Filed To Story: Queen of the Battlefield Her Return to Glory Novel Online Free
Penny wasn’t detained, but she knew what awaited her. She wasn’t afraid of death. As long as she could see Freya torn apart, she would die without regret.
“I’ve already told her. She’s terrified,” Yuna said, her gaze briefly flicking over Penny’s face before resting on Yasmine.
“Let her experience the fear of death,” Yasmine replied with a cool tone.
“When she dies, I’ll die in peace,” Penny said, taking a deep breath as tears flooded from her eyes like a broken dam.
“You didn’t have to die,” Yasmine retorted. “We were set on taking Freya, but you had to go and mess things up.”
Penny wiped her tears. “I don’t regret it. Even if I had to choose again, I’d do the same.”
A flicker of annoyance passed across Yuna’s eyes. “You’re still saying that? If you don’t think you’ve done anything wrong, why bother pretending to regret it in front of Her Highness?”
The night wind rustled Penny’s cloak and disheveled hair. Her eyes and nose were red, but beneath it all, there was a deep, burning resentment.
“I never wanted to disappoint Her Highness. I’ve always respected her, but I don’t understand her. Prince Arthur was her brother-how could she just let it go? Did he mean nothing to her?
“It’s for his sake! Even if the kingdom goes to war for his sake, it would be worth it. I believe if we called for it, the people wouldn’t hesitate. They’d march to battle, even without conscription or supplies.”
Yasmine listened and then responded, her voice sharp, “Let’s set aside whether the people would be willing to do that. Even if they would, are you planning to expose Prince Arthur’s humiliation and suicide to the public? Right now, we’re covering up the truth to preserve his honor.
“Everyone Westhaven’s court officials and the people of Starhaven believes Prince Arthur died on the battlefield protecting those two villages. He died with battle achievements to his name. But now you want to tell everyone that he never earned any merit, that he was captured, humiliated, castrated, and then took his own life?”
She raised a hand, pointing to the sky. “Ask Prince Arthur himself if he would want this.”
Penny froze, tears slipping down her face once more. “Does Prince Arthur’s injustice never deserve to be known? He was the crown prince!”
“By killing Freya, aren’t we avenging him? There are some things we can’t sort out just yet, but we will get there in time. First, we need to stabilize the political power in Westhaven. We can’t afford a political upheaval at court. Once we’ve secured that, we can plan for the next step,TM
Yasmine continued, her voice steady but pointed..
“And about your grand idea-calling on the people to fight to avenge Prince Arthur… How could you be so naive? The first thing the people care about is their own families-food on the table, and security for tomorrow. Unless enemy forces are marching on their homes, they’ll only fight to protect their own.”
Yuna and Yasmine didn’t say anything more to Penny. Once someone became fixated on something, no amount of persuasion could change their mind.
At dawn the next day, Freya was locked in a cage. The prison bars were forged from steel, unyielding and unbreakable. The cage was placed at the back of an ox cart, fastened securely with long ropes to ensure it didn’t move.
Leroy was accompanied by a group of officers who followed the cart, along with guards from Lisandra’s retinue.
Grapevine Village and Melondrop Village-just as their names suggested-one was known for brewing wine that was sent to Fawnrun City for sale, while the other was famous for growing sweet melons.
Once, these two villages had been one, but over time they split due to their differing developments. Geographically, they were separated down the middle.
Grapevine Village sat to the east, Melondrop Village to the west. Melondrop Village had a large stretch of sandy land, where the melons they grew were particularly big and sweet. Villagers from miles around would come to buy the wine and melons. The villagers had lived here for centuries. Their ancestors had inhabited these lands for hundreds of years, and were the most humble and unassuming of people.
Sadly, there were few of them left now.
When Freya had massacred the villagers, some had managed to hide. Some had been away and escaped death, but their families-torn apart, with even infants slaughtered without mercy-were gone.
Though they survived, they were like vengeful spirits from hell, living only to avenge their lost loved ones.
They formed into a long line, armed with whatever they could find-kitchen knives, sickles, hoes, clubs. Anything that could serve as a weapon was put to use.
Their eyes were filled with bone-deep hatred, their faces twisted in rage. As Freya’s cage arrived at the village’s edge, the rising sounds of the crowd struck her like a physical blow, causing her to lose control. Her body trembled uncontrollably, shaking like a leaf in the wind.
All the eyes filled with anger and hatred seemed to merge into blazing flames, flames so hot they felt as if they could scorch her.
At that instant, Freya felt as though she were being roasted alive. Fear squeezed her chest, almost crushing her heart. Her entire body was wracked with pain.
The cries of the crowd rang out like thunder.
“Kill her! Kill this demon and offer her as a sacrifice to the spirits of the villagers she slaughtered!”
Freya trembled uncontrollably, unable to hold herself together. She curled into a ball in the cage, too terrified to open her eyes and face them. The sounds of shouting and violence filled the air around her.
Leroy raised his arm. “Move aside, everyone! Clear a path! We’re taking this prisoner to the grave pit. Once there, I will release her, and you can do as you wish with her. But…”
He paused, his voice taking on a sharp edge.
“One thing her head must be left intact. We need to bring it back to the capital to report to the king. You can tear her to pieces, but do not destroy her head, or the king won’t recognize her.” Everyone had waited for this day for so long.
Their eyes burned with blood-red rage, but the deed was done. The prisoner had been brought to them. They weren’t in a hurry. First, they would take her to the grave pit. Then, they would deal with her there in honor of those who had died. The spirits of the fallen would be avenged today.
The ox cart moved forward, with someone from the village guiding the way. When counted carefully, there were only about thirty villagers left.
They walked on, shedding their outer garments to reveal the black mourning clothes underneath. These people had once been whole families, with parents and children. They weren’t wealthy, but they had lived together in peace.
A group ahead of them raised a black banner. They had come from a small side path and formed a line, with those on the left holding the white banners and those on the right scattering flowers.
Yasmine moved forward and asked a few questions, and soon learned that these people were from the nearby Whitesand Village. They knew of Freya’s execution, so they had prepared the black banners in advance, ready to mourn and honor the dead.
The village chief of Whitesand Village was an elderly man, his waist adorned with a trumpet, though he had not played it yet.
“We thought Grand Princess
Lisandra would take that beast back she w to the capital, so we planned to follow her once she left,” he told Yasmine, “but we never imagined would have us deal with her here. Once she’s properly punished, l’bsound the trumpet to let them rest in peace.”
Yasmine was surprised. She hadn’t known they had planned to travel to the capital together.
Even though they lived in a border town and were used to the ravages of war, the slaughter of entire villages, and the murder of innocent people still struck them deeply This deep sorrow and anger lingered in the hearts of the villagers in the afea.
They had narrowly escaped a fate much like the one that befell those who weren’t so fortunate. They knew that if Freya and the others had set their minds to it, they could have wiped out every village in the area. The scene was enough to terrify Freya to her core. She huddled in the cage, her body trembling uncontrollably, her teeth chattering. She had never felt fear like this in her life.
Her eyes darted around desperately, hoping to see Blake and his men swoop down from the skies. In her heart, she knew even if Blake did come, it wouldn’t matter. He would simply be killed alongside her.
But at least, if someone else was there to die with her, it would be better than facing death alone. Back at Victory Pass, Blake had promised they would face whatever came together, through life or death. He had said it.
“Blake… Blake, please come. Please come…” she mumbled to herself, as if uttering his name could ease some of the terror tightening around her chest.
By the time they reached the grave pit, Blake had not arrived. All around Freya were the deafening shouts of people calling for her death to pay for her crimes.
She looked around, her eyes wide with panic. The hatred in the eyes of the villagers seemed capable of burning through her.