Hadjar’s plan had never been to just get simple revenge on Primus. What was the point of taking a person’s life if that person died happy and fulfilled? No, Hadjar was going to take everything away from Primus. He would begin with the people he ruled. Hadjar was going to steal the very country away from this King!
“So how long will you just grumble and go meekly to the slaughter like lambs? Isn’t it time to throw your fists into the sky? Isn’t it time to shout war cries and take back what has always rightfully been yours to begin with? Tell me, people of Lidus, are you with me?”
Silence.
Inaction.
The people turned away from the famous General once again. They averted their eyes, looking somewhere below even their own feet. Laughter and applause sounded. They came from the balcony.
“Executioner,” Primus wiped away tears, “end this farce. Light the fire!”
The executioner flinched. He slowly headed toward the brushwood, but... was stopped once again. A stone had been thrown at his head. A second stone hit the helmet of one of the legionnaires surrounding the platform.
A little boy came forward, to the front of the crowd. His long, black hair was in a tight bun. He was wearing ragged sandals and dirty, old clothes. In his hands, he held a wooden sword that had ‘Moon Beam’ carved on it.
“The Mad General isn’t afraid of anyone! I’m with you, Prince!” The boy shouted and, raising his sword above his head, rushed at the nearest legionnaire. The soldier smiled wryly and swung the blade at the child’s head. Blood began to flow.
From a hand.
A tall, muscular man had caught the legionnaire’s blade with his bare hand.
“I’m with you, Prince!” He growled and slammed his fist into the visor of the legionnaire with enough force to dent it.
“I’m with you, Prince!” Someone shouted, picking up a stone.
“I’m with you...” The sound of blades being unsheathed filled the air.
“I’m with you...” Arrows were nocked.
“I’m with you...” The entire crowd began to move. It rushed toward the ring of legionnaires like an angry tide.
“Kill Hadjar!” The King shouted.
One of the legionnaires jumped up to the platform. But then he grabbed his face and cried out — the executioner had slammed the flaming torch into his face.
“I’m with you, my Prince,” sounded from under the cap. “Fuck my oath. I’ll meet my forefathers with honor even if they call me an oathbreaker.”
The world froze one last time before finally exploding.
The earth trembled.
From atop the hill closest to the capital, that same one that was so dear to Hadjar, an avalanche came down. An avalanche of people and horses. The riders, throwing their fists into the sky, shouted something.
“General Hadjar!” cut through the noise of the crowd.
“General Hadjar!” The infantry shouted as they ran after them.
Lergon, armed with a war hammer, led them. At the head of the army, Lian rode. She held the ‘Moon Army’ banner. Planting it in the ground, she took out her bow and prepared to fire something... Moon Beam.
Nero abruptly drew the sword that he’d kept in its sheath all this time. A smile appeared on his face when he realized that he’d been carrying a copy all this time, and not the original sword.
Moon Beam, after flying across the sky, cut through Hadjar’s collar and pierced the wooden planks. An explosion shook the platform.
A vortex of steel energy shot several feet into the sky. It turned the platform into a pile of sawdust and scattered the butchered bodies of the legionnaires in different directions. A roaring dragon rushed toward the clouds as well, within this whirlwind. When the energy dissipated, the Mad General stood with his sword in his hands, in the center of the square.
“Primus!” He roared and charged at the Palace.
Chapter 249
ozens of legionnaires in green armor rushed toward Hadjar. Behind him, the sound of iron horseshoes striking the pavement and enthusiastic cries filled the air. Gradually, the crowd parted, letting the Moon Army, led by Lian, through. Hadjar didn’t fight the legionnaires himself. There was no need.
“General,” the familiar voice said. “I’m glad to see you, my General.”
Lian jumped down from her horse. She was wearing light half-armor and a high helmet that had two white, fluffy tails dangling from the back of it. They were most likely a trophy taken from a Two-Tailed White Fox — a rather dangerous foe.
“General!” Lergon saluted.
Hadjar nodded to them in greeting, watching the troops move to quickly move the raging crowd away from the future battle. The two hundred legionaries who’d been guarding the platform were already knocking at the doors to the homes of their forefathers.
The Mad General, whose crazy plans had succeeded once again, had done what he’d set out to do. He had stolen the people from Primus. There was no need to make them die in his name.
Hadjar had done the most important thing — he’d lit a fire in their hearts. Now it would smolder quietly. It might ignite fully in their children’s hearts or their grandchildren’s hearts. Alas, Hadjar most likely wouldn’t be there to see it happen.
“My Prince,” a voice intoned respectfully.
“Make way,” Hadjar ordered.
Immediately, the ranks of the Moon Army’s soldiers broke open. A man approached the remains of the platform. A brown cape hid his figure and face, but it was obvious that he was carrying something in his hands with great care.
“Master,” Hadjar nodded in greeting.
The man threw back his hood. His gray hair was scattered across his shoulders and a long, standard sword peeked out from under the edge of his cloak. In his arms,
