Author Games: A Knight's Valor

Valor Three: Aloïsa Beaumarchais

My dear Jo,

This shall be the last letter I write to you.

After the events of today, I feel it best to pack my bags and disappear into thin air. The night is cold, and mist hugs the ground and weaves its way through the trees, providing the perfect cover for my getaway. Where I shall go will remain a mystery, for both of our sakes. Undoubtedly, by morning, the whole country will be a part of a furious manhunt to track me down, to put a noose around my neck for the 'treason' I had committed not but three hours ago. Every man, woman and child will cheer when my body is burned and my ashes scattered to the wind, or when they lay me down forever in some unnamed grave, as they do to all traitors. I would not blame them; if I were they, that is what I would do also. They do not comprehend the reasoning behind my deed, that I had done it to save them, to purge Elusia of something evil and wicked, something that would send the nation crumbling to its knees. Perhaps, one day, they would finally understand that I am not the traitor, but a savior. Perhaps, one day, I could be myself again.

I killed the Queen today, Jo.

Two pieces of writing were delivered to my door - a piece of rumpled parchment in the hands of a timid child, and a crisp, honeyed envelope, sitting daintily on my table. Both contained clues and messages, instructing me to track down either her highness Melinda or his majesty Prince Johnathan, both who had fled the palace shortly after I had declared the Queen guilty. No one knows the exact method of their escape, but that is of little importance. The only thing that mattered was that the remainder of the Royal family could not leave the city, not until a proper trial was conducted, and one was found responsible for our beloved King's death. There were only four knights left - Alexis Rovel of Galesia, Eleos Eiríni of Alian, and my own city-partner, a man by the name of Mavary Valls. I am unsure about what happened to the other three, whether they also received commands to locate the runaways, but none of us had spoken since arrival. My only two friends, dinosaur-loving Kimiko, and the sharp-tongued Trustin, had both been sent back to their respective homes. Some nights, I still think about them - I wonder if Kimiko had discovered who she truly was, and if Trustin was now an aunt. They all have their stories, and I have mine. Except that while theirs was truly beginning, mine was coming swiftly to an end.

I killed the Queen today, Jo. It might've been for a just cause, but the common folk don't know that. Justified or not, someone had to pay.

Should I end this letter here, Jo? Should I leave my fate ambiguous? After all, news travels fast in this land - sooner or later word of what occurred today would reach for ears, and I will be long gone. But the word is not the truth, and I believe, despite the differences between us and the resentment we had, that you deserve to know what truly happened.

One last chapter in my book of life, for old time's sake.

When I had thoroughly read both messages, drinking in the neatly printed words as if they were food for my soul, I had reached for my quiver full of arrows and my trusty bow, before flinging on a ragged travelling cloak and proceeded to slip out of my chambers and into the dimly-lit hallways. The sun was just beginning to set; one could see the blazing ball of fire shining at the edge of the horizon, painting the heavens a magnificent shade of red and orange, of fire and blood. Thinking it over, I probably should have thought through my plan a little more, for walking down the cold passageways of the Royal Palace with a hood hiding your face and a bow slung over your shoulder was a scream of, "I'm dangerous! Come and fight me!"

But no one came to fight me. Somehow, I managed to slip out of the castle gates, buried between two crates of rotten food from leftover meals being carted away, out of the palace. The stink was nearly unbearable, and combined the rhythmic clip-clop sound of a shod horseshow striking against cobblestone was enough to make my head pounded like a drum throughout the entire ride. I think I may have even done insane if I'd stayed there any longer, but, praise the gods, the horse and cart turned out a dark alley, and it was there I made my quiet leap off of the wagon. By this time, only the darkest edges of the sun could be seen in the darkening night sky, and the tiniest sliver of silver moon could be seen poking out of the clouds. A few speckled stars lay strewn among the heavens, glimmering weakly there.