The silence in the room hung like a thick blanket over the two of them. On the opulent bed, the frail, young girl was staring blankly at the wall. Her hands were cuffed in front of her as tears streamed down her cheeks.

The athletic, young man was barely able to contain his disgust. His hand hovered over the wooden handle of the knife on his belt as a black ichor slowly leaked from the hole through his stomach. With every second he glared at the girl his rage grew. As he finally wrapped his hand around his knife, he took a step forward.

The girl seemed to be in a completely different world from him. Her eyes were vacant, and yet clearly staring into the distance, far past the wall. Despite him being there with her, she seemed utterly and completely alone.

As clouds moved outside the window, moonlight shone in. Her small frame was highlighted in the glow. For a moment, she seemed massive. Like her tiny body held an entire world deep within it.

Hesitation. It was brief, but it was also obvious.

The man had stopped. His hand was shaking as he gripped the blade so tightly his knuckles turned white. He grit his teeth as the shaking from his hands slowly spread to the rest of his body.

It was now or never. His resolve had shifted, but he could still act if he was quick enough. He steeled himself as he quickly drew the knife. It felt heavier than normal in his hand as his eyes looked down at her. It was clear she was already dead inside, nothing but a hollow shell of the girl she once was.

Yet, the thoughts of the priestess, Leah, floated into his mind. Her weary smile, her loving nature, and worst of all, the nights he saw her alone in her room with the exact same expression. His fury grew like a wildfire and in his blind rage he lifted the knife above his head.

With a solid thud, he had turned around and plunged the knife into the wall right next to the doorway. He was breathless and panted as the fury in his mind seemed to have worn him down.

His back was to her now, and with one more firm squeeze on the knife’s handle he said coldly, “If you have any semblance of honor, or respect for the people you have trampled underfoot with your selfishness, you know what you must do.”

He left the knife in the wall as he stepped out of the room and slammed the door behind him. Shortly after, there was the telltale sound of a lock clicking into place.

The girl ignored the knife, and instead turned her gaze out the window as she lifted her weary eyes towards the moon. “Coppélia, how did it come to this?” she whispered.

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

One Month Earlier

"Yes? What is it, Maximillian?" The frail girl from the bed looked vibrant and full of life. Her cheeks were bright and her eyes sharp, like she could notice every small detail.

She was Marozia, the high priestess of Quewilrth. She was sitting on a black and white marble throne made to look like hundreds of hands that surrounded her and lifted her up. It was centered in the middle of a massive room. The floor was made from a smooth black stone that was so seamless it appeared to be made out of a singular slab. Marble pillars that mixed black and white within them lined the walls and held up a platinum white roof that mirrored the seamlessness of the floor.

To the side of the throne were four women. Two on each side. They were wearing ornate armor that covered every last inch of them and made sure not even a centimeter of skin was showing. In one hand they all held a long ebony spear. In their other hand they all had a platinum white shield that was half as tall as they were.

"A thousand apologies for the interruption." A man in ornate, golden robes prostrated himself before the throne. His head was completely smooth. Not even his eyebrows escaped the purging of hair.

"I asked you what you wanted," she repeated with clear irritation carrying in her voice as she rested her chin on her fist.

Without rising from his position, with his hands splayed out in front of him and his forehead pressed into the dark black flooring he said in a loud voice with just a hint of dread, "I went over our records, as you asked."

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

He was clearly hesitating, and this only served to irritate her more. "Yes? Get on with it!"

The man shook at her tone. "You were correct. There is a discrepancy. Every month we are short on supplies, and it is always the same amount."

She let out a sigh and rubbed her forehead. "Thank you, Maximillian. If you could please send me a copy of those reports. Along with continuing your investigation. I do not like my things being misplaced. Especially not under such suspicious circumstances."

She paused briefly before adding, "Be sure to keep me informed of this investigation. I want bi-weekly reports of your progress, at least."

Without moving from the floor, he answered, "Of course High Priestess. Anything you require. It shall be done with all the fervor of Hardrin when he overtook the Orlians.”

When he still stayed prostrated before her, the girl rolled her eyes and waved her hand at him. "Arise Maximillian. You may leave now."

"Of course! At once, again, a thousand apologies for the interruption." He stammered as he scrambled to his feet and bowed repeatedly to her on his way out.

As the doors slammed shut, she let out a groan and slumped down in her throne. "Ugh.”

“Something wrong, your highness?” a soft voice, sang from her side.

She rolled her eyes. “Ha ha. Very funny Coppy.”

Coppélia giggled. “Sorry Mary. After his performance, I couldn’t help it.”

“Oh yes, so grand.” Marozia teased as she hopped off of the throne and mockingly bowed at the guard to her side. “Whatever is your wish, your highness. I am but a toad compared to you, your highness. Blah blah blah.”

“He means well.” The timid, squeaky voice of Dianthe eked out.

“Sure he does,” another guard named Alessia snorted in a gruff voice. “He’s just like all the rest. All he cares about is his position. He only acts like that to get what he wants.”

“That’s pretty pessimistic Alessia,” Marozia teased.

Alessia snorted. “It’s not pessimistic. It’s just the truth. You can’t trust men like that.”

“Oh?” Marozia asked with a sly smile as she walked up to Alessia. With each step, she exaggerated the swaying of her hips. When she made it up to Alessia, she slowly dragged her finger from her helmet down across her chest, and pulled back as she reached where the guard’s belly button would have been.

As she dragged her finger down she asked in a husky voice, “Then who can I trust?”

The four guards all looked completely identical in their matching armor. Yet even with all of her skin blocked from view, it was obvious Alessia was flustered. Marozia knew it, and of course couldn’t help but tease her. After all, even in her armor, she was so cute when she was thrown off balance like this.

“I don’t…that’s…” Alessia gulped.

“Why, who else could you trust except your most loyal guards?” a new voice chimed in cheerily. It was Gianna, and her voice was deep and overtly sexual.

Just hearing it sent shivers up Marozia’s spine. She glanced over at Gianna, and with a quick spin, she slid in between Alessia and Gianna. Marozia lifted her arms up, and traced a finger along each of their helmet’s cheeks.

“Well then, maybe you could show me just how loyal you are.” Marozia purred.

“But Max…he just left,” Dianthe squeaked from the other side of the throne. “Plus you wanted him to bring you those documents. What if he comes back?”

Coppélia shifted from side to side. “Well, he does like to take his time fulfilling requests…” She glanced over at Marozia as Gianna and Alessia placed their hands on the high priestesses stomach.

“Are you worried that we’ll be caught, Dianthe? How cute,” Marozia purred like a hungry cat as she beckoned for her guards to get closer. “I am the high priestess. I have been chosen by the divine. My word is law.”

“Yes, but the tenets…” Dianthe gulped.

Coppélia could hold back no longer. She quickly pulled off her helmet to reveal her soft features and long red hair. She almost ran over to the other three. As she approached, Marozia lifted her arm and gently draped it around the back of Coppélia’s neck.She drew her close, and just before their lips met, she lifted her chin, and kissed her guard’s forehead tenderly.

“Hey,” Coppélia pouted.

“Now. Now. Dianthe thinks we’ll get in trouble. Even though I am the living divine, not some dusty old tenets written down by the long since dead.” she said with a smirk.

Marozia knew Dianthe well, and she was willing to play this game again. “But,” she said softly as she slowly broke away from her three guards and walked towards the most timid one. She put a hand on the small of the guard’s back and planted a subtle kiss on the cheek of her helmet.

“Are you saying you don’t want this Dianthe?”

“Well…no, but…”

“No? You don’t want to have some fun with me?”

“That’s not. I mean…you know I…”

Marozia put her hands on her guard’s cheeks and slowly turned them until she was staring into her eye slits. “Don’t you want me, my precious little Dianthe?”

Her guard gulped audibly. “I…yes.”

“I thought you were worried about the tenets?”

“I…the high priestess is supposed to stay pure, but…”

“But?” Marozia asked. She already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear Dianthe say it.

“But you’re right. I do…I do want you Marozia. Please…”

Marozia smiled. "Yes, that’s more like it.”

She looked around as her three guards stood there anxiously waiting. She locked eyes with Coppélia and smiled. She would never tell the others, but she was her favorite. That fiery red hair, her passionate spirit, and of course how cute she got when she was jealous.

“Well then, why don’t we take a break in my quarters.” Marozia suggested.

“Can we get drinks too?” Alessia suggested.

Marozia smiled. “Sure, why not!”

“Nice,” Alessia nodded contentedly.

Dianthe raised her finger slightly as she was about to voice an objection, but seemed to think better of it as she lowered her hand and simply followed behind Marozia.

Outside of the throne room stood two male guards. They had similar armor to the girls in the room, but their outfits were clearly not as grand and expensive. Whereas the high priestesses' personal guards had armor that looked hand crafted, these guards seemed to be wearing ones that were mass produced. They didn't fit around their curves so much as they hung off of their bodies.

“I hope she doesn’t think she’s subtle,” sneered the guard on the left.

“Quiet.” shushed the right guard.

“If she was anyone else, blatantly breaking the tenets like this would be…”

“Quiet,” the right guard interrupted with a little more urgency.

The left guard snorted. “What are you so worried about? Dying? Paradise awaits loyal warriors like us.”

“Exactly,” countered the right guard. “Loyal warriors. Loyal to the tenets, and the prophet...er...high priestess.”

“Wait, do you actually think that petulant welp ca…”

“Shhh.” he pleaded. “I’d say better safe than sorry." He shook his head as he added, "Keep your opinions to yourself next time.”

The left guard grumbled angrily under his breath. Although the other guard’s words seemed to have had some impact, as he stopped complaining out loud. At least, for the moment.