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Nobody knew that the sun was already setting and Giza, along with some high royals collecting their fruits find themselves trouble with filled baskets. Frigid winds call for cats to take shelter, the high royals too with how the drizzle sometimes became a downpour in less than a minute before turning into a drizzle again and then back to a downpour. It is even stranger when they realize that Giza had not brought with her a servant or soldiers to be with her. So, the princess is alone and cold. Then when the pick-up carriage arrives, Giza asks for the high royals to go ahead as she will follow them back to the castle later.
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But in truth, she does not follow. Her hidden legs wandering around the empty streets, hands finding some doors of houses are unlocked. Leaving her horse out in the rain as she walks in fearlessly in rooms that are barely half the size of her chamber. She has to bend her neck forwards, but still, it is good enough for the shadows to take care of privacy. Her sunken wet dress dropping onto the creaking wood before she searches around the cabinets to cover herself. A casual white tunic and shorts, for males, fits her. But it is too bland. No jewelry or anything—no eyes to watch her bling, well, thinking like that and somehow, she finds it fine. Most of Kinguin are camping around Mægfæge, especially when she saw that the crowd during the cathedral were not many.
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Ice droplets fall with the downpour. Clouds cast their large shadows cast on dying torch stand flames. Withering and finishing its light. Giza looks around in the house again, something in the cabinets where she thinks are the food to munch on are. But the people living here only have potatoes, cabbages, carrots, chicken eggs and wheat. She uses the toilett which is not exactly a toilet because it is more of a hole in the ground stinking of piss, feces, and disease.
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“What are you doing?” Ah but alas, she comes into her head, rudely without even a knock, “You should be back at the castle. Tend to the high royals.”
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“I am tending to them. The castle servants are like my extended fingers and toes. So, there is no need to worry about that.”
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“They will worry about you.”
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“Will they?” She asks the voice, “They only care about my treasures and power. Not my thing.”
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“You are princess. You declared on the open streets and many of them saw your power and sovereignty! Of course they would try to want you.”
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“Then they should know that I am not to be mess with. I have already laid down the thought. Let them sink it in.”
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“…But there are others who won’t”
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“Why not? My word is law in Kinguin. I am the High Princess and the eldest who genuinely governs the entire kingdom. I try to keep my people contained so as with my power. I try to not extend wishes because I know what is best for my people. Those others you mention. Will soon screw their heads about me as long as I keep them here.”
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“You choice…” And the voice fades deep into her head,
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Giza looks further out the window. Kinguin castle on top of the two layered plateus. A magnificent site indeed that is the first thing the flat plateau inhabitants see. “They should be grateful that I am not hasting them.”
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Over yonder at a street where peasants with their left arms lost carry black crosses. Five times the size of their group of three. Black crosses that flinch her shoulder at a flash image of her nightmare. Of the prophecy that pats her could shoulder and tremble her chin. Wearing her wet, troublesome heavy dress again. She drenches herself out towards the peasants carrying diligently under the rain, diligently with scrunched up faces and dark hollow eyes.
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“What is the meaning of this?” bolting her question with her eyes nearly glowing gold, “WHAT?”
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The amputated laborers trudge through the muck street, their shoulders hunched under the weight of the massive black crosses. They keep their eyes downcast, avoiding Giza's piercing gaze as she storms towards them, her wet dress clinging to her body.
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"I asked you a question," icicles shooting out of her spits. "What is the meaning of this?"
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The laborers remain silent, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and resignation. One of them, a gaunt man with a grizzled beard, finally speaks up after seeing Giza’s eyes flicker gold, his voice barely above a whisper. "We were ordered to carry these crosses, Your Highness."
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"Ordered? By whom?"
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Nervous, these laborers are with hands trembling. The bearded man swallows hard before answering, "T-The Witch!—I—I mean--High Princess Rumen, Your Highness."
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Her expression remains unnervingly still but her chest rose almost like a volcano would erupt. The laborers shrink back, their eyes wide with terror as they realize their mistake in revealing the truth.
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" Rumen, that bitch…" Giza repeats in a growled calm hush, "And why would she order such a thing?"
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Rain continues to pour on their stiff muscles, the sound of the drops hitting the cobblestones echoing through the empty street.
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Giza takes a step closer, her eyes now fully golden. "You will tell me everything," she commands dangerously "Or you will face the consequences of defying your High Princess."
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The laborers tremble, their faces pale with fear. They know the stories of those who have crossed Giza, of the statues that litter the castle grounds, forever frozen in expressions of terror.
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The bearded man takes a shaky breath, his voice barely audibles over the rain. "We don't know why, Your Highness. We were just following orders."
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Giza's gaze bores into them. Finding none other than eschar and dust, she turns on her heel, her dress swirling around her ankles. "Very well," she says, lifting almost a stone off their heaved shoulders, "See that those crosses are burned. If I see them again when I return. I will all turn you and your generations to stone – I will find out what my sister is planning. And when I do, there will be consequences."
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The laborers bow their heads, relief and dread warring on their faces as they hurry away, the black crosses still weighing heavily on their shoulders. Giza watches them go with her stone face before turning away for the empty streets as she heads for the stables. She must have forgotten her own mare.
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Kinguin stables are dark and musty, the scent of hay and horse manure hanging heavy in the air. Giza strides in, her eyes scanning the stalls for a suitable mount. A sleepy stable boy, no more than twelve, stumbles out from a pile of straw, rubbing his eyes.
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"Your Highness," drowsily mumbling, "What brings you here at this hour?"
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Giza's eyes narrow, her voice as sharp as a whip. "I require a horse. Now."
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The stable boy blinks, his brow furrowing. "Of course, Your Highness. But I'll need to see some coin first."
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Giza's face remains impassive, but her eyes blaze with fury. "You dare demand payment from your High Princess?"
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The stable boy shrinks back, his face pale. "I... I'm sorry, Your Highness. I didn't mean..."
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But Giza is already moving, her steps quick and purposeful. She selects a sturdy black mare, swinging herself into the saddle with practiced ease. The stable boy watches, his mouth agape, as she spurs the horse forward, disappearing into the night.
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The rain has stopped, but the ground is still slick with mud as Giza rides through the gates of Kinguin, the city walls looming behind her. She expects to see the orderly fields of wheat stretching out before her, the land tamed and cultivated by the will of her people.
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Instead, she is greeted by a vista of chaos.
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The fields are overgrown, the wheat choked by weeds and brambles. Abandoned plows and broken tools litter the ground, rusting in the damp earth. In the distance, the shapes of ramshackle huts and lean-tos can be seen, clustered together like a collection of broken teeth.
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Giza feels a sense of unease growing in the pit of her stomach. This is not the Kinguin she knows, the land that bends to her will. She spurs her horse forward, picking her way through the tangled undergrowth.
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As she rides, she sees signs of life among the ruins. Thin, ragged figures move through the fields, their faces gaunt and haunted. Children with hollow eyes and distended bellies watch her pass, their expressions a mix of fear and desperation.
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Giza's unease turns to outright anxiety as she realizes the extent of the poverty and suffering that lies just beyond the walls of her city. She had always believed that her word was law, that the people of Kinguin were hers to command and control.
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But now, confronted with this strange and unfamiliar land, she feels a sense of vulnerability that she has never known before. The world outside Kinguin is not what she expected, and the realization fills her with a deep and abiding sense of dread.
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She rides on, her horse's hooves sinking into the muddy earth, her mind racing with questions and fears. But eventually, the sight of Hodlad’s crater sweeps her thoughts to the mud. Below and in front of the mansion is one of the black crosses with Hodlad crucified on it. Blood strains its flooded base of rainwater and snow. While Rumen is on top of the roofs, seemingly talking to Hodlad but the man’s throat had been slit. Dead already,
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Giza's eyes widen in disbelief at the gruesome sight before her. Hodlad's lifeless body hangs limply from the black cross, his blood mingling with the muddy water at its base. Atop the mansion's roof, Rumen stands, her dark hair whipping in the wind as she whispers to the corpse, a manic gleam in her eyes.
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"Rumen!" Giza shouts, her voice cutting through the eerie silence. "What madness is this?"
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Rumen turns slowly, a twisted smile playing across her pale features. "What do you want now?"
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Giza dismounts her horse, striding forward with fury etched in every line of her body. "What abomination are you doing this time?”
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“Are you excited?”
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“NO!”
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Rumen laughs, the sound high and brittle. "Oh, Giza. Always so narrow-minded. My abomination will be the star performance, a surprising one too. The Mægfæge, with the contrast beauty of death. You know how symbolic that sounds?"
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"I see only a deranged woman who has forgotten her place," Giza snarls, her eyes flashing golden. "I want you back at the castle at once."
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“Talk to the advisers for that~ Actually, I already did on your lazy behalf”
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“Lazy? Your hands never helped a single second.”
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Rumen's smile only widens, her eyes glittering with a feverish light. "I tell you that I will have a grand performance before the festival ends. It will be so grand that it will mark a new start of records in history! "
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Giza's hands clench into fists, her nails biting into her palms. "You forget yourself, Rumen. I am the High Princess, and my word is law. You will obey me, or suffer the fate of all traitors."
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Rumen's laughter echoes through the night, a sound of pure madness. "Obey you? Never. I have seen the truth, Giza. This festival by that old man, perfect for us princesses, truly so that we never even made use of it when we had much of the time! Hence why I got ultra focus at the start of May, to pursue something worthy of a high princess and show it to the people."
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And Giza can say nothing nor do anything. The undead around her approaches but she is not afraid. "This is unacceptable," she says, her voice as cold as the grave. Unacceptable and Rumen knows that she can do nothing about it. “After the festival…”
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For a long moment, the two sisters stare at each other, the weight of their words hanging heavy in the air. Then, slowly, Rumen nods, a twisted smile curling her lips. “Hmph, okay~”
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"I’ll do anything against the prophecy."
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“Yes, yes, fix that madness of yours and try not to even come back. Though, you could really have just asked Thean~”
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“You two will work together”
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“UGH! Then I’ll just drop my part to her.”
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“Come on, Rumen—”
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“Are you going to beg? Beg and I will behave well.”
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“…” Giza clicks her tongue but she has to, in order to avoid the prophecy. She think she has to contrast herself, just as the grays of the drizzle does not mingle with her gold, “I beg of you, Rumen.”
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“Would have wanted more but that’s acceptable, especially from you.”
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With that, Rumen turns and vanishes into the shadows, leaving Giza alone with the gruesome sight of Hodlad's crucified corpse and the undead shambling away from her. The High Princess stares at the body, her heart heavy.
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She has no choice, there is no choice.
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With a final glance at Hodlad's lifeless form, Giza mounts her horse and rides back towards the city.
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The rain continues to fall, the icy droplets stinging Giza's skin as she rides through the muddy streets of Kinguin. Her mind races with the implications of Rumen's actions, the gruesome sight of Hodlad's crucified corpse burned into her memory.
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As she approaches the inner wall gates, Giza sees a crowd of people gathered, their faces etched with confusion and fear. She dismounts her horse, striding forward with a sense of urgency.
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"What is the meaning of this?" she demands, her voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd.
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A guard steps forward, his face pale. "Your Highness, the people are demanding answers. They have heard rumors of black crosses and they fear for their safety."
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The said crowd noticing Giza and set their kneels and foreheads on the damp pavement. Asking for guidance against the strange black crosses Which Giza asks the people to pluck off the petals of every flower they see, and cast them around the streets, and cover the crosses. And the crowd does not think, simply cheering at the quick solution made.
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As the crowd disperses, Giza turns and strides into the empty house she entered before, her mind already racing with plans and strategies. She knows she must act quickly to uncover the truth behind Rumen's actions and put an end to her sister's dangerous obsession with necromancy.
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But even as she plots and schemes, Giza cannot shake the sense of unease that gnaws at her gut. The nightmare prophecies that haunt her dreams speak of a greater danger yet to come, and she knows she must be prepared to face it, no matter the cost.
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With a deep breath, Giza pushes and knocks down the door.
ns 15.158.61.16da2
