Dearest Daughter,
The  enemy is at the gates. I haven't much time.
I leave you in the care of my most trusted friend. He will tell you what I cannot.
      You are a babe now, sitting in your mothers arms oblivious to the screams of death and smell of burning flesh that comes into our window, but one day you will grow, and when you do you must know who you are so that you can fight back.
Retake the throne that is rightfully yours, daughter. This  king will not be kind nor will he be fair and my heart clenches at the thought of what he will do with a crown upon his head.
But you must wait. Wait until you are grown then go to the mountains and gain the power you need to defeat him. Gain the aide and trust of the dragons in the north, find the ancient artifacts that will gift you power and strength. Do not fight him until you are ready, no matter how long it takes. He has the Stones at his disposal and he will destroy you if he knows you are alive.
I wish to tell you more but I haven't the time. They  are inside the castle now and it will not be long before they find us. So I will only tell you three final things:
All the legends are true,
      you must keep your marks hidden,
      and most importantly, the Stones w----

I carefully folded the paper that has been folded so many times the crease had erases some letters of the words. The paper, once pale white, now was darkened with age and handling. There was a stain of tears from when I had mourned the parents I never knew, a smudge of a small muddy fingerprint from when I was a child and would read it while hiding in the Mud Waters from Jovian, another fingerprint of jam just above it. In the bottom corner there sat a small smudge of blood from where I had read it after a particularly difficult training session. The top right had been chewed on by a rat when we'd been smuggled overseas. Most of all though, was that smudge of oil and dirt brought on by a thousands rubs where my finger had tapped and brushed just after that w. Once, the missing third thing my father wished to tell me but had not the time to frustrated me; had kept me up wondering in the night and drove me to a thousand unanswerable questions.

But no longer. I still wondered, but I had accepted it may never be answered.

"Are you ready, Meira."

I looked up from the ancient table to the equally ancient Jovian - my fathers closest friend, mage, warrior, trainer, teacher, and the only father figure I'd ever known. He never called me by my true name, but I knew this was not a slip of the tongue; he had done so on purpose, to remind me of who I was, to remind me of my purpose, to remind me of who I was meant to be.

I did not need the reminder.

I stood as I tucked the worn note into the locket around my neck. My eyes were bright beneath the hood that hid my face from those who I would make my enemies. "I'm ready."

***

We exit the inn - which is aptly named The Stale Barrol - onto the stinking streets of Qa'elah . Qa'elah was such a large city that it was bound to stink with so many bodies pressed together, it was also bound to have areas where he poorer folk resided. However, we were not twenty marks  from the castle gates; in all reality, this area should have been filled with rich and exotic foods, expensive fabrics, clean streets with shimmering gold upon the wrists and necks and smooth hands. Josiah had told me much of the city before the death of my father, and I have seen many other kingdoms in my lifetime of hiding. These unkempt streets that stank of waste and sweat, the streets with broken lanterns on posts, with rats showing themselves even with so many crowding together and moving toward the castle gates with the irritated, pushiness that only man could excel at... it showed quite clearly how unwell the kingdom was taken care of, for if you could not take care of the streets a quarter arm away from the castle, how could you do so for a town twenty arms  away?

My arm was jostled by someone as we went nearer to the gates. More people were crowding in now and it was becoming impossible to even watch my own step --- I hoped I didn't step on anything that I'd need to scrape off my leathers. Finally the occasional sign of a richer area was visible by the lack of waste down walls as these homes and caverns had privies to do their business, but by this time we were so close it could no more impress me then noticing a butterfly wing in a nest of spitbugs.

Jovian grasped my arm to keep me close by this point, and I let him lead me down a side street and through an alley, avoiding the worst of the crowd. I could not see his face beneath his own hood and we did not speak, but I knew him well enough to catch the rage he was barely hanging onto though his grip on me was gentle - I could not blame him for his anger at such obvious neglect.

Then we were pushing ourselves out into the Viewing Square.

To say it was crowded would be a massive understatement seeing as Jovian literally stepped hard on people's toes in order to get them to move for us, as this was just at the edge. We did not want to be in the centre but instead in the shadows but still with a good view. Many were still pushing their way in behind us, desperate to get close enough to see the new king.

We finally stopped and Jovian pressed me up against the wall with an arm. Here, I looked upon the wall that surrounded the castle and I hoped severely that we would not have to wait long because though I didn't mind small spaces, I did not like the scent so many bodies gave off when cramped into such an enclosed space at all. I wrinkled my nose even as I studied the people on the wall.

Here, were the people that should have been at least half of those in the space. Unkept, unwashed, bruised and exhausted bodies were replaced with gleaming hair pulled back to reveal clear skin and painted eyes. The men wore light suites beneath bright cloaks hemmed in gold while the women wore dresses of vibrant colours that sparkled in the sunlight or gave off that faint luminescent hint of glowsilk.

At the foot of the wall stood heavily armed men with armoured plates across their chests with the kingdoms emblem beautifully painted upon them - a white  dragon boring down on a grey stone, red blades sprouting from its mouth as if it were fire.
  
There was a murmuring from the crowd, a change in them. I looked up quickly to see the new king step out from the balcony above the wall, his fathers' crown on his head - my fathers crown.

My crown.

He addressed the people himself for which I was surprised - I had expected him to be announced first.

"People of Nahdiera ." He called, his voice amplified by the mages that stood just behind him in their robes of white and grey. The crowd silenced, their eyes upturned to this man who was not the previous king and so therefore a man that brought them hope. Would he be a kinder king? Would he bring wealth? Would he lower the taxes? Would he return our loved ones by setting them loose from that dark and terrifying castle depts?

These were their questions, not mine. I simply waited and listened with narrowed eyes, my nose still crinkled from the disgusting smell.

"People of Nahdiera," he continued again, "though loosing my father so abruptly saddens me greatly, I am pleased that it is I who will be leading you into prosperity." This made several of the crowd shift and lift their chins higher, grip their loved ones tighter, not yet given in to excitement, but letting hope dig their claws in further. Could they not see the face of this man? Could they not see that he bore the marks of his father, and that he wore them proudly? This alone should be enough for them to see.

"These past years have been difficult for us all, but now that the threat of war has past, we can begin growing once more, just as my father vowed he would. He did not live long enough to prove his care to you, but I stand here to-"

"Over there, Mir."

I glanced at Jovian so I could follow his gaze to a low roof across the square. It took me a moment to discern the black cloth from the blackened chimney, and by the time I could, Jovian was already leading us slowly along the edge of the crowd. The new king kept talking.

"And so with the new wall built across the mountain boarder, we can finally be safe."

Then a brave soul gave up his life to prove a point and called out, "But who will keep us safe from you, King Marqis?"

If this had been spoken before his father, the crowd would have immediately begun backing away, some even begin their long run home, but this new king and his words had given them hope and they foolishly ignored their instincts and shifted instead, some murmuring, some holding their breath, some grimacing, but not a single one ran.

Jovian stopped us at the base of the wall of which held the roof we'd seen the shadow, and here he pressed me against the wall again, now it was not so that we would not become separate, but to protect me from what was to come.

The king raised an eyebrow and said simply, "Only those who have no respect need fear me." Then he made a motion with his hand that his father had used so many times before him and the white dragons appeared in the sky like massive clouds bringing a rain of death.

Then, the people ran.

Like a drowning giant trying to suck air from reeds, the streets and alleyways that branched off from the death trap became instantly packed with swarming masses of terrified bodies. They climbed over each other, fought each other, and rolled under each other to squeeze out.

But I watched the rain.

The dragons flew down, swiping low enough to knock dozens over into each other dangerously, breaking bones and knocking heads. Many died, I knew. More were injured. But that was not the point of this play. This was so that all could know that none can go against him. All could know that if they worked against him, he would find you. This was to show that he had the power.

It was so that all knew, he was his fathers son.

One man, a single man, was grasped in claws from the mass trying to escape. While everyone else was too busy running, fighting, or dying, I stood against the wall under the insistent pressure of Jovian's arm and watched the dragon hover before the wall. I watched the new king - the one who had gifted the people the feeling of hope for those brief moments - reach his hand out toward the flailing man still several twigs away from him. He curved his fingers out as if each finger was a talon. Here, he paused and smiled... then he twisted his wrist with a jerk and the flailing man stopped flailing as his head popped from his body and fell into the still-screaming mass below.

"Enough." He called out then. His dragons stopped and flew away, but it was not them he had been speaking too but the people and those people knew and and they stopped accordingly. Most would assume there was not a thing you could say to a mass of people once panic ensued, but they would be wrong. There was a magic word, but it had to be spoken by the right man.

One of my endless lessons involved the understanding of people when they are afraid. Fear, Jovian told me, brings out either three responses: fall, fly, or fight. It is a rare few that fight, but to fly or fall only depends on the circumstance. They will flee as fast and as far away as they can from what they fear, or they will fall to their knees and obey everything and anything, not daring to flee.

These people first had flew as far and as fast as they could, but they were so terrified by this man that was king, his single-word order had them falling over themselves to obey. To disobey was to die, and so they stilled. They clutched at their bodies, covered their heads, or avoided eye contact perhaps, but still they obeyed.

Marqis Beoworth, new King of Nahdiera, stood upon the castle gates and looked down at the people who dared reside in Qa'elah, and he smiled a handsome smile, blue eyes flashing in humour, visible even from this distance. "Now," he said, "with the gate needing to be completed so soon, there will be more work. For anyone interested in a few months work of hard labour needs but travel to the East Gate where there will be a cart leaving at dawn. May this," he said, "be the first of many steps toward prosperity."
Then he left, nodding to a few of the officials on the wall before escaping sight. The richer followed and then the guards moved up toward the top of the walls while everyone slowly left. They did not murmur or whisper for the king would know, but their faces said all they would say. It was defeat, exhaustion, and hopelessness.
There was no anger - nearly nineteen winters of such treatment had broken the anger from them.

But not from me.

"Mir." Jovian had to give me that warning tone of his for me to realize I had been clutching at my hip where the knife was hidden. I quickly let go and closed my eyes, letting out a breath as Jovian had taught me, speaking to myself to get past my anger.

I am Meira Greyov. Nahdiera is my kingdom. With breaths of patience I will receive the crown. With breaths of anger I will fail my father.

I opened my eyes and felt calm. I looked to Jovian. "Where?"

"He went this way." He said and we walked along the wall and went into an alley, just in time to see the shadow turn the corner onto a darkening street.
We followed the Shadow, silently.

A/N:
Qa'elah pronounced Kay-Ella
Nahdiera pronounced Na-deer-ah

1 twig = approximately 1 foot
1 arm = approximately 1.3 miles

You will notice that in names and names of places, Q is not followed by a u. And there are no k's. Q simply sounds and is used as K.