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When lo...
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CSILLA
Baltessa
Early Rainrise
Sleep didn't come often for Csilla Abado, and when it came, it was riddled with dreams she didn't want. They were a plague that she couldn't be rid of, reminding her of everything she'd lost and couldn't get back. There was no cure for dreams in this world, but if there was, she'd gladly take it.
Anything to keep her from revisiting her sister's death over and over again.
Csilla's eyes were heavy as she sat slouched on the golden throne. She could hardly stay awake as she held court, listening to the troubles of the people of Cerulia, most specifically the ones who dwelled on the capital island of Baltessa. She'd heard the woes of a merchant whose ship had sunk during a violent storm. Two brothers squabbled over who received the inn their family owned after their father passed away. A farmer and his wife from Macaya shared that their crops were dying and they couldn't figure out why. Another man lost his son to Incendian Scouts and hadn't seen him since. Csilla promised to help each of them, as a good queen would do.
It was still odd to think of herself as that—a queen. The weight of the Bone Crown on her head was a constant reminder of the responsibility that rested on her shoulders.
As she waited for the next civilian to come and be heard, her gaze trailed over the throne room. The room stood taller than the masts of the Scarlet Maiden, golden chandeliers lit with candles hung down from the roof. The floor was marbled with one red and gold woven rug stretching down the very middle from her throne to the doors at the end. She remembered visiting the throne room when she was younger and the windows lining the walls had always been closed. On Csilla's first day on the throne, she requested they all remained open, letting the seabreeze roll in and help her feel a little more at home.
Crown officials were seated in rows before her in their black robes. They'd never held a sword, but their weapon was knowledge. They were men and women who spent their lives learning the history and ways of the world, who knew the workings of a queendom and were there to provide their knowledge or guidance if Csilla so needed. Csilla didn't know most of them by name, but she did know the man who sat off on his own, polishing the handle of his whip—General Lockhart, who wasn't a crown official, but more of a counselor, and one that she didn't always agree with.
Tapestries depicting the flags of the pirate fleet hung down on either side of the room. Her ship, the Scarlet Maiden, had a crimson flag, woven with a skull with roses for eyes. Beside it was a black flag for the Iron Jewel, the fabric complete with a skull and two crossed blades. On the other side was the flag for the Anaphine, faded blue with smoking pistols, and lastly, the Wavecutter, it's flag gray with a sword between two curling waves. The brown flag of the Bonedog also once hung from the rafter, but since Dominic Rove's betrayal, it was torn down and tossed to the sea.
