The chamber spun, smoke billowing out of the barrel as the fifth round pierced the old man’s chest.

“I told… you… The cities will burn, and this will… be their tomb…” The man gasped for breath he could no longer hold, falling to his side with a hand grasping at his chest. His breathing shallowed, nearly inaudible. “Why… had you not… listened…” His hand left his chest and hit the floor. Within seconds, the fire crept up his sleeve and swallowed her father whole. The tower room that once evoked such joy in her had been devastated. Only two walls remained, the other two replaced with inch-high piles of rubble. In the corner of the room opposite the broken walls lay the large boulder used to break the castle's defences. Fire had quickly taken to the rugs and banners, the flames celebrating their newfound freedom. Below, the city burned all the same. Screams rang up from citizens and soldiers alike as steel cut through flesh and armour. And amidst the aftermath stood the victor. The king’s forgone daughter.

She spat on the burning body beneath her, spinning to take her leave. The highborn woman wore a forest green woollen tunic with simple leathers and carried a single six-chambered firearm. Tonight, she was queen in title alone. As she approached the crumbled wall, a knight rose to meet her. Her guard of ten years, she hoped. The knight wore weak chainmail covered by a leather vest. A knight in title alone.

“Mastus?”

“My lady!” He clambered up the broken wall and rose to his feet before sweeping over the room, taking in the scene. “I… I do not mean to question your acuity, but was this truly the only way?” An explosion shook the castle from below. The princess stopped on the edge of the broken wall, staring out at the decimated kingdom she had despised for so long.

“Of course it was. Do you think such devastation was my intent? The scholars foretold this meeting long ago, and my bed-maidens read the tale to me ever since I was a child. After this day, none more shall suffer, not under my rule.” She spoke with her eyes fixed on a horseman as he rode through the streets, swinging a blade at beggars scurrying for safety.

“I know the tale well, but it never spoke of misery like this. It never spoke of regicide, and certainly not patricide…” The knight stepped up beside her and looked to the sky, his eyes wetting. She turned to him and slapped his cheek. It stung for a moment as the warm air seemed to steal his pain away.

“Lie to my face again, and you will swiftly find yourself amongst the beggars below!” Her eyes burned a deep orange, deeper than her auburn hair reflecting the fire behind. The knight was lying, he had to be. He stood still, likely taking careful consideration of his options. He spoke slowly.

“‘The two shall meet on the first of the Heir’s 26th spring, atop the high tower of noble birth… And lo, the King and his kin shall forge a lasting peace the world over.’ This was the prophecy, the gist of it, as I was told. As everyone was told, my lady.” He inhaled a full breath, anticipating the worst.

“What?” Her voice lowered. Another poorly chosen word would be his last, loyalty be damned.

“Your grace, what tale were you told?” A shiver washed over her body, the spring air resembling more closely a frigid night.

“They told me…“ She paused, taking in the chaos. “Mastus, it is not my 26th spring. Not even close. It is my brother’s 26th spring. The magisters... They have lied to me. We must return home.” She holstered the gun and descended the tower. Her knight followed. “Sir Mastus, who do you serve.” She ordered upon reaching the ground below.

“You, my queen, lady Liana Thrielle.”

“Mm. We will be making good use of your sword on our return, it is time we weed out the snakes who dare threaten my people.” She said, marching out of the city to the brook where they hid their horse. She lowered her head as she looked at her hand, clenching it into a fist. “I only pray my brother is not one of them…” She whispered. Her mind remained fixed on the lies and betrayals in a futile attempt to ignore what she had just done.

“Sir Liam would never betray his queen or kingdom!” Mastus yelled in a hushed tone. “I- Sorry, my lady, but I have served house Thrielle long before you were a child, and longer still than your brother. There is no truer of heart.”

“I hope you’re right, but we shall see where his sword lies once steel begins to spark.” She gripped tightly to her revolver, an heirloom passed down from her adopted father and his father before him. The only one of its kind, for the time being.

The two rode for days, passing by many along the road. Had they worn their house symbol, she thought, they would have never made it beyond the kingdom's rule. Finally, they arrived safely to the lands controlled by house Thrielle, the kingdom of Black Powder. They were still a day’s ride from their home, but relief took hold of Liana regardless.

“Who goes there?” A voice shouted from the trees. “Answer now or King Liam will be served your head!” A man stepped out of the brush, a longsword in one hand and a kite shield in the other. Several more followed behind all clad in proper iron mail, the leader in steel. She counted close to two dozen men and women, each bearing the pointed peak and ash cloud of house Thrielle.

“Worry not, knights. It is—“

“‘King Liam’? What heresy do you speak of?” Mastus interjected, straightening his back and gripping his sword.

“Are you part of the green queen’s rogue group of followers? Be warned, we’ll have your heads for that.” The knight in charge said, pointing to them with the sword.

“Just what do you mean by ‘green queen’? Last I heard Queen Liana had gone off to fulfill her family's prophecy, as is her duty to the fates.” Liana said, her impatience growing with every word.

“The queen of poison, an outsider brought in to taint the blood of the royal family and betray the prophecy foretold throughout generations. We hoped she had perished on the journey to Clearwater Castle, but none such news has reached us.”

“I… I am afraid we have been out of the kingdom for far too long. Please, give us leave so we may return to our home—“

A gunshot spoke over her voice, devastating her ears. She was both deafened and blinded to the world. Her head swam, but she she could just barely make out the shouting of Mastus and the battle cries of many knights. Suddenly she was moving forward, her horse galloping down the road beyond the soldiers shouting at her as she passed. As the world came back into focus, she realized. Her gun had been re-holstered, and she was alone.

“Mastus?” She whispered to herself, the horse riding onward without him. Shock took her, followed by sleep. On her wake would be her kingdom, waiting for the queen’s head.