Attanya

Valerie

Valerie

            Candle light flickers shadows against the deep solemn stone arch ways. Thick lucid smells of wood burning from the immense fire places at the end of the hall fill the air as all eyes fixate upon the King as he leans ominously over the ornately decorated council table. The audience chamber echoed as the servants scurry about the edges of the richly designed tapestries that lined the immense changer, careful not to disturb the gathered dignitaries and Royal council members locked in heated debate with the enraged King. His fiery gaze and purposeful motions demanded all to focus on his words. As is customary, the servants were forbidden to let the jeweled goblets to go dry.

            The honey mead held in pitchers near the four corners of the massive table. Valerie was stationed nearest the King. She could feel her peril, no one felt safe when attending the Kings table. She knew only too well what could happen if she were to slip and fall, or spill mead on his velvet robe. Luckily for her, she bore the gift, and curse, of Sight. It usually kept her from this assignment, as she usually could see it coming and could prepare for the fear by building up courage to face the candle marks of intense focus. But today, it was impossible to stay standing tall. She pulled her linen veil closer over her head as she neared the table. Her hands trembled as she loomed closer to the chalice to the left of the King. She could sense his magic wards brush against her own, which she dropped as she readied him. If he sensed her wards drawn, it would mean death, or worse, life.

            His ashen face somber gaze fixed upon his cowering nobles. His mind brushed her’s briefly. Cold daggers against her emptied mind. Think blank, think empty. She willed herself to reveal nothing of her thoughts. Hoping he would ignore her as she filled his goblet and bowl of fresh grapes and apples. To her relief he did not turn his gaze to her as a note bearer slammed open the door.

            The clang of heavy steel against the oak doors clanged as he hustled between the tables into his intimidating presence. The not bearer bowed low, as he held up as leather bound parchment. The ever present exchequer Ronald grabbed the note and waved away the courier. A man by the name Ronald that bore an uncanny resemblance to a weasel turned his attention to the seal. Pinpoint eyes turned to the Kings, “Your Majesty, it is from the Vowen.” Bowing his head after a moment he raised a slicked eye brow, “Do you wish to read the parchment in private?”

            King Darius waved the exchequer to read. Ronald clears his throat as he broke the seal and unraveled the thick leather parchment. On it was a single sentence. ‘The sign of the Keeper has been drawn; Vowen shall arrive by the new moon.’  Reading the sentence he raises his eyes again, “Your majesty, the Vowen have seen the sign of the Keeper.”

            Members stare at the gathering crowd.

            The King starts to his feet, holding a single hand in the air as the council holds their breath. “Leave us, now.” Those cold words send the masses to their feet and file out of the room as quickly as the crowd would let them. Servants gather the dishes and follow at their heels. Valerie tried to make a quick retreat as well however an iron grip on her mind stilled her feet. “Not you!” He bellows at her. The sharp command alarms the girl; her heart thuds loudly in her chest as any amount of punishment fill her head.

            She stood wringing her hands and slowly shuffled toward him as the iron grip gave her back mobility, each step sluggish as if she were walking to the whipping post. His dead eyes fixed on her now. “You should have seen this… Shall I remind you what happens to those who defy me, girl?” Terror filled her heart as she stumbled a reply. She need not be reminded; after all she had lost all to this hateful King.

            “My apologize sire, I will Look harder next time.” Her head bowed low she didn’t dare look anywhere else except the only spot that she may look, the floor at the foot of the stairs.

            The leather of his boots creaked as he stood from his throne, stepping down each step echoed off each wall until he stood right before her. With each step he took her heart broke a little more, by the time he stood before her towering over her she felt that her heart would stop from fear. His hand reached down and grasped her chin, with a jerk he forces her to look in his deep black eyes. “Fail me again and you will see punishment.” The pressure he squeezed her chin with almost forced tears into her eyes, though years of practice kept them from doing so.

            “Yes Your Majesty.” They stared into each other’s eyes for a few more moments until he released her, the fear overwhelming her senses must have satisfied him for he turned away and walked back to his throne.

            “Get out of my sight.” His voice rippled off the throne room’s walls, the cold tone amplified by the cold stone it bounced off.

            Valerie bows as low as she is able while walking backward, her feet slid over the stone floor with a practiced grace that betrayed no sound. Although she doesn’t respond she knows that he knows of her fear, no use denying the fact that she could collapse from the trembling in her limbs and for him that was enough. Exiting the throne room quickly sent relief through her limbs, walking quickly she turns right and follows the correct pathways on her way to the laundry room. After a few minutes of walking told her that she could have been the luckiest person here which was only reaffirmed by muffled screams finding their way through the cracks of the nearby servant corridors.

            Everyone knew that if you failed you are punished; the man behind the screams could only have failed in something that was equal to his screams. Of the few that walked in the narrowing hallways, each servant cast their eyes downward in an attempt to keep a barrier between themselves and the screams of a man that failed the king.

            A small rounded wooden door tells her that she reached her destination, slowly opening the door to the laundry room she creeps in so as her lady doesn’t catch her walking in late. Even if the King is the reason for her being late, Nella didn’t take kindly to others slacking on their duties. Entering the room she clings to the far wall in attempt to get to the store room where the Kings bed cloths are neatly folded on racks of crystal tables especially made for the King’s fabrics. Although the crystals could have been used for many other things, the King wasted them on fabric that was covered with months of painful memories. Although it pleases him to have all of those energies amplified by the crystals they rest on, for those who wash those sheets there lies only painful fear that they might be the next blood stains on those sheets.

            “Trying to hide are we, Valerie?” A rough and callused voice halts her silent walking, if she had been walking a pace faster she might have escaped the attention of the house keeper. Holding in her sigh she bows her head and spins on her toes to face Nella in all her plump and harsh glory. If there were a stricter woman in the kingdom, she would have been the King’s royal housekeeper rather than the straight laced Nella. Years weighted heavy on the plump body of the old woman however it didn’t show with the strength of her straight shoulders or the stern look in her hazel eyes. Not even the bags under her eyes could be conveyed as weak. “Half a candle, how dare you be so late.”

            “I’m sorry Miss Nella, His Majesty had me watching over his proceedings.  May I have leave to finish my duties?”