Page 113 of The Stolen Kingdom

Valda moved closer to the man as she circled around the rock. Isen waved his hand at him, grinning from ear to ear while the Vulcanian exhaled a cloud of smoke, tilting his head confused. When he noticed the long blue hair, he dropped the cigar, and reached for the blade strapped to his thigh, but Valda was faster. She caught the Vulcanian’s head with one hand, forced it back, and cut his throat with the Heaven Sword.

Valda gathered the Vulcanian’s body and pulled him behind the boulder. Cerberus followed suit, jumping on the dead man’s stomach as he was dragged.

“I can’t believe this,” Isen muttered, waving his hand at Cerberus to get off the corpse, but the cat swatted his hand away and hissed at him.

Valda ordered Cerberus to jump off, and once she did, she untied the bag from the dead Vulcanian’s waist. She pried it open and looked through it, pulling out a medium-sized flask with black powder inside. Valda emptied a bit of the dust on her fingertips and smudged it over her eyelids, temple, and the bridge of her nose. She then pulled the forearm bracers from the corpse and measured them to her arm. They were going to be a good fit if she tied it tighter. The boots were slightly bigger, but the pants were an exact fit.

Isen watched their surroundings while she quietly undressed and exchanged clothing with the corpse. She couldn’t wear her blouse since Vulcanians rarely wore cotton. Unlike Skylians, who wore cotton and linen to stay fresh regardless of the temperature, Vulcanians always wore leather and animal skin, or as little clothing as possible. With a sigh, Valda mixed the black dust with water again and poured it over her chest wraps, darkening the color and making it look dirty.

Perfect.

She gave the Heaven Sword to Isen, asking him to keep it safe before she strapped the Vulcanian’s blade to her thigh. Staring in awe, Isen nodded in approval of her disguise. “You look like one of them.”

Valda ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. “Too bad I can’t change my eye color…” Valda groaned and rubbed her temples. Bright honey differed from purple way too much.

“Keep your gaze on the ground. They would be too busy to notice,” Isen suggested.

Valda blew an anxious breath, checking herself over before facing the town entrance. “All right. I am heading out. Cerberus will come to you if anything happens.”

Isen scoffed, shaking his head before looking down at Cerberus. “You put a lot of trust in this cat.”

Cerberus hissed and swatted at his leg. Isen hissed back, but Cerberus skipped to Valda, hiding behind her. Valda pointed at the corpse, and Isen knew what to do with it right away. He hooked his arms under the body and dragged it further into the desert.

Valda pressed her hand to the flatness of her stomach and took a deep breath. She swallowed hard and rolled her shoulders before she walked towards the small town.

Nothing could’ve prepared Valda for the intense bustle and screaming. Vulcanians were loud and slightly obnoxious. There wasn’t one Skylian in sight, and it seemed the Vulcanians had been settled there for a long time. Valda picked up their conversations, knowing a bit of Arevulcan herself, thanks to Kayden. The conversations ranged from senseless banter and stroking of egos to working instructions. They were using the small structures, once used as houses and stores, as storage. Valda blended in as she walked the narrow streets, keeping her eyes low as she watched the buildings being filled with wooden boxes covered by canvas tarps and carried in by large wagons.

Valda’s stomach turned as she wondered what could’ve happened to the Skylian population. Anger overtook her, dissipating her nervousness. While she couldn’t blame Kenna for her actions, she couldn’t ignore the fact that she was causing harm to her people, and above all, hurting Maris.

Strolling by the houses, Valda noticed a Vulcanian sitting in front of one of the open boxes. Valda looked around, making sure she wasn’t being followed. Only Cerberus was within a safe distance, jumping over the houses, hiding among the streets and wagons, always close and present, but not close enough for anyone to determine she was her pet. Turning her attention to one window, she watched the man pick up a black, rounded object. He examined it then set it back inside the box before sealing it.

Just as Valda feared…

Bombs.

There could be hundreds in the box he was inspecting. Valda drew a deep breath before continuing her walk. She made it to the pier, where dozens of ships were stationed. Vulcanians moved more crates filled with more boxes, barrels, and food.

“You there!”

Valda froze at the rough accent behind her. She swallowed hard, calming her fast-beating heart before shifting her posture as she turned to head back to town. The person called her out again. This time, they sounded annoyed.

“Hey! You! The one with the short hair! I am talking to you!“ Arevulcan was such a rough language. It made anyone who spoke it seem angry, or annoyed.

Valda closed her eyes, bit the inside of her cheek, and turned around. A female sitting on a steed looked down at her. She propped her fist on her hip, showing off her hatchet in the process as she sneered.

“Yes?“ Valda asked, trying her hardest to mimic their dialect.

“What are you doing?“ The Vulcanian asked, pestered by Valda’s obliviousness. “Everyone is helping with the cargo. I see you staring out, daydreaming.”

Valda’s upper lip twitched. She peered over her shoulder to see the crates entering the town.

“Well?”

“My wagon broke. I need a new one.”

The female soldier huffed. “A wagon for what? Who gave you that instruction?”

Valda shifted her weight from one foot to the other and slanted her face, hiding her gaze. “I don’t remember his name.”

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