Queensmen

Chapter 2

~Life Before The Throne~

It had been two years since Oris had fled her castle, defeated and in the company of the one man who swore never to leave her side; a week and five days since Hermes had finally announced her death to the world and officially crowned himself emperor.

Much had changed in the time since her escape, yet in a way life had still moved on without her. Her people had not been made slaves, she had seen that as she and Rodholf had made the journey to what was once Heibey. There were no longer any wars, and extra soldiers patrolled the borders of the former states, enforcing peace.

If she closed her eyes to the occasional soldier at the inn dressed in white and black armor-New World colors-Oris was teleported to a time before she discovered she was royalty. A time when no one cared whether she chose to sit straight or slouch, or stay out with the village boys or not.

With a chuckle loosening her lips, she twirled the twig in her hand, her mind slowly drifting to other worrying things. Like why it had taken so much time for Hermes to acknowledge his claim on Orse when she was sure that her sister had lost her life that day two years ago. Deep down she feared that he had seen through the ruse and was secretly searching for her.

And maybe now he has given up?

At first there were rumors that the man had fallen in love with the Queen of Orse and could not bear to kill her just to establish his authority. Oris didn't dare let the hope that had began to sprout blossom into anything and managed to squash it just in time to get hold of the next piece of news.

Hermes was looking to gather the world's most beautiful women in his harem before he crowned himself as the world's overlord.

"And I suppose he has done that," Oris muttered to herself and threw the twig into the pile of hay behind her before getting off the ground and patting the dust off her clothes.

"What are you doing, boy?" a gruff voice snapped and Oris resisted the urge to just walk away because at the moment the man was her boss.

"Yes sir?" She spun on her heel to face him, first taking in the uncombed, straw-colored hair that sat above his head like the flame on a torch, then the turquoise iris of his only functioning eye before her gaze settled on the ever-present scowl on his lips.

What a keeper.

"Are you trying to mess with the tribute? Are you trying to get us all killed?"

This wasn't the first time Oris had wondered why Hermes had asked for such random things as a tribute instead of actual gold and silver, or even harvests. It wasn't the first time she wondered where he was getting the funds to run his empire or the first time she was getting this lecture either.

She had also kicked sand into a tribute of clay last year but that had been on purpose.

"It's just because I took pity on you that you even have this job. You know fully well that no one is looking to raise an orphan. . ."

Here, Oris tuned out the rest of the conversation, quite sure that she could pretend to be remorseful later on. She didn't know if Old Man Ducan just had a terrible memory or if he actually forgot that she and Rodholf paid three silvers a day for accommodation at his inn, and paid him one gold piece to let them work on his land.

"Sorry Sir, it won't happen again," she cut in after fifteen breaths then looked at the ground, taking the time to count the yellow food grains surrounding her boots as the man continued raging.

It was times like these that took her down memory lane, back to when she and Rodholf had spent their afternoons playing in grassfields and rolling down hills when they had been too tired to walk back home. Back when she called Rodholf, Bren, because that had been his name before they had stood in front of the castle gates and he decided on the permanent use of his family name as a means of severing their familiarity.