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Okori Dialectical Journal

Decent Essays

2.

Rule 2: No mercy, for them, or from them. Okori’s fingers splayed around the handles of the half-length katanas hung gunslinger style on her hips and gripped tightly. No mercy, for them, or from them. She was seven the first time she heard those words. Her father had snuck up behind her and shoved her to the ground as punishment for letting him catch her off guard.
“I’m sorry.” She brushed away the gravel embedded in her now bloodied elbows. “It won’t happen again.”
He smiled. “I know, sweetheart.”
He was close to fifty then; the odd grey rebel hair lurked among the rest of his head’s loyal black followers. Even so, he was still formidable enough to crush anyone in their prime, but those days were behind him. Now his focus was teaching …show more content…

“To kill or protect, what a pity our kind can choose only one.” He’d said that to her when, at eighteen, she’d told him she’d decided to become a guardian. “I wanted you to follow your sister and me.” He sighed. “Oh well, it’s probably best that you follow in your mother’s footsteps anyway, for you’re too kind hearted to have followed in mine. Still, with your skill, what an assassin you would have made.”
He was gone now, her mother and sister too. The Princess was the closest thing to family she had left.
Her eyes returned to the remaining men. The death of their companion didn’t deter them. When two more stepped forward to challenge her, Okori dealt with them the same way she did the first challenger. The remaining seven soon followed. Some attacked her by themselves, others in pairs, some even rushed her in threes, but their numbers and tactics didn’t matter. She subdued them all and sheathed her swords to search for the woman who delayed her.
It didn’t take Okori long to find her; she knew from experience where the Princess would …show more content…

“Why did you let it out?” the man shouted, running past Okori after it.
“It looked placid,” the boy said, brushing feathers out of the air left in the bird’s wake.
Chickens strung up at a nearby stall showed what happened to the placid. Seeing this, Okori wished the fleeing bird the best of luck. And why not? So far, it was keeping everyone’s attention off of her and the Princess. The Princess would appreciate that so soon after leaving her mother.
“Princess!”
They had almost reached their destination (the carriage on the opposite side of the square) when Ensen stepped out from behind the carriage and called out to them through the crowd.
Okori smiled. Everyone else might have failed to notice the Princess, not Ensen; he never did, no matter how chaotic things were. At forty-three, he’d been loyal to the King since forever. He was of average height with a stocky build that had rounded somewhat due to age. His eyes had seen their fair share of everything; his face had hardened as a result of it. But the Princess always made him smile. If Okori was the first person to come to the Princess’s aid, then Ensen would be jostling to get there first. Rumour had it he had collected the Princess from Beck Castle after the Queen’s death and delivered her to the Northern Palace personally.

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