The Tributes (Sable)

Pink Ruffles, Tall Hair, and Training

Immediately, a woman decked in pink ruffles and very tall hair strode in, two guards and two maids trailing behind her.

A sharp wave of dismissal from the woman had the guards obediently retreating from the room and closing the doors again as they left. And then they were all subjected to the woman's sharp gaze.

Her spectacles glinted in the light for a moment. Then, she snapped open a fan so sharply that it was a wonder it didn't break, made it give an agitated flutter near her neck, and peered down her nose at all of the gathered girls with obvious (almost screaming) distaste. So obvious, in fact, that the entire group of girls as a whole took a step back from the woman.

Sable was also trying very hard not to stare at the gravity-defying pile of hair on the woman's head. A pile that was sandy brown with streaks of a paler yellow, and littered with tiny glittering stones that caught the light every which way she turned. Compared to that, her rich gown layered with ruffles in various shades of pink was almost unworthy of notice.

Sable wondered how it was possible to stud your own hair with stones. Was that a wig? Or did the woman never undo her hair at all? If it was the latter, Sable could only think that it might be terribly uncomfortable. How did one sleep on stone-studded hair?

"I will be the one in charge of your training for as long as Her Highness, The Empress, deigns your presence," the woman abruptly snapped, startling all of them. "And from this point forward, you will address me as 'My Lady'. I have little patience for stupidity and even less for laziness. Know that your presence here in the Royal Palace is an undeserved honor for your ilk and you will be grateful," she practically snarled.

More than one of the girls in the room shifted uncomfortably at the words and tone, some of them edging away from her even further. But Sable, who was already well out of arm's reach of the woman, could only watch her blankly. She was more interested in what the heck the woman meant by "training". She had no skills to speak of. Even basic mending and cooking were more self-learned (under duress) on her part than trained. So she had no idea how she would fare under any type of training – let alone any training the "Royal Palace" intended to give her.

"If you follow instructions and heed the lessons you are given, you have a minuscule chance of earning the right to call yourselves noble ladies," she went on, ignoring the gasps and murmurs this statement wrought from some of the girls. "For that is what you will be trained for: To mingle with the gentry, aristocrats, and royals as if you were born into them. Even the lesser ones among you have the chance to at least secure the level of etiquette a lady's maid or handmaiden can scrounge up. Of course," she added, "some of you" – she gave a curt nod here to the group of girls who obviously came from the richer towns – "will fare better than others." – and here she looked down her nose at the ones dressed in faded and patched rags.

"That is far from decided yet," said a voice unexpectedly from behind them; a voice that Sable found was already burned into her memory's recognition. And they all whirled around, some with cries of surprise and fear, to find the Black Queen striding towards them.

Sable took half a second to glance at the walls behind the Black Queen, looking for the door she'd come through, before her attention reverted back to the most powerful person in the room.

She didn't know what to think when she saw that there wasn't any door in that direction.

* * *

AN:

My Lady: You will be grateful for the opportunity to be here, or else.

Sable: (You mean in being part of some ritualistic sacrifice or lifelong imprisonment?)

My Lady: And you will be grateful for the training we give you as well!

Sable: (...Is that better or worse?)