Binarius (8 page)

She could feel the energy
tightening around her, but she could not tell if it was being
emitted from the people or the cryptoseum. Whichever the case, the
sooner she got through to the castle grounds, the
better.

Once out of the cryptoseum, she
came to the inner gates that were guarding the castle
within.

“
Please explain your business at
Archen Castle.” Said the guard.

“
I seek an audience with the Order
of Epochs.”

“
Please take a seat in the hallway
to your left. Someone will meet with you shortly.”

Reluctantly, Firinne walked with
Mabon towards the outdoor hallway. It was quite desolate, but she
thought it might be better to not clog the hallway with her quite
huge stag. She shifted impatiently from one foot to the next as the
minutes passed by one another. Time felt slower here, what with its
sterile attitude towards nature and humanity. It was as if she had
stepped into some untouched, untainted sanctuary — everything
perfectly in its place, and everything completely
unnatural.

Finally, she heard the huge metal
locks of the gate grind against each other. A small, frail-looking
man in his mid-thirties approached her. The look on his face
indicated to her that he was surprised to find her uncovered; her
womanly silhouette testing his primal desires. It was clear that he
had long been used to the usual Archen attire.

“
Welcome to Archen Castle. Please
state the intention of your visit.” As he said this, Firinne
noticed that he was having a hard time looking at her as if his
eyes were trying to escape a visual that would cause internal
bloodshed within their owner.

“
I seek an audience with the Order
of Epochs.”

“
What would be the subject of your
audience?” His voice was very lifeless — rehearsed.

“
My Queendom has been infiltrated.
I seek immediate assistance.”

“
I see. Firstly, you will need to
make an appeal to King Gryndon. If the king approves your request,
he will schedule audience with the Order for you.”

Firinne hadn’t planned on this. In
fact, she hadn’t planned on any of this. This was all very new
territory for her. If the King was anything like the town he ruled
over, there may be no point to this visit. On the other hand, if
Firinne explained to him what happened, he might comprehend the
seriousness of it, and grant her permission.

“
I understand, please take me to
the king right away.”

“
As you wish.” He then signaled to
the guards to open the gate, “this way.”

The inside of the castle was stale.
Firinne was left standing in a line of villagers (all waiting for
their turn with the king) for what seemed like nearly two hours.
She was exhausted from traveling all week and her feet were
screaming at her. She hoped that Mabon was okay by himself in the
waiting area where she had left him. He wasn’t used to the crowds
of people.

Finally, the last villager returned
from unknown appeals to the king. A guard then indicated to Firinne
that it was now her turn. Inside the throne room, the King and
Queen were seated next to each other in their matching thrones made
of pine and iron. The Queen was barely visible behind the drapes of
cloth that were suffocating her body. Firinne reflected, that the
Queen’s wrought-iron crown, regardless of how ornately designed it
was, resembled the shackles of a prisoner; perhaps she was. Was
that crown the cause for both her ignorance and her
oppression?

The king spoke. “What is the reason
for your appeal?” He was a grumpy, rugged sort of man. His tone
left Firinne feeling even less optimistic.

“
King Gryndon, I have come from a
distant Queendom to seek your assistance. Citrine Castle has been
taken by the enemy. The nobles are being held prisoners in the
dungeons. I fear for the safety of my people, and respectfully
request your aid, as well as an audience with the Order of
Epochs.”

“
I am well aware of the current
situation at Citrine Castle.” He said as he rubbed his hands over
the stubble on his face.

There was a silence that rang out
harshly after his words. Firinne wasn’t sure if she should speak.
Her mind was racing. How was it that the king knew already of the
situation?

“
With respect, your majesty, have
you already sent help to them?” Firinne said,
cautiously.

“
Of course not! It is none of my
concern what the misfortune of another Kingdom is. I have my own
Kingdom to worry about. You should worry about
yourself.”

Firinne was dumbfounded. “Firstly,
your highness, that place you are speaking of is a Queendom, not a
Kingdom. Secondly, if you want to spit your regal lineage in my
face, you ought to first know who it is you are speaking to. I am
Firinne Celeste Luxithanya, Second Queen of Citrine Castle, and
Extant Crystal Keeper.”

She could see the shock on his face
before his words, which she guessed would not be of
harmony.

“
My apologies Queen, my advisors
did not notify me of your arrival.”

“
Most likely because they did not
bother to ask.” She spat back.

“
Yes…I will speak with
them.”

“
I’m sure…”

“
I am deeply sorry for the current
state of your Queendom, but as I have said, I am fully aware of the
situation. There is nothing I can do.”

“
Can, or will do?”

“
Queen Firinne, all of the
surrounding castles were informed of the situation prior to the
siege—

“
What? All of you knew and not one
of you came to warn us, or help us?”

“
I cannot speak for the others,
but I was informed from a particular source that I cannot disclose
to you, that the siege of Citrine Castle is the will of Aldithen.
That, my queen, is something we cannot interfere with.”

By now, Firinne was most certainly
shedding all of the composure that she had arrived with. “And did
anyone bother to explain why the faceless God required my Queendom,
or why he could not simply have…asked?”

“
Mere mortals do not question the
will of Aldithen. He is our God and we have nothing but faith in
him.”

“
Once again…the darkness, no one
knows why Aldithen does what he does but everyone must accept it,
for he knows more than our feeble little minds could fathom. Well,
he is not my God, and I will reclaim my Queendom…with or without
your help. When can I speak with the Order?”

Gryndon was looking sideways as the
conversation now, clearly uncomfortable. “I…I will speak with my
advisors. I will tell them to speak to the Order of Epochs on your
behalf, to set up a convenient time for you to have an audience
with them. In the meantime, I will make a room ready for you.
Please join us for dinner this evening. It would be our
honor.”

“
Well, your advisors know my name
now, hopefully, they will remember it.” Firinne bowed, turned and
walked away without another word to the King and his silent Queen
of persecution.

CHAPTER TEN

Feast
of Lies

The scents
of the oils were almost tranquilizing once they made acquaintance
with her cerebellum. The water was warm, comfortably drowning her
aching body. This moment was peaceful, or it would have been had it
not been for the elaborately angry conversations she was having
between her, and herself.

There was no ignoring the
altercation between her, and the King. Every time she thought about
it, she relived it over again. Only, the relived conversation would
consist of new dialogue by which Firinne would say all of the
things that she should have said. Things like: wake of your
ignorance, and I hope you burn. Perhaps what infuriated her the
most was how he ended their conversation. It was just like an
Aldithenian to downplay the situation, belittle the opponent, and
then offer kindness following cruelness to justify their stance.
His stance had absolutely no foundation, it was maddening. Then, to
add that she had to (generally speaking) keep her mouth shut, in
order for there to be any chance of returning to Citrine Castle
with reinforcements. It was no wonder she found herself unable to
relax. Now, in order for her to eat, she would have to attend
dinner which would no doubt include all of the traditional
pre-feast Aldithenih dogma. She wasn’t sure, at all, if she could
handle it, but she supposed that she would (as usual) have no
choice.

Just as she was in the middle of an
intense, and moderately violent altercation with the King, there
was a knock at the door. One of the castle’s servants cautiously
popped her head through the crack of the door. Her hand was in
front of her face as if she was afraid her eyeballs might be
scorched by Firinne’s naked body. She said something in the most
docile voice, that only, maybe, the mice could hear.

Firinne threw her head back in
exacerbation. “For goodness…will you speak up! I can’t hear a damn
thing you’re saying. There is no Aldithenih rule forbidding women
to speak at a normal speaking volume.”

The servant gasped. “So…so, sorry
my Queen. I was sent to inform you that Grand Master Bricius will
be attending evening’s feast and he hopes to see you.” She shut the
door before Firinne could say anything else, probably from fear
that Firinne would unleash her
witchy
powers upon her.

So he’s here, she thought to
herself. Uncle Bricius wasn’t an easy man to convince, especially
when it came to defiance of the faith. But surely, he would insist
on the safety of his sister, at the very least?

She felt claustrophobic. She felt
filthy even despite her bath. She hated this castle and nearly
everyone in it. She refused to pity any of them, even if the women
acted like victims — little mice, hiding away in the shadows.
Afraid to speak, afraid to breathe. Rise up little mice, rise up to
the lions that tame you. If only they would unite with one another
and find their strength. Oh, the strength a thousand little mice
could have. But they weren’t just mice, they were sleeping mice.
Oblivious to their oppression, they sought refuge within it. They
clung to their lions and obeyed. Oh, how they obeyed. It was a
grand circus of illusion, laughing off the questions in their
heads, ignoring the pain with their religious dogma.

If only they could feel the wind,
breathe the sweetness. If only they could see the beauty of the
forests. To hear the cries of Fia, the true victim. All in time,
all in time — Firinne had to believe that.

Down in the kitchen, the women were
busy preparing for the feast. The king’s advisor had delivered a
list of all of the dishes that the king expected to be served at
the feast. The women were in sheer panic at all of the work they
needed to do in such a short time.

The King’s 9th master, Dorrin
Clavorn came in. “I want silence in here, do you hear me? Every
dish on that list had better be made, all of ‘em satisfactory to
the king, or I’ll have your hide. Fasting ‘aint over either, none
you better touch a crumb’o this food.”

“
Beg your pardon Master Clavorn,
but I thought that fasting was to be over last night?” Said one of
the covered servants.

“
Did I say I was takin’ questions?
I have decided to extend the fasting for another three days if
that’s a’right with you? Keep to your cookin’.” He proceeded to
kick a bucket of potatoes, which went flying into the air, hitting
one of the women in the small of her back. He watched in relish, as
her knees buckled beneath her.

After Master Clavorn had left,
promptly slamming the door, the women began to turn their heads to
one another.

“
How does he expect us to work
like this when we’re so weak we can barely stand?”

Another woman said, “I understand
we must fast for Aldithen so that we may be pure for him, but why
has the master extended the fasting period?”

“
Yeah, what purpose does it
serve?” another said.

Old Narcilla now spoke. “Hush
girls! You do not question the King’s masters. You do not question
the faith. Aldithen knows all, sees all. It is not for us to judge
or to question.”

One of the girls fainted, hitting
her head on the stone floor. Unconscious.

Dinner was going just as she had
imagined that it would. She felt like a foreigner, not of another
land but of another world.

They began the feast with an
obscure ceremony, the purpose of which, was to give thanks to
Aldithen for the food that would soon be served. Firinne felt that
this was ludicrous. Aldithen had nothing to do with the food.
Gratitude should be given to Fia, not some imaginary God. After the
ceremony, the extravagant dishes were brought out by the hands of
the servant women who had cooked them, rather than floating to the
tables, something that would have been far less unusual to
Firinne.

She could not see the faces of the
servants, but she did notice that they were very shaky as they
poured Fia’s blood into the iron goblets. Firinne was disgusted but
mustered herself to politely request juice. It appeared that
everyone found her simple request offensive, for immediately after,
they broke into whispered fits among themselves.