Chapter 1

It was an average, peaceful day in the desert town of Din and as usual, the bright sun shined down upon the commoners mercilessly. Ismaire, the beautiful and becoming princess, strolled down the bustling streets studying the town's little shops as well as creating some idle chitchat with the few villagers who happened to recognize her under her hood. Everything seemed to be going smoothly as should be to Ismaire's relief, and now with lunchtime just around the corner, she was ready to return to her home at Jehanna Hall to pass the news to her father.

As she walked towards the inn to go receive a camel to ride back home on, she suddenly heard a commotion break out behind her. Ismaire turned around to try and see what had happened, but only managed to spot a growing crowd of curious onlookers along with a few women trying to drag their children away from the scene.

Although her father would scold her for not returning home on time, Ismaire felt it to be her duty as princess to try and keep the peace in her nation, so headed towards the flood of people. Used to having people make way for her, Ismaire found it difficult to shove her way up to the front. However, thanks to her slim and slender body, she was able to maneuver her way through the people and find herself facing the action. As soon as she saw what the commotion was, her eyes widened and she took a few steps back in shock.

What she saw was a bloodied up man being dragged on his knees by Jehannan soldiers, some of which Ismaire recognized. "What's going on here," she asked an unfamiliar soldier.

The soldier, who didn't even realize who he was speaking with, casually responded, "We just barely captured a man who was seen working with Ignatio."

"Ignatio?" Ismaire had repeated inaudibly. His name was well-known around Jehanna for he was the infamous assassin who had been murdering high officials as a way of demonstrating his form of so-called justice. Her father had made it a number one priority to catch the man for fear that the assassin would target him next.

Ismaire turned her attention back to the bloody man and wondered if he really was allied with Ignatio. Truly a man that worked with Ignatio wouldn't get caught by such low ranking officers would he? She wished she could see his face, but the man hung his head over his chest, exhausted from blood loss no doubt. The soldier who recently spoke to her saw her eyes set on the blood dripping off of his body then began to explain proudly, "Yeah, he was a stubborn one. Took all of our archers to take him down. But even with six arrows plugged into him, he was still fighting."

"Ha," the man blurted out sleepily, causing Ismaire and a few guards to jump, "Six arrows? Not even. You cowards used up to twenty arrows trying to kill me and even then you had to resort to using poison." He looked up at Ismaire through his reddish-brown bangs then began to study her lovely face she kept hidden underneath her hood.

Ismaire met his gaze as he was staring at her then for some odd reason couldn't turn away. He looked so young, probably not much older than her. What was a young man like himself doing getting into such a situation?

The moment he realized that her shiny eyes were set on him, he gave her a devilish smirk then said, "Hey beautiful, mind helping me out of this?"

Ismaire, who had never in her entire life, been addressed like that before, had no idea how to react. She was only used to the titles of "Milady" or "Miss". Even those who didn't even know that she was a princess called her by those names. It was, after all, only common courtesy.

As the young princess continued to wonder how she should react to such comments, the guard that stood at the young man's side had already decided how he should respond. He kicked him hard in the ribs so that he would crumple over, then yelled fiercely, "Speak when you're spoken to, you cur!"

The redheaded princess let out a gasp as the soldier began to stomp on him without mercy. "Frances, what are you doing," she asked worriedly.

The soldier paid no mind to her, but eventually slowed down and stopped attacking the already defenseless man. The man, although lying face first in the dirt, let out a little laugh then responded haughtily, "Don't interrupt someone when they're in the middle of a conversation." He gazed back up at Ismaire then gave her another one of his grins. "Isn't that right, beautiful?"

As she continued to stare at him, she began to feel her face redden and for the first time in a very long time, she felt her lips begin to curve upwards into a smile. No one had time to notice however because Frances was now beginning to unsheathe his sword. He pointed the blade at his neck and whispered, "Enough talking or I will have your head."

Surprisingly, the man had nothing to say to this threat. Ismaire observed his body and saw that it had gone limp. However, his chest still heaved up and down with each breath he took. His body had probably reached its limit and was forced into a state of unconsciousness due to the lack of blood. Frances seemed to notice this then hollered out to his troop, "Where is the carriage I requested?"

"It's coming around sir," the soldier beside Ismaire replied.

Just as expected, a carriage with Jehanna's royal emblem engraved onto it began approaching the crowd. The people made way for the coach as it was drawing near General Frances and the unconscious man. The driver stopped then motioned towards the cart the camels were towing. "We're ready to head for Jehanna Hall, sir."

Frances gave him a nod in return then ordered his subordinates to carry the man into the carriage. They tossed him in as told and with the commotion all cleared up, the mob of people began to disperse. With everything ready to go, Frances began heading to the coach, but was intercepted by a hooded Ismaire.

"Ah, Lady Ismaire. How fare you?"

She didn't immediately respond since she didn't exactly know how Frances would react. However, when she heard the impatient driver holler out to Frances, clearly oblivious to whom he was speaking with, Ismaire quietly asked, "Frances, what do you plan on doing with him once you reach the castle?"

He looked her in the eyes then after a few seconds, he placed his strong calloused hands on her shoulders and shook his head disapprovingly. "Tsk, tsk, tsk…My dear princess, you're not actually worried about what we're going to do to this man are you?" Ismaire heard the arrogance in his voice then turned her head away in disgust while his lips curved into a cocky grin. "Well if you must know…We're going to interrogate him on Ignatio's whereabouts and whether he answers or not…he'll be executed the following day. You're alright with that, aren't you, Princess?" She backed away from him while he began to walk off. However, not without first telling with her, "Remember your position and realize that what you're thinking is unfit for a person who will one day take the throne."

Unable to express her anger towards this so-called "loyal" subject of hers, Ismaire headed towards the inn to return home on her own. So aggravated by the words of her own general, she took the long way home in order to avoid looking at the carriage in which he was riding in. However, in her anger, she had let the fact that she had missed out on lunch slip her mind entirely. Once she arrives home though, someone will be there to remind her of her mistake.