Dinah was frozen where she stood. There was no magic holding her in place, but rather the sheer horror of the situation gripped her heart and made any movement impossible. Not only was someone using magic in the audience chamber, they were using magic to a degree that even a mage of the Collective–Dorian Millson–could only stand by and wait to be victimized. 

To the commoners who had never seen magic, this probably looked more like a spectacle than anything. DInah couldn’t blame them if they thought that way; the fire was brilliant and mesmerizing as it swirled around this charismatic self-proclaimed priestess of the downtrodden. It was like something out of a storybook for children, but that made it all the more horrifying.

Magic just didn’t work like this. The gathered nobility knew this, as did the knights and soldiers. Commoners who became magicians were shipped off to the Collective, after all, while the noble magicians remained to serve their respective nations. Those in the service of the royal family had seen plenty of magic, but the commoners in the appeal line hadn’t.

The fire was one thing, but this woman’s use of unattributed magic made her a true threat. As far as Dinah knew, only a few magicians with the talent for unattributed magic existed. All were in the Collective, and all were significantly weaker than the woman standing over two unconscious bodies at the center of this hall. Unattributed magic took too much energy to use properly, so even simple tasks tended to wear out the mages to the point that it was simply not worth it. Telekinesis might seem incredibly useful, but that usefulness becomes null and void when you pass out trying to pick up a book.

On top of that, she was doing too many things at once. Magic took focus, and it was near impossible to split your focus between two tasks and still have enough to effectively complete both. The priestess had kept a firm grip on two grown men, holding them both in the air while also controlling flames to protect herself and burn them with her hand. Not only was that four different tasks, that was two different types of magic at the same time. Not even Collective mages could do that. It was unheard of.

It was exactly this knowledge that froze Dinah in place, and it was punctuated by the fact that the priestess seemed entirely unfazed by the use of such powerful magic. There wasn’t even a hint in the woman’s posture or movement that would indicate she was feeling worn down from using so much energy.

While all of this raced through the princess’ mind in the space of only a few heartbeats, guards surged around her to form a protective shell and usher her away from the force of nature before them. She saw Dante issuing commands and guards encircling the woman, she saw knights attempting to remove the king from this situation, and then she felt the weight of the world crash in on her.

Unconsciously, she let out a scream and fell to her knees. She saw the guards around her do variations of the same as well, but none of them seemed to be hit as hard as Dinah herself.

It felt like a suffocating presence was pressing in on her from every direction, enveloping her very soul and immersing it in a mixture of emotions. Just from the contact, Dinah was sure it was that priestess doing this. She could feel hatred, excitement, and boredom all wrapped up into this force that pressed into her. The hatred didn’t seem to be directed at anyone in particular, but Dinah could feel that the excitement was related to some kind of accomplishment and the boredom–a humiliating thing to feel from your attacker–was directed at everything around the priestess. Dinah knew in her heart that this woman saw everyone in this room as nothing more than beetles to be crushed underfoot.

Then a new emotion appeared in the mix, almost entirely replacing the boredom. It was curiosity, and Dinah could feel it being directed entirely at herself. 

What the hell is going on? she found herself wondering, then the panic returned and she attempted to stand and flee. Dinah could see that the paralyzing effect of this force wasn’t only hitting her and the adjacent guards, but rather everyone in the gathered courtiers and guards.

The remaining boredom in the force around her faded entirely and was replaced with amusement, then the woman began speaking again. 

“My mistress understands that you have your own way of delivering justice, but she will not allow politics to stand in the way of what is right. You have one week to produce the mage Trey Strong. He will be marked, then released into your care to punish however you deem appropriate. You may do with these two as you see fit as well.”

The priestess–Charlotte, she had called herself–flicked her left hand and the unconscious bodies of the knight and mage tumbled across the floor and out of her protective ring of fire. The flames should have burned them, but the ring adjusted itself rapidly to open a path for each body before closing once more.

Charlotte took a step backwards, still facing the king where he sat on the throne, and bowed deeply once more.

“One week, Your Majesty. I will return here at that time.”

The tall woman, masked face impassive, turned on her heels and walked confidently towards the exit, her flames following along and parting the crowd in her path. Nobody else moved for a moment, but then Dante seemed to recover and began shouting for the knights to give chase.

Dinah later learned that the woman, once outside the palace, apparently disappeared in a pillar of fire even taller than the palace itself. The thought sent shivers down her spine and renewed her confidence in her assessment that the woman saw them all as nothing but insects.

…

The days were chaotic and grueling following the appearance of that woman and her assault in the audience hall. Everyone was calling it an assault at least, but Dinah knew better. 

That had been a performance.

There was no other word for it. That priestess had controlled that interaction from the beginning. She had come with horrific accusations, spoken loudly, made convincing arguments that both explained the lack of evidence and riled up the nobility, created mayhem with the naming of the accused, then pounced on the opportunity created by that mayhem to thoroughly humiliate the knights, mages, and nobility in front of a gathered audience of commoners. Even now, the story was spreading like wildfire through the taverns and inns and merchant caravans.

It was truly a masterclass in manipulation. Even Dinah, a princess who had spent her entire life immersed in the politics of ruling a nation, could only praise how effective the tactic had been. 

It was even more galling, then, when she was informed that the accusations were true.

On the second day after the incident, the two burnt men awoke. They were both severely disfigured, and it took only a question from the king for them to start blubbering and apologizing, begging for their lives. They were then sequestered for questioning, but that didn’t stop Dinah when she heard the news.

She was now knocking on her brother’s door. When no response came, she opened the door herself and stepped inside. Dante wasn’t in his chambers at the moment, but she had already known that. She had come here not for the prince, but for his stash of weapons. This was the one place in the palace where she could grab herself a weapon without a soldier being sent off to get permission from her father. 

Apologies, dear brother, but I’m taking the sturdiest one I can find.

The prince was, by all accounts, a prodigy with a spear. His signature weapon was an ash wood spear lacquered black with a gold-plated steel tip. As Dinah pushed open the door to her brother’s personal armory, she was greeted with walls full of racks with just that weapon. Some of the spears were more decorative, boasting engravings inlaid with gold along the shafts, but for the most part the room was just filled with countless backups for when Dante inevitably snapped one in half or dulled the tip. 

Along the back wall, however, were wooden mannequins displaying the different armors her brother sometimes wore. There were a few sets of leather armor, some scale-mail, and even a set of full plate that she knew full well had never been worn. All of the armors were black with gold inlay, and they stood displayed below a massive black, purple, and gold banner displaying the dragon of the Andrade family. It was a truly impressive display, but Dinah had seen it all before and paid it no mind.

Instead, Dinah walked up to the nearest weapon rack, hefted the sturdiest looking spear she could find, then nodded to herself and rejoined her attendants in the hall outside the prince’s chambers.

“My lady, if I may, do you actually intend to… to kill the man?” The voice came from a bookish man in his early thirties, a retainer named Lyle. He had messy brown hair and bags under his eyes that attested to his devoted service as he assisted with Dinah’s various duties. He kept her schedule, sorted the documents she was sent, and otherwise acted as the manager for the imposing amount of workers that made up the princess’ personal staff. Lyle was a kind man and loyal to a fault to his lady, which was why he spoke up now.

“Lyle,” Dinah said with a reassuring tone, “I know that killing him would be unwise. I am only going to put on a show to help my father come to the correct decision.”

She meant what she said. The royal family couldn’t afford the political damage that would come with acting against the collective, so they had to walk on eggshells when it came to handling the case of Dorian Millson and Trey Strong. Jack Ames-Bough, however, was one of their own knights. If the king didn’t give the common folk some kind of acknowledgement of the situation it would only foster dissent, which could very quickly turn into an issue.

The retainer let out a sigh of relief. “Of course, my lady. I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t do anything that would aggravate the situation further. Just the paperwork alone that would come from killing a Royal Knight would be enough to send me to an early grave myself.”

Dinah shot him an appraising look, then let her real emotions seethe out of her.

“Don’t get me wrong, Lyle,” she hissed, her face contorting in rage. “If I had my way, that bastard’s head would be on this spear in the next fifteen minutes. He’s not worth the food it takes to keep him alive nor the air he breathes. A cell is too comfortable for that rat. If I can’t personally have his head, the least I can do is let the common folk take some swings.”

Lyle reeled in shock at the outburst, but they were at the door to the infirmary before he could think of a response. Dinah didn’t bother composing herself, instead barking at the guards to open the door. When they hesitated, she slammed the butt of her spear on the stone floor and repeated the order more forcefully. They snapped to obey, and she stomped through the door and into the room.

She saw both of the burned men lying on cots to either side of the room. She locked onto the left bed, where Jack Ames-Bough lay with a scribe and an interrogator sitting nearby. Two more guards were also inside the room, but they were much too slow on the uptake.

Dinah flipped the spear so that the butt was facing forward, adjusted her grip, and lunged at the recovering knight. She wound up and brought the haft of the spear down across his face, putting all her strength into the blow. A sharp crack was heard, and before anyone could stop her she was winding up again.

“How many, you sick bastard?!”

When no reply came, she struck him again.

“How many women? Huh?” She waited a moment this time, but the man was just gasping in pain. He looked pathetic, especially with the bandages wrapped around his head covering almost every part of his face except his mouth and jaw, but that wasn’t enough to make her feel even a drop of pity.

This man had personally guarded her many times. He was a prominent knight in service to the Andrades, descended from nobility and exceptionally talented with a sword. She had entrusted her safety, her very life, to this disgusting monster.

What had stopped him from doing the same thing to her? There had undoubtedly been plenty of opportunities. Was it her power? Her name? Did he weigh the act against how likely he would be to get caught? Was that how he chose his victims? Just the thought exercise of trying to understand this man was enough to drive her insane.

Dinah, in this moment, wanted nothing more than to put him out of his misery.

But she didn’t. Killing him now would only exacerbate the situation. Instead, she settled for cracking him once more upside the head.

“Answer me, dog!” she was screaming now. “Will you refuse an order from those who raised you to where you are now? We gave you your station, and this is how you repay us?” She slammed the butt of the spear into his groin.

“How! Many! Women!?” with each word, she struck again.

Dinah felt a hesitant hand touch her shoulder and recoiled, spinning and brandishing the spear before seeing the cowering form of Lyle.

“M-my lady,” he choked out, covering his face in a clearly fearful pose. “P-perhaps we should leave?”

Seeing Lyle, a man she considered more friend than servant, reacting to her rage like this brought her back to her senses. It was like a bucket of ice water had been splashed over her, and she immediately backed down.

“I’m sorry, Lyle,” she said softly, lowering the spear and composing herself. “You’re right, of course. Just one moment.”

Dinah turned to the interrogator. The man was well built, likely a veteran, with a scarred face contrasting against the fine clothes he wore. He bore a crest marking him as a servant of the royal family, and his expression looked as though he had just witnessed a dragon descend on a city.

“You, interrogator. Have the answer to my question and a corresponding list of names sent to me by morning.” She waited for his affirmative response, never once breaking eye contact, then continued. “Additionally, relay to my father that if this animal is not in public stocks by sunrise, I will personally take its wretched head.”

To emphasize this point, Dinah buried the spear into the cot between the knight’s legs, dangerously close to his groin. She left it there, then stalked away.

Dinah woke up the next day to the delightful news that all of her demands had been met.