The Exchange Ch. 01

Author's Note: This story takes place in a fictional universe. Although many things are taken from real life locations, cultures, etc, this world does not represent planet Earth. Also, I like costume porn (long and complicated descriptions of clothing that isn't really necessary) and some other variants. This story will contain some female bisexuality, although that won't be the focus. It's mostly heterosexual stuff here.

***

In the cruel deserts in part of northern Gehna many men performed important, lucrative work. At the rare shallow pond of water, the men camped out and waited. At night, the clear sky would lead to temperatures cold enough to let ice form on these ponds. The men would hurry to scrape this ice away and store it in insulated containers designed to keep it from melting.

Other workers had to use quite a bit more time and labor. First, they'd dig pits and line them with thick layers of straw. Second, they'd put molds full of water inside. Third, they'd cover the pits with highly reflective material during the day to keep the sun's heat off the area. At night, they'd uncover the pits to get rid of the heat inside. A similar process would be used in other parts of the world. In places where there were literal snow and ice, simple carving would be the favored process, although places distant from that frigid labor had to pay even more for that specific ice.

Ice wasn't impossible to find, but in warmer weather, especially in countries where it never snowed, ice could be quite expensive, even a luxury item. Thankfully, Gehna also happened to have a few snowy mountain ranges in the east. They had many options when it came to getting the lavishly cold stuff.

And currently, a princess was bathing in it.

In southern Gehna, which was mostly tropical, there was a massive palace of pale, smooth stone, just on the edge of the capital and close to a river. Hipped and domes roofs. Arches with points and gentle curves, with a low rise. Also, similar arches that were narrower with a higher rise. An abundance of complex geometrical designs, in the windows, in the screens, carved in stone or glass, anywhere that was suitable. There were also more lively designs, animals and plants, people and waterfalls. The artisans had put in every subject imaginable for a palace. The sculptures and gardens were also ornate. It was a glorious example of architecture.

In one of the sumptuous apartments, where one of the princesses lived, there was a bathing chamber with a pool, but the occupant wasn't in the pool. She was in a tub full of ice, miserably puling and shivering. A female physician hovered over her, monitoring her body. The princess' attendant was basically chewing on her fingers as she also observed, clearly hurt at the sight. The Empress Consort, Lavanya Patelrao, was sitting on a cushioned chair nearby, wringing a handkerchief in her wood brown hands, chewing on her lower lip, smearing her dark red rouge. Her bare, henna painted feet twisted and flexed in empathetic agony. Her attendant was behind her, gripping the back of the chair.

The concerned mother was dressed as an empress might normally be on a casual day. Long, baggy pants of pale blue muslin that were caught in at the ankles, although on another day she might wear a long loincloth, a skirt, or something else. A matching top that covered her bosom but not her belly, with drooping sleeves that had rows of gauzy puffs. Dark brown, almost black, wavy hair that was in a thick braid dangling past her hips. Bold jewelry covering as much of her body as possible without hindering her comfort or ability to move, even in her hair and on her toes. If her face wasn't so contorted she would have looked appropriately regal.

In a corner of the bathing chamber, not far off, another princess was lounging on cushions. A diaphanous veil was over her hair simply for the fun of it. She was the youngest, Princess Lataa, and she was coyly smiling as her own attendant (a thin woman with short hair named Rahki) held a mirror for her to admire her reflection. A servant held a tray of fruit candies close by. "I'm certain she could bathe for another minute," Lataa said with voice like a soft bird's. Then she let out a heavy sigh and put a candy in her mouth.

"I'm afraid not," the physician said as she helped the trembling older princess out of the tub. She put a long towel over the poor dear's body.

Princess Jaya, the older princess, was a wilted, wet, cold thing. Her brown hair was clinging to her body. Her dark eyes were wide.

The physician patted her back and rubbed her hands with her own. "Alright, we need to warm you slowly and get you to a hot meal." Princess Jaya was on a special diet, six meals a day. She needed to get some extra fat. The Empress was convinced that it could help keep her warm in Eiragla, along with regular ice bath training. Eiragla was amazingly cold during a quarter of the year. Snow was guaranteed. The Empress was worried that her body would be shocked from experiencing such a different climate. Jaya's attendant often had to endure the same treatments, but usually at different times of the day.

Twirling her black hair with her pampered fingers, Lataa said, "I'm certain the butter, cream, pastries, and cheese will taste divine." There was something snide in her voice, but nobody wanted to address it. The Empress Consort was too busy worrying over the pitiable eldest daughter.

***

The Empress Dowager, Emperor, Empress Consort, and Prince all wept on the day Princess Jaya left to be married to a prince of Eiragla, her loyal attendant accompanying her. Princess Lataa seemed compassionate and gentle, but nobody honestly thought she was sad. Princess Jaya had been prepared with the best methods available. She'd been taught Eiraglan history, language, basic etiquette, and a few other things. She'd also been granted the best dowry that could be taken with her.

All together, there were several coffers of expensive silks, fine bolts of muslin, precious metals and stones, embroidered tapestries with golden and silver threads, elaborately painted porcelain tea sets, and little statues. She also took several gifts for her new family and husband.

Princess Jaya's fate was sealed, whatever her fate was. Many prayed for her to not only survive well in the odd, foreign weather of Eiragla, but also to have a good marriage with her new husband and produce heirs.

Prince Nitishila, the eldest child of the Emperor, went to his mother soon after his sister had left. He moved down on one knee, and he pleaded, "Dearest Mother, Honorable Mother, I beg of you, please let your mournful son go to the now empty apartment for a time."

His mother's long fingernails and shiny rings meshed with the locks of smooth black hair that were allowed to fall from the fashionably wrapped turban on the Prince's head. She gave him the weakest tone. "Go on, Child. Go and reflect on your sister. Her servants have already been sent to your bride's apartment. There shouldn't be any women to frighten there."

Gemstones and chains jingling on his bare torso, Prince Nitishila Patelrao immediately left to his palanquin and told the bearers to take him to Princess Jaya's former living quarters.

When his body was past the entrance, he personally removed his soft slippers. Normally his attendant, Mamun, would do this but he was ill. Also, Nitishila didn't want to demean the bearers with a task that wasn't part of their job description.

With a slow reverence, his bare feet made cautious steps on the colorful runner rug that had been so thoughtfully placed on the floor some time ago. His precious anklets with tassels attached to toe rings shined in the daylight. The fresh, orange henna on his richly colored skin had net-like and circular designs. Any possibility of a callus had been scraped away, although there were a few scars from athletic activities, typically hidden by the henna.

They were often called the most handsome feet in the empire.

And they flexed in dismay.

The rug on the floor was one of the few luxurious things that had been left in the place. Most of the pretty things had been taken out to be divided among the rest of the family.

It was as if Jaya was dead.

Prince Nitishila leaned against a wall and put a palm to his cheek, touching both his cooling flesh and his short, boxed beard. His dark eyes closed as he remembered a time when Jaya asked him for advice on her calligraphy. Then he remembered when she was little and loved to play hide-and-seek.

"Niti! Niiiiiiitiiiiiiiii!!"

He knew that voice, but he didn't want to bother with it.

There were happy, ringing footsteps rushing towards him. His hand was taken. "Niti!! There you are!!"

"Hm?" He looked down at his youngest sibling, Princess Lataa. She was a doll of a woman, slim nose and wide eyes, beautiful brown skin and a slender figure. He spoke gently, although he wasn't giving her his full attention. "Are you feeling well?"

Batting her dark eyelashes, giving him the poutiest expression, Lataa said, "You promised something to me, remember?"

"Oh? What was that again?"

She stomped her dainty foot. "You said while you were looking for presents for your new bride you'd find something for me too! But you haven't summoned anyone to sell you a thing. No artisans, no jewelers, no clothiers, nobody!"

Prince Nitishila removed his hand from hers as he slowly murmured, his eyes clouding over with interference, "Yes ... presents ... gifts ... for the bride. Can't let her be insulted. Can't shame the family." He walked off and went to his palanquin.

In the next month or so, Prince Nitishila ordered a few things he thought a woman would like. Some bolts of muslin with delicate embroidery, a wooden hair comb with a finely carved handle, some potted plants, a pair of matching bangle bracelets, an inkstone, a statue of a dancing woman, and a tea set. These would do. Nothing offensive about any of them. Fortunately, he managed to remember that Lataa wanted something. So he ordered a hairpin with a cluster of pearls.

He was grateful for the distraction.

***

The Empress Consort's bare feet pressed into the plush rug as she walked back and forth and gave her speech to the servants kneeling before her. Her attendant was a few feet away, her face every bit as grim as the Empress'.

"You've memorized this apartment's floor plan well. You've kept it in order. You've served my older daughter well. You should be ready for when your new mistress and her attendant arrive tomorrow." The Empress' voice was austere.

She'd been obsessing over this newly opened apartment ever since Princess Jaya had left. With the help of her husband, she'd also prepared all the furnishings, decorations, and other things to make the place complete. She'd also prepared gifts for the new bride, which was another layer of stress. She'd even made sure to have plenty of creams to care for the bride's likely delicate skin. The weather around the Gehna Royal Palace was much hotter than in Eiragla, after all.

"It doesn't matter that your new mistress and her attendant are foreigners. You will respect them. Anyone who refuses to do so will answer to me, and I assume you all know why the Emperor calls me his little Tiger. As beautiful as he says I am, I'm also quite violent when I need to be. Have I been understood?"

In unison, the servants answered, "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty."

The Empress knew they did, but she continued to lecture them for five more minutes. Then she left them so she could help with the wedding preparations.

She wasn't the only one buzzing around the palace like an insect desperate to get out. The maids cleaned. The cooks prepared the finest food. The musicians practiced well. The dancers rehearsed. Everything had to be perfect.

The new bride arrived on an early morning. Princess Inka Rosenskov, but her surname would change to Patelrao soon. The Empress Consort sent her attendant to ask if she was being well cared for. Perhaps forty-five minutes later, the attendant knelt and bowed before her mistress. "Your Majesty, I've had a pleasant discussion with the housekeeper of Princess Inka's apartment. I've been told that Her Highness and her attendant have been given iced fruits and have been groomed and dressed to suit the weather and culture here. I've also been told that while these women are foreign and peculiar looking they seem unusually humble. They express gratitude to everyone who serves them, and they were dumbfounded by what they've called, 'a myriad of hedonistic comforts.'"

"Is that so?" the Empress asked with an amused grin as she sat back on her pile of brocade cushions. "She was truly impressed? Then I suppose I've done well."

"I've also heard that Her Highness has said that in her previous home perhaps 'three people,' including her attendant, were personally available for her."

With a light scoff and a flick of her wrist, her layers of bracelets clanging, the Empress said, "Only three? Well, now she has at least forty." This number didn't include the guards that kept the entrances, exists, and windows of the apartment free of intruders, and certainly not the palanquin bearers. "I imagine she was shocked at the clothing options we gave her. The fashions of her homeland cover the body very well, and often with thick materials." She took a small ball of sweet bread from a nearby bowl and put in on her tongue. It was very lovely.

***

The pearls on the new hairpin gleamed in the sunlight as a maid impaled it into one of the small buns in Princess Lataa's partial updo. Lataa smiled at her reflection in her mirror. Then she picked up a slender pipe with a little bowl and took a puff from it. As the smoke was blown, and as it floated in the air, Lataa lightly said, "That princess is quite pitiable. On her wedding day all the men will be admiring me instead of looking at her."

"Yes, Your Highness," Rahki, her attendant, said as she delicately arranged a complex headdress of golden chains and red coral beads on her mistress' head. "I've heard a rumor about your honorable brother, by the by."

With an impish smile, Lataa moved her ear closer. Her long earrings swung almost dangerously.

In a whisper, Rahki said, "According to one of the guards at his apartment, the prince cried out near a window, 'Oh mighty Spirits, I hope my bride is plain at the least! Or else, I'll have difficulty giving my honorable father the heirs he requires!' He might've been drunk."

Princess Lataa put her free hand to her mouth and gave a shrill laugh. Most of her maids cringed at the sound.

"Oh! Oh, that poor dear man!" Lataa coughed a little. Then a maid gently patted under her eye with a handkerchief. "The wedding will be amazingly dull, won't it?" continued the princess. "One can only hope for good food."

***

The food was good, very good.

Finely seasoned kebabs with different sorts of vegetables, fruits, seafood, and meat, but no beef. Beef wasn't very popular in this part of Gehna, but it was popular in the desert. Rolls of leaves stuffed with spice, sugar, and rice flour. Bowls of different types of dipping sauces and hummus with stacks of flatbread. Cheese in many forms. Fruits, both fresh and preserved. Plenty of rice dishes.

Squares of previously fermented and steamed batter made of chickpeas and rice. Small pies filled with meats and sweet things. Crispy pastries with a similar concept, except their fillings had vegetables instead of sweet things. Various confections and desserts such as brittle, fruit candies, fried and sugared dough, various biscuits, soft little cakes that could be eaten with two bites (including rice cakes), bread pudding, sugar spun to resemble very fine noodles. And on and on and on.

But nobody, not even the Empress Dowager, the grand Siddhi Patelrao, would take a bite of anything until the bride arrived.

That tight-lipped Empress Dowager, wrinkled and with white hair in a bejeweled plait, an elaborate and glittering turban on top, was on the tallest level of the multi-tiered platform in the banquet hall, sitting on a chair with a back. She was the only one in a chair.

Everyone else had cushions. The waistband of her pants was connected to her top with a knot and a golden clasp, hiding her navel but still showing her waist's sides. Her neckline hid her cleavage, but it was still a highly decorated garment.

To the Empress Dowager's left, and slightly below her, there was her son, Emperor Mahajiti Patelrao. His graying black hair was mostly held up in his turban. His torso was bare except for a short open vest and draping jewelry. Close to him, on his right, there was his Empress Consort. She was considered to be quite beautiful, even with her age. She displayed a good deal of cleavage and she wasn't wearing a pair of pants. She only had a skirt with two splits, showing off the intricate chains clasped on each leg, along with the large gemstones.

On the Empress Consort's right, and a bit below her, there was her son, Prince Nitishila. He was the groom of this wedding, and so, he was allowed to wear finer clothing and jewelry than even his grandmother. This was an exception to the normal rule. His hair was weaved with all sorts of expensive metals and gems. His feathered turban glittered with pins and festoons of more sparkling jewels. His strong and muscled body didn't only have its henna, oh no. There was more jewelry. He looked uncomfortable. His face didn't help much. His eyes were nearly dead. His bottom lip was clearly being nibbled on from the inside.

On the lowest tier, to the prince's right, there was Princess Lataa. Her small, delicate bosom wasn't covered with fabric. Instead, there was a heavy necklace just barely hiding her nipples. She didn't have a turban, but there was nothing wrong with this. She wore a complex headdress of curved gold, pearls, and topazes, along with her new favorite pearl hairpin.

The royal attendants of each of these royal family members politely remained on the soft rugs on the floor, near the platform in case they were needed. They were allowed to wear a bit more jewelry than normal, and slightly finer clothing. After all, they represented their mistresses and masters. It wouldn't do to look unfashionable.

This elaborate celebration hall everyone waited in, including musicians playing soft tunes, buzzing guests seated on cushions at low tables, and the anxious servants, was a beautiful place. It was late afternoon, and the sunlight cheerfully bled through tall windows with frames designed to look like vines. The high ceiling was painted with twice as many colors in a rainbow. A silk sheet was put on the floor in the center, leading all the way up to the platform where the Royal Family waited. Soon, a man rushed down that sheet, knelt, and prostrated himself before the family.

"Greetings to the Imperial Family," he said after getting back to a kneeling position. "Her Highness, Princess Inka, has sent gifts."

The Emperor nodded and stroked his long beard with his fingers. Then he held out his arm and ordered, "Present them."

The man on the sheet then got to his feet and ran back, crying out, "Present the gifts!! Present them!!" When he was close to the tall double doors at the end, those doors opened, and a handful of servants marched into the hall, carrying coffers of varying sizes.

An assortment of different things were revealed. Thick wool fabrics. Precious stones. Animal horns repurposed as different tools. Some musical instruments. A few small weapons. Even a book of recipes with pressed flowers.

The gifts for the prince, specifically, were different. A scroll painting of hunters in the snow, looking for deer. A silver brooch shaped like a badger. An ornamental dagger. And finally, a small tapestry depicting a few winged pixies playing in flowers. They were apparently so small that they could use a flower as a bed. It was soon revealed that Princess Inka was the one who weaved this tapestry together, and that earned an approving nod from the Empress Consort. Prince Nitishila held the work of art for a few minutes longer than would might normally expect, running his fingertips up and down the fabric.