Sole Memorial

On the Line

As a Chosen of the Middle Ground, Atta had been told she didn't need to concern herself too much with the affairs of the kingdom. They said it was because she was already shouldered with a huge responsibility, though she suspected they simply saw no point. After all, if she was going to leave anyway, why should they bother with catching her up?

But she was still Anterria's princess, and she refused to let that title go to waste in leisure.

Sorting through and organizing the last of the documents, she let out a sigh of finality. There were a great many stacks of bills, petitions, and inquiries all over the round marble table. Some had even been left unresolved for a month. With a workload like this, she could not, in good conscience, leave her mother to carry everything on her own. Thankfully, her queen mother was a reasonable woman; it didn't take much to convince her to let the princess to learn and get involved with her work. So long as the Queen was with her, she was allowed to handle even some serious aspects of the politics.

Atta had come across quite a few interesting scenarios in her line of work. There was a time that she had to settle a property dispute, where one man claimed he owned a portion of his neighbor's lemon tree that began to grow over his land. She'd ruled he could own whatever fruits fell from the tree, as they would no longer be attached to the neighbor in any way. In another case, some peasants renting a lord's land complained that he took too much food from them as payment without negotiation. She'd found that the lord had overtaxed the peasants so they had no means to move away, and no bribe could have turned the ruling in his favor. Lastly—and she would giggle at this one—she remembered a bizarre bill about limiting sweets sales out of concern for the people's health. However, what each person did was nobody's business, so she threw the bill out.

Yes, she'd rather not let her mother deal with such specific trifles.

It was hard work, but she quite enjoyed it. So much time before the decision was invested in research, but she found that keeping occupied made her existence feel more worthwhile and less like some sort if emergency leverage. Every choice she made meant something, and there was a catharsis when someone's life changed for the better.

Most importantly, being busy distracted her from the gaping hole in her life and the tragedy that caused it, especially on this day.

Furiously shaking her head to clear it, Atta pressed her nose into the scroll in her hands. It was public petition, usually set up in the marketplace, for passersby to read and write their thoughts. This topic was about the fair, which was supposed to last a month. Some wanted to end it early in light of the declines, to save money and resources that otherwise would be wasted in celebration; others insisted they keep the fair to lighten spirits, and the tourism could add money to the coffers to use in emergency projects.

They seemed to agree that they should dismiss the circus early, however.

"You seem troubled." The Queen took the papers and skimmed them, setting her previous stacks aside. Her brows furrowed in sympathy. "What do you think of this?"

"It can't be helped," Atta said too quickly. "Nobody can control when the world starts to decay." Frankly, it made things easier for her. The sooner they left, the sooner he could be out of harm's way; that is, if the truth about her didn't drive him away first.

Tonight was going to be a very crucial and delicate night. She had to be sure she only told the truth about herself, and only enough for him to know how this world worked and why. He had to know why, once the music box was finished, they could never meet again. If she said the wrong thing, he was going to cling to that clue even if the truth tore him apart. She didn't want to think of what would happen if he started putting the pieces together, realizing they fit, and breaking down at the sheer weight of it all. No, she didn't want to see him writhing, trying to rip out his heart again, and staring at her this time with betrayal.