Chapter 5

The throne room of Sacrotia

Emeria

Emeria stood alone in her throne room musing aloud as she twirled Fenir’s weapon in her hand. “I can’t believe she actually had the gall to send someone to kill me.” She grinned as she thought of exactly how to proceed. “I didn’t think she had it in her, but I guess the trail of crumbs I left was finally enough. I am so looking forward to wiping that perfect smug look off her face.” She strolled up the steps to her crimson throne and sat down. With a low hum of magic the weapon in her hand extended and axe blade formed. She spun it around, tossing it playfully in the air a few times marveling at the balance and craftsmanship.

As she caught the axe again she looked at the edge, noticing a small red smear of her own blood upon it. “A decent attempt I suppose, well arranged strategically. A bunch of decoys and one good knight, little to connect to her if it weren’t for the fact that it was a trap to begin with. I didn’t expect her knight to be quite so competent though, he actually managed to cut me.” Emeria ran a finger along the cracked piece of armor on her shoulder. She poked at the sealed wound for a moment and then ran a finger along it, letting the wound open again. A small red tendril slithered from her flesh and came out of the armor. “Come on now, a little bit of us is left on the axe. It would be a shame to waste it.” The tendril latched to the axe with a wet slap and ran up along the axe. As it began to retract Emeria could see no trace of her blood remaining. The tendril slithered back inside her armor once more and she placed the axe on the arm of the throne.

Emeria sat content for a minute, going through the attack in her mind. Everything had gone according to the plan. She’d let slip small details of a fictional attack on Draeton and clearly, someone had betrayed her. She’d long suspected that she had a traitor in her ranks, but now she finally knew for certain. “At least I got a good meal out of it,” she said. “The feisty ones always taste better, I can taste their struggle in the blood.” Emeria had grown accustomed to talking to herself like this. Even in her own kingdom, she was feared by most. Her own staff and advisors feared her most due to a greater understanding of her capabilities. Emeria moved slightly and felt the cracked piece of armor slip on her shoulder. “Such a shame, I did like this armor, the smith will have to be punished for such poor work. I’ll have to make sure to get some new armor made when I find better smiths in the other kingdoms.”

Emeria hopped up from the throne and began to walk towards the exit. She spun the axe in her hand again. “If the smiths in Draeton make armor nearly as well as they make blades I’ll have to have them forge me a new set. “Maybe I’ll just let one of their master smiths live.” Emeria pushed open the doors to the throne room and was met by a knight awaiting her. His dark gray armor was dusty and he was out of breath, but it appeared he hadn’t been in the midst of the conflict. “What’s the damage?” she asked him.

“The entrance to our hangar has been destroyed, my queen. Whoever came in brought explosives with them. He managed to scatter or kill the guards in the hangar too.” Emeria could feel the knight’s pulse racing, he was clearly uncomfortable at being alone in the hall with her. She kept walking past him without a word. The knight raised his head and continued despite his worries, “There was only a small force, my queen, they dispersed quickly. As far as we can tell only the one made it into the hangar. We have yet to find him though, so best to stay with a protective detail.”

Emeria stopped at the knight’s suggestion and turned to him. She stepped close and locked eyes as she looked up at him. Her red eyes flickered with simmering rage as she spoke, “I’ve already dealt with him, no thanks to you that is.” She grabbed the knight by his collar and pulled him down to her level. She felt his pulse spike and saw a cold sweat dripping down his face. “Fortunately for you, I happen to be in a good mood.” She smiled a wicked hungry grin as she placed her hand on the knight’s cheek, “But if you ever fail me again you will suffer a slow painful demise.” At once she let go of the knight and turned away from him, sauntering down the hall. As she walked she said loudly, “Don’t make me regret sparing your life.” She heard the knight slump against the wall as she turned the corner.

Emeria knew every twist and turn of the hallways, every little passage, and every secret the Sacrotian castle had. Where others would have seen it as a never-ending maze of slate gray she saw it as the belly of a great beast, the veins that pumped blood into her very hungry heart. She’d spent so many years in that castle. When she was young her parents barely let her leave due to the potential dangers that could ensue. That was a long, long time ago though. It had been several decades since her parent’s deaths. The stale air filled her nostrils as she strode happily through her castle. Every knight and attendant that passed her made way. The whole while she twirled and tossed her axe in the air, making sure to come especially close when others were in her presence.

After several minutes of walking Emeria reached her goal, the forge at the deepest part of the castle. Even from the other side of the heavy iron doors, she could feel the heat. She heard the dull thuds of hammers and the hissing breath of fire. She’d always felt a kinship with fire as it hungered the same way she did. Emeria excitedly threw open the doors and announced herself to any in the forge. “Your magnificent queen has arrived, you are all blessed by my presence!” She had always enjoyed the way the common people of Sacrotia worshipped her as a goddess. At the same time, she enjoyed making others uncomfortable if they didn’t feel the same. All citizens of Sacrotia cowered for Emeria in one way or another. The light filling the room from the fire was the only thing illuminating the space. A puff of steam followed by smoke dimmed the lights as the sounds dulled. Ezer, the smith was pulling a blade from cooling water when he turned to face Emeria.

“And to what do I owe this honor, my queen?” Ezer said as he stepped into the light. His skin was a dark leathery color dried by the heat and pocked with small burns and singes. He placed his tongs and the newly forged blade on a bench and pulled off his gloves. He sat on a small stool and rubbed his knees as he awaited Emeria’s response.

“Can’t a queen visit her subjects whenever she pleases?” Emeria said.

“Of course, I didn’t mean to imply anything else,” Ezer said quickly. “It’s just that very few come to the forge unless they need things. It’s the heat I suppose, most can’t handle it.

“Now Ezer, we both know you don’t have to worry about me like that,” Emeria said as she stepped over to the forge. “I can handle any heat.” She placed her hand on the edge of the metal forge, feeling her skin crackle, her nostrils filled with the scent of burning flesh. She pulled her hand away and watched as the skin on her hand quickly reformed, becoming the same clean white as before.

“Well yes, that you can my queen,” Ezer replied nervously. “What was all that ruckus above?” he asked hoping to change the subject.

“Actually that ruckus is exactly why I am here,” Emeria said as she tossed the broken piece of armor into Ezer’s lap. Ezer froze at the sight of the cracked piece of metal. “I know your eyes aren’t what they used to be, but I think even you can see what my problem is, can’t you?”

“Stammering Ezer tried to reply, “But how… this can’t have happened… What sort of weapon could crack this so cleanly? There’s no scratching or anything. Any blow with that much strength should have slipped off the curvature.” Ezer looked the piece over, trying to find something that could answer him.

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Emeria let him sweat it out for a few moments before showing him his answer. She took the axe and slammed it into the table next to Ezer. Ezer fell off the stool thinking Emeria was going to attack him. Emeria stepped closer to him, “This is how old man,” she said ominously. Ezer picked himself up and looked at the axe, trying to collect himself. Emeria felt his pulse spike. “Your supposedly unbreakable armor was broken, cut even by this axe here. Someone entered my castle and used this blade to try and kill me!”

“I... I’m sorry Your Highness… I can make you a new piece right away. I must have made it with an imperfection before,” Ezer stammered.

“There was no imperfection Ezer, I inspected it myself. You simply made claims about this armor that weren’t true. Your skills as a smith just aren’t as good as whoever forged this,” Emeria replied.

“There’s some sort of magic on this thing that I don’t even understand. No simple smith made this,” Ezer said frantically.

“You’re right,” Emeria said, pushing into Ezer space, “no simple smith made this.” Emeria took the axe from the table, flicking it through the air, “You couldn’t make something like this if you had a hundred more years to work on your craft.” Emeria took the axe’s edge and placed it close under Ezer’s chin. “I certainly expect you to make me a new piece of armor, but I would take care to make this one better than the last.” She pulled the axe away and Ezer began to pant as he tried to catch his breath. “I’m alive, but it is in no way thanks to you. If I were anyone else I would be dead, but as usual I am oh so lucky to be myself.” She slipped the axe onto a loop on her belt and took a seat on the stool Ezer had been occupying moments before. “This is the second time that someone has come close to taking my life, if he’d know what to do he might have actually succeeded.” Ezer got to his feet and shambled over to the pieces of metal to begin frantically working on a new shoulder plate for Emeria. “You know the story of the first time someone tried to take my life, don’t you Ezer?” he said nothing as he began to heat the metal.

Ezer knew better than to respond or to interrupt Emeria. All citizens of Sacrotia knew the story of the first attempt on her life. It was the stuff of nightmares. It was long enough ago that the details had become confused in most recounting, but the parts that stayed the same were grim enough. “I was a little girl when it all happened,” Emeria began. “Though I suppose I still look that way, don’t I? I was twelve at the time, mother and father were so protective of me. They thought I was such a frail, delicate thing. They were so cruel to me, keeping me in the castle all the time. For once they actually let me leave the castle, even if it was under their watch. They brought me to the market. Father said he did this to remind the common man that he was always a part of Sacrotia. He always wanted to make sure they knew who ruled over them. For all his talk he was surprisingly soft on the people though. I remember it all like it was yesterday. The smell of fresh bread in the air, the meat hanging from the posts on vendor’s stalls. All the different sweets, which they never let me have mind you. I’d been sick so often when I was younger that they never let me have anything the castle chef hadn’t prepared. They said I had some sort of sickness in my blood, how right they ended up being.” Ezer clanged away at the piece of metal, making no recognition of Emeria’s story. She felt his pulse still running high in fear though, which satisfied her.

“But I digress, the market was wonderful. All I really knew was what I’d been taught by my tutors and to be honest that wasn’t much. I think mommy and daddy expected me to die young from my sickness. Everything was so light and simple, even then I knew they were coddling me. We had several guards with us, but I still managed to slip away. What can I say, I was naïve and had a yearning to be free. I ran around the market on my own for several minutes as I assumed my parents and the guards were looking for me. I was perfectly happy until some men grabbed me. They were idiots who wanted to hold me for ransom or something of the like. They were spouting words like equality and revolution, the sort of nonsense that the unworthy always say. They caused a bit too much of a commotion though because the guards and my parents managed to find us all at once. The men were surrounded and desperate. One of them put a knife up to my neck,” Emeria said placing a finger on the red scar across her throat. “They tried to trade me for safe passage or something like that. My mother actually said she would trade herself for me, Father on the other hand wouldn’t negotiate with them at all. In my childish fear though I struggled before the stalemate could end. The man holding the knife to my throat ended up cutting me as I struggled. He left me with this beautiful mark and for that, I thank him,” Emeria said with a smile.

“That was the most important second of my life. That was the moment that everything in my life changed. With that one simple slice, I went from being a helpless and sick little girl to the goddess I was always meant to be. I got to see the world for the horrid ugly place it is and make it my own. It was the first time in my life that I truly had fun.” A sadistic grin lit up Emeria’s face. “Mommy and Daddy were right, there was a sickness in my blood, a sickness and a hunger wanting to spread and consume. When that blade sliced my throat and blood began to pour out it all woke up. The blood lashed out at everything living near me. The men who kidnapped me were crushed and sucked dry in moments. Every drop of blood made me stronger and stronger. The monster within kept feeding on anyone around me. It was such a wonderful time, such a special moment for someone coming of age.”

Ezer’s stomach grew weak. Even though everyone in Sacrotia knew the story of Emeria’s first feast it was so much more revolting to hear it from her, to hear the hunger in her voice, the unnatural glee in her words. “I shredded the armor of the guards and added them to the monster within me. Mommy and Daddy tried to stop me, but the monster got a hold of them too. That was the last part I remember though. I blacked out after that and woke up back in the castle with the Bloodstone fixed to my wrist.” Emeria paused for a moment and removed the piece of armor from her wrist, displaying the Bloodstone. She poked at the stone and felt her pulse race, a small jolt of pain running up her spine. “It is a family heirloom I suppose, I guess I just never understood it much until it became mine. As far as I can tell the blood in me is special, a product of generations of attachment to the Bloodstone. The stone itself is what lets me control it and channel all the power. It just makes me the most special in a long line of truly extraordinary people. But then again, I don’t have to worry, after all, Mommy and Daddy will always be a part of me now,” she said grimly as she felt the stone pulsating. “Then again, I only really remember up until my throat was cut, the last little bit I just pieced together from what others have told me,” she said.

This was a lie of course. Emeria remembered most of the incident, but she knew playing the victim made it easier for the people of Sacrotia to handle her story. She remembered the feeling of her dark feast, even the sight of her parents being attacked by the bloody tendrils. Deep in the back of her mind was seared the image of her father struggling against the blood as his life was sucked away. She could still hear the word “abomination” coming from his lips as he had his last moments.

With a plunge into the water and a puff of vapor in the air, Ezer finished the small shoulder piece. “If you give this a little time to set I think it’ll be stronger than the last. I doubled the thickness. It’ll be a little more cumbersome, but it’ll do.”

“Splendid,” Emeria said as she stood up. “You did hear my story though, didn’t you Ezer?” she said smirking, “It’s rude not to listen if someone is telling a story.”

Ezer nodded, trying to avoid Emeria’s red eyes, “Of course Your Highness, I’ve heard the story many a time. We all know the story of our great queen’s birth.”

“Yes, but do you know why I told you that story Ezer?” Emeria asked. He shook his head and Emeria could feel his pulse race again. “It’s because I want to make one thing very clear to you Ezer. I want you to know that you will be a part of something much greater than you deserve. You will help to make all of Sacrotia stronger. A stronger queen is a stronger kingdom of course, don’t you agree?”

“Um… Of course, my queen,” Ezer said hesitantly, “But what do you mean exactly?" Quick as a flash Emeria grabbed the axe from her belt and slit Ezer’s throat. She ran a finger along her throat and opened the scar. A large bloody tendril shot from her neck locking to the fresh wound on Ezer’s throat. The tendril slowly covered Ezer head to toe, devouring him completely before retracting to Emeria’s throat. As the last bit of the tendril slithered back the scar sealed with a red pulse of magic. Emeria ran a finger along the scar and licked her lips. “That dear Ezer is what I mean, you are now a part of me and that is indeed a great thing. You’ll achieve more fueling me than you ever did as a smith.” Emeria grabbed the new piece of armor and slipped her axe back onto the loop on her belt. She looked around the forge for a moment, “Hmm… I suppose this means I’ll have to get a new smith for this place won’t I? I guess I can do that once I take over Draeton,” she muttered as she waltzed out the door and went back to her throne room.