The scorching sun portrayed the the chaos effectively. The cries of men, women and children alike echoed through every nook and corner of the starlight village. The word rampage would be an understatement to what Claire was witnessing right then. Assassins clad in full black, their faces half covered in satin clothes, rode their horses mindlessly, pummeling anything and everything that crossed their path. Few brave men stood as a sacrifice in front of their families, few brave women navigating the chaos to find their kids some safety. Soldiers bared their chests and fought violent wars, a delicate dance to the gateway of heaven.

No, rampage was not the word. It was pure massacre.

"Get in guards from the neighboring villages immediately! Round up! I want all the assassins, alive or dead!" Classandra commanded, her hair gone loose after an intense battle with the wind, her horse meeting her ever growing urgency. Her brother and the chief commander rode beside her, trying their bests to keep up. The chief commander barked commands to the messenger to inform the neighboring villages, his words lost in the wind. The skilled messenger understood and left immediately.

Classandra's attention was completely on the helpless citizens who were almost cornered. Most in the group were children or young women. "I need at least one assassin alive," she commanded in one long breath and steered her horse towards her target. She didn't care about what the ones who came with her was doing.

Her horse didn't stop once she reached the group, and neither did she try to stop Ashwin. With one mighty jump, pulling her sword out of her sheath, she landed between the assassins and the citizens, and without a second to waste, she swung her sword at those monsters. The citizens eyes bulged in awe as they had never seen the queen this close, let alone fight.

Clare spun and jabbed and whirled in air, hitting her target every time. The wild horse had started a rampage of its own, maintaining a one horse stampede against the assassins. Alex himself fought against the assassins, doing a good job at keeping them at bay. The commander ordered the soldiers around, forming small groups and tactical formations to round up the assassins.

Soon, soldiers rushed in from all the directions, closing any kind of opening for the imbeciles to escape. They were all here. Here on the orders of the queen. The queen of Utopia. 

Queen Classandra Rachel Alexandra.

Clare's eyes caught the sight of a sword pulled out for attack. Her legs grew a mind on its own and rushed to help, her hand stopping the blow just in time. Her sword in her other hand found the man's torso, and he fell to the ground. At that moment, the citizens knew what the queen was really capable of. The way her chest rose and fell with ferocity, her eyes blazing orange with the fire within, and the face of a killer, all brought a sense of fear and awe.

All the other assassins were rounded up and tied up.

Gradually finding her calm by regulating her breathing, she looked at the ones behind her, shaking with fear, crouching in a small huddle on the ground. Scanning and making sure there were no major injuries with her eyes, she turned and walked towards the chief commander, her brother already beside him.

"We've captured around fifty assassins, you majesty," the commander reported, his voice now calm. Clare looked at the filthy souls now only half conscious.

"Take them to the dungeons," she ordered. "Interrogate them. Find out who sent them."

Turning towards the steward who now stood along, she continued, "I want you to arrange a meeting with the royal architect as soon as possible."

Next she turned towards her brother who was looking at her with respect. With a low voice, she told him, "Alex, meet up with this architect when he arrives. Discuss about strengthening the castles and forts to minimize any more intrusions."

Alex mouthed an ok, then suddenly his eyes widened as his gaze turned towards her left. Before Clare could comprehend his reaction, a sharp pain coursed through her left palm and a scream of agony left her throat. The soldiers immediately pulled out their swords and stepped forward, but Clare stopped them with the sign of her hand once she saw who it was.

An old woman, around 80 or 90 years old, was examining her left palm which was gushing with blood. She hadn't noticed it until now, her adrenaline numbing out any kind of pain.

The old woman's skin was wrinkled and her back arched, her hair so silver and her height barely reaching Clare's hips, yet, her hand was steady as stone. Her dress, faded and old. She examined Clare's palm, her face etched with concern and professionalism. "Oh dear!" She muttered beneath her breath and Clare was intrigued, drawn to this strange woman's behavior.

The old woman finally looked up, looking Clare straight in the eye. "You are loosing too much blood, your majesty," she said with a voice so soothing and caring. "And it doesn't seem to stop. You need immediate treatment."

Clare looked at her palm which was pushing out fresher blood every second. "We'll get her to the palace immediately for treatment," Alex said in a hurry. "Thank you for informing."

The old lady spoke before Clare could protest. "That would be too late, my prince," she said. "If we don't treat her now, her life might be in danger!"

Alex's eyes bulged at the statement but Clare's mind only filled with the concern at hand. "There's still lot to do," Clare voiced out. "I'm sure it could wait."

"Are—" Alex started, for a moment forgetting she was the queen, but immediately stopped. Going closer to her, he muttered with anger, "Are you out of your mind? Get your treatment first!"

"Alex, I still need to examine the damage they caused around the village, the entries they came through, see if there are any casualties..., there is so much to do!"

"Clare—" He started and then it hit her. Her head seemed to float in air and her footing were lost to her. She held her brother tightly, trying to steady herself; to ground herself.

"We need physicians!" Alex proclaimed, taking matter in his own hands, despite Clare's feeble efforts to brush it off. The steward came running for the voice, and stood with a bewildered look.

"My prince," he said, his voice faltering ever so lightly. "The royal physician— he.. he hasn't returned back from his journey. And— and the other physicians, they are a little too far away to come here."

For the first time, the citizens and the men of royal service saw Alex with such ferocious look. His face was etched with anger, so much so that it was clear that if provoked, he might execute them. 

Without heeding to any words, the old lady grabbed the queen by her arm and pulled her towards a small hut. Clare being in her vulnerable condition, faltered as soon as her support from her brother broke. Alex's rage increased. "What are you doing?!" he screamed, startling everyone, but not the old lady.

"I'm a physician, your royal highness," she said. "I can help her. She needs immediate care."

Alex looked at the old women, then at Clare's feeble figure that was so lost to even find words to speak. His face was now devoid of anger but full of concern. He held Clare's other arm, and nodded at the old lady, giving his silent approval.

Together they walked towards the hut, Clare being dragged more than walked.

"G- go l-l-look after... eve-ry-one. I'll b-be fine," she managed to mumble to her brother, her voice half in daze. Alex didn't respond, his complete focus on getting his sister to safety.

With utmost urgency, Clare was made to sit on a make shift bed while the old lady rummaged through her containers filled with herbs and plants. "I'll be fine, Alex," Clare mumbled again, and he wanted to listen to his sister. He really did. He didn't want to undermine her authority, but leaving her in a state like this? Alex was torn between his feelings and his duty.

Sudden movement caught the royal siblings' vision. A young woman, not much younger than Clare or Alex, stood at the farther end of the tiny mud hut, assuming she had come from the small opening that probably led to a tiny room. 

Her eyes widened at the sight of regal people in her not-so-glamorous home. She had never seen a royal this close before and her body seemed to shut just by their presence. Her hands shook, her throat dried, her forehead beading with sweat.

"Elena dear," the old lady called, making the young maiden jerk to reality, her fear filled eyes finally breaking contact with the queen of Utopia. "Apply pressure on the queen's hand with the clean cloth over there," the old lady instructed Elena.

Fumbling about the tiny room, Elena brought out a small piece of cloth and approached the queen hesitantly. Alex's eyes were now fixed on Elena, the way she moved, the way she assessed Clare's wound. He got a strange feeling that if he leaves now, Clare would still be in good hands.

"Please take care of her," he said to Elena, sincerity etched on his face. The young woman replied with a shy nod. After one last look at Clare, exchanging a silent conversation with her, Alex left.

With shivering hesitant hands, Elena went ahead and held Clare's hand in hers and took the cloth near it. Clare's eyes were fixed on the young lady, a strange sense of compassion emerging for the scared soul.

"Th‐ this may hurt a little," Elena mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. 

"OK," Clare replied, her voice equally low.

When Elena pressed the cloth to the gushing wound, Clare doubled over, her vision turning dark at the corners. Elena didn't hold back, working with such professionalism. Clare wanted to scream. Scream till her lungs gave out. Scream like there was no tomorrow. But didn't.

She's the queen... queens don't scream in pain. They don't show out vulnerability...

"Hold my hand, your majesty," Elena told a very disoriented Clare. The young maiden, for the first time, saw the great queen, a living legend, look at her with a look the majesty was never associated with. When the queen didn't seem to reach out for her hand, she took it into her own hands to hold her other hand, and the queen responded with an earth shattering grip. Only then did she realize how much human the seemingly mechanical queen was.

The old lady, Elena's beloved grandmother Sheryl, finally approached them with the right remedy for the wound.

Elena stepped aside, letting her grandma get to work, but still staying beside the queen who was slowly winning her heart.

Sheryl slowly pushed aside the cloth that Elena was still holding against the queen's hand, and without wasting a second, left a drop of the medicine that she had created with precise mixing of herbs.

Clare's hand burned with rage. If the cloth was horrible, this was ten times worse. Her hands shook uncontrollably, her entire body seemingly on fire. She could feel her powers surge, trying to save her in the midst of her vulnerability. 

Clare shut her eye, for she didn't want to scare of these lovely women who had offered their hand in help, even if this simple act could result in her self destruction.

Then soon, the pain seized and the world made sense again. Clare remained with her eyes closed, slowly regulating her ragged breaths. 

Opening her eyes, she saw two pairs of eyes staring at her with concern. Elena and Sheryl were crouched in front of her, still holding either of her hands. Trying to be as respectful as possible, she pulled her hands from them and stared at her palm, which was bleeding just seconds ago. Now, it looked like nothing had ever happened.

Touching her hurt hand, she flinched. The light sting was the only reminder of the sword wound. 

Magic healing... of course... it had to be.

"How...?" Clare started but Sheryl knew very well what the young queen wanted to know. 

"The art of healing has been passed down for generations in my family, my queen. I'm not from here, just a refuge from the great war."

The sound of great war sent a shiver down Clare's body. W-where are you from?" Clare asked, her voice betraying her.

"A small province near Corolia, my Queen. The Santia," Sheryl replied while slowly getting up to stand.

Santia... Clare had only read about the province though it came under her command. Suddenly, she was hit by the guilt that she hadn't visited any place other than her immediate kingdom. Utopia was a part of a larger Empire that she ruled and yet, here she was, never to have visited any.

"How can I repay you?" Clare asked, suddenly too eager to change the topic. 

"You don't have to, my queen," Sheryl replied immediately. "Consider this my offering for saving my granddaughter's life." 

Saved her life?! Clare saw it then... the girl who had been helping her till now, Elena, she was one of those who had been crouched, shivering for her life when Clare arrived. She was the first few Clare saved here.

"That was my duty," Clare spoke, her voice silent. "And I'm paid in every way for it. What you do is your duty, and you deserve to be paid."

Sheryl seemed to go into deep thought. Elena kept her head bowed down, her sense of respect overtaking her sense of camaraderie she felt just minutes ago.

"Perhaps," the old woman started. "There is something you could do for us, your majesty."

"Anything," Clare replied immediately. 

"If it is not too much, my grandchildren need jobs," the physician spoke up. "My granddaughter, Elena, she can be a very good helper—"

"Grandma, that's too much to ask—" Elena started, only to be stopped by Classandra's raised hand.

"Continue," the queen ordered Sheryl. Sheryl nodded, then gulped, getting ready to lay down her next request. 

"My grandson, Stephen, Elena's cousin. He is coming to Utopia next week. He has been trained to be a soldier and am sure he'll do great in the army."

"What about you?" Clare asked, her voice challenging, yet genuine. "Don't you want anything?"

"I have everything I have right here, my queen," she replied. "My grandchildren are the ones with the future."

Clare nodded, considering the propositions. 

"Tell Stephen to come to the castle when he arrives," Classandra ordered. "Elena can be my hand-maiden."

Turning to Elena, she continued, "pack everything you need for the transfer. You'll leave with me once you are done."

Elena's eyes bulged. The queen's hand-maiden. It was such a great responsibility. Will she be good at it as her grandmother believed. What if she makes a mistake? What shall be her fate?

"Thank you, your majesty," Sheryl smiled, her words filled with gratitude. 

With a slight nod, Clare got up and left the hut, leaving a very clueless hand-maiden and a very happy grandmother behind.