Yuki couldn’t take it seriously. She was in a bright, spacious throne room with large windows draped in rich fabric, ample sunlight filtered in. The room’s walls were built of imposing stone, softened by lush tapestries of the ancestors; of their wisdom and benevolence. She sat in a chair placed near one of two thrones. Both were hewn from burnished wood and accented with elaborate gilded reliefs. The larger throne bore carvings of clasped hands and intertwining vines, while the smaller throne was adorned with depictions of a mother bear protecting her cubs.
Aside from the banners, the walls bore heirlooms and relics of the family’s forebears. In a case up against one of the nearby walls, the first king’s sword rested beside the crown of the first queen. Nestled behind the thrones, woven into a tapestry on which most of the room’s natural light was focused, was a tapestry with the family tree, displaying the lineage of the long and enduring dynasty.
Contrasting the bright chamber, the people huddled to either side were tense. A messenger still panting, blood staining his tunic, kneeled before the throne delivering the news.
Sat on the central throne was her brother, King Sevious. Like all descendants of their bloodline, he had black hair, a royal unibrow, a cleft chin, and gray eyes. Brother’s wife sat upon the smaller throne, her fiery red hair looking out of place amid the surrounding sea of black. The queen subtly shifted, looking at the messenger, a hand protectively resting against her belly.
Apart from the king and queen, seven others sat on chairs. Advisers, ministers, influential nobles. All grim-faced.
General Marcus sat stiff, his spine ramrod straight; even the current crisis wasn’t enough to shake the man from his habits. His armor was immaculate, each buckle and strap polished to a defiant gleam. His eyes were fixed on the king.
“Your Majesty, the enemy will not reach the city. I’ll make sure of it!” His knuckles whitened on the chair arms, his eyes radiating loyalty, yet Yuki could see the doubt and fear beneath the mask of courage.
“It may be wise to evacuate the royal family,” said Lord Bartholomew, a bulky man whose heft threatened to spill from the ornate chair. Beneath thick brows, his gaze flickered from the king to the queen and her considerable belly. Ink smeared his pudgy fingers, and his eyes cataloged every slight movement in the room.
Yuki was one of the king’s generals, and the war wasn’t going well; it had lasted for years, and now the enemy marched an army to the capital’s door. Yuki didn’t think they could repel the forces massed against them, and Spymaster Barthy’s solution was to evacuate the royal family and let the city fall. Marcus disagreed with that proposal. He was adamant he could stop the invaders.
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The raspy whispering voice of Lady Isidora cut through the silence. “I’ll need time to prepare. If you wish to perform the rite, I’ll need to start by tomorrow at the latest.” The woman was a wizened, ancient thing, hands gnarled, holding firm to a walking stick. Her bird-like eyes peered sharply from beneath the heavy furs she wore.
Yuki could feel the magic waving through her mind, trying to find purchase but failing. While she still held the knowledge it imparted regarding this trial, the compulsion to behave in a particular way didn’t work on her, maybe because she wasn’t human. The magic urged her to choose from a defined set of options. The situation was complex, the battle was lost, they had no numbers to defeat the invaders. Barthy wanted them to flee through secret tunnels. Marcus wanted them to fight and die in glory. Isidora had offered a way out that demanded a heavy price. Yuki guessed that in a normal situation, she’d need to take one of the three proposed choices or devise a different one.
Lady Isidora’s offered solution was a sinister one. The woman had knowledge of a long, complex ritual that would give one the power to repel the army. It was a blood ritual, forbidden magic. To achieve the goal, the blood of royalty needed to be spilled. If Yuki decided to go with this route, she’d need to choose between sacrificing herself, her brother, or her sister-in-law’s unborn children. The resulting ritual would give her, or the king, the necessary power to win the war.
It was all terrible and grim, but Yuki giggled in her seat. The NPCs ignored her weirdness, maybe the same way they ignored her being a rabbit. A rabbit dressed in full plate. Whoever created this magic never considered the possibility of a rabbit with a human mind. She looked fabulous and utterly ridiculous at the same time. Yuki was still her tiny self, but the armor had somehow reshaped to fit her rabbit’s form. Even the sword tied to her back was rabbit-sized. She wore a helmet with elegant red plumage.
But that wasn’t the worst. The armor was too heavy to move in, and Yuki was effectively stuck fast to the chair. Worse, none of the NPCs would respond to anything she said. Maybe rabbit talking wasn’t clear enough for the spell. She’d seen this script replay about five times. The king would sometimes look at her and ask questions but return to his advisers, ignoring whatever Yuki said. Like the man couldn’t hear her.
Buggy magic spells broke the immersion. Which Yuki found amusing and annoying at the same time. Yuki couldn’t move or interact with the people around her; she could only think about the situation. She was glad she couldn’t make a choice here. All the options were terrible.
Make one last stand and let the city burn? Flee and leave the people to their fates against an enemy army? Sacrifice one life to save countless others?
Yuki decided that she had been misled by the symbol. What any of this represented love and friendship? What kind of sick bastard thought that sacrificing a loved one or an unborn child is the definition of familial love? Maybe Yuki had misinterpreted things, and the couple embracing didn’t represent love. Or perhaps it was glitched because she wasn’t a human in the first place.
Instead of watching the script replay itself for the sixth time, Yuki decided to take a nap. With luck, the magic would run out of juice soon and she’d be out of the dream world when she woke up.