"Mira, the day will not wait for you. Now up and out of bed," Said Rebecca. She had quit going to wake Kline. It was a poor habit, one that caused her pain and was founded upon some distant unfamiliar emotion, a common ground between love and hate. She had stopped conversing with Kline altogether. There was no need to, and Rebecca realized it now more than ever. She instead spent her mornings waking her children, she couldn't quite break the habit completely.
"I'm awake, mother, I'm awake!" Little Mira said as she squirmed back and forth, dreading the imminent exit from her warm bed.
"Being awake and out of bed are two completely different things, Mira. Do you want to be a princess who sits idly by and watches the world change before her, or a Queen who sits on the throne and shapes that change herself?" Rebecca asked with a fierce tone. Mira was too young to understand what her mother meant and Rebecca knew it. But Rebecca wasn't talking to the little girl lying in bed, she was talking to herself.
She always wanted to do more, to step outside the boundaries of her role and change the flaws which she saw around her. But for so many years, she couldn't. For so many years, she was the princess refusing to get out of bed.
Her bed was safe, and warm. The world outside of it was not. She knew there was insecurity, angst, harshness, and death that awaited her. So she took the abuse from her husband, because the alternative was to be alone. And alone was unpredictable, unexplored, and unknown.
Mira seemed to ignore Rebecca's ranting but finally climbed her way out from under the covers.
"How many times must I remind you young lady, to do as your mother says? It's not ladylike to be disrespectful," One of the maidens said. She came charging into the room from behind Rebecca, seeming embarrassed at the princess's behavior. The maidens raised the children, and they knew them like Rebecca never would. They knew them like a mother. "Now get dressed and find your way to the dining hall, it's almost time for breakfast," The maiden continued.
Rebecca watched and listened, as Mira put on her day's clothes and did as the maiden had asked. Rebecca felt like a fool. She was no mother to these children. Her desire for motherhood had lured her into believing that she could love her husband's bastards as her own, and that they could love her in return. But it would never be, it could never be if Rebecca was to become the Queen that she so desired.
The maiden and Mira were busy and distracted, as Mira ready herself for the day. Rebecca withdrew and slowly backed away into the shadows of the room. She looked one last time at what she may have had, in another life, and her heart ached. The pain was worse than her husband's abuse, it was an inescapable torture.
Though Rebecca wanted what she saw before her, children, love, motherhood, she knew that life, or the gods, or whatever it may be, had chosen otherwise. She could not live within the order of the world, for she was swallowed in chaos. She had lived in it for so long that she had lost sight of the fact.
Perhaps one day she would find herself within the realm of order, with a family and children to call her own. But that would have to be created within the world of chaos, for that was all the Queen knew, and it was all that currently surrounded her.
Rebecca had silently vanished from Mira's chambers and slipped into the hallway. The Estate was no place for her. The disingenuous order in Rebecca's life stood up like a house with two walls. The house was either gorgeous or a complete disaster, depending upon the perspective.
For years Rebecca had forced herself to turn away from the truth, but she couldn't take it any longer. This life of nobility, the Estate, the children, the King, she could not bear to exist within it another second, yet she had little choice.
She slipped into her own chambers and gathered as much gold as she could find. The Estate was so filled with luxury that even Rebecca often lost count of how much gold she truly had. She could hear Mira, asking the maiden where her mother had gone. Although it hurt, Rebecca knew what she must do.
To act as their mother meant to leave Ferenor to Kline, an inevitable means for destruction. The Queen couldn't sit in her cage while the city spiraled into its destruction. Rebecca had to go. Where, she was unsure. But she figured to start at the only other place she knew, the Catredal.
With her hood up, hiding her face, she evaded the crowds and traveled to the Northeast, to the Noble district. The Noble District hadn't changed much since Rebecca lived there as a child.
It was full of those who were focused on themselves and their rise to power, but they missed what was actually going on in the world. They missed the cries of starving children in the Westbottoms, and the ever-present threat of an army at Ferenor's walls. It was a place far from reality.
Rebecca had just arrived at the point where the Common District and Noble District converged, a narrow road between self-serving nobles and those convinced they wanted to be one. It was here that she always saw the young girl, selling her Calsheth wine. But today, the girl was nowhere to be seen. She wasn't standing upon her box, shouting for all to hear, holding bottles of red wine high above her head.
But it was not wine that Rebecca had come for. So, she continued on, until she arrived at the Great Trees and entered the Catredal, where she was welcomed by several preceptors.
"Good day, my Queen," One said.
"Queen Wullmont, may the Gods bless you," Said another.
"My Lady, Queen Rebecca, welcome. Gods be with you," Said a preceptor. Rebecca ventured through the tower as busy preceptors passed by, each offering his own blessing.
The Catredal's narthex had ceilings many stories high. As time went on, the Catredal was built higher and higher. University, studies for the preceptors, libraries, they had all been added as the Catredal was extended into the skies. On the ground level, however, the tower was a place of worship.
The door to the North of the narthex lead to the nave and sanctuary. Worship was conducted in the Catredal at every hour of the day. Those of the University, training and studying to become preceptors, would rotate through the sanctuary, performing a continuous ritual of offering to the Gods.
For hundreds of years, since the God's themselves established the land, Ferenor's Catredal had continued these ceremonies. Interruption of ritual was defined as an act of treason against the God's themselves, and punishable by death, an altogether unforgivable act.
The beams of the Catredal stretched up to hold its high ceilings, and divided its many rooms. A large window sat behind the Sanctuary, lighting the nave throughout the day. Each level above the ground floor had a continuous balcony, which ran around all sides of the sanctuary and nave, allowing the ritual to be seen from any floor of the Catredal. The dark and somber building was dimly lit by candle light.
"Ah, Queen Rebecca," A slow and charming voice crept up from behind her.
"Preceptor Bennett," Rebecca smiled from ear to ear and stepped towards the old man. Preceptor Bennett was the oldest preceptor of the faith, and perhaps one of the oldest men Ferenor had ever known.
When Rebecca was a girl, living in the Noble District as a Winland, she met Preceptor Bennett. The Noble District was Preceptor Bennett's territory, where he traveled each day to teach.
Preceptors were all assigned territories. Within these territories, a preceptor would lead his people, performing the ritual, teaching them about the Gods, and offering sanctification or blessing. The preceptors all had territory in the Noble and Common Districts, but the Westbottoms were left for the minor preceptors.
As a young girl Rebecca had a great interest in the faith, in the Gods and their works. She spent many days listening to Preceptor Bennet speak, telling tales of The Four.
Rebecca joined him, as he sat in a wooden chair, reading over holy manuscript. Many of his days were spent doing so, as his body had begun to fail him. The challenge of the Catredal's towering stairs, and the terrain of Ferenorian soil had become much of a challenge for the preceptor's tired legs. He mustered his strength to stand, and slowly knelt his head, offering respect for his Queen.
"Oh, Preceptor Bennett, you are the last who should bow before me," Rebecca stood, still a grin across her face, as she looked upon the old man she had known for so long.
"You were once a small child, and respected your Preceptor. That Preceptor now returns it, to his Queen." Preceptor Bennett offered a warm smile of his own, before he continued on. "I am afraid that Grand Preceptor McKellon is not available. I assume he is who you are here to see. At this hour, he is surely locked away in some study above the Sanctuary, teaching in the University. Although, I've heard word that his illness has progressed. While it seems to have remained quiet news, my old ears still work well enough. Each morning that I'm lucky enough to open my eyes, some new study or chamber is built high within this tower. Things are always changing, perhaps the greatest changes are yet to come." Preceptor Bennett spoke slowly as he always did, shaking with weakness as he sat back down in his chair.
"You're right, preceptor Bennett. He is ill, indeed. I came to see him not long ago, and I was sent away. He must have time to rest. However, The Grand Preceptor is not who I'm here to see." Rebecca responded as she helped Preceptor Bennett return safely to his seat.
"Oh, I see. Well forgive my assumptions. If it's not Melvin that you seek, then to what does the Catredal owe your presence?" Preceptor Bennett coughed loudly as the words struggled to escape his throat.
Rebecca was reluctant to reveal her true intentions, for life had taught that trust was a promise for fools. She knew that as much as Preceptor Bennett cared for her, his love for the Gods was far greater.
"I am seeking a Minor Preceptor. I wish for the faith to reach the children at the Estate, as it did for me when I was a child. It has become difficult to escort them through the Noble District in order for them to hear the word of the Gods. I wish for a preceptor to travel to Overland each day," Rebecca said.
"A wonderful idea, indeed! Your children are of royal blood, the Gods would wish to speak blessings upon them. A voice for them to speak with is, therefore, necessary. Normally, I would have you meet with the Grand Preceptor, but these are not normal times, my Queen. I'd say that I've walked these halls long enough to make a decision or two every once in a while." Preceptor Bennet offered another warm smile, something that came to him so naturally. He reached out across the small table that stood in front of him. Slowly, his hand passed over the holy manuscripts and towards a scroll, bringing with it a quill and ink.
"I shall write command to Preceptor Cecil, who is the Chancellor of University here at the Catredal. Upon reading it, Preceptor Cecil will come to find that an old friend, and a former teacher, has requested he send one of his Minor Preceptors to Overland, a request of the Holy Mother, the Queen herself." Preceptor Bennett finished writing upon the canvas just as fast as his old hands could remember and offered it out towards Rebecca. "As you might understand, my legs do not travel as well as they once did. I will have you deliver him this message to him, if you may. Take it to his study, on the highest floor of the tower. You will find him there, my dear child".
Rebecca knew of Preceptor Cecil. She had seen him once before, during a meeting with the Grand Preceptor. He was the head of the Catredal's University, where students were trained to become Minor Preceptors.
The Minor Preceptors were those who just recently had completed their study at University. This included the memorization of manuscript, the recital of scripture, and study of the faith's history. Minor Preceptors were not offered the title of Preceptor, however, until they had completed four years of service. New Minor Preceptors came about every four years, after their completion of University.
"Thank you, old friend. Your service to the Gods and to Ferenor will never be forgotten. May blessings be upon you, Preceptor Bennett, until we speak again." Rebecca offered gentle eyes and kind words, which were met with that unforgettable smile. Rebecca turned and stepped towards the Western Door of the Narthex. With letter in hand she began her ascent, up the large staircase, to reach the highest floor of the tower.
Rebecca grasped the letter tightly, not realizing how heavy her hand weighed upon it. The sweat from her palm made the letter stick to her skin. Her legs began to weaken, and burn with a lingering sting, as she fought to climb her way further up the steep staircase.
She often felt that the faith had become blind to the truth, locked inside their tower, lost in manuscripts and prayers. The preceptors had become unable to truly serve the Gods, Rebecca concluded. Bound by their own laws, they became unable to make rid of a King who threatened the very wellbeing of Ferenor.
At last, The Queen had reached the highest level of the tower, where she sought to deliver the letter to the University's Chancellor. She stopped momentarily to rest, as she peered over the balcony. Down below Rebecca could see the sanctuary, and a group of preceptors as they performed the ritual.
She followed the balcony forward as it wrapped around the opening. Rebecca could see the light of a fire dancing from a room, reaching through an open door. She approached it, the letter still clenched in her warm hand.
What she found, as she turned to look into the study, was a fair skinned man with glasses, and a thick black beard, pondering amongst a shelf full of books. He stood tall. His long, narrow neck seemed to push his head away from the rest of his body, and closer to the book. He stared intently, not recognizing Rebecca's presence at all. He stroked his beard slowly with his long skinny fingers as he read.
Rebecca drew in a deep breath and prepared to introduce herself. But just before she could do so, the man shouted aloud.
"Ah ha! Yes! This must be the one. It is undoubtedly, the very book I have been searching the halls of the Catredal for. Countless hours I have searched and now I have come to-" The man stopped. A look of joy and exuberance turned to one of disappointment. Rebecca stood in silence as she tried to understand the awkwardness of the situation.
The man turned, book still in hand, and looked at Rebecca. His dark brown eyes squinted and his face bore a smile even longer than his neck.
"The wrong book, yet again." He set the book back on the shelf and finally turned his attention towards Rebecca, who stood near the door with angst.
"I'm looking for Rin's Archives," The man said, as he stood from his chair. "The first to make his way across Miriela, and to the lands of the North. He recorded his findings, compiled them in an archive. Some say that his writings are truth, others would disagree. The Hadrian's Bay Serpent, the Beasts of Berithin Hills, maybe they existed in the days of Rin, but certainly not now. In fact, it is said that when Rin finally did return to Ferenor, no one cared to believe what he had seen. They had not seen it themselves, and they believed to know was to see. It is a sign of man's weakness, the inability to cope with that which is unknown. It is easier for us to deny that which we do not know, to eliminate the vulnerability which comes from our inexperience." The man paused. He stood an arm's length from Rebecca, smiling, with his eyes again squinted. "I for one, my Queen, am not afraid of that which I have not yet seen. Instead, I am intrigued." Queen Rebecca felt uncomfortable with the man's odd demeanor, and grew more impatient to find the Chancellor.
"Preceptor, I do apologize for the interruption of your thought. May the Gods continue to bless your work." Rebecca smiled. "I seek Preceptor Cecil, the Chancellor of University. I have a message to deliver." She slightly raised the letter and motioned towards it.
The man's smile grew even larger as he turned and walked back towards the shelf. "You are in luck, m'Lady. This Preceptor Cecil, he was unseen to you, therefore, unknown. He may have been a reality, maybe not. You had no experience with him, no tangibility, so how would you know?" The Preceptor now sat back at his desk, looking up towards the Queen. "You built your reality upon the stories of others. But nevertheless, your eyes have made real that which is before you. And so here I sit, Preceptor Cecil, Chancellor of University."
Rebecca was unsure of what to make of Preceptor Cecil, he was strange, and his words seemed more confusing than anything else, but she was pleased to have found him. Time was of the essence. The preceptors moved at the pace of the Gods and by their agenda, which none were to disturb.
"Well then, Preceptor Cecil. It is nice to have found your company. I have for you a letter, from Preceptor Bennett. In his writing, he intercedes on my behalf. I am requesting that a Minor Preceptor is sent to teach my children at the Estate," Rebecca said, and handed the letter to Preceptor Cecil.
"And your children cannot be taken to the Noble District, to learn from the preceptors there? I only have so many minor preceptors at my disposal, and most of them are busy in the Westbottoms." The Preceptor spoke as he looked over the letter, peering over it slowly.
"My children need to be with their Mother, and I with my husband. War is ahead, just as it is behind. The King has many decisions to make, and I must be there to support him. In times like these, I do not have the luxury of taking my children to the Noble District." Rebecca's response was stern. The Preceptor set down the letter and took a deep sigh, before looking back up towards the Queen.
"An old friend writes on behalf of my Queen. What sane man would deny such a request?" Preceptor Cecil signed the letter, rolled it back up gently and set it aside. "One of them will be instructed to travel to the Overland Estate three days each week, starting next week." Preceptor Cecil stood from his chair.
"Preceptor, I cannot thank you enough. You are truly a man of the Gods and my children will benefit from your choice on this day," Rebecca said.
"Your children will be fortunate to learn from a Minor Preceptor. They are the future of this faith," Preceptor Cecil said.
"Thank you and good day, Preceptor," Rebecca said.
"And to you, my Lady," Preceptor Cecil replied, as he bowed.
Rebecca smiled and exited the study. The Catredal trusted its Queen. And it was this very reason that Rebecca trusted no one at all.
She reached the bottom of the staircase, and entered back into the Narthex, where she saw Preceptor Bennett sitting right where she had left him.
"I take it the letter was quite enough for Precept Cecil? A man who is seldom hindered by royalty, he adheres to the requests of the faith, and the faith alone." The Preceptor coughed, as his old lungs tried to catch his breath.
"Your act this day will not be forgotten by the throne. May the Gods grant rest and blessings, on this day and those to come." Rebecca bowed before the Preceptor, as she did as a young girl.
Preceptor Bennett offered his farewell, and the Queen started her way out of the tower. She passed through the Grand Trees and entered the Noble District. Rebecca could feel herself inching closer towards the throne. She had stayed away from the High Council, and out of the King's doings all her life as Queen. She often wondered what purpose she truly served in Ferenor.
Her inability to provide children of her own had cast her away from all that was political. Years of waiting, sitting in the shadows, Rebecca could not withhold any longer. The threat was imminent and she would rather be put to death than watch the High Council burn Ferenor to the ground.
The usual noises bustled around the Queen, as she walked discreetly through the Noble District, her hood pulled tightly over her head. She shuffled in and out of the crowd, searching for the point where the Noble and Common Districts met, searching for the young girl.
She stood atop her box and shouted with wine in hand. Rebecca approached her, avoiding eye contact.
"Hello, Hooded Lady," Sia said. She hopped down off of her box, and set down two bottles of wine. She reached behind the box to grab two different bottles and held them out before Rebecca.
"No, not today," Rebecca said quietly. "Do you remember, Sia, when I told you a day would come when you would no longer struggle to sell wine atop a box?" Rebecca asked.
"Ha. I sure do. Forgive me for not trusting a woman who walks about the town with her face covered. What exactly should I make of your words, Hooded Lady?" Sia asked.
"I know it's never been my words that have kept your interest," Rebecca said. She reached into her satchel and pulled from it the gold she had taken from the Estate. Sia's eyes grew large as they lit with the twinkle of gold.
"No more wine," Rebecca said. Sia waited, unsure if she should reach out and take the gold before her. Before she could decide, Rebecca closed the coin pouch and returned it to her satchel.
"Where do you live, in the Westbottoms?" Rebecca asked.
"Right near the docks. In a small house that sits alone," Sia said. She still looked mesmerized from the sight of gold.
"Good. I will meet you there, tomorrow at sunrise. Complete the task I have for you and the gold is yours," Said the Queen.
"You still haven't answered my question. Why should I trust you? Why should I trust a woman who won't even show her face in a crowd?" Sia asked.
Rebecca leaned in closely and removed her hood to reveal her stern face. "Because your Queen demands it," Rebecca said harshly.
The Queen put her hood back up once again and turned away and disappeared into the crowd. The Queen could feel the throne draw ever closer, as the waters of chaos slowly began to boil.