APRIL SYLKRANA IS DETERMINED TO RISE. After the devastating news of her mother, the Imperial High Queen's, death, she only has one job before she can take what is rightfully hers: kill her half-brother, June. Not only is he elusive and serious about...
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2412, Rab 19, Reshpe
The smell of odian was thick enough for April to see it interlaced with the wind. Smoke rose in plumes from the tongues of flames devouring the brick buildings, the fallen awnings, and deserted carts. Broken wares littered the ground, and none of the nobles' grand estates were left untouched.
Out in the open field, April should have worn something to cover her bare arms. Instead, she opted for a sleeveless blouse and loose trousers. Her hair, a being all on its own, went to a messy bun behind her head. While it exposed her neck, it freed her shoulders and back to the kiss of the wind—one her hair got in the way of far too many times.
It's that damned hot in Lanteglos, and the fires ravaging Thenaserine's manicured roads were hardly to blame.
April pressed her back against a chimney, her feathers crunching against the crude wall of bricks. Her fingers dug a box from her belt and flicked it open by the lid. The bullets' silvery cast glinted against the midday sun blazing in the sky. She gritted her teeth, counting the box's contents. She clicked it shut a few seconds later before unlocking the hatch, shaking the spent box inside, and slotting a new one. Who said these damned things worked as efficiently as a sword?
She hefted the barrel in the air and did the final checks with the wiring, the mechanisms, and the most important one of all, the trigger. Then, she leveled the muzzle to the chaos below, finding her aim. A series of black-clad individuals flitted across the inferno, scratching the ground before running off. What was that about? They're planning something, and she wasn't going to let them succeed.
Blowing a slow breath, she hooked her finger on the trigger, shifted the muzzle's position in her scope, and fired. Her boots skidded against the roof's brick shingles, her form taking all of the recoil. It's not the best way to shoot one of these rifles, but it's enough to disturb the single file of desis gearing for the humongous piece of fallen bread. She wasn't an expert pest controller, but she knew it's better to strike at the root before the colony got too big to handle on one's lonesome.
The bullet found its mark, underlined by the pained yelp the soldier gave in falling down. April yanked at the barrel, reloading the next round. She pointed it to the next soldier rushing to their fallen comrade. Fired. Then, the next. And the next.
Her stomach churned. Something withered inside her every time she reloaded the next bullet in the chamber and pulled the trigger. Every time blood would spark with the embers rising with the wind, her heart squeezed. This wasn't what she wanted or what she expected to be doing in exchange of getting a time to talk with her brother. Maybe she should just kill him for real. It'd make this whole thing go by faster.
But where's the ethic in that? As much as April liked to blurt violence, she wasn't one to act on them unless she had to. And this war, this...pointless destruction of a city and a territory that was to be her dominion—it's the last thing on her list of priorities. That was, if it even made the list.
