Lambs to the Slaughter

“Five of you will stay”, she ordered the guards. “Send word once you capture one of the heathens.”

Next morning, the same soldier presented himself at her door. “Your highness…”, then stopped, groping for words.

“Yessss?”, she replied at length, eyes glowing with dangerous impatience.

The stare broke his confused silence: “Your highness, we have two of them”, he said, still with some hesitation.

She banished her initial puzzlement at his expression (was it fear?), promptly replying “Bring them to the audience room immediately.” The man hastily bowed and left walking as quickly as decorum allowed. Who could unnerve a normally stolid veteran this way?

No matter. Whoever these traitors were, they were about to receive the mother Goddess’ justice in whatever form her High Priestess deemed fit.

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