Chapter Text
It's snowing again along the solid brick walls of the giant manor in Siberia. The manor is known as Hallownest by its residents. The place is owned by a very wealthy couple, King Parker V and Queen Willow I. -
Parker and Willow have many children, but the oldest, the heir, is named Prince Holland. King Parker has been talking with this woman, Herrah Beaste, over something, but no one knows quite yet.
The manor has many smaller courthouses surrounding it. Most of them are where residents live, but one in particular is known as the Crossroads, as it is the one that connects most of the courthouses to the manor.
Recently, Servants have been coming to the King and Queen to report murders in the Crossroads. The bodies are found morphed and de-shaped. Most of the time, they are found with a putrid orange liquid pouring out of their mouth and stinging their dead eyes.
The one responsible for these disgusting murders is a Mafia boss locally known as The Radiance by the rest of her gang. She lures the residents away from their home with her bribes, then she drugs them, mutilates, and dismembers them. Most of the time, she just leaves the blood on the floor, but some bodies have been found with most of their guts pulled out and rotten. A putrid sight indeed.
Fortunately, I have taken duty within the Throne's Chambers and might be able to figure out what King Parker plans to do to get rid of The Radiance.
I stand up after sitting on the low windowsill on the North side of the manor. I am to report to the Throne's Chambers at 3:05 pm, sharp. Our Pale King would scold a servant like me if any of us were late to an assigned report.
I glance down at my watch to make sure I'm on time.
2:15 pm.
Perfect. I must change and write my report more formally to present it to the King. A few days ago, as I was cleaning residents' courthouses, I went through the Crossroads and found another body.
A young boy, maybe 15 or 16, was lying in a pool of blood. Fresh. His arms and legs were smashed and detached from his abdomen. One of his lungs was pulled out, and inside you could see his heart, still as a stone. Foul orange liquid oozed from his mouth and the gaping hole where his lung was.
I probably should have been sick.
I probably should have screamed.
I probably should have done anything but stare down at him with hungry fingers wrapping around my stomach.
The taste of flesh.
I know that taste distinctly.
Working within the manor is interesting nonetheless.
I hurry off to my designated courthouse and politely push the door open. The kitchen is neat. Marble countertops are scrubbed until they shine. A stove any chef would want to cook on. Dishes, pots, and pans, all put away properly.
I stride past the kitchen, down the narrow hall to my room.
I have a large, wooden desk pressed firmly up against the wall. Stacks of papers, stationery, and miscellaneous junk piled on top of it. My bed was neatly made, laid with clean blankets, satin pillows, and heavy quilts.
My closet houses all of my uniforms, clothes, suits, and anything really. But the main attraction of my attention is the solid, wood-framed mirror in the corner of my room. The border is worn and stained a dark mahogany color. I peer into the antique mirror and check my appearance.
My silver hair, waist-length and highlighted with black, is pulled into a crisp ponytail. Sharp silver earrings hang from my earlobes. My robes that have been pressed clean of any wrinkles drop down almost to the floor. Grey dress slides adorn my feet.
I look up at my face to see my pale green eyes staring back at me. They've been sucked dry of any life. That's what working in the manor does to a person, much more likely a servant, like me. My nose is pointy and thin, my lips chapped from the cold. Short stubble has started to grow on my neck. I'll need to shower and shave when I get back.
I look at my watch again to make sure I still have time to write my report.
2:45 pm.
Shit.
I needed to start heading back down to the Throne's Chambers by now. I grab my parcel and race out the door.
I walk with purpose down the halls of the manor. I need to get to the Throne's Chambers on time. It's about a 15-minute walk from my courthouse to the Throne's Chambers on the Northernmost point in all of Hallownest.
I managed to get through the double doors of the Throne's Chambers just 2 minutes before I would be considered late. As expected, all the other servants are here already, and our King is at the head of the room on his throne, waiting to hear our reports.
I fall in line with the rest of the servants, and I vaguely notice that just one other servant does not have papers.
Queen Willow is there next to him. Still towering over him even while she sits. She's middle-aged and has these absolutely gorgeous floor-length, white, matte braids that are, of course, adorned with gold cuffs around their base.
She has sparkling, pale blue eyes that can calm anyone talking to her. She is wearing her royal robes just like every other time I see her.
Queen Willow is always stunning.
King Parker is much shorter than his wife but looks at least 10 times more intimidating, no doubt. He's roughly the same age as the Queen, maybe older. He has hip-length, silver hair that shines in the reflected sun on the snow from outside. He has spiked earrings, very similar to mine. On top of his head is a huge, silver, spiked crown that looks like it could impale anyone to close to it. His robes are much longer than Willow's.
He has piercing, grey eyes that are as sharp as swords that can cut anyone in a heartbeat. His nose is thin, and his lips are pursed and tight.
"State your report."
The words cut like ice in the silence of the room. His voice is deep and heavily accented.
The young servant girl on the very far left steps forward with a paper in her hand.
"I'm reporting a broken wall at the edge of King's Station. The break leads outside, and the cold air has been piercing the neighboring courthouses. I have contacted someone to fix the wall, but he won't be here for a couple of weeks. That is all, your majesty."
She has a faint and shaky voice when she speaks, but managed to keep a firm bow at the end of her report.
"Very well, what is your report?"
He points one long, thin finger at the man standing next to my right. He bows and steps up, no paper in his hands.
"There have been some disputes regarding payments for resting areas and traveling stations. People are fighting over money at the rest stops, and more cases of robbery are rising near them. That is all."
He bows and steps back in line.
King Parker pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He murmurs something I cannot hear.
"What about your report?"
He points his thin finger at me. I step forward and bow, nerves bouncing through my body.
"I am here to report another case of murder."
I can feel the people around me stiffen. The king looks slightly intrigued but also annoyed at the same time. I go on
"A resident around the age of 15 was found, heart and lungs pulled out of his body, arms and legs smashed and detached. He was spilling blood and infection from his mouth and from the hole over his heart."
The putrid orange liquid has a name.
It's called the infection.
The infection is an incurable poison made by The Radiance.
"I found his body while coming back from cleaning residents' courthouses. That is my report."
I bow and step back in line.
The rest of the 4 other reports are boring, someone stole this, he did that, and so on. I'm very glad when His Majesty dismisses us.
"Hey!"
I turn towards the shout.
I come face-to-face with the same man who stood to my right during the meeting.
“Wow, your report was crazy! How did you find another one of The Radiance’s prey?”
He has bright, over-eager eyes that peer into mine. His light brown skin shone through the brightness of the manor. He looks at me with this “puppy dog” expression, and I can’t help but smile and answer.
“I was doing some cleaning when I went through the Crossroads, and he was just lying there.”
I motioned to the ground as if he were lying there right now.
“Hmm. How many bodies has this been now?”
He asks, a puzzling look on his face.
“I believe this is the 84th body found within the crossroads.”
I state, even as I slowly glide through the halls with him trailing behind me. I can feel him stiffen beside me in reaction to my response.
In the next few hallways, we stay silent. The King never ordered any of the servants to any duties after the meeting. So I’m heading back to my courthouse.
I turn towards the man, "I'm heading to my room, you can stay if you like. I have to write my report and would prefer some company.”
The man’s eyes light up after the dimmed silence in the hallways.
“I shall stay. I also need to write my report.”
The man states, eagerly. He manages to catch up to my stride as we reach my door
I hold open the door so he can walk through. After he enters my courthouse, I gently push the door closed and head to the back of the courthouse, where my room is.
I can feel him staring at all of my clean rooms. I turn around to see him staring at the flowers gently blooming on the windowsill in my kitchen.
"You grew these?"
His voice, even though quiet, breaks the wall of silence between us since we got to my courthouse. I tilt my head in a slight nod towards the pale white flowers just starting to bloom.
I pivot and turn back down to my room. This time, he follows.
I open the door to my room and put my parcel onto the clutter that sits on my desk. I head over to my mirror and check my appearance as I did just over an hour ago.
My hair has minimal fly-aways, and my expression looks slightly more exhausted than normal.
I relieve myself of a heavy sigh and take out my hair. After, I head back over to my desk and pull out a brisk piece of paper.
Turns out the man has just been staring and watching me from the center of my room this entire time. I pull out another piece of paper and faintly point it towards him. This apparently snaps him out of his daze.
He takes the paper from my outstretched hand and moves near my desk. I pull out my chair for him to sit down. After, I then move to my bed to write my report. Thankfully, he takes the chair and sits down.
"Are you okay?"
I question the man who's now sitting in my chair. He turns his head to face me.
"Nothing, I'm just..."
He trails off as he grabs a wooden pencil from a cup on my desk and fidgets with it. I nod, not necessarily knowing if he saw me or not.
"I never caught your name?"
I say in a sad attempt to lighten the mood.
"Oh! I never told you, that's right! My name is Ogrim."
He says, turning towards me, pencil still in hand. I nod.
"My name is Ze'mer."
He beams down at me from where he's sitting.
I smile back up at him as I take my own pencil.
I start my report.
After about an hour or so, I finish my report and break the calm silence.
“You wouldn't mind if I made some food, right?"
I glance down at my watch
6:17 pm
"That would be great!"
Ogrim put his pencil on his paper as he got up. He's easily half a foot taller than I, and for sure bigger than my thin frame. His black hair is curled tightly against his head. I bet his smile could light up at least half of the manor.
I hop off my bed and swiftly glide over to the kitchen. I peel a large pot off the rack on my wall. I run the faucet and fill about half of the pot with water.
I add half a teaspoon of salt to the water and wait for it to boil.
In the meantime, I go back to the room where Ogrim is.
“The water is starting to boil. It’ll be a couple of minutes.”
I say bluntly as I enter the room. Apparently, I’m the only one in the manor who didn’t know to leave Ogrim by himself in someone else’s courthouse. I come back to him, going through the clutter on my desk.
He looks up at me with guilt radiating off of him in waves of panic. Honestly, the absurdity of the situation is hilarious.
I burst out laughing, which apparently makes Ogrim feel worse. I stop shortly after I realize, but I still have a smile plastered on my face.
"You are okay. I just wasn't expecting it."
I move over to him and pull out my chair to plop down on.
I pick up a paper off my desk and read it.
Dead Body Report #2
Body found mutilated and dismembered, with infection spilling out of the mouth and open wounds. The victim is estimated to be middle-aged. They had brown hair and brown eyes that had been turned orange due to the infection.
End of report.
He organized my reports by what they are. I'm impressed. Normally I'm too tired after duties that I don't clean my desk. I put the paper back neatly into the pile of other dead body reports.
I put the paper back neatly into the pile of other dead body reports. I notice that Ogrim has passed me a new paper to read.
Dear Queen Willow,
Would it be possible for me to get the female servant’s robes instead of the male’s? This is a question, not a request, but it would be very nice if answered.
End of note,
I did manage to get the female robes after bribing a laundry maid, but I truly never sent this letter. And now I’m faced with the consequences of having a guest over and never cleaning my desk.
"I did notice that you are always wearing the female robes, but I thought it would be rude to ask." He states casually, as I peel my eyes up from the paper. My face is probably as red as the stove that's on in the kitchen.
I, quite literally, choke on my words as I try to cough them out. In the end, though, I get up and head to the kitchen to finish making the food.
Unfortunately, he follows.
I pull out a box of pasta as I turn down the burner so the water doesn't overboil. I rip the top off the box and dump the pasta in, accidentally splashing boiling water on my hand.
Great.
I recoil and grimace in pain as I grab the wooden spoon from a cup on the counter. I stir the pasta until my hand feels better. I turn to Ogrim as I grab a fresh tomato from my fridge.
"You said you had a question?"
I sharply ask through the dull pain in my hand.
"It's not much of a question. I just wondered about your robes. Most likely, how you got them considering you never sent the letter." He replies, now more cautiously due to our earlier conversation over the same topic.
"I bribed a laundry maid with flowers, and she gave me the robes in return. I like the feel of them better. They're much more comfortable to move around and clean in." I say it so bluntly that I don't turn to him as I speak.
I chop the tomato and pour it slowly into the pasta. Then, I go back to the fridge and get 2 cloves of garlic that I precisely mince and toss into the water.
"You look like a really good cook," Ogrim comments, as he spectates me stressfully, but swiftly, make the pasta.
"Isolation can bore oneself," I hastily reply, as I put in a dash of olive oil and stir again.
"How long have you been living alone? I thought all courthouses had two residents in each."
This is true. Most courthouses contain two residents.
"I had a roommate. She left to live with her boyfriend in another courthouse. I've been alone for about two years now."
I take the pot off the stove and move to the sink, where I drain the water. I quietly turn off the burner and put a wad of butter and a handful or so of cheese in the still-warm pot. I stir until it's all melted and mixed.
I pour the pasta, evenly, into two bowls I have out on the counter. I motion to Ogrim to grab his bowl as I take mine and stride over to the table meant for two. I pull out a chair for him and myself as I move to sit down. I brought him a fork as well.
"I can answer most questions you give me," I tell him as he comes and sits down. "But this means I get to ask any questions I want as well." I offer him a snarky smile even as I take a bite of my food.
"I suppose that is true, isn't it? Well then, fire away!" Ogrim replies, as he too starts to eat the food.
"So. That short servant girl from the meeting, Isma, I believe, is her name; You have eyes for her, don't you?" I lean over my bowl as I take another bite. The question leaves him in stunned silence as I watch him pick at his food, thinking of an answer.
"I-uh-" He cuts off as he chokes on his words.
"Ah. So very much true. I see." I smile at him from across the table. He doesn't look at me, probably out of embarrassment. "I won't tell, if that's what you want to know."
"Thank you,"
"Yeah, yeah"
I take another bite of food as I see him ponder a question of his own.
"Where are you from?" He says, with food in his mouth. I slightly recoil at his lack of manners.
"I'm from France. I thought it was obvious from my accent and name, yet again, I could be wrong," I answer with slight impressment as Ogrim's obliviousness.
"Oh, wow! What made you come here?"
This question leaves me in thought as I think back all those years ago when I received a letter.
The formally written request was encased in a crisp white envelope. The writing was formal and pristine.
I opened the letter two weeks after I received it. I had never heard of the place and had even less idea of what it would say. I was scared.
I had stayed up late one night as I was working on assignments for my upcoming semester of college. People do say, curiosity is what killed the cat. My foolish curiosity drove me to reach for a letter opener and tear the envelope open. Upon unfolding the letter, a small seal fell out of it and onto my desk.
The seal was small but sturdy. It had intricate details and linework carved upon it. What looked like wings extruded from the main body, and a crown of spikes lay atop it.
I had never seen something so peculiar and mysterious before, let alone come from a letter.
After studying the seal for long moments, I finally started reading the letter.
Dear Ze'mer Jefińe,
You have been requested by King Parker and Queen Willow to serve and help industrialize the new manor of Hallownest. You will be given a courthouse to live in and schooling if needed. A guard sent by his and her majesties will be underway by the time you read this.
Sincerely, Lurien.
I step back away from the letter as I watch it float to the ground. Whatever that young, naive mind of mine thought the letter held, I was wrong. I was being dragged away from my school, my friends, my family, my house.
Everything.
Just to go and live somewhere unknown.