CHAPTER TWELVE
Standing atop a hill overlooking Cumorla, the capital of Haylon, a remote isle in the Mazeronian Sea, Commander Akila’s heart soared with joy as he watched the statue of King Claudius come tumbling down. He inhaled the air, and the sweet sensation of justice filled him, as smoke from the king’s castle rose into the azure heaven above the city.
Justice, Akila thought. Justice was finally being served today. Every last royal relative of the king had been locked inside that abominable seven-spired structure, and now it had burned down.
Wind pushed at his armor as he beheld the thousands of men on the hillside, their red banners flapping for the revolution’s cause. Before twilight, he would lead them into a battle that would free them, finally, from centuries of oppression. H
