Palace Walls

Part Eleven

 Splendora, the Giant Kingdom

April 1948 (human time)

Rippling in the blue-white sea, there is a massive island guarded by glittering, impenetrable mists. Nestled deep in the heart of this island, sits the marble Humble Blossom palace complex, where a Queen rules a thriving kingdom of forty-foot-tall giants. There are two sets of giants-- the Amathzuli, who reside in the Northern Ice Caves, riding furry snoutens, throwing spears, and painting prayers. The second, Colonizing or "Youthless" Giants, originated from Human Continents, and left to escape persecution. Yet one does not live without a storm bubbling under his skin, a storm that crushes dreams into broken tomorrows....

"One, two, three, four, DOWN two, three, four...!"

The Royal Guard were marching in the Military Courtyard, led by the formidable Sergeant Gorello, a beefy blonde with a pale-pink face. They took long strides, marching in straight lines, repeating Gorello's harsh barking "song." In training, the Guard wore tight blue, gold-buttoned uniforms with gold soldier-pads and small black-brimmed caps. Occasionally, Gorello would step aside and whip a slow guard. Thus, they marched with red slashes across their faces, or red-violet bruises in their eyes. The Queen squinted. She disapproved of such methods, but if they molded these soft courtiers' sons into valiant guards, who was she to complain?

Tap-tap-tap. A lady-in-waiting tottered in on bound feet.

"You need a new guard, Your Highness," she said, pouring a dark cup of brashberry tea, "But you haven't considered the Amathzuli tribe."

She gestured toward a portrait of a black-tattooed, fur-clad, intersex giant, carrying a spear outside of his ice-cave.

"They are full of warriors who would be proud to serve their Queen. Better yet, they ride furry snoutens, so they'd scare whoever dared to threaten you."

"They are also loyal to their cave-tribe. Why would I force them to protect an outsider?"

"Well, it's an idea."

"I understand, Grippina," Queen Clotilda snapped, "But my husband is strong. He can look after me."

Grippina blinked. A small, blonde, pixie-faced giantess, she always had a kindly look of concern. Her bare face and simple red gown was a stark contrast to the Queen, her face smothered in pink-and-red makeup and wearing an emerald, fur-trimmed gown.

"Prince Cuckoo is thin and nervous, Your Majesty," Grippina giggled, "What does he call you, s-s-s-sugar?"

The Queen leaned forward, and a vein wobbled in her temple.

"Don't you dare insult my beloved husband!"

"I-I apologize, Your Highness."

"Besides, I'm only thirty. I can look after myself."

"I would err on the side of caution. Many people are enraged by Royal Persons, especially ones who are adopted, like yourself."

"Then that's their problem. A Neo-Jotun one, I suspect. I don't care if I'm the product of a baby farm and not the Hua and Anwyl dynasties. Our monarchy has outlasted many a hardship. Our people will outlast the humans, Goddess willing, but don't tell them that."

Grippina tapped the silver medallion at her throat. The cold, curving lines were satisfying to her skin.

"You forget I was elected Matriarch of Moutrine, Your Majesty. I know all of the eligible Guards west of that city."

"Oh, right! Do tell!"

"I have another candidate-- Zechariah Domna, from the Garneba countryside. He is a zookeeper and veteran, raised by nine aunts...."