A king remains with a lie. Unknown

1st day 2nd month 150th Year of the 8th era

Aife’s entire body was painted white, covering all her warts and deformities. There were warts an unwanted remembrance of the curse that had been placed on her people for a transgression against the gods. She strode into the king’s royal chamber. With her head held high, her bare feet swished the neatly cut grass path that led to the king’s throne. A tremor went through her body; a clammy itch in the back of her mind distracted her. The vaulted ceilings carved from the Mother Tree, the first tree of the dark elves and home to the royal family, made her footfalls sound small. At the far end of the chamber sat her father. Aife gulped and continued to walk towards him.

Surrounding the dais stood the representatives of the many noble families that had evolved over the many eras since the dark elves had withdrawn from the world into the Bloodwood Forest.

I hope he accepts me to become a chosen one. She clenched her trembling hands and quickened her steps.

The assembled nobles were all painted in their family’s colours and patterns, from plain blue of House Gallchoir, the oldest noble family after the royal family, to the complicated swirling filigree work set on yellow of the most recent addition to the company, House Curic. They milled on both sides of the Seekers Path, a small trail of thick grass that went from the entrance doors all the way to the top of the stairs. Many were talking to each other in low voices. Sprawled on either side of the dais sat two women of striking beauty, despite the curse, their warts and deformities nearly insignificant compared to the multitude that Aife had. They were painted in a red stars and stripes pattern on black. More women of the same livery mingled amongst the nobles with trays of food and delicacies, which the nobles partook without ever looking at the women serving. The sweet smell of mulled wine tickled Aife’s nose as she approached the throne.

The gentle murmur subsided into near silence except for the gentle pat of bare feet on the polished stone floor. All eyes were on her now. Aife gulped, a sound which she hoped did not echo across the chamber. Ask him to join the chosen and I will never have to come before these people again. Petulant vipers. She knelt at the base of the dais and bowed her head.

“Who is this that stands before me?” intoned the king, formally.

“I, Aife, daughter of Caradec, princess of the realm, seek to shed myself of all worldly ties and be joined in service to the Chosen Warriors, to have no holdings but the fellowship of the sword and spear.”

“A lofty goal for a young one to have,” intoned the king.

“All I wish to do is to serve.”

The king stood and descended the stairs. He came to a stop just before Aife. The nobles stopped speaking as he stepped off the throne and onto the grass of the petitioner.

Why is he leaving his throne? That doesn’t normally happen.

“I wish to grant you your request …” said the king, his eyes locking onto Aife’s, looking deeply into her soul

Aife’s heart soared. I will become a noble warrior and my life will have some meaning as I defend the realm of the dark elves from all invaders.

“However …” continued the king.

What? There is no however, I have a right to be a chosen warrior; many princesses and princes have joined their ranks and become mighty warriors of renown.

“You are my child and I cannot risk you,” the king whispered. He bent down and lifted Aife up from her kneeling position.

“Daughter, I will not allow you to become a member of the chosen.” A roar of laughter swept through the assembled nobles.

“You are marked, my child, not for the sword,” he whispered again in her ear. “Now slap me and storm out.”

Aife’s eyes widened and she reacted without thought; she slapped him hard across the face, scratching his body paint. She wheeled on her foot and stormed down the grassy path back to the exit door.

What am I doing? I didn’t want to slap my own father. Why am I walking out of the throne room? I can’t control myself.

A roar of laughter followed her out of the throne room. Her ears burned, but she kept marching a quick step towards the end of the throne room and back to the anteroom.

Aife stepped through the door at the entrance to the great hall and stopped. She looked around the small room. The walls were roots that had grown around the room. On the left-hand side of the room, a dark elf sat behind a small desk made from a small root that came out of the tree. She was covered in black paint. The moss in this room was a gentle yellow that set off her paint pattern. Stars were painted on her chest with stripes heading down and around her back. At the other end of the room was an opening, blocked by hanging vines that had blue moss clinging to it. Flanking the door stood two soldiers that were naked, and their paint was patterned in the same manner as the woman. They each held spears and a sword on at their waist held by a small thin leather belt.

“Regardless of the outcome, you should wash that colour off as soon as you can,” the woman sitting behind the desk said, looking down at her desk.

“You’re right,” Aife agreed.

“Try the Violet Quarter, just behind the Mother Tree.”

Again, the compulsion to obey overcame her and she walked out of the tree and turned down the alley beside the Mother Tree and came out into the Violet Quarter. Her legs strode on their own, dragging the rest of her along. She willed them to stop, but they continued.

What is happening to me?

She strode down the alley and turned into the first bathhouse. She saw a woman standing, completely without paint on her body. On the outside of a vine, the door was a rack of towels in neat, carved cubby holes. As she approached the vine door, the woman handed Aife a towel, then held the vine door open. They both stepped through the door and came to a small pool; the water was a little murky and was moving. From one side, freshwater came in to replace the water that was leaving the pool. Aife placed her towel on a bench, stepped into the water, took some scrubbing sand from a receptacle on the right, and began to scrub the white paint off her.

An unpainted attendant came in, stepped into the water and approached Aife. She took some scrubbing sand and rubbed down Aife’s back. The rubbing soothed her bruised ego and she relaxed into the moving water. Aife climbed out of the water, collected her towel and stepped through the far door into a room that was steamy and hot. Steps tiered the room around a brazier in the middle with hot coals burning. A vine door sat on the far side of the room.

I must work out what happened. Why did I do whatever was suggested to me? How long will it last? I even obeyed that pathetic herald. My father I can understand, but the herald? Not that I mind that I did, this is a pretty good bathhouse so far. The attendants seem responsive to my needs, let’s see what the rinse room is like.

A burly man stepped into the room and poured a small cup of water onto the hot coals, filling the room with more steam. Sweat trickling off her body, Aife walked through the far door.

Down the stairs, the rinse room was a large underground cavern filled with a lake. The moss and mushrooms on the walls and roof glowed a soft relaxing yellow and green. In the centre of the cavern people swam or floated in the clear water. To one side, attendants on beds massaged and copulated with patrons. On the other side, patrons sat and played cards together, while attendants served drinks. Gentle laughter made her smile. At the opposite side, a small stairwell led back out of the cavern.

This is a good place to relax. Aife descended the stairs, her legs obeying orders again. She followed the sound of the laughter into the gaming area. She sat down at an empty table. A serving lady with an empty wooden tray came up to her table. She was petite and sinewy, her skin light brown colour, her scars and warts sparse compared to Aife’s pockmarked face and chest.

“What would you like?” she asked, averting her eyes from Aife. Her eyes went wide in horror.

“Something to relax me, but not cloud my thoughts,” said Aife.

“Sure thing,” answered the serving lady, rushing off quickly.