Led down a yellow trail, Elena and Miles followed Fidele down to the town of Barpueblo—although to use such a term might constitute an insult to all towns across the world. In size, it resembled a town in an RPG more so than any real one Elena had ever seen. There might’ve been about fifteen roofs total visible to her eyes, all uniform in their dull, gray hue.

“Man, you weren’t kidding when you said this place was desolate,” Elena said to Miles. “I’ve seen abandoned houses more lively than this.”

“Very few people live here,” Miles said. “This makes it the ideal spot to meet with the queen.”

There was a need for secrecy in their meetings. As a wanted criminal in Luzterna, if truth got out that the queen of Eternasia was in cahoots with him, diplomatic relations would turn awry.

“But won’t it be obvious for the people living here that the literal queen of the country is here? Rumors spread like fleas in small towns like these”

“The regular trek over here is treacherous. Means of communication are limited. It is hard for information to seep in and out from here,” chimed in Fidele.

As they stepped into the town proper, two kids, a boy and a girl, rushed up to them and hugged Miles’ legs.

“Miles! You are here,” said the boy. He had disheveled black hair and wore a glorified rug in the shape of a robe.

“We are finally eating fish tonight!” the girl added. As if a complete mirror image of the boy, she wore an elegant blue dress and her hairstyle consisted of elaborate golden twintails.

“Nice to see you two,” Miles said, as they ecstatically danced around him. “Bronson will soon come to deliver supplies. Now go back to playing, we have adult business to handle.”

“Awesome!” they both yelled in unison, as they ran away with their arms raised toward the sky.

“Popular with kids, huh?” Elena teased.

“Not particularly. They are just happy they get to eat abundantly for about a week,” Miles said.

Elena asked, “You guys have to feed this place?”

Fidele answered in Miles’ place. “Since they are able to cross the Dead Sea with ease, my Queen has tasked the Dead Sea Pirates with providing resources to Barpueblo about once a month.”

That quelled Elena’s remaining question about the town, namely how they managed to survive being so stranded from the rest of the nation.

Elena chuckled. “So the mighty Miles of the Dead Sea Pirates is in truth an errand boy, huh?” She poked at Miles’ arm, hoping to get a reaction out of him, but the most she got was a roll of eyes.

“In fact, delivery was supposed to be three days ago,” Fidele added. “But the Dead Sea Pirates’ latest skirmish delayed the scheduled arrival. It would prove unsurprising if there has been ire among the population, as a result of the lack of supplies.”

“Wait, so you’re saying I am the reason these people were going hungry?” asked Elena with a soppy face.

“Yes. You are the one to blame.”

“S—so blunt!” Elena exclaimed.

“My Queen has ordered to wait until after the rendezvous before delivering the supplies. So I think it’s in everyone’s best interest to not waste any more time. Let us carry on, please.”

Fidele’s voice sounded carefully modulated, as if trying to sound more formal than what was natural. Yet now, it sounded as if a spoonful of honey had seeped into it, Fidele’s order delivered with a warm, almost hypnotic sound.

Following her instructions, Elena and Miles carried on for a few meters before arriving at a building. It was a small structure, but it stood out for actually having some decor on the entrance, the wooden door full of carvings in the shape of fish.

Stepping inside, a dark room met them, illuminated only by the fire from a chimney. By it sat a hooded figure, who stood up and removed their cloak as soon as they heard of the arrival of guests.

“It is great to meet you at last, My Child.”

----------------------------------------

The light emanated by the fire suddenly felt dim. As Elena stared into those golden irises, she felt her soul ignite. The overwhelming aura the woman before her dispersed spoke to her, whispering to her that this was an existence before which she had to submit.

“I—I am honored to meet you, Your Majesty!” Elena awkwardly shouted, her body growing tense, with sweat dripping down her neck.

Miles facepalmed, while the Queen only laughed in response.

“No need to worry, My Child,” Imogen said, weaving her hands in a careful motion. “You are safe in my presence. I can only imagine how harsh your travels must have been.”

As the queen spoke, Elena could feel her shoulders regain ease. Her motherly voice and mature appearance put her in a trance, bringing back flashes of her actual mother. The woman before her was the personification of femininity, with long, blonde hair that reached down to her wide hips.

“My Queen,” said Miles, bending down on one knee, “as you ordered, I have found the girl carrying the Black Mark.”

“You have served me dutifully, Miles. Know you shall be appropriately rewarded.”

In complete contrast to right before, Imogen now spoke sternly, in a matter befitting the authority of an absolute monarch. Elena felt a sense of uncanniness in more ways than one; hearing Miles refer to her as “the girl carrying the Black Mark” as opposed to her name made her feel dehumanized, as if she was a mere good that they were about to trade.

“My Queen, I have one request,” Miles said, raising his golden eyes. “Please, provide shelter to Elena. Keep her safe.”

“Huh? But I am part of the Dead Sea Pirates now.”

“Our way of life is simply too dangerous. So I beg of you, bring her under your wing, away from harm.”

Elena couldn’t help but feel dancing butterflies in her stomach. It was pure emotion what fueled the sound of Miles’ request. Even in the darkness of the room, it was clear to see how sincere Miles was in his concern, the depth of his care for her.

At the same time, though…

How dare he?

Despite the flutter of her heart, a part of Elena also felt insulted by his behavior. She was willing to join the Dead Sea Pirates of her own volition, ready to live up to her convictions and change this world. And yet now Miles was suggesting she stay behind?

Does he think I’m useless, or something? I mean… I wouldn’t really blame him for it, but still! Don’t say it!

Elena’s thoughts were reflected on her face, her way of looking at Miles becoming a questioning one. Imogen’s eyes scanned Elena’s face, before focusing on Miles.

“I understand the cause of your concern, but we both know that is impossible,” Imogen coldly answered. A frown drew itself across Miles’ mouth as she said that. “And I am afraid you have no room to complain. After all, even now, you remain in my debt.”

“Y—yes, my Queen.” Miles spoke with an uncanny reverence, as if afraid. Elena felt thrown off, as that was an emotion Miles had never displayed.

“As for you, my dear Elena, I require your power.”

“Power?”

If Imogen’s words were meant to quell her confusion, then they only had the opposite effect.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

What kind of power could the queen of a nation seek within a frail woman like her? Unless of course…

Does she know I can revive after death?

Elena could not ponder the implications of Imogen’s words for long, as the queen would soon dispel the confusion.

“Beyond the Dead Sea, there is an island where a community of Black Marked live. Within its confines hides a Sanctuary said to belong to the ancient God of Death.”

A lot of new terms were thrown Elena’s way, but before she could ask what any of them meant, Fidele, who had been standing in silence until now, said, “According to the Goddess’ 17th Scripture, she lay her blade to rest within the confines of the Death God’s Sanctuary. Only the arrival of a Black Marked born from the Kingdom of Light shall open the way to the sacred blade.”

Though Fidele’s words were delivered completely matter-of-fact, they made the queen burst into laughter. “Oh, Fidele, you always take any and all opportunity to show your studying of the Goddess’ word.” She began to pat Fidele’s head.

She used that name. I guess that’s what I should call him.

“Ehem… What matters is that you must seek this blade, and deliver it upon my Queen’s hands.”

“Excuse me, umm… Fidele,” Elena said as she raised her hand, hesitating as she uttered that name. “So you’re sending us to fetch a sword for you? Are you all lacking in weapons or something.”

“Fool!”

Elena’s heart jumped with worry at Fidele’s reaction.

“Sorry! Did I use the wrong—”

“The Goddess’ Blade is no mere sword. It is the centerpiece in order to open—”

“Enough, Fidele” interrupted the queen, her voice balancing on the line between collected and angry. She then stared Elena straight and said, “I apologize on behalf of my knight. He gets quite jumpy when someone is uneducated in the ways of the Goddess.”

Elena breathed a sigh of relief. She was fine with getting yelled at for being ignorant—that was normal to her by this point. But she feared that Fidele’s ire was for a different reason—that she’d deadnamed him, something she’d rather avoid doing, even if done without malice.

But because Fidele’s freakout was unrelated to the way she referred to him, it meant that was his preferred name. Imogen’s referring to Fidele as he also confirmed he was indeed a man.

What was the deal with asking to be called Margaret before, though?

She couldn’t make sense of it all, but she’d have to shelve that thought for the time being. Everyone’s experience with gender was different, after all.

“My Child, I cannot spill out every detail surrounding that artifact, but there is something I can say.”

The queen paused her speech for a moment, closed her eyes, and played with her long fingers, mustering strength to utter that which would follow.

“Obtaining that item is key to changing this world.”

Time froze around Elena.

She knew the meaning of those words. She knew the sentiment behind those words. Words that could well have been her own, yet now resounded inside her ears.

Her feet began to feel sore. A tiredness that had been building up for a long, long time.

Because since the day of her birth, the world on which her feet stood had been a horribly, horribly flawed one.

How dearly she wished to vanquish the Earth. To wander a word devoid of any blemishes, without crime and injustice. If such a world existed, she would gladly trade all she was to live in it, for none of Earth’s virtues could make up for its myriad of issues.

The day she awoke in that alley, she thought that day had come. The world of her fantasies had become her reality.

That was not the case.

In fact, her new world was in some ways worse. Discrimination was rampant. Injustice was the common coin. If she lacked the power to bring change to her old world, then she had even less of a chance of improving this one.

So—

“What do you mean by that?”

The sound of the Queen’s words bathed her soul in relief. Within those golden eyes, she founded a kindred soul, who too saw the ills plaguing the world.

Imogen smiled. She then pointed at a door behind her and said, “Come here. Let us speak in private.”

“My Queen, I object!” Fidele shouted. “Are you sure you want to be left alone with a stranger? One from Luzterna, no less. Let me stand by.”

“Conceal your objection, Fidele,” Imogen said, with the full strength of her throat. “I would never cast doubt on one who shares my fate as both a Marked and a woman.”

At the queen’s casual reveal of being a Marked, Fidele’s eyes went into panic. However, caught bewitched by the reproaching gaze of his queen, Fidele simply straightened his posture, then said, “Very well. Sir Miles and I shall stand by as you converse.”

Queen Imogen led Elena to a back room. It was dusty and lacking in decor, but the bed with fancy sheets revealed it acted as the Queen’s sleeping quarters during her trip.

Imogen sat on the bed and crossed her long legs, making herself comfortable. Were she not to know ahead of time, Elena would not know she was the queen of a country.

Looking up at Elena, who remained standing, Imogen said, “You are a Black Marked. But on top of that, you are also a woman. By the law of the Divine Decree, you are the most wretched of beings. That much is a law of this world.”

Elena was flashbanged by her words. She knew that was the case, but it being stated so plainly truly put her reality into perspective.

The fact that Imogen claimed to share in that suffering only reinforced the seemingly inescapably truth. Her words were spoken with authority on the matter, for her experience with the ills of the world exceeded Elena’s by far.

“But have you ever pondered if such laws are truly immutable?”

Elena’s eyes lit up at her question.

Perceptive of the girl’s reaction, Imogen answered herself. “Common sense dictates the answer is no. The Goddess decreed who shall submit, and that is simply how it is.”

In actuality, the world was not flawed. It was functioning exactly as designed. After the war against the Despair Lord, the Goddess ordered for those who wore the cursed mark to be subjected to disenfranchisement and discrimination.

“But Magic… it is the only force powerful enough to change that.”

Confounded, Elena asked, “You want to use magic to get rid of injustice? Can you really just… do that? That simply?”

The concept was strange to Elena. Using a fantasy power to remove societal ills seemed unfeasible. Generally in stories, magic might influence the way civilizations ran, but the only way to solve problems born of people was by working through them as people.

“Why not?” Imogen playfully asked. “Magic is the power of altering reality. It has no reason to abide by humanity’s silly codes and rules.”

“So what you’re saying is… you know a spell that can fix the world?”

In a soothing tone, Imogen replied, “More or less. But in order to cast it, I need the blade that once belonged to the Goddess.”

Elena’s chest thumped in disbelief, albeit in a positive way. As someone from Earth, she always pictured societal change as a slow process, one that took years or even centuries. To be told a simple spell could put an end to such seemingly natural concepts was a shock to her system, a comforting lie that should be treated as such.

But in a world ruled by magic, such thinking was short-sighted. She didn’t know what the limits were to magic—if any limits even existed in the first place.

Catching wind of Elena’s skepticism, Imogen said, “You must understand, like you, I once believed in the power of people. As a kid, I always looked forward to becoming queen. I hoped my rule would lead to a time of peace and equality” — Imogen raised her head, while legs playfully kicked the air above them — ”Oh, to be so childish again.”

She spoke of days gone by with a mixture of nostalgia and bitterness. There was a tiredness to her eyes, one that could only fester in a woman who had gone through many lifetimes in one.

Even as queen of Eternasia, the extent of her power was limited. Decisions made by the Crown of Glory, as the reigning monarch was known, could not override those made by each province’s local Duke.

“As ruler, I tried to implement laws against slavery. Beneath the Dukes’ sights, I offered shelter to those escaping death. I tried to forbid marital rape. In some parts of the country, I even succeeded. I have done all I can, and yet—”

“It wasn’t enough,” Elena said, completing her sentence.

They both stared into each other’s eyes. Elena’s were dark, Imogen’s gold. And yet, within each other, they found understanding.

As they slept. As they showered. Even now, as they calmly conversed. At every waking second, there were others like them. Suffering. Subjected to misery.

Carrying that knowledge was all it took for their days to be imperfect. It was a ball-and-chain they both dragged, that at every second threatened to corrupt the light of their lives.

“I was born both a Marked and a woman,” said Imogen. “No amount of royal blood can change that fact. So please, Elena… let me cast my hopes in Magic. It is the only course toward salvation I still see.”

Elena would always carry some doubts regarding such plea, a desperate one born from the depths of despair

However, faced with a wailing soul that shared in her pain… she could not blame her for believing in the impossible.

“Queen Imogen,” Elena spoke deeply, “I believe in your conviction. I don’t consider myself good for much, but if you insist there is something I can do…”

Elena stepped forward with care, not diverting her sight even slightly from Imogen’s eyes. She put a hand to her shoulder and clenched her fist with the other.

“If there is something I can do in the name of changing this world, I won’t give up until I succeed. Even at the cost of my life.”

A determination she had long held, meeting one who could comprehend her struggle only further strengthened it further.

Alone, their dream of a world devoid of strife would never come true. But if their powers were to align toward the same goal… then such a seemingly impossible reality might come to fruition.

That she would give her all in the chase of that end—that was the feeling she wanted to engrave upon Imogen’s golden eyes.

“Tehhee.” The queen giggled.

“What’s so funny?” Elena asked, flustered. She was not expecting such a reaction to her soulful show of conviction, let alone from a woman as mature-looking as Queen Imogen.

“Nothing. It would take too long to explain.” As Imogen said that, the smile plastered on her face had a certain brittleness to it, as if her mouth could not pick between a smile or a frown. Soon, the frown won the tug-of-war, as with a bitter face she said, “But please, don’t speak so lightly of throwing your life away. Death is a fate beyond the understanding of normal humans.”

Oh trust me, I know more about death than you can image Elena wanted to say, but preferred to keep it in her thoughts.