Being a Queen

The past few days have been incredibly busy for both Bluebell and me; we couldn't even meet until late at night due to the library cleaning, I arranged for housekeeping with the king's carpenters to replace and clean all the shelves, as the old ones already appeared lifeless. In less than four days, everything was perfected; every book was categorized according to its story and significance. The maps of the old country, along with those of other territories and kingdoms, were secured in safe places. As Amar mentioned, possessing them could incite turmoil. I made every effort not to burden them with additional tasks, as the library already consumed much of their time along with their daily chores. The positive aspect is that I've gotten to know Amar better, and sometimes I manage to make him forget that I am his queen, allowing him to relax and speak freely. However, the downside is that I haven't heard from the king for over five days now, which leads me to think that he might be avoiding me. Amar mentioned that he was busy and that things are not easy to settle, but why not send a letter just to reassure me that he is fine and alleviate my worries?

"Will you have some tea, Saltanat?" Manta asks. I raise my head, closing the book in front of me, always pleased with the way she says my name.

"Yes, please," I say, and without hesitation, she pours the tea into a cup and slides it towards me. The aroma is heavenly.

"These are herbal leaves sweetened with honey, crafted by the tower. They're designed to fortify the mind and body. This blend was originally created for the emperor's wife during her first pregnancy," she explains, covering the teapot with a contented smile.

"Was she sick?" I ask, and she gives me a confused look. "I mean the Empress," I clarify. 

"No, she was very young and frail at that time, and the emperor asked the tower to help his dying wife. It's quite a sad story, Saltanat," she explained, gazing at the book I was reading. "Have you never heard of the Blood Moon before, Saltanat?"

"Yes," I reply, gazing into my cup of tea, feeling a wave of shame. It's evident that these are things I should have known from a young age, and none of this is mother's fault. but there I was, too frightened to even request a cup of juice or inquire about witches and mages. And now, I feel a pang of guilt for using these kind people to attain my own goal of resolve.

"They are quite the talk of the kingdom," she says, now sipping the tea she served herself.

"Do you know about them, Manta?" I inquire; my curiosity piqued. Naturally, she would, given her age; she's likely witnessed events even connected to the witches' war. She offers me a smile, retrieves the book I had been examining moments earlier, and starts flipping through its pages, acknowledging each with a nod before setting it back down on the table.

"I am the venerable Sultanate, and all my knowledge is derived from experience," she declares, pausing to take another sip of her tea. "My father was a witch hunter who, in his youth, garnered the attention of Ileus's father. At that time, I was merely a teenager with no one to depend on but my father. He agreed to the king's proposal to eradicate every dark witch, motivated by their shared interests—my father's longing for vengeance after my mother's murder and the king's pursuit of peace." She speaks, then pauses to sip her tea again, and I dare not breathe too loudly, fearing any noise from me might halt her tale. "My mother was a mage, one of the few who refused to align with the witches and was slain two days after returning home. Since then, my father never found peace until he drew his last breath. As for me, I attempted to enter the tower but quickly grew weary and accepted the queen's offer to assist her with Ileus. Witches are cunning beings, not unlike the devil; they operate through deals and emotions, presenting you with what they consider beneficial, then exploiting you until they find you expendable and dispose of you with something they possess," she says, lifting her gaze to meet mine. "Corruption" I read about it a few days ago; it mentioned that they use someone's regret to gradually attack them, causing damage to the soul, which is then used to create pawns for war.

"What about the mages? How are they related to the witches?" one might ask. Why would the witches want to employ mages if they themselves are evidently more powerful?

"Witches obtain their power through pacts with spirits and demons, bestowed upon them by a higher entity. Mages, on the other hand, harness the innate magical power within themselves or from their surroundings, refining it with training and practice. This is akin to individuals born with a natural talent for playing musical instruments. While I'm not an authority on the subject, this distinction could serve as a solid foundation for conflict. Ultimately, the distinctions among mages, wizards, witches, sorcerers, warlocks, and the like are ambiguous and subject to personal interpretation." she says. "They are not related in any way, but witches need pure magic to access certain places or to corrupt things, which only those born with it can provide, thus giving rise to mages," she continues, and the realization dawns that witches are not always as powerful as they lead people to believe.

"Is there a way to halt their actions or negotiate with them, or are they convinced that wreaking havoc is the sole method for their voices to be heard?"

"There is no voice to be heard when you silence it just to have your way, and when things go awry, you blame everyone else," she states in a matter-of-fact tone.

"But isn't there anything to do?" There is always something to do, whether it's significant or minor, as long as we have the opportunity to feel hope that there is a solution.

"Saltanat, it seems like you really want to understand and help," she begins, but I interrupt her, already knowing what she will say.

"But I am not strong enough and have limited knowledge about how they work," I whisper. But to my surprise, she shakes her head with a smile.

"You may not be well-informed, but you possess strength. Strength isn't just about power or abilities, but also about will and strategy," she says. My ability to devise strategies may be lacking, but at least I have the will to help. But how long will that last? She looks at me, seemingly understanding my thoughts. "Within the palace, there are many resources that could aid you. The library is an excellent starting point. Thanks to you, I thought we would never see that place again. You can also ask your new personal guards to visit the tower should you require more information," she continues. As a queen, I now surely have access to greater authority.

"I will start by understanding the problem and its roots. It won't be simple, but I cannot remain idle when I am capable of offering assistance, even if minor," I refuse to wait passively for others to take action while I just observe. In the duchy, there was no magic to face, and we had no known enemies; this place is vastly different. There, my voice was unwelcome; people shunned me, and my commands were often ignored. Here, however, the situation is quite different; they value my assistance and heed my directives. Whether it's out of fear or true respect, I cannot tell, but at present, I detect no ill will. Raising my head, I meet Manta's gaze, who gives me a reassuring smile before rising. She approaches, rests a hand atop my head, and softly traces her fingers down to my jawline to make me look up.

"You possess more power than you know. Perhaps that's the reason for your presence here, and why the king will require wise counsel from a source other than his guards. Your maid might be of assistance; she appears to be someone who speaks her mind without fear," she remarks, and I respond with a wry smile—Bluebell has struck again. "Clearly, she values you greatly, so there's no need to limit her to the kitchen. Employing every maid just to make them feel valued isn't necessary. Their duty is to assist you when needed, and if there are no tasks, then they are taskless. Their significant contributions to cooking and cleaning ultimately support you," she concludes, leaving me to reflect on her words.

"Thanks, I will let her know... And Manta, do you know anything about the king? He hasn't sent a letter or a message to let us know if he is safe," I ask, doubting she has heard or received any news about him either.

"He doesn't send a letter or an informant when he departs for a mission." How can he exit the palace, spend an extensive period outside, yet not find the time to dispatch someone to report on his well-being? What about the emotional toll and stress on those who wait in anticipation? Will my life always be like this, perpetually waiting for his return each time he departs, anticipating the moment someone emerges after a lengthy battle to inform me of his demise in combat, compelling me to leave the palace once more?

"There is no need to worry; nothing will happen to the king. If he can't protect himself, how will he protect a kingdom? He is more capable than you think," she said with confidence, clearly knowing him well enough to be certain of his survival. She mentioned that the Queen wanted her assistance with the king.

"Manta, why did the Queen seek your assistance with the king back then?" I inquire. I recall she mentioned accepting the Queen's proposal to aid her, but for what reason, and why Manta? She pauses momentarily, placing her hands on my shoulders and stepping back to gaze into my eyes, bestowing upon me that customary smile of hers. However, this instance was distinct; her smile didn't reach her eyes as it typically does. It seemed as though she peered into the depths of my soul, and before I could grasp the moment, she strode past me and disappeared. Did I ask something inappropriate that may have offended her by any chance? I reopened the book I had closed a while ago to resume my research. I'm not sure how long I sat there before I heard footsteps approaching in the garden.

"Her highness finally remembers me," Bluebell grumbles. As I turn toward her, I'm greeted by a smile fixed on her face. She strides over and takes a seat next to me. "Manta said I did my best back there, but you need me more now, especially with your involvement with the witches," she remarks, eyeing the book and nodding in agreement.

"I never forgot you, Belle. I wanted to be with them constantly, but I also wanted you near," I explain. She sits there, smiling at me. She appears pleased to see me, and her maiden dress is unlike those from the dukedom. She dons a blue robe with a long white apron in the front.

"I understand, Your Highness, I was merely jesting. I'm aware you're aiming to earn their trust, and it's not in your nature to behave otherwise. How may I assist you?" she says, taking the book from me. "Do you grasp the contents of this, or do you require my assistance?"

"I marked the sections I didn't understand with red marks, such as those on the first and seventh pages," I explain, and she scrutinizes the pages as though she were reading them. "It referred to something about the devil's work," I add, while her attention stays fixed on the pages.

"The origins of witches, my lady, can be traced back to the early practitioners of witchcraft who used magic spells and called upon spirits to assist or bring about change. Many were labeled pagans doing the Devil's work, yet a great number were actually natural healers or 'wise women,' misunderstood for their choice of profession," she explained, but I still didn't grasp why the Devil was involved or why they sought change; it was quite troubling. Sensing my confusion, she elaborated, "My lady, this is simply how witches were perceived to have come into being. Initially, they were wise women, healers or advisors, but with an excess of power, they yearned for more, desiring to effect change and even turning to the Devil for assistance. That is why their actions were dubbed the Devil's work, because it was believed he enabled them to summon spirits or wreak havoc." Her explanation helped clarify things for me. The other topic discussed by a historian includes the identification of five principal attributes commonly associated with witches and witchcraft in cultures that acknowledge this concept: the utilization of magic to inflict harm or misfortune; its use against the witch's own community; the belief that witchcraft powers are either inherited or initiated; the perception of it as immoral, often involving dealings with malevolent beings; and the idea that witchcraft can be neutralized through protective magic, persuasion, intimidation, or the physical punishment of the supposed witch." So, there is a possibility that we could attempt something.

"But how can one neutralize them through intimidation? While persuasion might be an option, intimidation is the very essence of those witches; any attempt to intimidate them would merely serve as their amusement." This method is ineffective, this is too complicated.

"Common assault entails intentionally or recklessly causing someone to anticipate imminent unlawful physical violence. If a person threatens to curse another, clearly stating that the curse would result in immediate physical harm, and the victim believes this threat could lead to physical harm, it could be considered common assault. The difference between threatening with magic and any other weapon to inflict harm appears insignificant, even if the weapon is not real." she reads.

"And what exactly does that mean? Who composes riddles knowing they can be used to thwart the witch and resolve a problem?" It would have been far more useful if they had actually intended to assist, unless that wasn't their purpose. "Could you please read the last page for me, Bluebell?" I ask, and she begins reading at once.

"You have finished that book, my lady?" she asked, evidently astonished. When one possesses both the determination to accomplish a task and the time to execute it, no true barrier exists. Today, my sole duty was precisely this; having resolved the library affairs, my remaining endeavor was to delve into this book.

"It declares that those who seek me shall have me, and those who disdain me will always do so, for I am the embodiment of your desires," she reads, turning the page. 'Whoever wishes shall receive'—but what is it that one wishes for, and who would yearn for something that personifies all our desires? What truly personifies our yearnings? This is daunting; I've been on this pursuit for over a week now and still haven't comprehended anything. It appears to only coerce and dictate without providing guidance, rendering it a seemingly futile endeavor. Perhaps I should desist, lest I encounter something troublesome.

"I think I'll stop here, Bluebell," I say, and she looks at me, her surprise evident. I remember promising her I'd change, stand up for myself, and find a way to contribute, but it's just too overwhelming. She told me I needed to forge my own legacy, but perhaps I'm simply not cut out for anything and should stick to what I know. "I don't think I'm capable of grasping this, or whatever they're discussing in this ridiculous book. I can hear the words, but they make no sense, and it seems the author doesn't intend for us to understand. And even if I did understand, how could I possibly be of any help? I feel so worthless, Bluebell," I murmur, as a tear drops onto my gown, its presence just as surprising. She approaches, her expression laden with concern, and embraces me silently, providing solace from the burdens of recent days.

"My lady," she began, inhaling deeply as though on the verge of tears. Why would she weep for me when no one else has? I feel so devoid of worth that it appears ludicrous. Not even my own mother could love me, so why should this stranger? Why do I feel so futile? Why am I unable to be of assistance? And why is it so challenging to have someone recognize me for who I truly am, just once?

"I understand your trust in me, but am I truly capable? And the king—would he consent to my assistance? If I'm presumed to comprehend everything, will he ever request my aid? Do you envision me confronting those guards who are evidently superior at devising strategic plans? Can I really rival them and surpass their intellect with wisdom I lack?" I vent, releasing all my pent-up frustration. I'm aware she won't endorse this, but what choice do I have? I wish to avoid trouble for myself.

"Ah, my lady, your low self-esteem and frustration will persist unless you face them. You must harbor confidence and faith in your abilities to prevail. Recall the book's words about the necessity of will. Without it, comprehension remains elusive. My lady, mastery of new skills demands patience; your desire to learn at the pace of thought is unattainable. We ask not for you to outsmart the guard with wit, but to extend aid. Offering help does not elevate one's status, and should the king hesitate to seek your aid, then let him be accursed." With those words, she drew a smile from my tear-streaked cheeks. How she invariably finds the means to uplift me, I cannot fathom.

"But wouldn't that be futile? Why opt for change now when the opportunity was present in the duchy? Why did I not embrace that legacy of yours and strive for it there? Is it because they are feeble or overly accommodating, ready to yield to my every demand?" I desire to be liked voluntarily, not out of fear.

"My lady, this is precisely why you must seize the opportunity to demonstrate to the entire dukedom your capacity to assist them if they ever needed you. Importantly, the dukedom is not the palace; the duchy has treated you as if you were a superfluous kitchen utensil—not weak, but without purpose. In contrast, the palace acknowledges your limitations yet continues to support your education, even when mutual benefit seems improbable, and they do so willingly. In the kitchen, discussions about you may dwindle, and while there is both praise and criticism, the praise is truly remarkable. As for Manta, she may maintain a pleasant facade despite a disconcerting aura." She may evoke mixed emotions, but in my view, she is benevolent; she has significantly aided me with this ancient book.

"They discuss me in the kitchen," started the gossip and disdain take it root. The perceptions of others have now claimed a space in my thoughts. Eyes following me, scrutinizing every move I make, every word I speak. My views, clothing, demeanor, class, and decisions have all gained prominence now.