SangRoyal:
~ A Story of Passion, Politics, and Betrayal ~
~ A Story of Passion, Politics, and Betrayal ~
The sun, recently awoken from its nocturnal slumber, now shone fiercely – the rays of light flickering constantly, piercing through the windows of the various townhouses strewn along either side of the main street of the center of the capital city of the Holy Empire of the Fallen Star, known as Yuoja. Surrounding these houses, along another, perpendicular street existed the particular commercials establishments of the town, including, but not exclusively: the butchery, the bookstore, the bank, the apothecary, the bakery, and any other individual store which may have been present on this planet the inhabitants called A’lea. From the center one could see the docks of the city, touching the cerulean waters of the Hychuen Sea, flanked by two watchtowers on opposite sides. Past the city walls which enclosed the capital lay the suburbs that consisted of the numerous, smaller residences of the commonfolk, bordered by the farmlands of the neighboring agricultural province, Uyd. On the complete opposite side of the Yuojan province lay the Juuthwan Mountain Range, a series of impossible-to-scale peaks characterized by unbearably frigid temperatures, with, on the other side of the mountains the frozen province of Kaache. Outside of the central square loomed the Imperial Palace of the nation, in which resided the Royal Family of Yuol’ina and their personal protectors, the Guardians. This majestic structure served as the focal point of the municipal architecture: the ultimate symbol of authority and prestige, the formal insigne of the Kuolenya Family who resided within at the time.
So shone the sun even more fiercely, and from within the houses of the capital, the townspeople, groggy and reluctant to arise, whose eyes were penetrated, much to their dismay, by the effusive sunlight, slowly prepared for the start of a new day, with little to no especial plans for its duration, except for the regular, quotidian activities; the standard schedule of the people being: awaken, work – the baker to his oven, the fisher to the sea, the butcher to his steel utensils - and so on and so forth until finally, every citizen retires to his own bed, his own personal haven from the everyday, cyclical duties of life and his ultimate escape from the drabness of reality.
And so began this common day.
Yet, on the surface, common was how it seemed.
The reality of the matter, however, was that this Empire was entrenched in a full-fledged War with its neighboring nation, the newly-established United Empire of the Traachean States, led by the ruthless Empress Maiyaa Kyeon'an – a War which seemed to have no apparent end; a War which, for the Yuol’inan people, may signal the end to the Empire which has stood for over nine thousand years, despite the collective efforts of the Royal Court at masking this fatalistic struggle from the public. The truth was that, while the citizens carried out their normal, everyday chores, a massive, constant battle was occurring just outside the city walls and thousands of warriors were sacrificing their lives to ensure that their homeland, their family, and their long-observed traditions may be preserved for whenever - and if ever - they may return.
This is the reality in which this story takes place.
"Bring in the traitor!"shouted a voice, frail yet nonetheless authoritative – quivering from the inability to accurately convey the forcefulness that was meant to be expressed.
In entered a medium-sized man, clothed in tattered garments accompanied by two men on either of his sides, who were fully clad in head-to-toe armor. The man, dragged along by the guards, walked determinately down the carpeted aisle in front of them toward the golden throne at the terminus of the hall. Once they reached the end of the hallway, the guards brutally threw the man on the ground, forcing him to bow down on his hands and knees in front of the throne. The two guards then stepped backwards one step, crossing their wrist on the front end of their torso. The man was shivering intensely and was afraid to raise his head to glance upon the face of the person seated before him – and knew if he did, that it would be a sign of disrespect. His head was turned away from the person’s feet in front of him so that he could see instead the feet of the person standing beside the throne: one of the most respected members of the Yuol’inan Royal Court, Kawada Uotiye.
The room in which this unfortunate man found himself inside was in actuality the throne room of the Kuojan Palace: it was immense, with red satin-lined drapes that shielded the indoors from the heated sun on the outside, and red velvet carpeting that sprawled along the floor. The walls were of an ivory color, and a number of miscellaneous, nature-themed decorations adorned the wall as well as various ornate paintings. Corinthian columns stood dauntingly at the sides of the room, one directly behind the other in an orderly fashion and a gigantic, crystal chandelier dangled from the ceiling. Hanging on the columns were fixtures in which lit candles were placed. The throne near where the man was crouched was lined with an intricate, flower-imprinted design and flourished with gold.
Queen Quonya Kuolenya rose from her seat on the throne and stood over the man knelt before her.
"Rise," she commanded, her voice calm now and collected.
The man complied and stood to his feet, but still hung his head as a sign of deference to his Queen.
"Look at me," she ordered. The man still did not look up.
"You have abandoned your nation and committed high treason by selling your services to the Dark Empire. You have no right to display your pitiful respect toward me – you abandoned that right when you abandoned your country. Now I command you once again to look at your Queen."
Still trembling horribly, he gradually elevated his head in order to look his former Queen in the face.
The Queen’s clothing was traditional: it was customary to wear the Robe of Ancients ((OOC: *as seen in the PROFILE THREAD*)) while prosecuting a criminal. Her face, although creased with age, reflected a remarkable serenity and incredible beauty that could only come with maturing. Her hair, long and grayed, was worn in two intricate circlets that orbited her head. The locks underneath the circlets were braided and tied at the ends with a purple ribbon. Her eyes, piercing azure, were filled with both compassion, although she possessed a facial expression devoid of emotion, as was appropriate for execution proceedings.
Upon meeting her gaze, the man fell back to his hands and knees and began to cry uncontrollably. He grabbed the train of her dress, burying his face in the folds.
"Please," he begged. "Please forgive me, my Queen. I knew not what I was doing. I beg you to forgive me…Please…please…"
"Release my robes," demanded the Empress, the man obeyed, but only began to weep more profoundly.
"Guards – keep the traitor still."
The two men that flanked the criminal stepped forward and picked him up from the ground by his arms and restrained him from moving.
"No…" he cried, still sobbing. "Please, don’t…"
"As decreed by the Laws of the Ancients, I hereby sentence you to death on charge of high treason."
The man attempted to fail his limbs in order to break free, but utterly failed, as his arms were held back by the guards. He began to scream. "Please!"
Quonya folded her hands in a prayer-like fashion, bowed her head, and closed her eyes. She uttered a few words under her breath that sounded like “I’m sorry” and opened her eyes. She then broke the prayer formation of her hands to open them palms-out toward the man, making her thumbs and forefingers into a triangle in front of her, preparing for the Rituals of the Ancient Magick.
She began to chant slowly in a foreign language.
"Rhakayitaemoro chiagudebea kametoi…"
The man began to flail more violently now, but was still unable to move. The guards were now visibly struggling to keep the man from escaping. He began to scream the word "No" repetitively.
"Jin’jinak fo yuol’inacarq…"
The criminal suddenly gasped audibly. The look on the guards’ faces who were restraining the man changed to fear as the man ceased flailing completely.
The Queen’s voice now became more deliberate.
"Reyuphae…"
The man’s whole body stiffened.
"Kuoattue…"
The man’s eyes now rolled to the back of his head and he began to shake convulsively.
"TA’ATJAKUE!" She screamed the last word at the top of her lungs while simultaneously breaking her hand formation, making her hands go in opposite directions from one another.
The candles in the corridor blew out abruptly, as if done by an unseen force or invisible wind. The man’s body then relaxed and fell back, lifeless, into the arms of the guards holding him up. They dragged the man out of the room by his limp arms. No one ever heard anything of the nameless traitor ever again.
The Queen fell back onto her thrown behind her from exhaustion.
"My liege!" gasped Kawada as he bent over the side of the throne in order to aid his exhausted Queen.
The Queen responded to this action by a simple wave of her left hand, signaling that she was indeed fine. Her breathing was short and uneven. She placed her arms on the arm of the throne, bending her elbows so that she could rest her head in her hands.
"My heart…" she began.
"…has become weighted by the world."
Kawada responded, "I will send for someone to escort you to your chambers, Your Majesty."
She waved her hand again in her Advisor’s face. "No,"she replied. "Send me my granddaughter. I would like to speak with her."
The Court member bowed. "Yes, my Queen. I will send her immediately."
With that, he exited the throne room and left the Queen to herself.
[[[OOC: So this is the beginning of the story, I'm sorry for writing so much - I promise this will be one of my very few overly descriptive posts. Whoever wants to can post next.]]]
