The twelve sat at the long table that had been left for them by the Queen, shuffling through sundry documents that had been brought to them and, occasionally, reaching for some sweetmeat or another. At the head of the table the throne stood empty, if not dusty, and in its polished seat rested a circlet wrought in iron. What they remembered of her in that moment, perhaps, was the first day they met as a council. She had said: "Between us I will tell you this: this crown is heavy--too heavy, almost, to wear. You might think it a reminder to myself of the weight of my rule, but it is not. It is a symbol to remind the people that I know this. As for me, I could not forget."
This is why she was Queen.
As for the twelve who remained, they sat at the table with aching backs, uncertain of their talents and only pretending to read the vast quantity of legal documents which all of them had to commit to their memories. Their eyes burned in the smoking candlelight, and though most of them had adored the Queen, without her presence they could no longer feel the mass of the country in the room. Thousands of hungry mouths to feed, Norway in the North, the elaborate state funeral to pay for, the autumn closing and winter colding the land, the assassination to investigate, her old things still in her room, her sayings, her wishes, her memory...
She would have made a speech, rallied them, spun them into a mass until they could, to a person, feel a plaintiff's bitter urgency as though it were their own. But they were not one--they were twelve, and without her queer shyness that so often gave way to fervent words, flashing eyes, an iron solidity they were, for a time, lost.
Tomorrow, as she had decreed, one of them would be made sole ruler of all Denmark. The other eleven would form their council for that day. And it made a certain sort of satisfying sense--it was sure to keep the country together--well, it was comfortable, at least. There would be executions until the traitors were found. The council would advise and bicker while allowing responsibility to fall to the regent. But for this evening, they were equal and uncomfortable. A young manservant, clad in black, bore the brunt of their discomfort as they sent him, again and again, to the kitchen for dessert and meat and wine. They wondered, on occasion, what he thought of them. He had known Prince Sigfred and their queen both, and would observe the council's rule. So they sent him away as frequently as they could, and he returned, time and time again, with an obedient smile on his youthful face and whatever they had requested.
In truth, the young man was distracted by something he occasionally saw out of the corner of his eye--a tall veiled woman, all in gray, who upon further investigation never seemed to be there. He, largely innocent and entirely unlettered, lived in awe of these twelve with their brightly colored clothing and sharp, wolfish eyes--he would have asked them if they saw her, too, but had too much respect for their paper-shuffling to do so.
So he, too, ignored his born duties and did what came naturally that evening, as the candles guttered and all assembled burned time. Tomorrow there would be a regent once more--but for now it was the Queen's death who still held dominion.
During Night Zero the Kingmaker will choose the next Regent. All parties may send in flavor actions in bold, but your role powers may not yet be employed. Anyone with a chat may use it.
Also: Please note that some of you have more or less story than others. The best way to get more, if you want it, is to develop your character throughout the game so that I've got more to work with! Also for me to have more sleep. Rest assured that I have lots of things planned for all of you, more than is readily apparent. Have a ball. This is just the beginning...
Night Zero will last until 7:00 PM on Monday January 27th, (-8GMT).
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Topic: Iron Diadem, Night One: Things Said Behind Bars - [ABORTED] (Read 75790 times)