this army.”
Petra nodded once, then left. Noivern sensed Petra’s emergence from the room and broke through the clouds above, dropping in altitude until it hovered near the princess. Her bow, holstered behind the saddle for safekeeping, gently bounced with each wingbeat.
“We’re going home,” she said. Despite her continuing to walk, unwavering in her direction, Noivern knew the words were for it. Puzzled, the dragon landed and waddled alongside the princess, balancing with outstretched wings. She felt the question in the depths of her mind—home? We are not home?
“You would not have memory of Brigid,” Petra explained to the bat-dragon following her. “When I was arriving to the Empire, your egg was my only possession.”
Flashes of a hatched egg and the serenity of the forest nearest the Imperial capital collected in her mind and she overlay her own memories of the forests she grew up in, passing the imagery to Noivern and distinguishing the two countries’ unique foliage. Included in the visual novel she authored in her mind were other Noibat and Noivern as they foraged. Being omnivores, they would screech gleefully over both sitrus berries and prey, hunting Ekans and Sentret for the sport of it, providing an essential ecological control over the pests native to the village.
Petra then shifted her thoughts to her siblings, passing the emotions to her partner as she relived the time she spent with them. Her warrior’s mark, the purple tattoo beneath her right eye, fascinated her little brother. His little hands reached out to touch the soft skin colored the same purple as her hair and she closed her eyes softly. So young, so curious. He would be an explorer someday, she knew. Her sister preferred the company of the dragons, offering her assistance to the keepers and lingering long past once she had been dismissed. Petra could see the longing in her little sister’s eyes and had planned to introduce her Noibat once it had hatched, only to be ripped away before she was able to do so. Noivern’s expression softened and it cooed, feeling the same sadness that gnawed at the edges of Petra’s conscience, held at bay only through willpower.
Approaching her own tent, Petra unclenched her fist that held the document and read it once more, allowing the mental link between herself and Noivern to give the dragon the information it needed. Once Noivern understood the situation, it curled its lips back in a snarl.
“Be calm,” she told her angered partner, reaching a hand out to stroke its snout. “Tonight, we take wing.”
Leaving Noivern outside, she ducked into her tent, noticing the motion in the shadows a moment before the metallic red and black plating came into view. Bisharp stepped forward stiffly, wearing the same serious expression its partner, the Emperor’s retainer, always had.
“Shar,” it greets quietly, approaching her with an outstretched arm. In its silver grip was a loose piece of paper that had been folded to prevent crumpling—Petra accepted it immediately.
“Hubert?” she called out hesitantly, not convinced the Bisharp came alone. No response came and she unfolded the paper, reading in silence.
Petra,
This is a foolish endeavor to undertake and I maintain you ought not pursue it. However, under the assumption that you will not be dissuaded, Her Majesty would strongly prefer you survive the ordeal; it falls on me to ensure you do so. Our contacts were able to locate the stronghold of the rebels and while they were unable to confirm the presence of your siblings, we are quite certain that the leader of the insurgency, a man named Alton, resides in that camp.
If you insist on acting, striking at the center of their forces with the advantage of surprise will provide your best chance of collapsing them entirely.
Petra skimmed the remainder of the letter, taking note of the landmarks listed in the directions and the description of the insurgents’ leader. The hunt is not over, she thought as she committed the information to memory. Only my target has changed.
With a determined exhale, Petra proceeded to neatly fold the letter, pack it in a waterproof wrap and slide it into her boot for safekeeping. Deciding which supplies to bring held her attention as the sun began to descend in the evening sky. The trip to Brigid would not take an exceedingly long time, but she could not say how long it will take to flush out the rebels.
Ultimately deciding a small bag clipped to the rear end of Noivern’s saddle would be sufficient, she loaded it with some nuts and a cut of bread, tucked her favorite hunting knife and rope over top of it and a few additional supplies to repair her bow in a pinch. Her quiver still rested against her hip and her bow remained hooked to Noivern’s saddle; satisfied with her preparations, she emerged from her tent and shot her dragon a small smile, grateful that despite what the others had said, she was not truly alone, so long as she had her hunting partner.
“Ready?” she asked, standing eye to eye with her partner. Most Noivern did not exceed 4’11”—granted, she herself was only 5’2”. She was fortunate to have one that exceeded the species’ average size, or she may not be able to rely on it to carry her long distances such as this.
In answer, Noivern lifted its wings, beat its tail against the ground and emitted a booming, disjointed cry. Its megaphone-like ears vibrated, crackling with the dragon’s unique sounds, and caused any nearby birds to take off, dizzy from the disorientation. While Petra could only hear the cry and not the additional sounds that burst from its ears, she knew the wildlife had sensitive-enough hearing to pick up on the full range, and they did not shy away from screeching back their own displeasure.
The two took off under the cover of dusk, Petra directing their general direction and allowing her partner to determine the altitude. Noivern found the puffy clouds inviting and the chill night air began to nip at Petra’s exposed skin, freezing droplets of condensation that formed as they cut through clouds that had not yet filled enough to result in rain. She reached for her scarf, curled around her neck and flapping in the air behind them, and stretched it over her mouth and nose. Better, she thought to herself.
Oceans spread so far beneath that all the pair could see was an endless expanse of dark blue. Had it been daytime, they could have skimmed the surface, toying with the cresting waves and perhaps catching a fish that ventured higher than it should. Chastising herself for the daydream, Petra reminded herself that this was not a leisurely trip and refocused on her objective.
The moon had not yet found its home in the center of the sky when the coast of Brigid came into view. Towering trees of a lush green greeted them with branches thick enough to support both their weights. Noivern slowed as they neared, its claws braced to land, clasping around the protruding branch and adjusting its tail and wings for balance. Once they had steadied, Petra slid the wrap from her right boot and unfolded it, her eyes scanning the paper for the location Hubert had named.
For a brief moment, Petra considered the possibility that Hubert intended to lead her to a trap. He struck most as a touch unsavory, and it went unspoken that he would be willing to sacrifice close to anyone and anything if it furthered Edelgard’s goals. On the other hand, what could be gained by offering her up to the rebels willingly? What could the rebels have that Edelgard would need? More precisely, what could the rebels provide that she, as the future queen of Brigid, could not access? It made more sense that this action on Hubert’s part was genuine—that he wished to aid her to ensure Petra’s continued cooperation with the Empire’s war.
Either way, this mission came with an immense amount of risk. Choosing to believe Hubert’s information is accurate and given to assist her, she mapped the island out in her mind and layered the directions overtop of it, feeling her partner’s shifting position as it prepared for its next destination. The encampment would be guarded, although the likelihood that they would perceive a Noivern to be a threat is low, provided she as rider remained obscured from view.
The rebels’ base was a few miles off the coast, halfway between Petra’s current location and her home, a day’s journey north on foot. Surprisingly to the huntress, the rebels did not attempt to disguise their stronghold or blanket it in foliage. From dragon-back she was able to make out the ramparts and torches, as well as the men that walked them, although their faces were unclear in the night.
“Circle calmly.” Petra spoke quietly, knowing the dragon would hear the message internally if not audibly. “Steady, so I am not to be seen.”
Obligingly, Noivern rode the air currents, lazily gaining and losing altitude with the wind, keeping its body level so Petra’s presence would be missed by anyone peering at them from below. A bobbing motion of the torches indicated someone had glanced upward, and as she suspected, there was no sound of alarm raised. What she did not know is if Noivern could map the area without emitting a conspicuous amount of noise. She allowed the question to hang between them, and when Noivern’s response came, she frowned. It did not know either.
Choosing to err on the side of caution, Petra moved to plan B. She had tucked a small spyglass in her bag in the event this exact issue arose. Extending the spyglass and laying her upper body over Noivern’s neck, she nestled into the plush white fur and gazed through.
The first of the two men on patrol carried a longbow. It rested against his back as he leaned forward on the rampart wall, his elbows on the stone surface and a bored look across his face. The second man’s weapon, a steel-tipped spear with a wooden grip, is held vertically in one hand with the sharp edge pointing at the sky and the rounded bottom side touching the ground. Neither of the guards carried alternate weapons, although additional supplies strewn about did include a dagger on a table beside a pulled-out chair supporting a second bow.
Drifting her gaze along the rampart path, Petra identifies the staircase leading into the enclosed lower structure as well as another two guards on the opposite side. Another bow-wielder and a seemingly unarmed man—Petra suspected he held knives in his unusually large coat—patrolled the far side together.
A few trees extended above the walls of the encampment, providing Petra with an opportune means of approaching undetected. With the reconnaissance completed, Noivern descended through a casual glide, vanishing amongst the canopies and out of view. The pair held still once they touched ground, listening for any signs of danger. Hearing none, Petra dismounted, hoisted her bow over her back, and gave Noivern an affectionate scratch on the chin before turning to face her target.
She chose a path leading towards the corner nearest the lancer and bowman, as they were the ones least prepared for an ambush. No windows broke the solid stone of the wall, and she scaled the sturdiest tree within range without risk of detection. The most difficult part of remaining stealthy would undoubtedly be the leap from the tree to the rampart.
Make noise, she thought, her request projecting to the circling dragon above. It obliged a moment later, breaking the silence with a cackling cry. Without hesitation, she catapulted herself from the branch onto the stone, rolling into it to absorb the impact. She hit the opposing wall and stilled, once again listening for any indication she was heard—none came.
With feather-light footsteps, she crept along the wall until she could peer around the corner and see the two men up close. Noivern’s cry had wiped the boredom off the bow-wielder’s face, and he was now scanning the skies for the source. The second man appeared to be yelling at the first; Petra watched as he waved his companion off and took a seat at the table that held the dagger. To her surprise, he pushed it further to the side and laid his lance down in its place.
Not one to waste an advantage, she moved. She crossed the distance between them like a shadow, and in rapid succession, whisked the dagger from the edge of the table and promptly kicked the flimsy wooden surface over, the lance clattering to the ground loudly. She felt the man startle in her grip as one hand found its way around his neck and the other held the knife to it.
“Be still,” she commanded in her native tongue, and the man whose life she now held complied without argument. His companion on the other hand, lifted his bow and nocked an arrow before freezing at the sight of his fellow guard as a hostage. “Do it,” Petra growled. “Let us see who is fastest.”
The lancer shivered, clearly afraid he was experiencing his last few moments of life. Indecision flashed on the bowman’s face as he evaluated his options.
“You…” he muttered slowly, his confusion morphing into recognition. “You’re the princess!”
Despite the passage of time, Petra had clearly remained spoken of often for this man to recognize her so quickly. Perhaps it was the tattoo, or the purple hair that ran in her family. She had no more than a second to consider this before the man, now determined to fulfill his superior’s wishes, took aim at the princess that had willingly entered the enemy camp.
She swore under her breath and shifted her weight to the right, forcing the man to turn with her. His companion’s arrow, having been intended for Petra’s head, instead pierced his left ear, killing him instantly. Petra hadn’t meant for anyone who surrendered to die, and a pang of guilt struck her as she released the man’s lifeless body to the ground.
“Drop your weapon!” the bowman shouted, reaching for a second arrow.
He wasn’t worth the breath, this man that had so recklessly ended his companion’s life. She would never have taken such a shot. Disgusted, she spun the dagger in her hand and flung it in the bowman’s direction. Her gift with weaponry proved fruitful as the steel embedded itself in the man’s skull, flinging him backwards where he landed with a thud.
The noise had attracted the other two guards, although neither were sure what they had heard. This allowed Petra the crucial moments needed to recover the dagger and slide up against the wall to protect her from flanking. The cloaked guard pointed in her direction and his companion immediately unsheathed his bow. He nearly had an arrow nocked when he felt himself lifted from the ground and dropped his weapon in shock. Noivern had grasped the man by the shoulders while diving, carrying him forward several feet before releasing him in front of Petra, who leapt over the pained, groaning man to address the knife-thrower behind him. Before he could regain the composure he’d lost to the force of Noivern’s wingbeats, Petra was upon him, folding him in half with a swift kick in the stomach and following up by slamming the grip of the dagger into the man’s back, collapsing the last of the outdoor guards.
Landing beside its partner, the bat-dragon scanned their surroundings and oriented towards the entrance that led to the lower level. Blinking into the dimly lit corridor, it passed the image to the huntress with an accompanying, I fit?
The dragon was right, and Petra counted herself lucky the rebels’ base had been built wide enough for Noivern to waddle through. As they were similar in height, she knew it lacked the space to fly; that did not discount how large an advantage simply having the dragon’s abilities accessible would be.
Hubert’s instructions had not included a map of the base, and Petra took a few incorrect turns into vacant kitchens and armories before she found a hall with voices emanating from within. She nodded towards the noise, and Noivern tackled the door down, growling at the three rebels that had been seated around a table. Their overlapping shouts masked the sound of Petra slipping past, and she hurriedly looped around to the hall’s other side, at their flank with her dagger before they had even noticed her presence. In their defense, Noivern was harder to ignore.
“What the—”
“A Noivern?!”
“Do something!”
Their chaotic and mixed demands rendered them immobile, and Petra noticed quickly that only one was armed. She made a move towards the man equipped with a sword, adjusting when he whirled around prematurely—she cursed, he must have heard her behind him. He instinctively swung his sword, and the two other rebels retreated to relative safety out of range of the fight.
The bat-dragon lunged forward, using its wings to propel itself like an acrobat as it clawed the air between them. It forced the swordsman to fight defensively, needing to guard against both the huntress and her dragon on opposing sides.
“Surrender,” Petra commanded, coiled like a snake with her blade, prepared to strike if needed.
The man scowled and spat back, “Over my dead body.”
“If that is what you wish,” Petra replied before darting forward.
This man proved more skilled than the others—he read Petra’s movements and deflected with the flat of his sword, using the recoil as an opening to deliver a forceful kick, throwing her smaller frame back.
Angered, Noivern roared and a ball of flame formed at the center of its gaping maw. Seeing the eruption of fire from the dragon, the man’s jaw dropped, as did his sword. He cast one last, desperate look at the huntress, and she returned the look without sympathy. The time for surrender had passed, and Noivern incinerated him on the spot.
The two remaining rebels, now huddled in the corner with horrified expressions, were eager to surrender. Petra pressed them for details as to her siblings’ location, only to receive no more than an, “I swear I don’t know!”
Even Noivern’s jaws, still heated by lingering embers, failed to change their tune. Petra went with the next best option.
“Where is Alton?”
Had Hubert acquired a map, she would have known in advance that the encampment held a secret sublevel below the surface. Fortunately, the rebels who surrendered, either due to her sparing of them or their mortification after witnessing the bonfire that enveloped their ally, were quick to explain the layout to the Brigid princess.
The lower level was largely unoccupied, although the huntress was forced to silence one man with an arrow to the temple, and engaged in hand-to-hand combat with another in which she disarmed him, then cut him down with his own weapon. She felt her hair sticking to her forehead with the beads of exertion, and knew her body was stained red with blood; for the most part, not her own. Noivern tailed her obediently—not having grown up in Brigid, it did not understand the language spoken by the rebels, and relied on body language and Petra to inform its actions. To its credit, it did not dispatch anyone who surrendered.
Cautiously, she came to a stop outside a door with light casting through from below and listened. She could hear a man’s throat clear, and the occasional sounds of shuffling as he moved. He appeared to be alone, aside from the murmurs of a creature Petra could not identify.
She tested the handle and found it unlocked, promptly swinging the door open and bursting inside, poised to fight. Noivern followed suit, its wings spreading from behind Petra as if belonging to her.
“You?! How did you—"
Flustered, the rebel leader glanced from one side of the room to the other, as if he were mentally mapping her path there. His surprise shifted to rage and he shouted, “Seize them!”
A large, black and white bipedal raccoon growled defiantly as it rushed to its partner’s aid, blocking Petra’s path to her target. Being slightly taller and broader than Petra, the hostile creature gave the huntress pause, albeit momentarily.
“This animal will not stop me,” she declared firmly, facing down its red-eyed glare.
With a snarl, it slashed towards the princess in a disorganized manner, forcing her to sidestep. Unable to outrange its claws with her dagger, she danced around the attacks instead. Noivern leapt forward in her absence and dug its sharp fangs into the raccoon’s neck, lifting itself enough to clasp the animal’s arms with its talons, causing both to stumble under the uneven weight. The raccoon absorbed the impact and retaliated with double the force, countering the bat-dragon’s physical assault with practiced ease. Noivern extended its wings to catch itself, preventing a collision with the wall it had been thrown towards.
Now returned to a standing position, the fur of the raccoon stiffened and began to spark, small bolts of electricity dancing over its stripes. It leaned forward and the crackling intensified. Petra hadn’t realized this creature had elemental capabilities, and panic shot through her.
Before the raccoon could release the charge, Noivern’s booming cry erupted with a vengeance, rattling the foundations and shattering any objects made of glass; she barely managed to cover her ears in time with the telepathic forewarning the dragon’s train of thought provided. Alton and his partner, not having expected the boomburst, were thrown backwards violently, eliciting a pained yelp from the raccoon and a frightened shout from the man.
Petra’s ears rang as she waited for the world to reorient itself. Approaching her opponents, she finds the raccoon unconscious and the rebel leader on his knees, unable to balance long enough to rise to his feet.
“You will die for your crimes, Alton. For the kidnapping of my siblings, you forfeit your life.”
Holding his hands above his face, Alton cried out, “No! Please! They are not here!”
“It… It was a lie?” she asked incredulously.
“Please,” whimpered the man. “I would never harm the young prince or princess.”
She stared coolly at the pathetic excuse for a rebel leader, who only moments ago was content to watch her electrocution. “I do not believe you.”
His eyes widened in fear and he tensed as if to move, only he would not be given the chance; as Petra’s dagger found his heart, he slumped, no longer a member of the living.
Prior to her departure, the huntress was able to confirm her siblings had been safe after all, kept in hiding with her grandfather after the recent kidnapping attempt had nearly succeeded. The gall of the bandits, to feign as if they had captured the children despite their failure to do so. Petra found herself both shocked and grateful. The night had been hard, and she had gained several cuts and bruises for her efforts, but she had brought security to her siblings.
It was worth it, she sighed to herself as she lay in the grass outside of her grandfather’s estate, her sister on one side and her brother on the other. Overcome with exhaustion and relief, she could do naught but hold them, relishing in the brief time she had to dote on them before she and Noivern had to return to the Empire in the morning.