Queen Of Sorrows Ch. 01

"No!" Sofia cried. "Please! Let me see them. They need me. I'm their mother."

"They need to forget you, and the sooner the better. I am not attempting to mislead you, Sofia, when I say that their long-term survival largely depends upon their ability to disassociate the memories of their former life from the reality of the futures I have planned for each of them."

"They're just children," Sofia sobbed.

"And we both know that they will not remain children forever."

"But I'm their mother." Tears ran freely down Sofia's cheeks.

"And you were--for a few hours, at least--Queen and presumptive ruler of this nation. You should fully understand the tools of statecraft at my disposal. Others in my position would simply slay the children and publicly dispose of their bodies to demonstrate my absolute authority to the populace. But to me, they are more valuable as levers I can use to compel your cooperation in all matters."

"What do you want from me?"

"You'll know when I need you."

"What is the 'Ritual of Submission?' Do I need to prepare for it?"

"I will summon you at the appropriate time."

The Empress turned and left Sofia's cell. The sound of her boots clacking against the old stone floor receded in the distance, leaving only the Queen's anguished sobs to break the stillness of the cold morning air.

* * *

It was already late in the evening when the guards returned with Sofia's meal tray. By then she was expecting to receive only one serving of sustenance per day, and a lifelong habit of regulating her intake had prepared her for that hardship. The lack of drinking water was another matter. Her throat was parched, and she felt a lightheadedness that exceeded even the pain in her arms and wrists. Her bladder gave out hours ago. She held her urine as long as possible, but ultimately the mental effort proved too exhausting. Releasing the stream of piss was both a physical and mental relief, even though it marked a lapse of her self-discipline that she counted as a victory for the Empire. The pungent liquid warmed her thighs for a while, but within the hour it intensified the chill as it evaporated into the dank air. The smell of piss permeated the cell, serving as a constant reminder to Sofia of her failure.

The guards brought her tray and water bucket and then released her shackles without incident. The example Kiera made of that jackass seems to have had an effect. Sofia was surprised to find a generous portion of braised mutton that was still a little warm. That meant it must have been hot when it was served, although the long journey from the kitchens to the lower dungeon inevitably led to a loss of heat. She broke off a piece of the bread and put it in her mouth. She found that it wasn't warm, but at least it wasn't stale. A quick glance revealed that the apple was still substandard, but harvest had been months ago, and it was unlikely that a premium piece of fruit existed anywhere in the Kingdom.

Sofia lunged for the bucket. She drank greedily, desperate to quench the thirst that burned in the back of her throat. She put the bucket down and bit off a piece of the mutton. The aroma from the warm meat prompted memories of her youth. She recognized the preparation as a regional specialty from one of the mountain provinces where Sofia had often summered before her marriage to the King. She savored the subtle spices--the wave of nostalgia that accompanied them was almost overwhelming.

Sofia split open the bread lengthwise and placed the mutton inside it. She took a bite, and then washed it down with some water. She took another bite but felt something unusual against her inner cheek. Sofia poked a finger into her mouth and located the offender. She pulled out a small slip of partially chewed paper.

Her curiosity piqued, Sofia turned the scrap of paper over in her fingers. She peered at it closely and found that there was writing on one side.

You are not alone.

Sofia's heart nearly stopped. I have an ally! But who? Excitement quickly turned into anxiety. Sofia put the paper in her mouth, took another bite of her mutton and bread, and chewed with a purpose. She gulped her water in order to wash it all down. She didn't relax until her mouth was clear.

The Queen consumed the rest of the meat and bread as quickly as possible. She finished the last of the water and then forced herself to evacuate into the empty bucket. She finished her routine just before the guards returned for the tray.

* * *

Sleep did not come easily for Sofia. The aching in her arms and shoulders was intolerable. The pressure in her bladder had returned, and as the hours passed the mental exercises she performed became increasingly less effective. Sofia was certain that she would wake up with wet thighs and the reek of stale piss.

During her first forty-eight hours of imprisonment Sofia obsessed over the Ritual of Submission. She had no idea what was involved, but she took seriously Kiera's warning that the Ritual was the only way to halt hostilities against her people. If she had to memorize any lines or recite any oaths, it would be helpful if she were given an opportunity to prepare. If anything more were to be demanded of her, Sofia wondered how the Empire expected her to perform. Would there be a rehearsal? And what, exactly, did Kiera mean when she said the Ritual had to be performed to her satisfaction? Will I be tortured and interrogated?

Concern over the Ritual dissipated after Kiera's visit, only to be replaced with abject terror over the fate of her children. Poor Leah, destined to a life of prostitution--or worse--unless she manages to forget everything she knows about who she is and where she's from. At least Leo has a chance at a meaningful life, albeit as an enemy of his own people.

Sofia cried as she mourned the loss of her husband and the destruction of the Kingdom. Tomorrow I hammer the final nail in Osthollow's coffin. Poor Leopold never even had a coffin. His body was no doubt dumped in a trench and burned with the rest of the fallen soldiers.

* * *

A contingent of eight elite guards came for Sofia. The synchronized thud of heavy boots against the worn stone floor announced the guards' arrival long before the men reached her cell. Sofia's eyes were open, and she was peering into the early morning darkness when the marching stopped at her cell door. She held her breath as the first guard inserted the key into the lock and turned it. The cell door swung open and four guards entered in unison. The other four stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the doorway, forming a wall of steel-encased flesh that dashed any thought of an escape.

The guard with the key unfastened the shackles. Sofia dropped her aching arms and rubbed her wrists. The two guards standing closest grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her naked body from the bench.

"Easy!" Sofia twisted against the guards' grip. "I'm cooperating."

The guards remained silent.

"Don't I get a bucket? I haven't relieved myself since last night's dinner."

There was no response. Instead, she was ushered out of the cell and into the hallway. Three guards formed a line in front of her. Two guards stood on either side, and the remaining three guards formed a line behind her. The formation marched in unison through the maze of tunnels and stairways that comprised the lower dungeon. Another contingent stood outside the heavy iron door that separated the lower dungeon from the upper dungeon.

Sixteen guards? Does Kiera think I have an escape plan? Has she uncovered a plot? Or was my mysterious contact discovered?

The guards marched Sofia through the upper dungeon. Unlike the emptiness of the lower level, these cells were mostly full. Sofia could not see any of the prisoners--the black armor of the taller guards blocked her vision--but she could hear the snoring of those fortunate enough to be resting, and the haggard coughing and fitful groaning of the poor souls who made up the bulk of the prison population.

Twenty minutes later the gaoler countersigned the orders transferring custody of the Queen to the squadron commander. The dungeon door opened, revealing two columns of the Empire's elite guards lining the hallway. The two walls of glossy black armor quashed any hope Sofia held out for a last-minute rescue. The Empress took all precautions to ensure that her ceremony would not be disrupted.

The commander led the brigade through the barracks, past the armory, and through the main dining hall. Sofia expected to be marched up stairs and to the throne room, but instead the path led to the servant's quarters. The squadron stopped at the doorway, where the squadron leader was met by the Palace Overseer.

"Overseer Willis!" the squadron leader barked.

"Captain L Anton," the Overseer responded in a smooth tone that belied his bulk.

"I present to you the prisoner, Queen Sofia." The Captain handed a packet of papers to the Overseer. "And here are your orders from the Empress."

The Overseer glanced at the papers and then stuffed them in his pocket.

"Very good, Captain."

The squadron parted, allowing Sofia to emerge. The Overseer took her by the hand and led her into the servant's quarters.

"My squadron will be standing outside this door. At oh nine hundred hours we will escort the prisoner to the throne room."

"Understood. You're dismissed, Captain."

The Captain turned and lined up his men in formation outside the door.

* * *

There were twelve servants standing at attention inside the servant's quarters--four males and eight females. The males--who were all shaved from head to toe--wore white loincloths that revealed more than they covered. The females wore sheer white tunics that were nearly transparent, and which left nothing to the imagination. All wore the imperial symbol tattooed in black ink on their right cheek. The tattoo depicted Hosfurus, the ringed moon that orbits the planet and which dominates the evening sky. It is also the symbol on the Chrysanthin flag.

"Fetch water for the Queen's bath," the Overseer barked. The massive man turned in the direction of two female servants. "You two, escort the prisoner to the toilet and bring her back immediately. We are on a tight schedule."

The four male servants departed at once. Two female servants took Sofia by the hand and led her to the facilities in the next room. Sofia was relieved to be given the use of a proper toilet after her experience of squatting over a bucket in her cell.

When she was finished, the servants returned Sofia to the Overseer. The man grabbed her with his massive hands and led her into the adjoining room. An old wooden tub--which resembled an oversized barrel for curing olives or storing fuel oil--had been moved from the corner to the center of the room.

Sofia was surprised to find that she felt no shame standing in front of the Overseer while wearing less than the nearly nude servants. Three days of sitting naked on a dungeon bench with her wrists shackled to the wall has that effect on a person. The parade through the Palace destroyed what remained of her sense of modesty. Nudity is just another hardship I must endure for my people.

The servants returned with jugs of boiling water which they poured into the tub. They departed and returned a few minutes later with jugs of tepid water which they added to the steaming cauldron.

"I hope the water is to your liking, Queen Sofia," the Overseer said.

The Overseer led her to the far side of the tub, where Sofia found a wooden step stool. She ascended the steps and then dipped a toe into the water.

"It will suffice," she said.

"Good." The Overseer clapped his hands. "Time is short."

Two female servants stepped to the tub, each carrying a cake of perfumed soap and a horsehair brush.

"I don't need assistance." Sofia waved away the servants. "I'm quite capable of bathing myself."

"Queen Sofia," the Overseer said in a stern tone that indicated there was no point in arguing. "We have our orders."

"I understand." Sofia slumped against the side of the washtub.

Two servants soaped and scrubbed Sofia, while a third entered with a pitcher of warm water and a basket containing various soaps, lotions, and tiny glass bottles of essential oils. The servant poured water on Sofia's hair and worked the soap into a lather.

"Have you always been blonde?" the servant asked.

"Excuse me?" Sofia sat up, startled by the question.

"Your hair. Has it always been blonde?"

"Yes, as far back as I can remember.

"In which month were you born?"

"Highmoon."

"And how many years old are you?"

"Twenty-nine. Why are you asking me these questions?"

"I'm determining the proper scent for you."

"Proper scent?"

"Every natural person has a unique body chemistry. Applying the wrong scent would create a discordance, like a musician playing in the wrong key or a chef using the wrong spices. Your entire being must be in harmony, or the Ritual will fail."

The Empire has some crazy superstitions. I suppose to an outsider, some of our religious practices may appear to be no more than crazy superstitions steeped in ritual. I hope I'm not forced to convert. Three days ago, I took an oath to uphold the traditions of Osthollow. I also took an oath to protect the people. What is a ruler expected to do when two sacred oaths conflict?

"... pets?"

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Sofia asked.

"I asked about pets. Did you have any pets as a child?"

"Yes, a cat. Her name was Fireball."

"Are you right- or left-handed?"

"Right."

"When did your body come of age?"

"Excuse me?"

"When did your body come of age? When did you reach womanhood?"

"Do you mean ...?"

"How old were you when you had your first blood?"

"Twelve," Sofia snapped. "Are you almost finished?"

"Just one more question."

"Ask it."

"Do you find it difficult to conceive?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"Please answer. No offense is intended."

I did have trouble, at first. But after the old wizard prepared that draught for me, no, never again. No one knows about that, however. Should I mention it?

"No, not really."

"Very well."

The servant fished through her basket until she found the vials she needed. She poured a few drops from each bottle into a small pewter bowl, added some cream, and then stirred the mixture with a wooden spoon until it formed a rich lather with stiff peaks that stood up in the bowl.

One of the servant girls poured water over Sofia's hair, while the other fetched a stack of towels. The two girls helped Sofia from the tub. One toweled her dry while the other squeezed the water from her locks. The third girl then applied her creamy concoction to Sofia's hair. She manipulated a generous amount of the foam into the Queen's blonde tresses, working the mixture from the scalp to the ends. Once she finished with the hair, the servant applied the rest of the mixture to Sofia's skin. She worked every inch of the Queen's flesh, from her forehead to her toes.

"What is in that lather?" Sofia asked. "It has a wonderful aroma."

"It's a cream base scented with ginger extract, lotus oil, and a hint of citrus for balance. It's your personal scent."

Sofia did not know if she believed the servant's explanation of her personal chemistry and how it reacted to the mixture. She did, however, appreciate a beautiful perfume and the fragrance of this lotion was as pleasing as anything she had ever worn before.

The servant girls wrapped Sofia in a bulky dressing gown and led her to a small table near the wall. Another servant brought a plate of fresh fruit, cheeses, and a loaf of fresh bread. The servant returned a minute later with a small plate of bacon and a pitcher of sparkling fermented fruit juice.

Sofia's eyes bulged and her mouth watered involuntarily. This was the first real meal she had been served since before the attack--more than three days ago. Despite her ravenous condition, she attempted to show restraint. She broke off a small piece of bread, wrapped it around a piece of cheese, and took a small bite. She washed it down with a sip of the sparkling juice. Oh my, that's kind of strong. I should drink this slowly.

"This is all so good after eating prison food for two days." Sofia turned and looked for the Overseer. "How much time do I have?"

"Thirty minutes, if you need that long."

"I'll do my best."

Sofia ate the rest of her meal in silence. When she was finished, one servant cleared her dishes while another wiped her mouth and washed her hands. That servant departed just as three more descended upon her. One girl got under the table and painted the Queen's toes, another painted her fingernails, and the third brushed out her long blonde hair. Twenty minutes later those girls gathered their supplies and left.

Another servant girl appeared with a pitcher of the sparkling juice. She filled Sofia's glass, and then disappeared.

Like clockwork, two more girls appeared. One girl carried a tray containing various combs, clips, ribbons, scissors and sprays, while the other worked her magic on the Queen's shiny blonde tresses. By the time those two finished, Sofia's hair was arranged in an elegant style worthy of a royal ball. Her hair was coiled on top of her head while tight ringlets dangled around her face.

The girl with the fermented juice reappeared with a fresh pitcher. She refilled Sofia's glass and then left the room.

The hairdressers were replaced by a servant with various brushes and small clay pots containing colored creams, powders, and paints. She dabbled black paint around the edges of Sofia's eyes, applied muted grey tones to her eyelids and all around the eye sockets, added red and gold powder to her cheeks, and painted her lips a deep red.

The final two servants brought in the Queen's gown. It was a made from a deep ruby red brocade with a pattern of golden flowers and vines. The colors matched the flag of Osthollow. Small crystals were sewn into the fabric. The crystals refracted and reflected light in all directions. The gown was designed to dazzle from afar.

Two servants helped Sofia to her feet. She instantly felt warm and a little dizzy. The servants removed the drab dressing gown and helped Sofia into the ceremonial attire. The gown was floor length, with long sleeves and a plunging neckline. It opened in front like a coat and fastened with a single button on the right side. Despite wearing clothing for the first time in three days, Sofia was instantly aware of her nakedness under the gown. The material moved against her nipples in a way that stimulated them to attention. At least no one will be able to seem them.

The servants finished just in time. There was a knock at the door followed by the Captain's voice bellowing from the other side.

"Overseer Willis! It's time! I'm here for the prisoner!"

The Overseer opened the door. Captain L Anton entered with his helmet tucked under his left arm. He stood in front of the Overseer, staring up at the taller man with his steely brown eyes. His short black hair framed a deadly serious face. Sofia gasped. He's handsome--for a Chrysanthin.

Seven armored men stepped into the room behind the Captain. The other eight men waited in formation outside the doorway.

"The prisoner is yours, Captain L Anton." The Overseer stepped to the side and waved his arms in Sofia's direction.

"Thank you, Overseer Willis. You're excused."

The Overseer departed. Captain L Anton replaced his helmet and turned toward the exit. His brigade flowed into formation around Sofia, and the unit marched through the palace in the direction of the throne room. Just as before, their path through the castle was lined on both sides by Empire guards in shiny black armor. The guards stood at attention with their weapons drawn and their gaze fixed straight ahead.