Obsidian Monarchy

Madam Hunt

Seraphina’s light footsteps followed the man. She was mildly surprised that Madam Hunt trusted this single man to prevent her from running. She had a history of attempting to escape the manor, and today, of all days, she thought there would be an armed guard escort. Instead, they sent one man—a magic user, yes, but a weak one at that. It was almost as if they were begging her to try and run.

Having endured years under the suffrage of this woman, Seraphina quickly learned to recognize when there were intended consequences beyond obvious traps. Ignoring the long, open hallways and easy escape routes, Seraphina followed the short man patiently. The smell of fresh-cut wood caught her attention. This late at night, it was unusual to have that smell wafting through the sleeping manor. Though the secondary smell of warm food, likely fresh deer and bread, drifted up to her from what was only the Gold Hall.

The Hunt family used the grandest hall they had for everyday tasks, flaunting their generational wealth for any who cared to look. Heavy tapestries, made by the most talented weavers, marked the wall at three-foot increments. Many other displays of wealth adorned the halls; no place was furnished more than the Gold Hall.

Gold Hall earned its name shortly after one of the previous heads of the family used gold gathered from unfortunate souls in a village on the other side of the mountains to encase anything that would take it. In certain lights, it felt like walking through sunlight.

Now, at the earliest hours of the morning, it resembled the slow burning of embers, reflecting the soft glow of Madam’s Illuni, which never left the tight lipped but beautiful woman’s side for even a moment. The creature emitted a constant orange hue, resembling a sleeping sun.

Madam Hunt now sat at the head of the dining table, no shorter than thirty feet long and adorned with only the best covers and silver plates. Elaborate decorations, similar to a small dancing play, graced the table. Little golden figures, enchanted by magic, made slow, fluid movements that danced between golden trees down the center of the table.

Taking her purple eye off the slowly moving display, Seraphina met the gaze of the head of the household. The woman responsible for the welfare of thousands and possibly possessing the worst temper of any person Seraphina had ever met.

'I am surprised you made time to see me.' Now that Seraphina was closer, no more than five feet away, she could see the gray tinge of the woman’s eye. Though she looked to be in her early thirties, the woman was nearing three hundred years old—one of the blessings that came with having power. They chose to take the home of the previous Regent, not because of the beautiful home, but because of the power source residing in its basement. A natural ley line with the unique quality of extending life. Not that Seraphina needed the help; she inherited elf blood, though not a full elf, she still possessed the longevity of elven hood.

'Madam Hunt, I don’t believe I was given the choice.' Soft hums reached out to her, cautious but not frightened. Seraphina took that as a warning not to push her luck with Madam. 'However, I understand why you have called me here, in part.'

A stray strand of raven hair drifted across the woman’s face; the disinterested look that marked the pale beauty of the woman showed that now was not the time for sarcasm. 'It’s interesting that you have some understanding of why you are here because I also have some understanding. Do you care to hear my understanding, or will you assume that as well?'

Clasping her hands in front of her, Seraphina slowly breathed to keep her mind at ease. 'Please, share your thoughts.'

A stiff pause filled the air before the woman spoke again. Her tone quiet but coated in some undertone of warning. 'My understanding is that the Monarch, whom you have a deep connection to, is dead.' She paused again, the air becoming pregnant with the enormity of the pause. However, Seraphina recognized the tone; she was not to fill the silence with an answer. Not if this conversation would reach a peaceful solution. 'Am I incorrect to assume that you knew that she was dead and chose not to bring it to my attention? Did you hope to keep this a secret from me? Did you really think you could?'

'Madam Hu...' Her words were cut off as Seraphina’s head snapped to the side from the force of the impact. Madam Hunt now stood inches from the woman, her hand now turning pink from the slap she delivered to the young woman’s cheek.

'Did I give you permission to speak to me? No. No, I did not.' The Madam stared at her then, almost challenging her to speak. When she didn’t, the woman turned around and picked up her metal goblet from the table near her chair. 'Your wedding to my son will take place two days from now; I have already made arrangements. I will not see you for the fear of another great disappointment. Your loyalty will be corrected.'

Setting her jaw, Seraphina cleared the look of disdain from her face before speaking. 'Madam, there are some clear misunderstandings happening. I am not marrying Adrian, nor will my loyalty be corrected. It lies with the people of this village and country, so my eventual marriage will be for them as well.'

The air chilled, not just from the pure anger emanating from Madam, but from the magic being sucked out of the air. It was easy to feel when someone was drawing on magic, like Madam was now. She slowly turned around and looked at the young woman in shock. 'We agree on that; there is a clear misunderstanding between us. But of course, you are incorrect.'

Her breath was siphoned from her lungs so quickly that Seraphina was knocked unconscious before Madam finished her next sentence.