The queen led the way out of the courtyard, Sammy following. Her eyes darted this way and that, low and high, trying desperately to find places to hide. Behind her came the countess and one very confused chancellor.

They entered a hall that ran in both directions for about fifty feet before arcing out of sight. Polished white marble reflected the bright light spilling in from large windows high in lofty domed ceiling. Walls and beams, alcove and ceiling all displayed ornate woodwork. Pictures of many different people hung on the walls, some small, some huge. Other expensive looking items were set out for display on small tables.

Sammy ignored most of that though, since she had more important matters to focus on. She did manage to identify several decent hiding places in the ceiling and high on the wall where some statues sat on shelving.

They came to a set of double doors guarded by four guards with large pikes, two standing on each side. The doors opened into a large room, much larger even than the baron’s own reception hall. Two ornate thrones sat with their backs to the door they entered from. Several several smaller chairs were in a line to either side of the thrones. A path of crimson marble ran the whole length of the massive room, dark blue carpeted areas to either side of it.

A single guard stood to each side of the doors they just entered through. Other guards stood at several other entrances, especially at the far end which must have been the main entrance to the hall, as the doors there took up most of that wall.

The queen took her throne next to her husband who was already there.

“Sammy, please sit here next to me,” the King said, indicating the chair next him.

The former urchin frowned. “That’s a seat for stupid nobles?” She then looked at the queen, “I thought you were going to have me ‘get more presentable’?”

“An issue of urgence needs to be addressed first. And these chairs are for convenience. Nobles do use them, but so too daring, common and those without contract, “the king answered. “It is a convenient place for you to see those coming into the room. It also gives you a means of easily interacting with those who will come to petition you.”

“Pe, petition? What is that exactly? Linda mentioned it before,” Sammy inquired, biting her lips. Was she actually going to have to do it already? What happened with using Katalynn for practice first. This was seriously moving too fast for her. She was supposed to be putting everyone else off balance, instead she was feeling flustered herself, never able to get a moment to recenter herself.

The king smiled at the flustered girl. “Those coming to have their Flames relit must of course ask you to do it. This is called petitioning. Once you start to rule your lands, many will look to you for protection and will come asking for this and that.”

“This is just getting worse and worse,” Sammy muttered. She hesitantly moved to the indicated chair, sitting tentatively on the front edge only.

A side door close to the far entrance opened and soldiers began filing into the reception hall. They lined the crimson path on both sides, pikes setting in unison on the ground and then angling toward the center as the soldiers came to parade rest.

The main doors opened outwards. A single man stood in the middle of the doorway looking down the hall. As the doors fully opened, Sammy could see someone standing a little further away behind the man.

“Presenting Viscount Gasbon Dorey, noble of Evanshire,” the man in the doorway announced, his voice easily understandable even from that distance.

The person behind the speaker stepped past him and strode down the crimson marble, his shoes loud in Sammy’s ears. Sammy abruptly noticed several lines in the crimson marble starting about twenty feet from the raised platform she was sitting on. The closest line was black, then green, blue, orange and yellow, each separated by seven feet. The viscount strode past the yellow and orange lines to stop at the blue one.

Dropping to a single knee with a flourish of his arms, he said, “I greet my lord majesty and lady queen. I pray for your health and continued prosperity.”

“We greet you, Viscount Dorey of Evanshire. It is our great privilege that you would visit us. Shall we dispense with the formalities today, Sir Dorey?”

“If this is acceptable to you, Sire.”

“It is. Please rise.”

The man stood as instructed.

Sammy stared at the Viscount of Evanshire. The glow that surrounded him reminded her of dirt. Not the yucky kind though, but more the healthy smell of gardens on the rich side of the river. She rather liked it, and she didn’t think that could be right. How dare a stupid noble be likeable.

“Sire, I have come to request your assistance. A mine in the town of Jostan has collapsed, trapping a number of miners. There is Quima in the soil there and it is resisting my connection to the land.” He sighed, “I was already coming to request your assistance when the Contract Flame extinguished. It is most distressing. I cannot even sense if the miners still live.”

The king inclined his head. “Understood Viscount. Allow me to introduce Arch Duchess Sammy. She has just come from her own land and has not yet had chance to freshen up. She has graciously consented to assist in relighting Flames of those who so desire the assistance. We have agreed to allow her to use our halls to facilitate petitions, though in acknowledgment of her personal sovereignty, we will not intervene in such a petition.” He then fell silent and merely looked at the viscount with an unwavering gaze.

Viscount Dorey bowed deeply to the king and then turned his attention directly upon Sammy. “Arch Duchess, it is my honor to be given this great boon. I pray thee, wouldst thou assist me in relighting my Flame that I may assist my endangered people. The man swallowed nervously as if afraid he would offend her and she would refuse.

Sammy nodded. “No problem, Mister Dorey.” She stood up and came to stand before the man. “Hold out your hands in front of you, please.” After the noble obeyed, Sammy drew the form for reigniting the Flame as she had done for the king previously. They recited the incantation together, reestablishing his full contact with the land. A brown Flame now danced in his cupped hand.

Sammy stepped back and dropped a cute curtsy. She then asked, “So, can you sense your miners now?”

“Yes Arch Duchess. Thank you so much.” Viscount Dorey said, a tear in his eye. But then he grew more serious and turned to the king. “My king. They still live, but some are close to death. The air is going bad.”

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

The king rose and descended to stand next to Sammy and the Viscount. “We will go directly then.” He turned to his queen. “I will leave today in your hands, my queen.”

“I shall see to it,” his queen replied with a quirk of a smile.

The king then touched his chest and the two men vanished.

“You guys talk funny,” Sammy said.

“Oh, you think so?” Queen Linda said, her mouth quirking her amusement. “In any case, this is the only time-critical emergency that could not wait. Sammy, come with me. You will need to get cleaned up before seeing any others of the nobility today.”

Sammy felt a lot of pressure fade from her mind and meekly followed after the queen. The countess following unobtrusively. They passed through several magnificent halls and ended up in a tiled room with an ornate bathtub next to a large, steaming soak tub.

Amidst protests, several servants scoured Sammy clean. Coming out of the bath, the Arch Duchess looked at an elegant, solid silver dress the servants presented to her. Long and cut tight, it had opposing slits up each side that allowed her legs to move freely. Her eyes widened in shock.

“There’s no way,” she said. She fingered the fine cloth of the ornate dress. “No way,” she said again crossing her arms. “How am I supposed to run in something like this?”

“You won’t be needing to run today,” Countess Katalynn said, her expression a little weary.

Sammy stared at the stupid noble. “I know you’re not stupid that way, Katalynn. You never know when you might have to run, and being inside this castle full of little Jennas without Jenna’s common sense makes it much more likely than even normal.” She looked narrowly at the countess and queen. “Morstan just got finished saying he was not going to interfere, so there is no way some noble stupidity is not going to happen.”

“She has a point,” the countess said in a surprising capitulation.

Sammy pounced on it and said, “Right, see? At least let me wear pants under it.”

“Non-sense, Sammy,” the queen asserted firmly. “Wear it properly. Wear it confidently. You are an arch-duchess and need to present yourself properly from the beginning.”

Sammy fingered the fine fabric of the dress again, but then let out a big sigh. “If it gets blood on it, I am not taking responsibility for it.”

The queen grunted, her beautiful voice making the sound disturbing as always. “We’ll just have to ensure such is not a threat.”

Sammy smirked at the queen, “You do know your saying that about a room filled with halberd yielding soldiers, right. Not convincing at all.”

“Yes, yes,” Queen Linda said, waving her on her way.

A few hours later and dressed in the silver dress, her dark, blue tinged hair billowing around her, Sammy returned to the audience hall and sat next to the king once again. She glanced at him as she entered, surprised he was back already, but apparently the miners had all been rescued already. She did not have an opportunity to pursue the details though as petitioning nobles a started being brought forth in short order.

Sammy collapsed on her bed having changed into a nightgown. She was so exhausted. There had ‘only’ been eleven nobles that she had to meet, but that was eleven nobles too many. They have no common sense at all. The viscount had apparently been the hidden gem amongst poop balls, so he did not count.

Of course, she could not reasonably get too upset. The stupid nobles were cursed and she was aware of that fact. She simply had to deal with them knowing the truth, so despite her intense desire, she had refrained from punching them. Which completely explained why she was so exhausted now.

Take for instance the first noble, again excluding the good viscount. Ignoring his name, which was pretty darn hard to ignore, he had been an absolute jerk, at least initially. Did she not say she would not help jerks? Why did she have to help someone with a name like that when her only real condition was seriously being ignored right from the start. So not fair.

“Announcing Baron Pimp Languid, noble of Man,” the herald proclaimed. A lean, extremely fit man strode forward. His brown hair was a bit unkempt, but in a very deliberate manner.

Sammy suspected he spent at least two hours in the morning getting it to look like that. His lean body had the appearance of a warrior. She pegged him a bit below the Myst, but in the same league. That aside though, the man needed to rethink his appearance. He wore a pair of baggy slit-silk pants and a tight silk shirt. The pants were turquoise. The shirt orange. His shoes were slippers and they were bright purple. Oh, and he wore white socks and had a yellow headband on. And the slits in the pants were very flappy. He had white, hairy legs.

The man strode up to the blue line, the same as Viscount Dorey had. Sammy was a bit confused by that, but she ignored it for the moment. She would ask later. The man dropped to a knee and said, “Greetings, King Ista from the humble barony of Man. I thank you for providing the resolution to this small matter of relighting the glorious Flame of my barony.”

Sammy could not help rolling her eyes at this point. There was no way this man thought himself or his barony humble. Just take that “glorious Flame” baloney. How the heck was that humble? She was of course still sitting on the edge of her chair, ready to run, but she might have to actually do it or she might laugh in his face.

King Ista inclined his head. “It is our honor to host Arch Duchess Micaels. You may petition her as you like.”

With a flourishy bow to King Ista, he said, “My King, I duly request assistance in the relighting of my holy Flame.”

The king just stared at the man without deigning to answer. The seconds ticked past loud. Sammy could swear there was some ethereal clock somewhere in the universe that actually contributed a subliminal ticking sound that she could hear.

Finally, Sammy could take it no more and turned to the king and his queen sitting beside him. She decided to try and sound profound as she said, “Morstan, I see that noble stupidity comes in all sorts of forms. He’s kind of blatantly ignoring the instructions you so kindly gave him.” She then turned back to the shocked looking baron. “He said to petition me, not him. Well, I knew this kind of stupidity was bound to happen, so just do it right this time and I’ll probably agree to it anyway, you stupid noble.” Sammy then raised her body a bit and settle down with a bit of self-satisfied primping. She had shown amazing restraint she thought. She had not at all gone overboard, like she liked to do with Dista. I’m self-aware now.

The baron’s face began to go red. The king and queen kept their focus on the baron. Countess Dorimor however intervened. She amazingly kept her tone light and conversational while doing it too. “Baron, the king will not intervene in this matter, but if you offend the Arch Duchess, will you not have to relight your Flame without assistance? She has already indicated her willingness. Would you truly just throw that good will out the window?”

The baron paled and took a half step back as if struck a physical blow. His eyes focused on Sammy, he said, “I, I apologize if I have given offense.”

Sammy quipped. “You should direct that to Morstan. It’s his instructions you ignored. I’m doing this because he asked me too after all.”

The baron paled even further and looked to the silent, staring royalty sitting stoically before him. “I have acted foolishly, my king. I beseech your lenience.”

King Ista inclined his head once, but did not speak a word. He just watched the baron with unwavering intensity.

The man shuddered and turned back to Sammy. “Arch Duchess Micaels. I, Baron Pimp Languid of Man beseech your grace to assist me in relighting my holy Flame.”

Sammy narrowed her eyes for a moment, but then stood up. “Sure, I can do that.” She walked up to him, her noble markings blazing brighter and brighter as she approached. She drew the glyphs for the ritual that would assist the man relight his Flame, and he in turn drew the main ritual glyphs. A moment later, an orange flame materialized in front of him. He took the flame and drew it into his chest.

Sammy took a cautious step back and watched what the man would do now that he got what he wanted. To her surprise, he smiled at her with clear relief on his face. He bowed deeply to her and said something that weirdly sounded sincere. “Arch Duchess Micaels, I thank you for your assistance from the bottom of my heart.”

Sammy hesitated, but then nodded. “Welcome. Now you just need to go and take care of your people properly.” She then took several more steps back. She did not want to turn her back on the man. Seriously, could he not have a worse name?

The baron had then been dismissed by the king and Sammy found herself back in her seat before the next noble was allowed to come forward.

Fortunately, Pimp had been the worst of the lot, but all of them were just . . . so nobley. She had been on edge the entire time. Still, she was grateful that her worst fears had not manifested. None of the nobles had been horribly stupid, even if they all clearly were infected. Closing her eyes, she fell asleep almost as if she was not in enemy territory.