hidden treasure. Should the commoners actively revolt, all the royals escaping Brenlaw on horseback would have cash at hand. It said much about the current state of affairs within the Kingdom.
She’d just sent the Stallion trotting off into the gathering darkness. As he was trained to do, the huge equine would eventually find his way back to the castle. The Network would be none the wiser for the Stallion’s appearance, yet Lydia could easily use the great horse to find her.
For now, it would have to do.
***
Four days later the victorious army, with Anson once more in its ranks, returned to the camps surrounding the capital city.
Half-a-day after striking out from the cliff face he’d made contact with the royal army, joining a unit at random. After several days of combat in the dense forest, many formations had become separated and cluttered with stragglers, allowing him to easily blend in.
Thus, he was just in time to participate in Prince Tenen’s now fabled strike at the Karden center, leading to much slaughter and the dispersal of the enemy army. With Prince Garob slain and the little men at least temporarily chastened, Tenen had led the triumphant march back down through the Kingdom to Brenlaw.
Vastly relieved to escape the capital city and its preying Demons a short time before, Anson now welcomed this new foray into the seat of royal power. Emboldened by his new found self-assurance and cleared perspective, he felt confident of handling anything they threw his way.
And the capital was where Anson needed to be, should he wish to reconnect with his young royal admirer. In fact, the seeds were ripe for another encounter the following day. The vast Victory Parade kicked off at noon, with ranks of proud soldiers, Anson among them, marching through the capital streets.
Surely there would be one brunette princess in particular watching, and sensing, the marching soldiers very carefully.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A MID BOOMING DRUMS AND CHEERING THRONGS, the victory march crawled through Brenlaw. One after another each unit paused before the royal reviewing stand, presenting arms to the King. It was a wild, happy affair, the crowd becoming more boisterous as the spirits liberally distributed by local taverns took greater effect.
At the monarch’s insistence, Princess Lydia uncomfortably sat on the reviewing stand next to Prince Tenen. During the grand feast on the massive fairgrounds that evening, the King would formally announce their engagement.
Miserably, Lydia watched yet another procession of men parade off, clearing space for the next formation to march in. Fanning herself to little effect, the young princess was uncomfortably hot in her heavy dress.
Though they’d spoken little, Tenen at one point reached over and took her hand. After barely a minute she could stand it no longer, angrily yanking it away. Tenen merely smiled, patting her leg and clapping lustily for the next unit that presented themselves.
Across the street, Lydia spied a flock of pigeons on a rooftop. She briefly considered asking them to soil Tenen’s handsome military uniform, but everyone knew of her ability, and thus, would immediately discern the source of Tenen’s embarrassment. While she had no intention of actually marrying him, no matter what the King said, childish outbursts wouldn’t help matters any.
There! Sliding forward, holding very still, Lydia sensed Anson on the periphery of her mental envelope. Yes, it was the same telepathic signature she’d first encountered in the Throne Hall, somehow even stronger than before. Though casualties had been high, the mysterious stranger had obviously survived the Outlands fighting. Sighing in relief, Lydia found herself reveling in the mental touch, letting it carefully settle in the forefront of her own consciousness.
“Is something the matter, my dear?” Leaning over, Tenen spoke directly in her ear.
“No. Not at all.” Smiling mechanically, she then
She’d just sent the Stallion trotting off into the gathering darkness. As he was trained to do, the huge equine would eventually find his way back to the castle. The Network would be none the wiser for the Stallion’s appearance, yet Lydia could easily use the great horse to find her.
For now, it would have to do.
***
Four days later the victorious army, with Anson once more in its ranks, returned to the camps surrounding the capital city.
Half-a-day after striking out from the cliff face he’d made contact with the royal army, joining a unit at random. After several days of combat in the dense forest, many formations had become separated and cluttered with stragglers, allowing him to easily blend in.
Thus, he was just in time to participate in Prince Tenen’s now fabled strike at the Karden center, leading to much slaughter and the dispersal of the enemy army. With Prince Garob slain and the little men at least temporarily chastened, Tenen had led the triumphant march back down through the Kingdom to Brenlaw.
Vastly relieved to escape the capital city and its preying Demons a short time before, Anson now welcomed this new foray into the seat of royal power. Emboldened by his new found self-assurance and cleared perspective, he felt confident of handling anything they threw his way.
And the capital was where Anson needed to be, should he wish to reconnect with his young royal admirer. In fact, the seeds were ripe for another encounter the following day. The vast Victory Parade kicked off at noon, with ranks of proud soldiers, Anson among them, marching through the capital streets.
Surely there would be one brunette princess in particular watching, and sensing, the marching soldiers very carefully.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A MID BOOMING DRUMS AND CHEERING THRONGS, the victory march crawled through Brenlaw. One after another each unit paused before the royal reviewing stand, presenting arms to the King. It was a wild, happy affair, the crowd becoming more boisterous as the spirits liberally distributed by local taverns took greater effect.
At the monarch’s insistence, Princess Lydia uncomfortably sat on the reviewing stand next to Prince Tenen. During the grand feast on the massive fairgrounds that evening, the King would formally announce their engagement.
Miserably, Lydia watched yet another procession of men parade off, clearing space for the next formation to march in. Fanning herself to little effect, the young princess was uncomfortably hot in her heavy dress.
Though they’d spoken little, Tenen at one point reached over and took her hand. After barely a minute she could stand it no longer, angrily yanking it away. Tenen merely smiled, patting her leg and clapping lustily for the next unit that presented themselves.
Across the street, Lydia spied a flock of pigeons on a rooftop. She briefly considered asking them to soil Tenen’s handsome military uniform, but everyone knew of her ability, and thus, would immediately discern the source of Tenen’s embarrassment. While she had no intention of actually marrying him, no matter what the King said, childish outbursts wouldn’t help matters any.
There! Sliding forward, holding very still, Lydia sensed Anson on the periphery of her mental envelope. Yes, it was the same telepathic signature she’d first encountered in the Throne Hall, somehow even stronger than before. Though casualties had been high, the mysterious stranger had obviously survived the Outlands fighting. Sighing in relief, Lydia found herself reveling in the mental touch, letting it carefully settle in the forefront of her own consciousness.
“Is something the matter, my dear?” Leaning over, Tenen spoke directly in her ear.
“No. Not at all.” Smiling mechanically, she then
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