Born Of Innocence

MONSTER QUEEN I

They met on a soft summer day. Summer in Sangemount were never hot. Surrounded by mountains from one side and by the sea on the other side, the country had icy winters and soft, sweet summers. The air was a buzz with tweeting from birds and hollering from merchants from the daily market. Mortling was a city close to the sea and thrived in trade, many an exotic product could be found here. From the rarest of clothe to the sweetest of delicacies was sold and bought on the renowned market of Mortling. Although enjoying these luxurious products was not the purpose of Eirlys Winthorn's, the young Queen of Sangemount, visit to the city. On the opposite, from within her gold adorned coach, she didn't look at anything twice. Her features were dispassionate, her back straight and her chin high. Unlike her, most people that the coach passed turned towards it like sunflowers to the sun. The hollering of merchants, the chitter of servants and chatter of young noble women softened to whispers. Many a stare was curious, and many a stare was hostile. Some hiding it better than others. It all went by unnoticed for the Queen, and if she did she gave nothing away. The coach made its way through the market, up a hill and turning until it reached their destination at the west end of the city. Several curious city folk followed the coach, speculating among themselves. The coachman's whip cracked through the air halting the horses. Gathering her heavy, petal pink skirts in one hand, she reached her other hand for the attendant's waiting one as she stepped of the coach. Her sensitive alabaster skin already uncomfortably warm under the all seeing eye of the sun. Before her rose a tall, marble building. Banners with Sangemount red and white softly swept with the summer sea breeze. Mortling, known and valued for its trade, was not only a city for merchants but intellectuals as well.

The trading of knowledge was another favorite activity among the rich and educated here. Eirlys's bright cerulean eyes took in the new library, the second of her many project finally finished. The second step closer towards the coming of the New Era. At the top of the marble staircase up to the entrance of the library stood several people waiting. When she started to make her way up the stairs, silk skirts still in one hand, an older man the shape of a chocolate bonbon hurried to her side.

He made an awkward bow, "Your Majesty, allow me to be of aid."

Fat fingers adorned with rings were extended to her. Her gaze went past his hand, up his arm and met his small, watery blue ones. Without giving the noble or his hand a second glance, she made her way up the stairs again.

"I take it you were the supervisor of the working camp." Her voice wa sweet but dispassionate. Strands that escaped her pinned up hair, decorated with pearls and jewels, swirled softly through the breeze like the milk in her morning tea. The man blinked out of his stupor. His brow crept together in one caterpillar like bush. The future tinkling of gold that already rung in his ears was enough though to heal his wounded pride and he quickly had a toothy smile ready again.

"Indeed! That would be me, your Majesty. Count Durriber," he hurried to her side again, slightly out of breath and one respectful step behind. "It's truly an honor to be graced with your visit, my Queen!"

"Make sure everything is as I asked for when I visit the camp." She said, dismissing the man and coming to stop in front of the new library's entrance.

A small welcome crowd of nobles and scholars had gathered, at the back stood several servants and to the sides posed some dozens soldiers. It was a fairly small affair, but that's how she liked things. The moment she arrived, all present fell in a deep bow. The supervisor of the camp wobbled awkwardly behind her before deciding on the least embarrassing action and swept down in a bow as well. Her lips were faintly curled at the corners as she surveyed her subjects. Everyone stayed bowed, waiting at the mercy of her word. The men stood bowed from the middle like broken stems, while the ladies colorful skirts spread over the ground resembling wilted roses. Behind her shifted the fat man.

She enjoyed the moment one heartbeat longer before she raised her voice, "Rise."

They did at once. The broken flower garden turned human again, and out of it stepped a man. Sweeping down again in a swift bow, he introduced himself.

"Welcome, your Majesty, and thank you for the honor of bestowing a visit upon our city. I am Frederich Hammest, the architect, and have the honor of being your guide."

"Thank you, Mr. Hammest. Please lead the way, I'm afraid I have to keep to a tight schedule today."

"Of course, your Majesty. I wouldn't want to waste your precious time." It was said in the lightest of voices and it was only the faintest of twitches at the corner of his mouth that belied his displeasure. She wasn't entirely surprised. Among the rich, educated and artists she was loved the least. If she was loved somewhere that is. Not bothered in the least by the undercurrent loathing that the people here must feel towards her, she followed after the man. They passed the open oaken doors into the big, open hall of the library. Rows and rows upon bookshelves which were filled with hundreds of thousands of books. In the midst of the big hall, dividing the library in two sides were several tables with benches. Already several places were vacated.

"As you know, your Majesty, we only opened the library two days ago and already it is quite a success." The architect told her, "It was truly misfortunate you could not make it in time to the grand opening, your majesty, we would have gladly –"

"Waiting for me would have been pointless, the date had been decided long before my visit was announced."

"Of course, your Majesty." He dipped his head. "Upstairs are separate private reading chambers, I'm sure your Grace would enjoy them."

She acknowledged his words with only a nod and made to follow the man again as he talked about the construction and furnishing of the new building. Most people present, besides with the little entourage from outside that followed at a respectful distance, had noticed her entrée and observing the others had quickly stood from their seats and bowed. Except for one brown haired head. Eirlys blinked at him, curiosity clear in her cerulean eyes. Others had noticed as well and tried to subtly gain his attention but the man stayed utterly absorbed in the book he was reading, often noting something down on the parchment next to him. Lips curling, ever so slightly that you could barely call it a smile, she rarely did these past years, she narrowed her eyes on her prey. Drawing a breathe, ready to strike, she chocked on a quiet gasp. She was silenced by a thunderous cry and barely dodged a cooking knife. With all the noise the man finally looked up and for a moment, before he looked away to the cause of the tumult, her eyes met his. A flutter, that of a butterfly wing, disrupted her heart. Even as he turned away, her eyes remained on his figure.