Ten of Swords (Draft Only)

Chapter 35

Due to short staff, there was only one guard on duty in the dungeon at any given time. This poor guard, whoever they were, was forced to endure the racket of Minette's constant screaming and insults.

"This is a crime! I have done nothing wrong!"

Furiously she rattled the bars, much to the annoyance of her neighbours who pleaded with her to shut up. She was one of them now, regardless of whatever or whoever she had been before she was put in that cell. Titles meant nothing when you were condemned to death.

It seemed to her like it had all come out of nowhere. She had said that everything she had done was for the crown, and that should have been enough. Even if Hereskel hadn't believed it, with her noble status it should have meant a trial at a later date at least, and not an immediate and unceremonious trip to the underground cells.

All she had needed was time. Time until the rebel army had tried and failed to break the city. It would mean the end of the rebels whom she had poured so many resources into, but it would only be the beginning. There were so many things she still had left to do, and she was so close to having everything she ever wanted. Her wedding would be in the Autumn. She'd move from her family's estate in the dreary mountainside with nothing more than a magic academy to make it interesting, and she would live with her new husband in Charolais. His family owned vineyards and orchards all over the countryside, producing unique and flavourful wines enjoyed exclusively by the rich and powerful.

All she had to do was kill Hereskel.

Seeing as there was no hope of getting the guard to release her, he slumped back from the bars and lowered herself down onto her knees. She knelled on the filthy dungeon floor, getting dirt and revolting sticky grime on her expensive dress, folding her hands over her knees and letting out a long sigh. She did not need a focus. Or rather, she did not need one made of crystal. Flesh conducted magic even more powerfully than mana crystal, so when she cast a spell on someone she needed little more than to touch them and form the magic within their bodies. Only there was no body now that she could touch. No flesh she could use as a focus but her own.

"My lady," she whispered. "You who are most beautiful and grand. I have a favour to ask, so that I might continue to serve you faithfully into the future."

Bile burned the back of her throat, and she felt the air grow cold. The deity's eyes were now upon her. The eyes of Rananel.

Speak. The dark goddess hissed from beyond the veil of comprehension. I am assuming you want me to fix your mistakes for you, puny one.

Minette flinched. Her patron was in a foul mood, harbouring a particular dislike of granting favours. Considering the sacrifices that Minette had made in her name however, the goddess was willing to hear her out.

"I need the power to escape from my confinement and slaughter those who stand between me and my destiny. They shall all belong to you in death, just as I."

In absence, the greater being seemed to consider the request. Dread creeped up Minette's spine, as she knew that all it would take would be for her to say one word wrong and her patron would have the power to punish her as she saw fit. Swearing one's soul to a deity gave that god the right to gift more power and act more directly, but it also meant that god had the freedom to do with whomever was sworn to them as they saw fit.

Very well, came the soft and sharp voice or the rancid goddess. Minette could feel the powerful being's delight, and it unnerved her. This was not something that Rananel would typically be pleased with, which meant she had some idea that Minette probably was not going to like. But, I am going to need to take your legs.