Princess?

Derrick walked through the market place, dissatisfied with the fact that the rallies were not going to fight yet. They had more people then a legion of palace guards on demand, and all mages of the highest skill.

"Hey, let me go! I'm not giving anyone trouble!" 

Derrick froze. He felt magic, strong magic in the voice of the protester nearby.

"Take your hands off me, you fools, or you'll be very sorry."

Derrick pushed silently through the crowd towards the voice, which seemed to be farther away then he first thought.

"Un-hand me! Now, before I call-" the voice stopped, chilled. Derrick felt it, too.

He forced his way through the crowd towards a normal but very strange sight.

A young woman struggling against the two men holding her, while another frisked her for valueables.

The third man smirked, and tugged at something around her neck. "Call who? Them royal patrols? We gots bargains with them, ho yes we do!" several others laughed with him. "There's naught they'll do for you, fine missy."

He pulled whatever it was from around her neck, and then Derrick knew that she had had enough.

Mentally, he reached through the crowd, also using his eyes to find useful objects.

With flicks of his hand, a gun shot the frisker and cooking pots came flying at the others. Lastly (with some pressure on Derrick's cranuim), a market stall crashed to the ground. The girl was unharmed.

Then, in mid-smirk, Derrick noticed something else. . . . .

A special brand on her neck, and unusually powerful magic in her eyes.

She was a Magistra

The End

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