The Warlord

Chapter 2: Lorelei

A sharp wind almost blows back my hood, but I clamp it down with my hand. Steadying myself, I turn my attention back to the selection of dried herbs laid out before me. My straw basket is already full with chalk, candles, various pouches of gemstones, and food, but I will not be able to grow anything in my garden for another five months or so, not with autumn creeping closer and closer each day. I take a handful of lavenlock, and some briarthorn before holding out a pile of coins for the merchant. Right after he swipes the money right off of my palm, the sound of the royal trumpet blares through the market.

I almost cannot believe my ears. There has not been announcement here in Koraness, a town on the outskirts of Serestine, for over a decade. Scrambling, I push myself through the swarm of people clamoring to get to the town square. Hugging my basket to my chest, I force my way into the stream of people flooding to hear the announcement. A few yelps of protest, one or two glares, but I manage to shove my way to the front of the oncoming crowd.

I can feel the hot, huffing breaths of the people around me breathing down on my neck, and even though I want to run all the way back to my little cottage in the woods, I stand straight and tall, not letting anyone sense an inch of the mark on the back of my neck. Clenching my basket, trying to conceal my goods in my cloak, I can barely stop trembling as everyone gathers to hear the royal announcer.

Dressed in startlingly white, pompous clothes, his nasally voice only makes me think of him as a peacock even more.

"Townspeople! Lend me your ears!" The crowd goes silent, and a hush falls over the marketplace. No one would dare interrupt or disturb the royal announcer, not even if he values us as little more than dirt. "Our great queen Calliope has sent her warlord to the upper realm as an ambassador of peace!" There is a moment of silence, and I do not have to look around to know that the crowd is in pure, blissful shock. Then a cheer erupts, a mighty, hearty roar. I join in as well, my own voice screaming in jubilance and rejoice. A weight seems to lift off of my heart, and happiness spreads through me. If the warlord can reach a peace, reach a treaty, then maybe Serestine can return to what it was like before the war. To where witches like me did not have to cower and hide and fear for their lives.