Queendom 11: Original Offense

"And a rule is a rule, I'm well aware, Father. Abbess, you didn't answer the Brohen, about the fine-print."

There was a certain twitchiness to Lyanda, like she could taste victory.

"I understand the general amendment, and its implications, Your Highness."

"But you haven't read the fine-print carefully, have you? Had you done so, this wouldn't have been your line of argument. 220c isn't a quibble between Church and Judiciary. It is an extension of the 'Sovereign Pardon'. 'Pardon' which comes under the larger powers bestowed upon the Queen Consort, called the 'Sovereign Hand', which asks of her to be the better, humane influence upon the King. In all his rulings, including the law. To advocate for the subjects, the individual, as opposed to institutions. You surely remember Abbess, the statue by the West Gate, of the great reformer Baron Charlez the Third. The same who had been tried for high-treason, unjustly so, as some argued at the time. Sir Charlez was declared guilty, yet the Queen Consort of the time granted his pardon, going against the court of her own King. A decision that was praised to the heavens in the decades followed. The limits of 'Sovereign Hand' is described in language purposefully ambiguous, so the Queen Consort may use it with discretion. To look out for the subjects, for the individual."

There's that winning smile again, she looks different as well. Benedictus observed the Queen, quite impressed. The Abbess however showed no signs of doubt.

"Highness, are you saying the amendment is an extension of 'Sovereign Hand'? That the Queen Consort had found certain punishments a bit too inhumane, regardless the crime?"

"I have read the reports, Abbess. Of the way your sadistic whippers make it a point, encouraged by you Clerics at times, to scar the poor women for life, for what was more often than not an honest misstep. Not to mention how the crowd gets riled up, hooting and hollering, as if it's some grotesque performance to clap to, even volunteering to join in. And your attempts to safe-guard the identities are questionable at best. I have given it much thought, and found the reasons, plenty and valid. Discouragement of mob-justice. Prevention of unfruitful social-ostracization. Preservation of self-worth. Self-worth isn't something unique to the innocent, the blind and the toothless. So yes, 220c will come to effect in weeks. The Southern Church Clerics will have to just live with it."

Tupee noticed that the tone had suddenly shifted, to two women of power openly going at it.

"It's all very clever, Highness. But.. I'm still waiting for the Queen Consort.." Abbess nearly scoffed as she responded.

"I'm well aware of the laws and special provisions, this isn't my first time defending the church, but it is indeed, against a Queen. Well, you are special in many ways, Highness. The first Ruling Queen of Wolkenshire in.. ever! Hailing from a largely agrarian economy like Vankenbraum, you could be excused for failing to grasp the intricacies of foreign law. The 'Sovereign Hand' is a tool for the balance of powers, and while it is open to expansive interpretations, it's foundation isn't open to fantasy. The 'Hand' is inapplicable, I'm afraid. You are not the Queen Consort, for you aren't consorting anyone at the moment, nor is there a King Consort through which your whims could be made law."

The Abbess was confident about not holding back. She had the protection of the Church, and so long as its just words, she knew no King, nor Queen, would want to be seen taking the ire out on a Woman of Faith. She continued.

"Even an absolute novice like Tupee here could have inferred so from the wordings, but I don't blame you, Highness.. Grasp of law or regulations were never expected from you young blue-bloods. You've demonstrably excelled at what was rightfully demanded of a Princess, to woo the first prince-charming that looks her way. But matters of law are complex, morality, even more so.. And on moral failings, I wouldn't fault you for much, for we have all heard such colorful tales of Princess Veramour, your one impulsive sibling. An apparent party-favorite who wears it like an Imperial medal, if she wears anything at all.. Not to mention Her Majesty Queen Esmeralda, your mother, a fertile material for the bawdy tavern songs herself."

"Lyanda!"

Benedictus said once, sounding paternally threatening. Elanor didn't seem affected at all. She had learned to enjoy the hilarity of people like Tabitha, having a hard time with the concept of a Ruling Queen, when most staunch opponents from the royal court had grown to respect her.

"Go ahead, Sister Lyanda.. Finish your thought."

"I meant no disrespect, Highness. I was simply suggesting that, you shouldn't be hard on yourself for a minor misinterpretation. The 'Sovereign Hand' remains separate from the Royal Throne, as a measure to balance the power. One of the many measures against the dictatorial tendencies that may tempt any true King during the course of his rule. You are but a woman, woefully immature and inexperienced. You were never meant to rule, never meant to grasp what it takes to reign. You managing so far itself is a miracle, straight from the abodes. And I admit, your heart is in the right place."

In that last part, she sounded sincere.

"But you simply can't Highness, be the Ruling Monarch, and her Queen Consort at the same time. A rule is a rule, and right now, you lack a Consort that could wield the 'Sovereign Hand'. An imbalance perhaps you should have rectified by marriage. I sincerely wish for you to find a suitable King Consort, so you may at least fulfill that one expected duty. To bear the royal heir. There's dreaming high, and then there's simply dreaming. I think you should seriously re-prioritize your duties. Grasp for what's within reach, before changing the world for worse, with ridiculous laws. We may debate more next time, my Queen. Shall we say in fourteen months, time enough to find the right man and be fruitful for once. Is that all, Brohen? Did I misinterpret any laws somehow?"

You bitch!

The legal expert, Tupee, stood there dumbfounded.

He had never seen a Woman of Faith talk with such bad faith, cruelty and contempt, to any blue-blood. And this was to the Queen, her very Queen. Some part of him respected her balls, even with all the mean-spirited preaching. There was no point of contention, she was right on every aspect of the law. The 'Sovereign Hand' is reserved for the spouse to the throne. Which puts the proposed amendment beyond Elanor's power, at present.

The Queen finally broke the locked gaze, and looked at Tupee. His speechlessness made her chuckle within, as she looked over to the High Priest. The old man returned the smile, and gave a slight nod, as if saying. Make it quick, my child. You have been holding back for so long.

Elanor felt a strange warmth within. The old man hadn't given up on her. That felt good.

"I take it that you didn't read the fine-print, Abbess."

Sister Lyanda scoffed, reaching into the file.

"I don't see the point, Highness. But we have the fine-print right here, I'm happy to go over it with you.. Do you have any particular part in mind?"

Still smiling, Elanor replied.

"Could you read the citation by the end of paragraph two? "

"I've read it Highness. 'The Amendment is protected under the provisions of 'Sovereign Hand', as approved by the True-ruling Monarch, to be proposed for assessment three weeks from the date of'.. I've read it all, Highness. This changes nothing, the Ruling Monarch cannot wield the 'Sovereign Hand'. That goes against the Wolkenshire Codex."

"I didn't, Lyanda. Not when it was proposed. Notice the numbers underneath the Royal Insignia?"

"What do you mean? This is.."

Oh! The numbers. The date of proposal. It was more than a year ago. Meaning when it was proposed, Her Highness couldn't have been..

"My husband sat on the throne then, Lyanda. Barthomius the Second, your King. And when I applied 'Sovereign Hand' to amend the law, I was indeed the Queen Consort. A terrible fate fell upon us shortly, an ordeal that lasted many, many months. So the amendment was put on hold, while we were busy clearing the clutter, but yes, it got passed as per the rules. The original papers have the King's seal. You are welcome to request and check for further loopholes, but in the meanwhile, my law comes to effect this month. And I hope for the sake of your flock, that you are capable of better preaching than the performance earlier. It moved no mountains, and my subjects deserve better."

The way Sister Lyanda's face distorted, from smugness, to anger, to defeat was priceless, the glee of witnessing which made the legal novice look comical. With a gravelly voice, the nun finally spoke.

"May God help you, Highness. You and this once beautiful Kingdom of ours.! We are going to need blessings, a lot of it, if this is where you intend to steer. How are we to teach our kids, of the straight and narrow path, if you help populate the wayside with fruits of sin?"

There was a sincere worry in her tone, which made the Queen ask.

"What sin, are you truly concerned about, Abbess?"

"The sin of wantonness. The blatant harlotry it promotes."

Elanor thought about it deeply. It wasn't like she didn't share the concerns.

"War and wenching were here, Abbess, long before the great Kingdoms of the old arose. And will likely prevail long after us all gone. This is no reverence for the lasting, for the oldest, be it profession or tradition.. But me giving the Devil, his deserved due. Your heart is in the right place, I'll always respect that. But that may be our only point of agreement. Tupee, why don't you finish the formalities quick, let the Abbess put her disagreement on record if need be, and get the seal of the Clerics. The document must reach Curia today."

As Tupee took the disgruntled nun to the Records-room, Father Beneditus stayed back.

"How are you, daughter?"

"I'm.. Well, your attendance made me look forward to in this meeting, Father. Things are good, broadly speaking."

"You shouldn't feel bad about.. Well, the Church will keep objecting, if for nothing, to keep the encroaching powers of Curia at bay. They have a history of undermining the role of Clerics, so I hope you can forgive the Abbess. Her tactics, though hard to stomach, have been surprisingly effective. Also most of the Church-heads already agree with the amendment. A few even suggested similar things to me personally. The larger concern was having their voices heard, by the True-ruling Monarch Herself. The politics of perception plays a role, the Church isn't as immune to it as one would assume."

"Her views, Father.. Was I naive, to expect someone more centrist, to advocate for the Church?"

"It's the countryside Southern Church in her, Highness. They are notoriously puritanical, the only remaining Sect of Church to adhere to the Old Writ, the original translation. They ask a lot more from devotees, and are much revered in the rural areas, where life is simpler and allowances are amenable. And though we are not in complete agreement, I do share her core concern. I hope you aren't putting too much trust on the individual, to choose the right path. If results show failure in civility, you'll have no ground to stand on, when the Church come back asking for barbaric rules."

"What are dreams, Father?"

That came out of nowhere, but the High Priest sensed true concern in her voice. Like a mask had just dropped, a hint of anxiety returned to her face.

The High Priest listened on, careful to not sound judgemental, as the Queen expalined the dream. There wasn't much to tell, with her mind struggling for words, stopping mid-way to phrase things just right, just obscure enough to keep it sanitized. Only to belch up a word-salad that was more gibberish than not.

Benedictus remembered how their last meeting ended, with the furious Queen walking away leaving him tongue-tied almost. Don't blame a child in pain. You weren't abundant in panacea either, Ben. Yet, look at her now. Teeming with life, despite that tinge of despair along her brows. I never thought.. Despite his ardent prayers, Benedictus never thought he'd get to witness the young girl back in her spirits so soon. Certainly not like spirited exchange from before.

Even with Bella's initial break-through, he expected the reality to soon come crashing down. The news about the hiatus wasn't a surprise, for he had never truly believed for Bella's inputs to be fundamentally curative. Trials and tribulations of fate must be healed only through time, that much he had always known. And yet, the results were undeniable. His Queen was persevering, and Wolkenshire, thriving. The Priest listened, as she concluded.

"They keep telling me, Father. Like a chant of judgement, a recurring whisper, flooding my ears. Ruins, they say. Or ruined. You've ruined, or.. You're ruined.! Over and over again. Makes one doubt, if there's any truth to.."

"Elanor.. My child, keep aside such judgements for God. Isn't there at least three border tribes, eternally grateful to you, ever since the Peace Treaty.? Tribes that would have been.. Lives, that would have literally been ruined, if not.?!"

"It's been hardly two weeks, Father." Elanor said, her tone shifting with the topic. "A mere two weeks. It would take a minimum of five years, without incidents, to even remotely consider that a success."

Benedictus smiled.

"Highness, don't sell it short. I understand the need to balance the praise, with judgement.. Harsh judgement, unfair and untruthful even.. There is a place for self-criticism. Let them ground you, but not so harsh that you lose sight of flight. Some dreams are like that, especially the disturbing kind. Those keep you grounded."

He means well. Elanor knew. But she didn't care for niceties. She wanted him to be effective.

"You are reading it wrong, Father. It wasn't a nightmare to shake off. Not when it happened. It was a strange sardonic dreamscape, that I wanted to not leave. Like I was.. I'm.. I'm afraid I've spoken enough, Father."

Benedictus let her ruminate on that, as he tried to parse through the half-truths. What struck him the most was how closely she mirrored the old Kings who had trouble wielding the weight of Kingship, the harsh, cold truths of it. It is often expected of a King, to find an outlet, to keep himself replenished with tolerable sins. So long as it helps him maintain the edge.

Questionable dependencies, ranging from intoxicants to harems tailored for particular niches. A little vice, isn't so unwise. Much preferable to the alternative. For there were no shortage of jaded kings in the history, driving the kingdom to the ground, while collapsing into themselves. Elanor wasn't so different, even if she hadn't unlike her predecessors, wrestled with something as grueling as the demons of war. Then again Benedictus had no real sense of the demons troubling her either.

"Might a suggest a confession, Highness? An in-depth hours long confession."

Elanor looked at him with a strange expression. That of someone who had nothing to hide, yet every reason to shield. Her eyes lit up answering, successfully compressing a laughing-fit into a loud chuckling exhale.

"Huh..?! You mean like in the old days, the private 'Welts of Admission'.? Or the unspeakable 'Absolvement'?! I hope not.."

Elanor laughed, remembering the strange shaming ritual, from back when Curia was synonymous with Church, when 'Trial by Ordeal' was commonplace. Benedictus joined in on the laughs, before saying.

"Of course not, my child, haha.. Though I'm sure your Papa would agree, that your new-found sense of humor, could do with some disciplining. That was dark, haha.. 'Absolvement'..?! How did you even know of such obscure things?"

"I had to read a lot upon the old ways, Father.. Back when we were drafting the original amendment." Elanor chuckled like alittle kid, as Benedictus continued.

"That archaical approach of baring it all, and burning with your sins.. As all that's hidden gets lashed out in public. Oh no.. Nothing so extreme, my Queen. I'm talking a simple royal confession."

Elanor considered it for a moment.

"I do not think that would be wise, Father. The royal confession is reserved for grave, unfortunate sins. Disastrous outcomes of ill-informed royal will. Like washing away the blood of bad military intel. We shouldn't be misusing a service of such import."

Elanor had a lump in her throat. The Priest reassured.

"It doesn't have to be me, Daughter. We have clrgymen who undertake the 'Vow of Silence'. I believe the Great Barthomius Senior himself had availed such a service, back when he nearly lost himself to the vices."

"Vices.?! Father, I'm not.."

Elanor stopped herself from lashing out. After a quick deep exhale, she continued.

"I don't see the point of confessing, to a silent monk. I doubt the judging stare from an ultra-celibate could ease my pain. Nor am I looking for analgesics."

"His place is not to judge you, Highness. But to simply bare witness, as you laying things truthfully. His presence is crucial for gauging your discomfort. If we were dealing with comfortable truths, a confession wouldn't be necessary. Virtues and vices have a way of sticking to blind-spots, unless confronted."

"Father, is that what you really think.? That I'm so troubled with dreams, for I'm lost to vices..?!"

The High Priest shook his head. This is tough.

"I don't.. I can't be sure, my child. Not when I'm in the dark for the most. Highness... It is my sense, that you've been attempting to weave vices with virtues. And it could be the pull from either ends, that is taking an unusual toll on you. Yet, against all my moral quandaries, it seems to be helping you. People don't murmur about your sullenness anymore, not even the deeply prejudicial critics of yours. You seem.. happy. Which makes it really hard to parse out now what troubles you, when you can't really recant in full, even a recent dream."

"Things have been better, Father, but.. I'm finding lately, that happiness isn't the simple pleasure I thought it to be. Sure, pleasure and happiness correlate, but that is far from an equivalency, I'm learning."

Elanor hesitated a moment, wondering how vague to be, and decided against self-censorship.

"There are moments of pleasure, indeed Father. Highs that sustain surprisingly longer, extending my general peace of mind for sure, and.. And yes, I may have teased a genuine smile, for I worked on this Treaty for so long, we've all been. And it's success is something that simply brings a smile out of you, but.. But believe me Father, that isn't it... I've known happiness, and hedon isn't it. An imitation, a pale shadow perhaps. And I'm in no way ungrateful to what's thrown my way, however minuscule. But that doesn't mean I've withered in core, enough to mistake it for the stuff of hearts. The essence of bliss."

Benedictus couldn't really fault her hesitancy. If confession isn't going to work, no matter how secretive we make it.. How am I to help you, still? The High Priest thought through everything she had shared, and finally spoke.

"Highness, here's my gut feeling. I believe you made a mistake. It could either be a lapse in judgement, or something that was oblivious as it occured. But it seems some fundamental tenet of yours had been broken. Perhaps a moral grey, which you had stayed clear for long, for good reason. You may not be aware of it still, but perhaps noticed subconsciously. And your mind, your dreams are hinting at it, for may be there's still time to rectify."

A misstep.?!