Victoria crossed the border into the rivaling kingdom on her fathers old horse Blaze. On her cloak she wore a pin with a dove sculpted from a rare rhinestone, it marked her as belonging to the high priestess, an untouchable even to the rivaling kingdom. As a high Virgin, nobody dared to question her admittance into Torgus. She was seemingly the epitome of innocence, though her intentions lay elsewhere entirely.

Victoria dismounted the horse, and led him by his bridal through the narrow passageway that lead into the bustling village. The kingdom of Torgus was prospering with trade. Colorful patchwork of quilts and rugs hung on a line of rope for display. Delicate carts or succulent fruits released a sweet aroma into the air. Children here were free of worries, playing in the alleyways with wooden swords. The Kingdom was jubilant and alive with vibrancy, much unlike the kingdom of Nesburrow. Nesburrow was a solemn kingdom, children didn't smile often and families wondered where their next meal would come from. Victoria gritted her teeth. She was a servant of the high priestess, and as so she was expected to be indifferent towards war.

An aging merchant with a long silver beard, stepped in front of Victoria. Blaze reared backwards, he pounded his hoof repeatedly in the dirt. Victoria excused the white horse's mannerism. He was growing old and quite possibly paranoid. The merchant's face broke out into a smile. He bowed at her, and held up a silver chalice. “Ah, daughter of the priestess, you must be parched. Please honor me by drinking from my chalice,” the old man insisted.

Victoria stared into the man's kind blue eyes. Her skin crawled as she thought about excepting anything from her enemy. But refusing the man's offer would only raise speculation. Gingerly she reached for the chalice and raised the cup to her lips. The water tasted sweet and sugary. Victoria nearly emptied the cup before returning it back to the man. Embarrassed, by her own greed, she wiped the sugar off of her mouth with the back of her hand. “Thank you,” Victoria said appreciatively.

The feeble man's smile widened. “It was my pleasure,”

Victoria bid the man farewell, before returning her attention, to the massive castle that lay ahead of her. She made her way over. She gave the castle's stable boy a gold token, and he led her unruly horse to the stables. Guards were stationed in front of the castle door. Their swords were drawn, and overlapping each others' to create a barrier. Victoria was sure to lower her gaze, to avoid glaring at the men. Once they saw the mark of the high priestess on her cloak they lowered their swords.

Victoria roamed the grand hallway freely. She didn't speak or ask questions, but rather observed the nobles as they entered and exited the building. She waited until she saw a couple armed men descend a stairway on the west wing of the castle to ascend them herself. Victoria's heart pounded in her chest. She was unaware of the ascent up the spiraling staircase. The only thing she could think about was her father's sword. Once in the hallway, Victoria grabbed her dagger out of the inside pocket in her cloak.

 Pictures of all the generals hung on the wall in the long and narrowing hallway. Victoria smiled bitterly when she saw a picture of her father's offender. Once again she accessed the holy magic, well aware that she was committing yet another sinful act. She allowed her mind to break through the chambers of logic, seeking information that wasn't accessible to others. Satisfied with the knowledge she obtained. She walked over to the last door on the right, the one her mind told her was his. Without wasting anytime, she opened the door, with her fist clenched over the dagger.

The End

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