Prince Galian is third in line to the throne, but prefers his place as a resident at the Royal Kylaen Hospital. When his father urges him to join the military to help reclaim their colony, Galian is forced to put aside his oath to Do No Harm and fig...
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
My name was Theo Kallistrate, and I was going to kill a Kylaen royal.
He was coasting along a northwesterly path—no doubt trying to sneak back into Kylae without having to engage. What a coward, leaving behind his own troops. But I expected nothing more from that bloodline.
I smelled burning oil, but my engine temperature was still within normal range, so I figured I might have a leak. Nothing to be concerned about. I trusted my plane to keep me safe.
I aimed my guns and fired, bullets spraying from the nose toward the Kylaen ship. The princeling maneuvered out of the way and fired back, but his aim was atrocious. It was good to see him attempting to show some backbone. It would make killing him that much more satisfying.
He bolted north again, but I wasn't going to let him get away. Kylaen ships were fast, but so was my girl. He'd certainly been taught how to avoid being shot down, weaving right and left in the air.
The oil smell was getting stronger, but my sensors were still showing green on all counts, and I pressed forward. I didn't have infinite bullets, so I slowed my shooting to wait for a kill shot.
When it came, I didn't hesitate.
The engine smoked and the plane nosedived, headed toward a small, forested island rising out of the Madion Sea. I grinned in victory. There was no way he could survive a crash from that altitude.
Just as that thought floated through my head, a white parachute billowed out of the cockpit, and the princeling jumped out, hanging helplessly as the rest of his ship smashed nose-first onto the sandy beach of the island.
"No matter," I mumbled to myself, pulling out my gun again and opening the small emergency hatch. I squinted as I aimed.
The bullet left the barrel, but missed, as my ship shuddered. The smell of burning oil was more pronounced now and I pulled the gun back in, banging my hand on my dashboard in the process.
To my horror, it unstuck all of the dials which tilted to their correct readings, telling me one thing: my ship was seconds away from exploding.
"No matter," I said, willing myself to be brave. I was going to kill the princeling before that happened.
I aimed at him, still wafting down to the island. I sent up a prayer and—
