Chapter 8: Angeline I

The royal apartments of the castle were built to be fully enclosed, with the only access coming from the grand stairway (which was guarded by the fearsome Veronomigan Guard) and the throne room (which, itself, only had one entrance which was also under guard). Being so self-contained, the apartments themselves were built around an internal staircase that provided access to three levels- the bottom being primarily servant’s quarters, the middle having both larger suites and several functional rooms, including a library, and the top having the suites for the king’s direct family. The view from some of the outward-facing rooms was breathtaking, revealing a world cloaked in fog, seeming to sparkle as it slowly faded in the bright morning sunlight.

On the way across from the stairway on the middle level, where nobody on any business of real importance in the royal apartments could miss it, was a large slate chalkboard, as tall as a man and as wide as his shoulders. It was a list of names and rankings. Written at the very top, one above the other were “Princess Consort” and “Concubines”, although both entries were otherwise blank. Below that was “Head Maid: Colette”, followed by “Maids: Katarin, Leana, Cleo”. At the very bottom of the list were two further entries, “Whores: Desiree”, and then “Trash: Gabrielle, Marie”.

The implication of the chalkboard was clear- anyone could move up these rankings ... and anyone could drop down.

Angeline has discovered all of this in her explorations this morning. She did not fully recall the events of the previous night- most of it was cloaked in a sort of warm, fuzzy haze. What little she did recall was that she was undergoing her studies when the king’s massive guardsmen took control of her mother’s estate and seized her. She was brought to her mother’s bedroom, and there ... things began getting cloudy. She had the shameful, albeit dim, memory of performing lewd acts with King Roland, with her mother watching, and then a carriage ride in the moonlight. Because Angeline woke up in the royal apartments she supposed those events must be true to some degree, but the memories themselves were as ephemeral as dreams.

Angeline had woken up in a large bed, in a sparsely decorated but grandly sized room- large enough to eclipse her room at her mother’s estate, at least. Attached to it, she had her own privy and bath, as well as a more modest sitting room. Awaiting her pleasure in the sitting room was a slender, blue-eyed maid only a few years Angeline’s senior who introduced herself as Cleo, and offered to arrange for Angeline to break her fast. After the maid had helped Angeline dress and scurried off to fetch the meal, the younger lady had taken the opportunity to slip outside of her rooms and explore this strange new place she had found herself in.

Which had led her to the slate, and it’s mysterious list of names- including her mother’s, and Cleo’s, but, strangely, not her own.

Angeline against struggled to recall what happened with her mother the previous night, although the fragments- an image of her mother’s face covered in some kind of white syrup, a musky, salty odor, and the feeling of the king’s hot breath on her neck- caused her to rub her thighs together in response to some poorly understood need that seemed to swim inside her, just under the surface of her subconscious.

It was also so confusing for the poor young girl. She knew what lovemaking was ... but it wasn’t supposed to involve your mother. At least, not directly. But the fragments of the previous night gave her these strange thrills.

A strange suspicion reared itself in Angeline. She hurried back to her room, wondering- hoping?- what she might find if she were to lie back in bed and sink her fingers into her moist blossom. What would they find? The same familiar sensations? Or... ?

No, she thought has her fingers explored her sex, nothing felt out of place or different. To be sure Angeline didn’t quite know what she was feeling for. She had only assumed that losing her virginity would make her feel different- at least, that’s how everyone acted about it.

Was it all a dream?

What did turn out to be different was her own self control. As Angeline pondered her fragmented memories, she idly rubbed at the petals of her flower, moaning huskily at the sensation. Abruptly, she realized what she was doing, and- with great reluctance- pulled her hand away. She had masturbated in the past, but had been too shy and nervous about that lewd act to allow herself to become fully absorbed in the sensation. Now, it seemed, it took a measure of control not to masturbate without even realizing it, and it was only with difficulty that she managed to stop.

To stop her hands from straying again, Angeline smoothed out her skirts and rose. Cleo had dropped off her breakfast- a fresh heel of bread, a plate of grapes and apple slices, a small pot of honey and a bowl of steaming potato chunks topped with bacon. It was probably more than she could handle, but this must be what it’s like to live like royalty. She nibbled on some fruit and enjoyed a chunk of honeyed bread, while she struggled to make sense of the situation.

When Cleo returned to take the plates away, the fruit and bread were all gone and Angeline was eyeing the bacon like a princess might regard a possibly poisoned apple. Luckily, the maid had provided a new distracted. “Please, take this all away, Cleo.”

“Of course, My Lady,” the maid replied, bobbing a curtsy, “Right away.”

Angeline looked with some misgivings at the steaming remains of her breakfast being taken away, but then blinked and sat up straight. Here was a golden opportunity to get more information, and it was slipping between her fingers!

“Ah, Cleo.”

“Yes, Lady Angeline?”

“Um ... would His Grace be available to speak with me? I have some questions about my, ah ... presence here.”

“Of course, My Lady,” Cleo replied as she carefully arranged the used dishes on her tray, “His Grace has ordered me to see My Lady into his presence as soon as she asked. Please, when My Lady is ready.”

Leaving the dishes, Cleo led Angeline down the stairs to one of the function rooms, a simple private audience room with a lesser version of the throne on a raised dais, a few chairs for petitioners to use, and a fireplace with a small, welcoming blaze working. King Roland was facing out a massive bay window, while the subject of the audience, a fat older man in the grey robes of a priest, spoke to him. On either side of the door were a decided odd couple- to Angeline’s right, one of the massive royal guardsmen, and to her left, a maid, only slightly older than Angeline herself, with pale hair.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Angeline could begin to make out what the fat old priest was saying. “This comes as a great surprise to me, King Roland,” he said, carefully examining an unfurled parchment in his wizened hands, “Of course, I’ll need to examine the Sister for signs of torture and magical manipulation.”

“Of course,” replied the king, without looking away from his vista, “She will be made available to you within the day. But, first, a gift for you, as thanks for your assistance in this matter of justice. Your moral rectitude and sterling example is an inspiration to us all, Bishop Mathys, and I look forward to seeking your spiritual counsel in such matters in the future.”

The pale-haired maid stepped forward, and proffered a silver tray, on which was a small pouch, stuffed full to bursting. With a shaky hand, the Bishop took the pouch, losing his grip at first so that Angeline could hear the sound of metal on metal when it hit the tray. Eventually the old man took up the pouch with two hands, and it vanished into the sleeve of his holy robe.

“You honour me, Your Grace,” he said, inclining his head, “Such a gift will stoke the zeal of our, ah, moral rectitude. Thank you.”

“Please, though, inform Her Holiness or her duly appointed representative that even if the testimony of Madame Nessane and Lord Amrien are disregarded, I no longer desire Sister Gabrielle’s presence in my capital, await her replacement to to tend to the devotion of the people.”

The Bishop nodded eagerly. “A state of affairs I can understand, for certain. I’ll communicate with the holy city immediately,” the fat old man looked over his shoulder, and seeing, Angeline, paled somewhat. “I see your, ah, breakfast guest has arrived, Your Grace. It it pleases you, God’s work shall not wait.”

“Of course, Bishop Mathys, please forgive me for taking up so much of your time.”

The fat old man adjusted his robed, jingling slightly, and made a quick bow before retreating from the room. The giant guardsman left after him, shutting the door behind them both. Angeline noted that at some point Cleo had also vanished as well.

King Roland spoke. “I should know his weaknesses. I have gold aplenty, but a man like that ... I have need of a stick to correct him with should the carrot fail.” He shook his head. “To think how much I would give for a decent spymaster ... Or anyone of real skill I could trust, for that matter.”

“Perhaps Leana, if it pleases Your Grace,” the pale-haired maid suggested, “With her out of uniform, and with that dark skin of hers, many would take her for a foreign spy. She could gild a few palms along Lantern Street, find out what vices the good Bishop might have.”

“That is the best tool at hand, then? Make it happen. And tell her to be careful.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” The maid bowed deeply to her King, and briefly to Angeline, before withdrawing. Leaving the two of them alone.

Finally the King tore himself away from his view, and smiled warmly at Angeline. He gestured to a chair. “Please, my Lady, have a seat. I pleased to see you.”

Angeline felt a warm flush growing in her cheeks. “Of course, Your Grace,” she replied as she sat, “Forgive for interrupting your important business, but I require some ... clarification on last night’s events.” The King lowered himself into the high seat. “I see. I would be happy to provide some answers, that might make things somewhat more understandable. It might be difficult to hear, however.”

Angeline nodded, folding her hands in her lap. “If it pleases Your Grace. I should not desire happy ignorance over stark truth.”

King Roland nodded back. “First of all, your mother, Lord Amrien, Lord Oculi, and the former Prioress Gabrielle had formed a conspiracy against me. My personal witch was part of it. And you would have had your own part, in time, it seems.”

“My own part?” Angeline gasped with surprise, “But, Your Grace, I was raised me to be dutiful and true to the royal family. I wouldn’t dare...”

“I do not doubt you, Lady Angeline,” the king said amicably as he watched her reaction. “The witch was meant to control me from between my sheets. And in time, once her influence was firmly established, they would put you in my bed as well, a pretty little queen to keep me docile.”

Angeline’s face was aflame with embarrassment. “I ... I wasn’t told any of that, Your Grace.”

“Of course not,” he replied, “Your mother didn’t trust you fully.”

“I ... see,” she said softly, heart racing. Was she really intended to be a queen? Angeline had always thought it unusual that her betrothal hadn’t already been arranged. “As for the ... other things I seem to remember...”

King Roland gave her a wicked smile. “Yes, that was quite a night. First, I ravished Lady Amrien before her husband, to shame him into obedience,”

Angeline felt her blush deepen, if that was possible.

“Then, I took both you and your mother ... and then, had Adeline use her mouth to bring me to climax and feed it to Sister Gabrielle. Is that what you’re referring to?”

“Yes, your grace,” replied Angeline, feeling red from tip to tail, She has no idea that she had taken part in such depravities. “That.”

King Roland merely shrugged. “I am a man with appetites. I simply have found a way to turn those appetites into advantages.”

“O-oh,” Angeline replied, “I-I see...”

“Thanks to that witch, my seed now inspires obedience in others,” the King explained, “She had thought to keep an antidote for herself and use that fact to turn the situation against me, but did not realize that I already suspected her. I intend to keep Lady Amrien, Sister Gabrielle and your mother as my personal ... guests, to let others know the price of betrayal and ensure the loyalty of what remains of their houses.”

“Magic, then? I suppose that makes ... some sense, given how foggy my head has been,” Angeline allowed, thoughtfully. Sorcery was a topic completely unknown to her, but considering the situation she was in... “And what of me, Your Grace? You have already ... had your way with me.”

“Yes,” the King replied with a heavy sigh. “The extent to which you have been exposed to my new power is still reversible. I cannot give you your maidenhead back, but in time your urge to be obedient to me will fade, if it has not already. However...”

“However?”

“Your household guard has been absorbed into the royal army. Your house’s assets have been seized for the royal treasury. With your house extinct in the male line, there is little that can be gained from maintaining House Nessane as an entity, except to use your hand in marriage as a trophy to be given away, but as of right now I have no need of that, and I have need of soldiers and incomes,” the King examined her carefully, “But, you appear to be entirely innocent of being a willing part of this conspiracy. So I give you a choice.

“If you value your freedom, you may depart. I will grant you a small amount of coin, and release a few of your former servants and guards into your employ. You may then seek whatever fortune you wish- seeking shelter with your mother’s relations, join the Priory, seek marriage on your own, whatever you please. However, I would no count on your servants’ loyalty to remain firm when your coin runs out, and they may try to take advantage of you without it. A noble house is a fine thing, but without incomes, lands, and reputation, a name can only do so much to protect you.”

Angeline felt the blood run out of her cheeks. “That doesn’t seem like much of an option, Your Grace...”

“Your other option may not be more pleasant, depending on your disposition,” he replied, “You are beautiful and charming, Lady Angeline. Although you are young, in time you may learn skills that become useful to me.” He offered her an outstretched hand. “If you choose, you may remain here as my concubine. I cannot marry you, for that is a political tool I cannot give away easily, but you will be fed, clothed to my liking, and as safe as I can make you. You will have servants to tend to your needs, and in time you may have responsibilities to occupy your time.”