There comes Good and Bad days
But should be none in spring of May
Present days of sun losing its rays
In the clouds that leads astray
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Munching on a lonely apple, crunches with whispering corners of the dining room. Their shadows pass by in hurried steps with High Princess Giza sitting alone in the grand dining hall, her plate of exquisite delicacies barely touched. The echoes of her fork against the porcelain plate reverberate through the room, only a golden statue looks at her---simply looks than to dine. Even the princess herself is offended and glow her eyes golden, trying to turn it stone but nigh. It is already like stone. Her knife cutting down to the amaranth flower art on the plate. Taking no thought other than a look of superiority ‘It is beautiful but I look beautifuller’. As she takes a sip of her crimson wine, a nervous Adviser knocks on the side, his hands trembling as he holds a scroll.
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"Your Highness," the Adviser says, quivering silly. "I—request your audience. I bring news of the Mægfæge festival--"
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Giza sets down her goblet, her dull golden eyes fixating on the young Adviser. "Speak," she commands, her tone as cold as the marble floor beneath her heels. Toes curling and rubbing against each other.
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The Adviser unrolls the scroll, his eyes scanning the contents. "The festival begun during a blessing of rain and snow, nurturing the land but unfortunately damaging some of the stalls and sets. We have yet to approach a satisfactory appeal. Please make sure to defer any high royals from the foreign lands as bandits, monsters and barbarians are still at large. We will require an additional five days to complete, and more laborers is always welcomed, from High princess Thean, Your Highness."
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Just the mention of Thean has her toes freezing, her eyes narrow, a flicker of annoyance crossing the stone faced. "Five days?" she repeats, voicing with displeasure. "Unacceptable. A schedule has been planned for the festival to be without delay."
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The Adviser swallows hard, his face paling. "We are doing our best, Your Highness, but the craftsmen say—"
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"I care not for incompetent excuses," Giza interrupts, sharply stabbing the steak. "Good results expects me, not garbage asking for help."
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Rising from her seat, bare steps stomping with her silky gown being drag around like an immortal slave. How the Princess’s face of stone coming up close. The Adviser takes a step back, eyes wide with fear.
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"Listen carefully," Giza says in low and menace "Inform the peasants that anyone who excels will be rewarded handsomely so. Offer them bounties or more bonuses. Also, go to the military elders as well, those crones can do better than sit all day watching whores dance on their dead bones."
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The Adviser thinks so as well, nodding frantically as if his shaking hands know about it. Sweat trickles down to his paper and note. "Y-Yes, Your Highness. It will be done."
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A disgusting, sweaty note in between them. Giza's eyes begin to glow a deathly gold. Brows furrowing with impatience again to the mention of Thean which she cuts him off. "See that it is,” Shaking her head as if trying to get something off her ear, “or you may find yourself among the stone statues in the courtyard."
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And the Adviser bows for his forehead touching the floor. Banging his head and hoping that he did not hear or saw the high princess threatening him, "Of course, Of course, Your Highness. I--I will relay your commands at once!"
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He scurries squirelly out of the dining hall, and managed to spoil the sweetness on her tongue. Giza returns to her seat, staring down at the steak she precisely stabbed in perfection. So, she took another plate and fill it with another steak, taking another sip of wine for that sweetness as the room echoes for her.
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"My Mægfæge will triumph," she murmurs to herself, her voice echoing in the vast chamber. "And all will know me, right. That is what you said, lord magister.”
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The lord magister is not with her in Kinguin castle, rather, he is far, far towards the west. Watching the flickering campfire of the Mægfæge through the mist while the crimson sky rain down on his skin bloody. A mist sprite forms behind him, asking why he returned when “Princess Amerie has gone”
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“I know” the old man says, turning his sight towards the battlefield far beyond his imagination. “I want to still make sure that the Mægfæge is as magical as people think it is.”
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“And what do you intend to do?”
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Pointing with his lips at the two tailed tiger raging with bloodshot eyes—fighting against four naked children. “That tiger will do nicely”
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“…” Whatever he means by that, which the mist sprite guesses, “So, you’re just going to add the appeal?”
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“I’ve already done what is needed to be done.” He says confidently, “It is not my right to fill in anything else.”
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“You put much faith to those misbelievers”
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“It is not faith” He emphasizes, “that I place on those princesses…”
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“But you still want to bring Princess Amerie back,”
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“Kinguin should never forget their history but…” clutching his silver necklace ruby heart on his chest, “What future am I chasing?”
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Toll and tolling the resonant peals of cathedral bells echo. For Kinguin’s plains to hear and resound throughout the three-layered plateaus. Doves fly high into the grey sky, with white feathers to bring petals fluttering down at a long line of Queenuin designed carriages. High Princess Giza, her stone expression and unwavering with pois at the top of the grand staircase leading to the central hallways, a glintless gaze fixed upon the wooden ornate entrance doors. Resplendent soldiers in their ceremonial attire, line by the side of the drawbridge and entrance hall path, their voices rising in unison to announce the distinguished guests.
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"Presenting the High Royals from Fa'Yore, Aigai, and Djahatis!" the herald proclaims, his voice reverberating through the cavernous hall.
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Heavenly doors swing open with Giza’s gasp and held breath. Revealing a procession of regal figures adorned in vibrant hues of spring. The Yorean High Royals, their alabaster skin a stark contrast to their vivid modern suits, polos, shorts and dresses, glide forward with an air of scientific-future superiority.
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Following close behind, the Djahatian High Royals make their entrance, their charcoal skin glistening in the soft light and mist of the chandeliers. Despite their malicious appeal of covering only their privates, the Djahatian royals' saturated eyes sparkle with a captivating allure, hinting at the depths of their magical prowess.
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The Aigai has the high royals whom Giza smiles and finally takes a breath. Prince Horus of Queenuin, his eyes glimmering with perceptive intelligence, leads the way, flanked by the Micelean twin royals, Prince Milo and Princess Mica, their delicate features exuding an otherworldly charm. Prince Beagol of Ancilla, his bearing striking a similarity that of the old kings that still bear the immortal amaranth. And some other high royals which the high princess need not look at their low reputation.
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As the entourage approaches, a chorus of excited whispers rises from the gathered children of white and dark descent. Innocent eyes wide with awe at the statuesque High Royal atop the curved grand staircase. "Look, it's the stone-faced princess!" they murmur with a mix of reverence and trepidation.
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These rude children, Giza inclines her head in a subtle nod of acknowledgment~ If she can smile, she would have already done so before poking the eyes out of them. She steps forward breathing in the perfumed air of authority as she addresses the assembled royals. "Welcome to Kinguin---to Kinguin castle, esteemed guests from Fa'Yore, Aigai, and Djahatis. I trust your journey was pleasant?"
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Prince Horus, his voice smooth as silk, replies, "Indeed, High Princess Giza. Your hospitality is most gracious, and we are honored to be in your presence."
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Princess Mica, her eyes dancing with mischief, leans towards her brother and whispers loudly, "I remember she can turn people to stone with a single glance!"
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That which bewilders the children because her face shows no smile despite sounding with amusement, "Ah, the rumors that circulate among the young. Rest assured, dear Princess Mica, my gaze holds no such power. Although, I must admit, it does have its uses in maintaining order."
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Prince Beagol, his primitive accent thick, chimes in, "I bring gifts from Ancilla, High Princess. Rare herbs and enchanted trinkets from our Northern motherland to showcase our appreciation."
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Nodding in appreciation though Thean would most likely want it, "Your generosity is noted, Prince Beagol. I am certain we can find mutually beneficial arrangements during your stay."
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As Giza leads the High Royals through the central hallways of Kinguin castle, the guests marvel at the grandeur surrounding them. The walls are adorned with intricate paintings depicting past high royal portraits, legendary battles and mythical creatures, each brushstroke a testament to the kingdom's rich history.
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"These paintings are exquisite," Queen Thau Lau from Djahatis remarks, her eyes eager as they take in the wealth of art. "Truly talented, The artisans of Kinguin"
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Truly, with Giza’s prideful stride, "Indeed, our artists are among the finest in the realm. Their works serve as a reminder of our glorious past and the strength of our empire."
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As they pass by the museum of ancient relics, King Maru Bahu of Djahatis leans closer to Giza, his voice low in husk. "High Princess, I must say, the artifacts displayed here are quite impressive. Perhaps we could discuss a potential alliance between our kingdoms, one that would grant Djahatis access to such treasures."
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Thean would once again want these treasures they speak of, and the beholder meets his with an unwavering gaze. Though still keeping with the prideful steps "An intriguing proposition, King Maru Bahu. We shall discuss the terms of such an arrangement in due time."
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Birds pass by the hallway when they near the art gallery, where the works of prominent painters from across the realm are showcased. The Yorean high queens and princesses whisper among themselves, admiring the intricate details and vibrant colors.
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"Have you seen the latest fashion in Kinguin?" Princess Elara of Yore asks a passing servant who carries a painting of a tower in the mist. "I hear their seamstresses are unparalleled in their craftsmanship."
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“I-Indeed” flustering as they bow deeply. "Indeed, Your Highness. The gowns crafted in Kinguin are sought after by nobility far and wide. I would be happy to arrange a viewing of our latest designs for you."
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As they approach the great dining hall, Giza gestures towards the long table, set with golden plates and goblets. "Tonight, we shall feast in honor of your arrival. Our chefs have prepared a banquet featuring delicacies from across the kingdom."
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A delightful proposition with many of the guests nodding and smiling in agreement. Some have already started their feast—at Giza’s behind. King Alder of Yore leans towards his son, Prince Darian, and whispers, "Perhaps this would be an opportune time to discuss a potential marriage alliance with High Princess Giza. Her power and influence could greatly benefit our kingdom."
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Prince Darian nods, his eyes fixed on Giza's stoic hourglass figure. "I shall do my best to win her favor, Father.’
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Which either their lustful mouths or Giza’s corset causes the princess to take sharp breaths.
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The group passes through the great council chamber, where a magnificent golden chandelier hangs from the ceiling. Giza pauses, her voice echoing in the room. "It is here that the most crucial decisions affecting Kinguin are made. The wisdom of our Advisers and the strength of our alliances have kept our kingdom prosperous for generations."
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Finally, they enter an open courtyard, where an array of lush gardens stretches before them. Birds comes and go from the open arched doorways leading to the other hallways. Vibrant, and colorfully beautiful with a sweet scent of blooming flowers wharfing the air, and the gentle sound of fountains plays with some of the children to toss coin.
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"The gardens of Kinguin are truly a sight to behold," Queen Isadora of Yore remarks, sniffing golden amaranth, "The beauty of nature and the artistry of your gardeners are a perfect match."
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"The gardens serve as a reminder” Giza says bluntly, “That I serve as Kinguin’s power and the kingdom is my beauty."
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As they make their way towards the throne room, Giza's mind ponders on some individuals yawning and feasting their eyes and hands on the servants. Which the high princess asks for them to behave well as they are now heading for a sacred place that she takes most of her pride in. Silver and Gold doors swing open for the paperesque throne room, revealing the grand hall adorned with banners and tapestries bearing the sigil of Kinguin and of course, the throne that looks like it was drawn by the most talented of calligraphers. Giza takes her place on its submissive cushions, as she looks her presence down and commanding the attention of all standing in attendance—looking up at her, like peasants. Giza smiles at the sight, quite a strange feeling when nobody sees her smiling.
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"Welcome, esteemed guests," she begins, voice ringing with authority. "Let us forge bonds of friendship and alliance, for the betterment of our kingdoms and the prosperity of our people. Enjoy yourselves in the May spring blessing of Cyndoryll and the Mægfæge at the west of our standing. But, let us not make haste.” Clapping her hand once and servants carry in tables one for empty baskets and the other full of fruits and snacks. Giza gestures towards the tables, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Before we proceed to the Mægfæge festival at Fogsight Fort, I have a special task for our esteemed guests. Scattered throughout the capital, you will find an abundance of marked fruits, each bearing the sigil of Kinguin.” She raises an apple that has a crown carved into a C, showing them the fruit. “These fruits are a symbol of the blessings bestowed upon our kingdom during the May spring season."
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The High Royals exchange curious glances, their interest piqued by Giza's words. She continues in mentioning and visualizing the challenge. "Your task, dear guests, is to venture around the castle, or all over the city to collect these marked fruits. Each of you shall carry a basket, and your goal is to gather more than a hundred fruits before returning to the castle."
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Princess Mica leans towards her brother, Prince Milo, and whispers excitedly, "A scavenger hunt! How thrilling!"
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"Indeed, Princess Mica. But this is no mere game. The fruits you collect will serve as an offering to the spirits at Fogsight Fort. It is said that the more fruits offered, the greater the blessings bestowed upon our kingdoms."
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And agreeing murmurs brighten the guests’ faces. Prince Horus steps forward, his eyes gleaming with determination. "We accept this challenge, High Princess Giza.”
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King Maru Bahu strokes his beard thoughtfully. "An intriguing task, High Princess. The Djahatian Royals will show the true extent of our resourcefulness."
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Seeing how agreeable everyone becomes, she claps her hands. And servants step forward, presenting each royal with an empty basket. "Remember, esteemed guests, the marked fruits can be found in various locations throughout the capital as well as in the castle. They may be hidden in plain sight or tucked away in unexpected places. Use your wit and cunning to uncover them."
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Queen Thau Lau raises an eyebrow, a sly smile on her lips. "And are there any additional rewards for those who collect the most fruits, High Princess?"
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"But of course, Queen Thau Lau.” Giza says, gesturing, “The royal who gathers the most fruits shall be granted a special boon from Kinguin. A favor that may prove invaluable in the future. And second, If you send me a proper invite in your Kingdom celebrations, I will personally be joining in the festivities"
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The High Royals murmur among themselves, some boldly telling their own suggestions but Giza easily shush them with a shake of her hand. Prince Beagol steps forward, his primitive accent thick. "The Ancillan Royals are not afraid of a little competition. We shall show the might of the Northern motherland in this task."
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Giza nods, "Then let the fruit gathering commence.” her eyes sweeping over the assembled royals. “You all have until sunset to complete your task. Return to the castle at once with your baskets filled, and we shall proceed to Fogsight Fort for the Mægfæge festival."
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With a wave of her hand, Giza dismisses the most of the royals, and they eagerly set out with their baskets in hand and excitement in their eyes. Although some wishes to stay behind and Giza turns head for them. “Feel free to find a servant and ask for a bed in the noble quarters” She says, before scanning the guests again. Among them stands a regal figure, his posture proud and his gaze fixed upon her.
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"High Princess Giza,” King Lysander—Just a Hemrean, steps forward, voice lathering rich and smooth as honey. “I must commend you on the ingenuity of this fruit gathering task. It not only showcases the abundance of Kinguin's blessings but also serves to strengthen the bonds between our kingdoms."
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Giza inclines her head, acknowledging his praise with a subtle nod. "Your words are most kind, King Lysander. I believe that through friendly competition and shared experiences, we can forge lasting alliances that will benefit us all."
"Indeed, High Princess. And speaking of alliances, I couldn't help but notice the potential for a deeper connection between our kingdoms. Your wisdom and strength as a ruler are renowned throughout Cyndoryll."
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"I am honored by your recognition, King Lysander. However, my focus lies solely on the prosperity and well-being of Kinguin and its people."
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The King groans a step up closer and to a conspiratorial whisper. "Of course, High Princess. But imagine the power and influence our kingdoms could wield if we were to unite through marriage. Together, we could shape the future of the realm and ensure the continued success of our people."
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"Your majesty, while I appreciate your interest,” Remaining to look down on him, eyes flickering gold “I must remind you that my personal affairs are not a matter for negotiation. My devotion lies with Kinguin, and I will not entertain discussions of marriage alliances at this time."
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And at that, King Lysander's smile falters but he quickly regains his composure. "Forgive me, High Princess. I meant no disrespect. I simply saw an opportunity for our kingdoms to grow stronger together."
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"Your intentions are noted, King Lysander. However, I must insist that we focus on the task at hand. The Mægfæge festival awaits, and I trust you will join your fellow royals in the fruit gathering."
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"… As you wish,” he growls in disappointment, “…High Princess. I shall take my leave and join the others in their search."
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Her eyes follow the pathetic king, before she herself rises from her throne. Striding for the guards at the rightern hallways and whispering to keep watch of the remaining royals in the throne room. She cannot trust them not a bit of her razer bladed tongue hissing. Before she strides off to the rightern hallways, heeled footsteps echoing against the polished marble floor. The flickering torches cast an eerie glow, illuminating her path as she searches for a shadow other than herself. A shadow that mocks her walk, that she tries to change it up—hold up the dress, skip, hop, an annoying sight it is. Her brows furrowing as her eyes glow deadly golden, petrifying every undead that tried to reach out their gnarly torn hands at her.
As Giza rounds a corner, she catches sight of that useless witch who calls deem herself a high princess, accompanied by the dark hollow-eyed Prince Naberius. They stand huddled together, engrossed in a hushed conversation. Giza's eyes narrow, her suspicions rising as she approaches them.
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"Rumen! " The hallway brings the eldest’s voice to the younger whose chin shakes at her sight, "I have been looking for you, told all the servants about you, yet here you are. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
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Rumen turns, her eyes wide with surprise before narrowing to that same smirk. "Giza, I’m just having a chat with our friendly prince here. Shouldn't you be entertaining our esteemed guests? I heard that they came from far lands"
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Giza's lips press into a thin line, "I am here to ensure that you fulfill your duties as a High Princess. The Mægfæge festival is upon us, and I need you to ‘help” emphasizing kindly, “our guests with their daily matters. The right section of the castle is under your jurisdiction and I keep finding myself calling for servants running around the castle like rodents."
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"I have more pressing matters to attend to, Giza.” Letting out an exasperated sigh through sour lips. “My experiments and ingredient collection cannot wait. I already did much by letting the servants to always walk around the castle have not I? They are always there and available."
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“I want you to gather them and---”
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“You do that, I do not want to be a part any of your politics and all. Better if you just invite some Pleasers or jesters than overworking my servants and being slaves to another.”
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“Ghh—Rumen stop making this ha—”
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"High Princess,” Prince Naberius steps forward, standing taller than Giza’s stone face and inbetween the siblings, “As milady suggests, there are others who can attend. Princess Rumen and I will have work to do for the Mægfæge. Pity of you for being incapable at such trivial tasks"
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"You dare call my duties trivial, daemon? I will not have you interfering with the affairs of Kinguin."
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Rumen places a hand on Naberius's arm, hooking around the thickness of it. “Nabi is right Giza~ stop being a baby and do it yourself.” Her tone becoming dismissive. "I have no interest in playing tour guide to a bunch of strangers. My experiments and the festival are far more valuable than any of what you want me to do right now. Better call Thean~ I bet she would love their treasures."
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"Your disregard for our kingdom's traditions and the importance of diplomacy is unacceptable, Rumen. As a High Princess, you should know your duties!”
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Scoffing with her eyes rolling, "I am the Queen servant. I will not be ordered around like those commoners I mercifully set free. My pursuits are my own, and I will not abandon them for the sake of some frivolous festival."
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With those words, Rumen turns on her heel, Prince Naberius following closely behind. They disappear down the hallway, leaving Giza’s to turn every undead around her into a statue, pulverizing them all with just a scream. Veins smoking gold, with a voice growing echoic divine. But she does not hear it. She does not hear herself as her knuckles turn white, repeatedly calling out to Rumen and Thean.
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Minutes later with dust all over the rightern hallway floors, a messenger comes running down and crying out "High Princess Giza! Dire news from the west of flat plateau, your majesty!”
“Speak”
“A fire has broken out, at the flat plateau” he pants, “and the flames threaten to engulf the main cathedrals of the city! No one knew how it started but right now, enraged flame spirits also grow out from the blaze and setting communities alight. The people are in panic.”
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‘Oh really?’ Giza’s expression says but with a swirl of her gown, she wastes no second striding towards the hallways. Quick steps making sure to echo and capture a high royal’s ear and expression to wonder. They ask what has happened and Giza answers cooly that a fire has broken out and she will personally attend to it.
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Which is not mentioned beforehand, flustering the soldiers around her. “I am a high princess for the people.” She says, as they emerge out of the stone walls. Into the open central courtyard where a group of soldiers and Advisers are gathered. The Advisers being those who ask the princess where she is going and commanding the soldiers to stop her. But Giza is adamant on going, putting on a display of those high royals watching her, “My safety lies on the safety of Kinguin. If my people are burning down there then I should not make it a doubt to head for the front and attend to them.”
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"Gather the fire brigade and mobilize the city guard," An Adviser order. "We must contain the flames and ensure the safety of the people. Evacuate the nearby communities and provide shelter for those displaced by the fire. Cover the High Princess"
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The soldiers and Advisers nod, their faces set with determination. They disperse, each rushing to carry out their assigned tasks.
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“I’d rather wish you cover the castle Adviser” Giza says but the Adviser still insist, letting their way have with her. "I will go to the cathedral myself. I must assess the situation and provide support to those in need."
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The guard captain steps forward, his voice filled with concern. "Your Highness, it is too dangerous. The flames are unpredictable, and the smoke is thick. Please, allow us to handle this matter."
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But the high princess shakes her head, "I cannot stand idly by while my people suffer.” Overhearing a high royal asking to a servant whether the high princess seems always to be capable. The servant saying yes. Impressive, truly impressively impeccable. “Yes, I am their princess, High Princess and it is my duty to be there for them in their time of need."
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With a nod to her guard, Giza mounts her horse and sets off towards the drawbridge, and out towards the cathedral, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. As she rides through the streets, she can see the billowing smoke rising from the distance, painting the sky an ominous shade of red.
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The closer Giza gets to the cathedral, the more chaotic the scene becomes. People run through the streets, their faces streaked with soot and tears. The air is thick with the acrid smell of burning wood and stone. As well as heavy on her shoulder---the drizzle, and a shadow.
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As she surveys the destruction, Giza's attention is drawn to a group of children huddled in a nearby alleyway, their faces filled with fear and confusion. She approaches them, her voice gentle and reassuring.
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"Do not be afraid, little ones," Giza says, kneeling before them. "I am here to help. We will find your families and keep you safe."
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The children cling to her, their small hands grasping at her gown as if it were a lifeline. Giza comforts them, her presence a soothing balm amidst the chaos. leading the children to safety of the guards. And when there are enough crowd to see, a flash of movement catches the princess’s stone face.
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An old woman, hunched and cloaked, scurries through the shadows, her movements furtive and suspiciously acted.
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She follows the woman through the winding streets, her steps quick and silent. As she rounds a corner, Giza finds herself face to face with the old woman, her wrinkled face twisted into a malevolent grin.
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"You," Giza hisses in accusation. "You started the fire, didn't you?"
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The old woman cackles, her laughter echoing through the alleyway with a crowd that the princess brought along. "Cc-clever princess," she taunts. "But you are too late. The fires have already consumed the cathedrals, and soon, they will consume the entire city."
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Giza's anger boils over, and she lunges forward, her hands grasping the old woman's cloak. "You will pay for your crimes, witch," she snarls. "The people of Kinguin will not stand for such treachery."
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The old woman's eyes flash with a wicked gleam, and she begins to chant in a language unknown but sounds like a spell.
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Giza's eyes widen as she realizes the assurance she is in. She releases her grip on the woman and takes a step back, her hand reaching for her babe dagger.
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But before she can draw her weapon, a group of citizens round the corner, their faces filled with anger and fear.
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"There she is!" one of them shouts, pointing at the old woman. "The witch who started the fire!"
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The crowd surges forward, their fury palpable. They grab the old woman, their hands rough and unforgiving.
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Giza raises her hand, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Stop!" she commands. "This woman must face justice, but not at the hands of a mob."
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The crowd hesitates, their eyes darting between Giza and the old woman. Giza takes a deep breath, her mind racing to find a solution.
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"We will hold a trial," she declares, her voice filled with authority. "The witch will answer for her crimes before the law of Kinguin."
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Her crowd murmurs their agreement, their anger tempered by the promise of justice. Giza orders her guards to take the old woman into immediate punishment and execution, her fate now sealed. And with a swing of an axe, the wrinkled lady’s head falls off. Not a word to justify anything. Just straight up met and execution. The theatrics which Giza has to put herself in. How the damsel in distress asks the guard to take away this body before it rots. How she runs back towards the burning cathedral. Cinders falling along with rain and snow.
The crowd follows behind with their nodding and hands in their pockets. Talking about market when they were walking back towards the cathedral but immediately start cheering when Giza turns her gaze at them. The great flame burning her front, and the cold shadow watching her back.
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