Fallen Queen (Mariposa Book 1)

by Y. R. Shin

  Paseid’s critically sharp eyes studied her from head to toe. He thought she probably was eager to save at least one of her brothers, since the eldest had died and the youngest was blinded by a thirst for revenge and ran out to war, leaving the family utterly devastated. Her effort and courage seemed commendable even to Paseid.

  But such commendation was not a valid reason to deny a man begging to serve his country.

  “I commend you for your effort in coming all the way to the front for your family, and therefore I will not punish any rude behavior, but I will not turn a blind eye to your obstinacy. I disregarded a woman unaffiliated with the army setting foot on camp by herself because I deemed it Sir Chesa’s responsibility, but that is all.”

  He didn’t bother to pronounce it, but on top of that, she had killed an enemy commander. She was probably oblivious to it, but that contribution was important enough not to be overlooked.

  “Repulsion and hatred of the enemy can most certainly be patriotism with great destructive power, but a soldier blinded by hatred will kill his own comrade,” said Reuyen fiercely.

  “The soldiers undergo intense training to avoid that.”

  Reuyen’s lips trembled lightly at his cold answer.

  Unable to hold himself back anymore, Sidan shouted in defense, “You kept telling me not to dishonor Eivan’s decision like a friggin’ know-it-all, yet now you’re stopping me. Why?”

  At the shriek, Paseid’s gaze moved to Sidan’s bloodied face.

  Malice. Paseid recalled the malice that clearly stood out in the middle of a battlefield, filled with innumerable shouts and cries. A malice beyond fear was this young man’s. The fierce willpower of the young, pure, and unrefined rage.

  Even if it were an excuse to protect her own brother, the woman’s argument was undeniable. A soldier damaged enough to be unable to carry out an order put his own comrades at risk. Paseid was thinking about ordering an administrative separation for the young man; if the situation allowed it, it did not sound like a bad idea, since it was true that his eldest brother had already died. But the woman’s next words stopped all his thoughts.

  “I will take his place instead, sir.”

  “Why do you let Eivan…” her brother started, clearly angry she hadn’t answered his question. “Wait, what? You’re crazy!”

  Paseid hesitated for a moment. “We do not accept women below certified knights in the army.”

  “Is there not an article in the Special Military Laws of Rarke that may be of use in my situation? I believe Article Nine will be enough to grant me the right, sir. Has there been an amendment to the military laws, sir?”

  Paseid stopped moving as if in a play. This was a surprise even to him.

  After glancing up at his face, Reuyen clearly enunciated her request. “If that article is still in effect, I request the effectuation of Article Nine of the Special Military Laws, based on the contribution of killing an enemy commander. I do not need a title, sir.”

  In the suddenly glum tent, Sidan blinked his eyes, the only one unaware of what was going on. His sister had known things he did not since they were children, but this time, he did not even have a clue as to what she was talking about.

  Paseid’s eyes lost their fatigued look and narrowed.

  Her poise and skill in archery were quite impressive, and now that he saw her, she indeed was extraordinary. But how in the world did a commoner know an article in the Special Military Laws? Moreover, she knew exactly what her contribution was as well. She knew whom she had killed in that chaos.

  “There will be a large battle in mere days,” he said. “I do not have the leisure to wait until your wounds heal.”

  “I am more used to fighting on horseback, so I do not need such consideration, sir. I will be prepared to use whatever weapon the cavalier assigned as my opponent uses. Spears, swords, or whatever else.”

  Cavaliers. Not regular soldiers, but trained, agile knights. Still not understanding what was going on, Sidan blinked at her, appalled. “What—what are you talking about! Are you out of your mind, Reuyen?”

  She ignored Sidan’s shouts. Her serene face was enough to perplex Paseid. As someone who recognized her contribution more clearly than anyone, he did not have a reason to deny her request.

  After a few moments of silence, Paseid opened his mouth. “Woman or man, we’ll treat you all the same.”

  Reuyen’s tense, dry lips drew a warped arc.

  After gazing at her with ungenial eyes, Paseid nodded. Without an answer, Reuyen limped out.

  When she stepped outside, Paseid coolly looked down at the white-faced young man still sitting there. Snapping back to reality, Sidan stumbled out as well.

  “Reuyen!” he cried.

  The tent became unbelievably peaceful once again, and Paseid reflected on what had just happened.

  Reuyen Detua. Her confident attitude was quite striking. But she’d used a word that was even more striking. A word too odd to be spoken by a young woman who looked like she had just turned twenty.

  If that article is still in effect…

  Paseid raised his body and unraveled the coiled map on the table. Holding down a finger on the Anf region, where they were based, he slowly moved to a certain point in the west.

  Finally, his pitch-black eyes gazed at his fingertip.

  Plain Itaka.

  In the dark of the early morning right before daybreak, armed knights stood in a loose circle in front of a tent in Camp Anf. Silence ensued, even swallowing the shadows dancing in the torchlight.

  Evinbur, Jacalrin, and Denjak had received Paseid’s message and run as fast as they could to the front at Camp Anf. Hearing that Teread, the chief advisor and bodyguard to the commander-in-chief, was also on his way, they assumed there was a good reason they were all called here.

  Sir Tabajen Ranu, who had guided them here, broke the silence and simply summarized the situation. He was a knight from a common household, but as the one in charge of Camp Anf, he had a right to speak in the gathering.

  “The ambush of about a thousand ended with a retreat as soon as Count Asvar, the enemy’s commander, was shot. Damage on our side only amounted to about a hundred casualties and a couple horses. Under the orders of our commander-in-chief, Sir Calandok, we stopped all pursuit and sent scouts. They reported back that the enemy has wholly joined the defense line on Plain Ishas. Hence, last night’s battle came to a complete end.”

  Tabajen’s voice was severely hoarse from shouting at the top of his lungs all day and so was quite harsh on the ears. Still, the knights listened without complaining, since this was a matter of great importance. Their facial expressions varied—an oddly crinkled nose, eyes widened with surprise, still lips that had forgotten how to talk—but their thoughts were the same: shocked.

  “This man is…?” Evinbur asked.

  “The knight who commanded tonight’s ambush,” said Tabajen.

  Their eyes all focused on the enemy lying on the ground.

  The corpse’s face was mashed up and covered with thick blood and unidentifiable dirty particles. A bone of the arm broken at a strange angle stuck out through the joint of the armor, and a broken arrow pierced his forehead.

  “Do you think it hurt?”

  “He probably died within a second.”

  They chatted in front of the body like they had nothing to do with it.

  Though he had been laid straight on his back to show a certain degree of respect, the enemy commander was at most a pile of meat in a suit of armor.

  Jacalrin squatted next to the body and made a perplexed face as he nudged the broken arrow. “Who shot an arrow in this man’s head?”

  “The woman you brought.”

  Hearing Paseid’s sunken voice behind him, Jacalrin sprang up to greet him. Evinbur and Denjak also stopped looking down at the arrow impaling the center of the mashed-up head and made way upon seeing their commander.

  “She appeared on the battlefield out of nowhere,” said Paseid.


  “For real, sir? Wha…heaven’s sake, I don’t understand how that crazy girl got away from my guards and came all the way here. I mean, I’m sorry, sir.”

  “You will be punished for neglecting your responsibilities at a later time.” Paseid approached Jacalrin and looked down at the undignified corpse.

  Jacalrin lowered his head, at a loss of words. This really was a mystery. How had she gotten out, and how had she found the right direction to Camp Anf in the dark of night, instead of getting lost? Frowning at the revolting reek of blood, Jacalrin was extremely irritated.

  Denjak looked at Jacalrin with disapproving eyes, and asked Paseid, “Was tonight’s ambush targeted at you, sir? How dare they?”

  “We cannot verify that, but if so, we must be on the search for a swift-footed spy within our ranks. Sir Ranu, has the verification of his identity been completed?”

  Paseid looked at the man lying on the cold soil. Tabajen stepped toward Paseid and bowed his head. The large man’s armor was tainted with dried blood, but his face hinted at his robust health.

  “Yes, it is as I reported, sir. His face is hard to recognize because it has been severely beaten, but I fought him one-on-one at the last battle, sir.”

  Evinbur had been scrunching up his nose this whole time. “Yes, it seems to me he was the one who followed Rovantis around as well. So, what are you planning on doing with the body now, sir?” he said with a groan.

  “If Rovantis does not request a retrieval in three days, we should cut his head off and leave him out to feed the animals.”

  It was the body of an enemy commander with a title, so a request for retrieval would only be natural. But at this point, with the animosity between the two countries reaching its height, the possibility of Morgana not being willing to bow down to retrieve the body could not be overlooked.

  “Hey…I mean, sir, even if he was unlucky enough to get hit by an arrow, wasn’t he on top of the cliff, sir?” asked Jacalrin.

  “It was not luck,” said Paseid.

  At his unquestionable voice, the knights surrounding the body, including Jacalrin, stiffened.

  “She shot three archers in full-plate armor and the commander behind them from below the cliff without a single miss,” Tabajen added in a businesslike tone. “Four knights of Camp Anf who guarded Sir Calandok, myself, and Sir Calandok are witnesses to that.”

  Jacalrin tensed his jaw to stop his mouth from gaping by itself. Was he supposed to believe that she shot up from below the cliff, and moreover, shot those in full-plate armor without a single miss? Not thinking much differently from Jacalrin, Evinbur and Denjak sullenly frowned.

  “This ambush ended with relatively little damage due to the enemy’s quick retreat following their commander’s death, but I do not welcome battles such as yesterday’s,” said Paseid. “Sir Haldroff will divide the army as planned within three days, and we will execute the plan to circumvent Olzore-Tolf after six days. I have already finished the explanation about that to Sir Ranu.”

  Though it was not obvious on the surface, Paseid seemed fairly angry. The knights were seasoned to read the underlying anger in each of his words and simultaneously lowered their eyes. His ire was quite understandable, considering that he wanted to end this war quickly, unlike the other knights, who were excited at the chance to wash away the shame.

  It was he, the commander-in-chief, who had to bear the heavy responsibility as the war went on.

  “Also, there will be an evaluation of qualification at daybreak,” Paseid continued.

  “An evaluation, sir?” asked Jacalrin.

  “The woman requested an evaluation on the basis of murdering the enemy commander in person to me.”

  The knights’ heads rose, their necks as stiff as wood.

  If the murder of a commander was the basis for a Special Military Law, there was only one law that fit this scenario. Article Nine. In effect, it was a law to determine the qualifications of those who had made a significant contribution in war.

  It was a custom established to prevent those who were less skilled from killing their comrades in the chaos and then claiming their contributions as their own, and to discern their legal status in case those who were not qualified to receive the title of a guardian from the royal family made a contribution.

  The rules were simple. The person in question entered into combat on official ground with one or more knights, and proved their skill by victory. But even if they lost, the witnesses would often grant approval, since the opponent was a knight.

  However, this was traditionally executed in the format of a superior recognizing their contribution and offering the trial. Requesting this directly to the commander-in-chief was nearly sacrilegious.

  Moreover, a woman from nowhere?

  Denjak was outraged. “A woman, not even a soldier, but a woman asked for a title ahead of time, sir?”

  “Not a title, just an ordination.”

  “Even so!”

  Paseid completely disregarded Denjak’s distress and looked at Jacalrin’s still bewildered face. “Sir Chesa, you said she was the daughter of a war horse merchant?”

  “Yes, sir. Not a large-scale one, but a small-town horse dealer our soldiers stop by when they are in urgent need of horses, as I’m told, sir. She claimed she came to bring back her younger brother who jumped into war after her older brother died in combat, because he is now the only son left in her family. I have already checked the registry, and on record…she’s speaking the truth.”

  “Are you sure?”

  As someone who relied on his intuition to make most of his decisions, Jacalrin was a little apprehensive about assessing the situation based on written information. But Paseid disliked uncertain answers. Jacalrin knew he could not say anything else. “Yes, sir.”

  Probably? He swallowed the word he almost added like an idiot and gave himself a mental pat on the back.

  Paseid looked around at the knights surrounding the corpse. “So, is there a volunteer?”

  As if on cue, the knights’ gazes all fell to the arrow piercing the dead man’s forehead.

  Chapter Eleven

  The morning wind carried sandy dust swooping around all of Camp Anf.

  As soon as the sun rose and chased away the night, the soldiers stood in formation at one part of the camp, prepared for an atypical event. The fences surrounding the training ground were in turn surrounded by half-jealous and half-thrilled soldiers who were so excited that they’d even forgotten about yesterday’s battle.

  “I heard he killed the commander yesterday. Does no one know who he is? Which squad’s bastard’s climbing the damn ladder?”

  The news of entertainment excited the soldiers. Many were distraught with the intense training and anxiety of not knowing when they’d die. This event was as welcome as rain during a draught.

  Before long, the high-ranking knights of the camp all gathered at the circular training ground as well.

  As his comrades’ excitement grew with curiosity and interest, Sidan’s face grew darker. He kept nervously glancing around at the tough, brawny men, and let out a sigh he could no longer hold. For the reason of their excitement was his sister.

  He’d chased after Reuyen last night, but some knight had stopped him and ordered him to go back, so he couldn’t talk to her at all. He was skeptical about the sincerity in her words. But the sun rose, and everyone gathered here.

  He had had his doubts, but it seemed like his sister was indeed completely nuts. Engaging in combat with a knight. What was she thinking?

  A series of brisk clip-clops resounded close by. The soldiers turned to look at the rider on the handsome brown horse who swiftly jumped over the fence, their faces slowly revealing less and less excitement.

  The person coming into their sight was not a well-tanned comrade or a muscular knight-in-training, but a woman in light leather armor, with her tightly tied hair shining red under the sun.

  A woman? There was a woman like that in their camp?

 
The soldiers looked at each other with questioning eyes.

  The serene woman did not have the air of a soldier at all.

  Neighhh!

  The soldiers winced at the footsteps of the fierce brown horse walking to the center of the ground. Sidan looked at Reuyen with a stiff, stone-cold face.

  Reuyen turned away from him and calmed her coldly rippling mind. Countless pairs of eyes were scrutinizing her and Den, not bothering to conceal their shock. But that was not much of a problem.

  She slowly rode inside the fence like she was taking a stroll, then fixed her eyes on the familiar faces outside the fence.

  Paseid was wearing what he’d worn yesterday and was standing with Rionac in his hand. The old knight and Jacalrin, glaring at her sullenly, were standing next to him. A knight she hadn’t seen before was also standing close by him as a trusted knight would, looking at her.

  The young Chesa’s eyes revealed a sufficient amount of contempt, but she turned away without a word and gazed at the opposing knight who came over the fence.

  “A knight ordained by the royal family of Rarke, Sir Denjak Kalsei Deusak,” a voice announced.

  Though he looked rather like a weasel with his thin lips and hood, his face as dark as could be, and his figure was not quite small like a typical warrior, he must have been from a noble family. But not one she was familiar with.

  “Reuyen Detua,” he said.

  Reuyen glanced at Denjak’s light metal armor and nodded at him. On the left half of the training ground, Reuyen stood; on the right was the imposing Denjak.

  Jacalrin obediently looked at the two and mumbled, “For heaven’s sake, what a mess this is.”

  Sir Seisen Verohan, whose loyalties lay with Jacalrin, squinted at the stubborn, familiar woman. He remembered the time at Plain Boald. “She’s suspicious,” he whispered in Jacalrin’s ear.

  Jacalrin hesitated. “I know,” he agreed.

  Upon the order of Sir Tabajen Ranu, a rider on a white horse bearing the banner of the Royal House Brionake galloped around the training ground and exited. Then, as if they were signaled, the excited audience slowly calmed down.