Post by K'Sennia Visitor on Oct 23, 2018 21:48:22 GMT
There are 70 cups of steaming Mushroom Soup. Mushroom Soup is disgusting. This Ritual is disgusting too. I want nothing to do with it. Yet here I, Amerissa Val Dien, am seated at the Ritual Table, staring into the face of Good King Alkien, the man they want me to kill.
By, "they", I mean "The Authority". The Intergalactic Authority, the Keepers of PRT. PRT stands for Protocol. Ritual. And Tradition. Which is the law of our land. It is solely because of PRT that I am here today.
You see, when I was twelve-years-old, I took a test. It was a simple telepathic examination. My annual burden since I was five. I did well on this test. Scored a 9.96. The next thing I knew I was moving into Eiredon Palace to begin training to be Queen. I was forced to leave behind my Mother and father, my school, my home, and all of my friends. No one asked me if I wanted to be Queen because it is not my choice to make.
According to PRT when a citizen is found who scores higher than the current ruler did on the same examination back in the day then this person who scored higher must be trained for 4 years in all things Royal, and then there must be a Ritual to determine whether this person is truly more powerful telepathically than the current ruler. This Ritual usually ends with someone dead. I refused to participate. I told the King in person I wanted nothing to do with this Ritual. "You can keep your throne." I said. "I don't want it."
He replied, "The throne is given to those who are worthy to bear it. PRT decides who is worthy and who is not. No one breaks PRT. You have no choice in the matter."
That was it. No one breaks PRT. No one ever has. What would happen if someone did? Would the world as we know it come to an end? Would time stop? The oceans freeze? I do not know. The question is am I brave enough to risk it?
PRT requires spectators for the Ritual, so 200 people were stuffed between two double swinging doors and a rope. The rope was purple. Crossing the purple is a capitol offence punishable by scaffold or noose. No one would dare to cross. Good old PRT looking out for us all once again.
The King's chamberlains lined the wall behind the King waiting upon his every breath and desire. Two medics stood by the Royal Entrance in case they were called upon. Kerrious, my private tutor in all things Royal stood behind me. I could feel his glare burning a hole in the back of my head. I could also feel him trying to get inside, but my blocks were up, every one, and his mind was unable to slip through.
I know what he wants to tell me anyway. Everyone is waiting on me to choose. I have to choose one cup of Mushroom Soup to give to the King. There are 70 cups laid out here on the Royal Initiation Table. 68 of them contain soup from a mildly poisonous mushroom. If I choose one of these cups, the king will become violently ill, but he will not die. If he gives the same to me then we will both become violently ill, he keeps the throne, and I become an outcast, a public laughingstock for the world. The Queen to be who failed to be. I would rather die.
One of the cups contains soup made from a harmless mushroom. That is the one I want to choose for myself. According to PRT I must choose first, so that is not a problem. The final cup contains soup made from a deadly mushroom. This is the one I am supposed to give to Alkien. He dies, I get the throne; everyone is happy. PRT wins again.
I know exactly which soup is harmless and exactly which one is deadly. It isn't hard to tell. I know Alkien knows as well. If I don't give him the deadly Mushroom Soup he will give it to me. I don't see what choice I have. Unless I want to die? Do I really want to rule a planet? But do I want to die?
This is why I am taking my time to decide. I can feel the tension in the air. Verbal speech is not permitted during the Ritual. It is quiet enough at the corporeal level to hear a spoon drop. At the intrasensory level, it's a far different story. Opening myself up to hear without opening up my blocks to let others in is tricky and demands a lot of practice and concentration. It's like mental juggling.
"What is taking so long?"
"I bet she doesn't know which is which. "
"I heard a rumor she cheated on her exams. She's probably no stronger than my sister."
"I hope he dies.'
"For fifty dollars someone had better die, and soon."
"I'm hungry. The least they could do is serve refreshments."
Lovely. They all wanted someone to die. I bet they don't care how.
I wonder how strong Alkien really is? I try sliding in, but his blocks are sealed tighter than concrete.
I know which cup is deadly. He knows it too. Can I make him change his mind?
I close my eyes and concentrate on the harmless cup. I picture death and destruction. I imagine a circle around the deadly cup. I send images of puppies and kitties and feelings safety and love. Anything positive over the top of the natural telepathic signature which radiates from them.
Will he notice a change? He is old.
I have a chance to make a difference. It's either him or me. This is my one and only chance.
I sigh. I’ve waited long enough. He seems to have misplaced it. The Chamberlain hands me the harmless cup. Excitement rides up my spine. Apparently, I’m more powerful than I thought.
Mushroom Soup is disgusting. I swallow the thick chunky glop as fast as I can. I almost vomit.
I have a choice now. I created one. Alkien turns green. He doubles over and retches with violent heavings. He falls to the the floor. His body convulses. His dignity erasing before the eyes of the world. Killing him now is a kindness.
“The King is alive!"
It's now or never. Hiking up my long blue skirt I withdraw the knife from my leg holster.
Blood squirts everywhere. When I’m done I hand it to the Chamberlain.
Around the room, I see expressions of horror mixed with awe.
The King is dead.
I’ve done something no one else has ever done. It’s a powerful feeling. History will remember me as either a heroine or a traitor. Around the room, I see expressions of horror mixed with awe. I don't care to read their thoughts because they don't matter. From now on, no one's thoughts. No one's will matters but my own.
"I am your queen. Bow before me."
And the room bows as one.
By, "they", I mean "The Authority". The Intergalactic Authority, the Keepers of PRT. PRT stands for Protocol. Ritual. And Tradition. Which is the law of our land. It is solely because of PRT that I am here today.
You see, when I was twelve-years-old, I took a test. It was a simple telepathic examination. My annual burden since I was five. I did well on this test. Scored a 9.96. The next thing I knew I was moving into Eiredon Palace to begin training to be Queen. I was forced to leave behind my Mother and father, my school, my home, and all of my friends. No one asked me if I wanted to be Queen because it is not my choice to make.
According to PRT when a citizen is found who scores higher than the current ruler did on the same examination back in the day then this person who scored higher must be trained for 4 years in all things Royal, and then there must be a Ritual to determine whether this person is truly more powerful telepathically than the current ruler. This Ritual usually ends with someone dead. I refused to participate. I told the King in person I wanted nothing to do with this Ritual. "You can keep your throne." I said. "I don't want it."
He replied, "The throne is given to those who are worthy to bear it. PRT decides who is worthy and who is not. No one breaks PRT. You have no choice in the matter."
That was it. No one breaks PRT. No one ever has. What would happen if someone did? Would the world as we know it come to an end? Would time stop? The oceans freeze? I do not know. The question is am I brave enough to risk it?
PRT requires spectators for the Ritual, so 200 people were stuffed between two double swinging doors and a rope. The rope was purple. Crossing the purple is a capitol offence punishable by scaffold or noose. No one would dare to cross. Good old PRT looking out for us all once again.
The King's chamberlains lined the wall behind the King waiting upon his every breath and desire. Two medics stood by the Royal Entrance in case they were called upon. Kerrious, my private tutor in all things Royal stood behind me. I could feel his glare burning a hole in the back of my head. I could also feel him trying to get inside, but my blocks were up, every one, and his mind was unable to slip through.
I know what he wants to tell me anyway. Everyone is waiting on me to choose. I have to choose one cup of Mushroom Soup to give to the King. There are 70 cups laid out here on the Royal Initiation Table. 68 of them contain soup from a mildly poisonous mushroom. If I choose one of these cups, the king will become violently ill, but he will not die. If he gives the same to me then we will both become violently ill, he keeps the throne, and I become an outcast, a public laughingstock for the world. The Queen to be who failed to be. I would rather die.
One of the cups contains soup made from a harmless mushroom. That is the one I want to choose for myself. According to PRT I must choose first, so that is not a problem. The final cup contains soup made from a deadly mushroom. This is the one I am supposed to give to Alkien. He dies, I get the throne; everyone is happy. PRT wins again.
I know exactly which soup is harmless and exactly which one is deadly. It isn't hard to tell. I know Alkien knows as well. If I don't give him the deadly Mushroom Soup he will give it to me. I don't see what choice I have. Unless I want to die? Do I really want to rule a planet? But do I want to die?
This is why I am taking my time to decide. I can feel the tension in the air. Verbal speech is not permitted during the Ritual. It is quiet enough at the corporeal level to hear a spoon drop. At the intrasensory level, it's a far different story. Opening myself up to hear without opening up my blocks to let others in is tricky and demands a lot of practice and concentration. It's like mental juggling.
"What is taking so long?"
"I bet she doesn't know which is which. "
"I heard a rumor she cheated on her exams. She's probably no stronger than my sister."
"I hope he dies.'
"For fifty dollars someone had better die, and soon."
"I'm hungry. The least they could do is serve refreshments."
Lovely. They all wanted someone to die. I bet they don't care how.
I wonder how strong Alkien really is? I try sliding in, but his blocks are sealed tighter than concrete.
I know which cup is deadly. He knows it too. Can I make him change his mind?
I close my eyes and concentrate on the harmless cup. I picture death and destruction. I imagine a circle around the deadly cup. I send images of puppies and kitties and feelings safety and love. Anything positive over the top of the natural telepathic signature which radiates from them.
Will he notice a change? He is old.
I have a chance to make a difference. It's either him or me. This is my one and only chance.
I sigh. I’ve waited long enough. He seems to have misplaced it. The Chamberlain hands me the harmless cup. Excitement rides up my spine. Apparently, I’m more powerful than I thought.
Mushroom Soup is disgusting. I swallow the thick chunky glop as fast as I can. I almost vomit.
I have a choice now. I created one. Alkien turns green. He doubles over and retches with violent heavings. He falls to the the floor. His body convulses. His dignity erasing before the eyes of the world. Killing him now is a kindness.
“The King is alive!"
It's now or never. Hiking up my long blue skirt I withdraw the knife from my leg holster.
Blood squirts everywhere. When I’m done I hand it to the Chamberlain.
Around the room, I see expressions of horror mixed with awe.
The King is dead.
I’ve done something no one else has ever done. It’s a powerful feeling. History will remember me as either a heroine or a traitor. Around the room, I see expressions of horror mixed with awe. I don't care to read their thoughts because they don't matter. From now on, no one's thoughts. No one's will matters but my own.
"I am your queen. Bow before me."
And the room bows as one.
