Palace Ghosts

Chapter 1

I was a hard worker, always doing my best. For I knew that slackers and sluggards weren't liked and didn't get paid much. Though I didn't really care about what people thought of me, I did care about how well I did. I was hoping for a place in the palace, as a servant or maid of some kind. Perhaps you think that I have a strange ambition, but you see, the palace in itself wasn't the alluring thing about working there, it was the ghosts. I anticipated the wonderful things that I would hear from them. History is interesting in books, but there is nothing equal to living it, to talking to an ancient king that was murdered, hearing from a Baron who had bribed and blackmailed fellow Barons, until he himself was murdered.
The palace was rich with history, and very few knew it. For I alone could see, hear and talk to ghosts. Ghosts are merely the apparitions of people who never received justice, for their murder, for being cheated on or being significantly wronged, and vice versa, the perpetrators had also never received justice for their wrongs, so they too were around. And that is why the company of the dead is preferable, for, when have you heard a first hand account of a feud or rivalry that ended with dozens of murders? Or a spy who had vital information, but was killed before he could relay it? These are not simply the stories from bystanders, but the stories come directly from both the victim and perpetrator. Both sides of the story, can be heard.

My family didn't really love me at all, they thought that I was strange, for it appeared to them that I was always talking to myself. Though in reality, I was simply listening to the stories of victims, and occasionally perpetrators.
I learned that among the ghost community I was sought after, looked for. Ghosts enjoy speaking to the living, and I was one of the few who could listen and talk to them.
"Kianna?" someone said behind me.
I turned away from my work to see a bluish vapour, the apparition was that of a ten year old boy. The blue ghosts are the ones who have been wronged, and the red are the ones who have done the wrong.
"Yes Koa?" I said.
Koa was a new edition to the ghost community, he had been murdered just a week ago. His father had thrown a chair at him which had hit him on the head, and had killed him instantly.
"My father is going on trial tomorrow," said Koa.
"Congratulations, how strong is the defence?" I asked.
"It's bad, no one likes my father," said Koa.
I smiled at him. "Well Koa, it looks like you're going to pass into the afterlife soon."
He smiled. "Yes, as is my father."

Though the palace, I was sure, would be a very interesting place to meet ghosts, the courthouse was jam packed full. No one could see or hear them, but I, who could, heard daily the racket they made when someone was condemned to death.
Koa left my father's house with a triumphant smile. I carried on my work. Another blue vapour drifted into the room, he looked glum, as usual, and just stared at me for a minute.
Fathion had been a ghost for about 500 years, his murderer had never been apprehended.
"How has your day been?" I asked, politely. Ghosts hated being ignored.
"Awful, they just condemned an innocent woman to death, her husband was claiming that she was cheating on him, but he just wants to marry someone prettier," said Fathion.
I shrugged. "Well tell her about me once she joins your community," I said.
Fathion nodded. "She'll be hung this afternoon," Fathion said, still glum.
"Well that's tough," I said. I had long since become calloused to death, to me it was just another exciting stage of existence.
"Kianna, hurry up will you? I need that piece of leather right now!" my father said, coming into the room. He looked down at the piece of leather I was just rinsing, trying to find fault with it, but he couldn't. Instead he just snapped his fingers under my nose so as to confirm his impatience. I dried the wet piece of leather with a towel and handed it to him.
"Now get going on that next piece, and quit talking to yourself," he ordered, before marching from the room.
"Nice dad you have," Fathion said.
I could never tell when he was joking, so I just responded with, "Uh-huh."

...oOo...

The next morning I walked the dusty cobblestone road to the palace. I was going to have an interview with a man who would decide where I would fit best, and, of course, whether I was capable of the job. As I walked toward the palace I was joined by numerous ghosts.
"Kianna, where are you going?" asked a ghost.
"I'm hoping to get a job in the palace," I said casually.
"The palace?! But what about us?" he demanded.
"You can come and visit, I won't mind a bit," I said.
Each time a ghost joined our procession the information was relayed to him or her. When I finally got to the palace, I must have had twenty ghosts following me.
"I have an appointment with the Orchestrator," I said to the man at the gate.
"Your name?" asked the man.
"Kianna Latricia," I said. He looked me up and down, his eyes roving from head to toe.
"Quit looking at her you scoundrel!" snarled one of the ghosts. He pulled back his fist and punched the man several times. Naturally the man didn't notice one bit, as far as he was concerned it was just him and I.
"With the Orchestrator you say?" he asked.
"Yeah, that's what she already said dummy!" yelled a beefy red ghost.
"Yes," I replied.
"Well I'm afraid I can't find you on the schedule," said the man.
A loud mouthed ghost who had been a mercenary in his day went and stood behind the man. "Look again bone head, the appointment is right there!" said the ghost, sticking his arm through the man's chest and pointing at the schedule.
"Would you look again? It's scheduled for the fourth hour of the day," I said, graciously.
"Oh, I must have missed it," he said with a fake laugh.
"Unbelievable manners! If he had been around in my day someone would have throttled him by now!" said a blue ghost miming strangling someone. The man led me through a courtyard, into the palace, down a narrow hallway and into a room with an imposing man, and an equally imposing desk.
"Please, sit, Kianna," said the man, in a gravelly tone.
My escort left, and all the ghosts crowded into the office.
"What job is it that you're after?" he asked, his snowy beard twitching with each word.
"A maid or servant," I said.
"Really Kianna? Out of all the jobs out there? I would have competed for being the ruler!" said a blustery blue ghost.
"Shut up! Elish is no longer a democracy!" said a small red female ghost.
"A maid or servant?" The snowy bearded man flipped through some documents on his desk. "What about being a nurse?" he asked.
"Oh, I don't think I would be a good example to the children," I said.
"Why's that?" asked Snowy Beard, lifting his head to face me.
"I simply enjoy talking to myself while I work," I said, almost dismissively.
"Yourself?! She means us, Mr. Snow Beard!" clarified the blustery blue ghost.
"I see," said Mr. Snow Beard. The ghosts laughed like they always did when it sounded like a living person had heard them.
"Alright, can you read?" asked Mr. Snow Beard.
"What kind of dunderhead do you think she is?" demanded a ghost who had been a scholar about 200 years ago. "I taught her myself," he added, proudly.
"Yes, I can."
"And write?" asked Mr. Snow Beard.
"How can she know how to read, and not how to write?!" demanded the scholar ghost, deeply offended.
"Yes."
"Alright, can you please write down the answer to these questions?" asked Mr. Snow Beard.
"Say no," said a blue ghost who had led a rebellion about 150 years ago.
"Yes," I said ignoring the ghosts.
Mr. Snow Beard produced a piece of paper. "I'll give you some time to fill it in," he said also bringing out an ink pot and quill. Mr. Snow Beard left the room, leaving me to fill it in.
"Read it out loud," ordered the small red female ghost.
"Alright, first question Write your full name below."
"Write mine!" said a ghost.
"No, I'm going to write mine," I said. "Kianna Emilia Latricia."
"Very nice name," said the small red female ghost.
"And, nice handwriting," said the blustery ghost.
"I taught her myself," said the scholarly ghost.
I snickered to myself. "Second question, What is your age?"
"Write one and twenty!" said the mercenary ghost.
"No! No! Two and twenty! That puts her a margin above the legal age," said the scholarly ghost.
"No I'm going to give them my real age, if I was a legal age I could also, legally, be someone's mistress," I said writing down 17.
"Not a half bad Idea," said the mercenary ghost.
"Shut up!" ordered all the ghosts looking disapprovingly at the mercenary.
"You can't use language like that! She is only a child!" said the scholarly ghost.
The blustery ghost nodded in agreement.
"Ahem, third question Would you like to work for any of the people below?"
"Read out the names!" ordered the scholar.
"Okay, Baron Calden's Mistress, Baroness Selene, Baron Jacoby, Baron Elwinn or Baron Frox?" I said.
"Don't work for a Mistress, they're evil," said the small red female ghost.
"No women, they are fierce to anyone they think might win their husband's attention," said the scholar.
"Baron Jacoby's great-great-grandfather dethroned my cousin and killed me," said a blue ghost unhappily.
I crossed out the first three names.
"Baron Frox is decent enough, but a little odd, as for Baron Elwinn, I've seen him around, he seems nice, and he has some good looking children," said the blustery ghost.
"Alright, Baron Elwinn it is," I said circling the name.
"Next question!" prompted the mercenary.
"How pretty/handsome would you consider yourself?" I read with a frown.
"Bah! Imagine putting that on a résumé!" exclaimed the scholar, angrily.
"Well what should I put down?" I asked.
I had long black curly hair, with bluish green eyes, my frame was slight, and my features delicate.
"Stunning," said the mercenary.
"Angelic," said the scholar.
"Beautiful," said the blustery ghost.
"To-die-for," said the small red female.
"Entrancing," said a tailor ghost.
"Perfect," said an artist ghost.
"I can't put all of that down," I said.
"Fine just say attractive, after all Mr. Snow Beard already knows your to-die-for," said the small red female ghost.
I wrote down attractive.
"Question four, What words best describe your disposition and character?"
"Mild and sweet," said the female ghost.
"Calm and collected!" said the blustery ghost.
"Well mannered and smart," said the scholar.
"I'll just write down mild and well mannered," I said, the quill scratching across the piece of paper. "And we're done."
"That's all?!" demanded the scholar. "What is this world coming too?" he said putting his hand to his forehead.
"Hey Kianna! Mr. Snowy Beard is listening outside the door!" said the mercenary gruffly.
"Does privacy mean nothing nowadays?!" said the scholar swooning.
I gasped and turned to face the door, through the myriad of ghosts I could see a large keyhole.
"Excuse me Mr. Orchestrator, I'm done!" I said sweetly, pretending that I didn't know he had been eavesdropping. After half a minute the door opened, I supposed that he hoped the delay in him opening the door, would lead me to conclude that he hadn't been right next to the door.
"Done so soon are you?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied, evenly.
He sat down in his office chair, and spun the piece of paper around to face him. He read it quickly.
"Do you know anything about Baron Elwinn?" he asked me.
"No, not much," I replied.
"Then why out of all of these people, did you choose him?" he asked. His eyes looked stern, and even fierce, underneath his bushy eyebrows.
"A hunch," I said shrugging the question off.
"Our hunch," clarified the mercenary ghost.
"Very well, you can wait here until I've decided," he said, picking up the piece of paper and walking out of the room.
"Can one of you—?" I was cut of by the mercenary.
"I'll follow him!" the mercenary ghost said and sped out of the room, through the wall.