The Queen of Skifander was never weak. Though she rode a palanquin, it was a tactic. Four sets of feet were faster than one on their own. Her bearers were gaining on the interlopers. Zantabraxus coiled on her throne like a cat readying itself to pounce. Soon, they would be in range…
“What?” said the usurper. “How the heck did she get here?”
She was a giant of a clank made of silver and gold. Her wings were in sad disrepair, but that did not stop her from making an almost Skifandran leap between her and the interlopers.
“These children are under my protection,” said the clank. “You will not harm them.”
“These children are grown warriors,” argued Zantabraxus. “And they are threats to the Skifandran empire.”
“I am sworn to protect—”
“While that boy lives, my daughter only possesses half a soul! See how he has corrupted her against me. See how he brings usurpers to my court!”
The blonde usurper’s voice carried through the greenery. “I wouldn’t take your empire if you dipped it in chocolate!”
“And what is wrong with Skifander?” Zantabraxus roared back.
“Aigh, not again…”