Sorrel

Archery Grounds

(Τομέας τοξοβολίας)

She sat comfortably on the throne-like chair at an end of the long dinning table. A quarter filled stemless wineglass sat on the table with a carafe, half filled standing next to it. Her crown headband in her hand made entirely of silver.

"Your Highness" said the man who had just come through the door, opposite her. His heavy panting and face full of sweat hinted he had been running.

Her eyes turned to him. Disgust written all over her face. No reply left her mouth as her eyes dissected him.

"Please forgive my lateness, Your Highness" the man's voice barely managing to propagate his plea.

She said nothing still as she stood up. She dropped the crown on the table and picked up the wineglass. She admired it. A smile snuck out of her black painted lips. She let it go and was in front of the man before the sound of shattering could be heard. At the sound of the shatter, three women came through the other door behind the throne-like chair, cleaned up the fragments and mopped the spill. Before they left, they replaced the broken wineglass with a new one and poured some wine from the carafe.
Her eyes dim and green as leaves, nailed on to the man. His expression was a picture; jaw hanging, skin begging to let go of the body and limbs jittering.

"Please, I'm very sorry" the man fell to his knees, face down.

She frowned menacingly.
"Rise and look at me" her voice calm, steady and low but poisoning the air with tension.

Wanting to escape this horror he rose his head and did as she said.

"Deliver your message" she said still as a tree with only her lips moving.

He took a second to put himself together, forced some air to his lungs and exhaled to speak.

"Gàntia has been taken over, Your Highness. But as we progress, despite our ferocity the resistance grows stronger." he said trembling though managing without a stammer.

She kept silent, drinking up the statement without so much as a twitch. Seconds passed which the man felt were solid decades, then she smiled wildly. She turned around and began walking back to her chair as she spoke.

"Does this mean the troops are getting weak? Surely that can't be"

"No, Your Highness"

"Then what does it mean, Orwell?"

At the mention of his own name, his heart lost a beat, with his brain racing to reply.

"It means—"

She stopped walking suddenly and peeked back at him sending a river of chills down his spine. She wanted to hear what he would say clearly - no mistake.

"I-It means the troops should get stronger as well and overcome the resistance" Orwell forced himself to complete lowering his head at the last word.

"Make what you have said known to the captains and the next time you come to me with a report, it should be good news, only"

She had now gotten to her chair but didn't sit on it.

"And it should not be late because it would not be forgiven like this time. Are we good?” she said gently.

"Yes, Your Highness. Thank you. I will take my leave now" Orwell exited the chamber closing it's door sluggishly.

Grande dame Athena sat, sipped her wine as she stared at the table. She lifted her crown carefully and slid it proudly to rest on her forehead.