Post by The Usurper on Aug 20, 2016 10:34:11 GMT -5
So I finished my Chinese oral exam yesterday, and I was feeling really hyped about it. Finishing it, I mean. I'm a (fanfic) writer by practice, and since I was feeling so pumped I decided "why not write a little something in the Noliterre universe?" I'd spent a lot of my time lately on the forum and working on Noliterre-related things, so naturally the next step after getting so into a universe was to write something in it. And I did. I didn't spend boatloads of time on it like I usually do, so it's probably a bit rough, but I'm proud of it nonetheless. I wish I was more intimately familiar with every aspect of the universe to write something spanning further or based in somewhere else other than the empire I designed, but I suppose it'll have to do for now. I might just write more in the future when I'm feeling like it.
She had many vices. Honesty was her worst.
Astri Illyria was no stranger to money. She was the head of her country and her church. She dealt in money every day. But she knew, in truth, that she was poor where it counted. Lies were the currency of the state. And she was a bad liar.
It wasn’t so much that she couldn’t lie. Her sister, bless her cruel heart, had always said deception ran in their blood. And she was right. No, Astri could lie. It was just that she hated lying. And that, perhaps, was the worst of all. She could forgive herself for failing if she tried her best. She couldn’t forgive herself for holding back. Knowing she could rule her empire made it all the more imperative that she do it right.
“My name is Astri Illyria.” The figure in the mirror, the one who bore her face, nodded in response to her assertion. Lies may have ruled her day, but she began it on her own terms. “I rule the Holy Illyrian Empire and the Angelican Church. And I hate my job.”
Her reflection gave her a subdued look.
“I hate my job,” she repeated. The face in the mirror soured further. “I hate lying. I hate saying what I don’t mean. I hate having to put on a mask all day, every day, and pretend to be someone I’m not.”
Monster, a part of her whispered.
“I am not a monster,” she said.
And so the lying began.
Pulling herself away from the mirror, she headed over to the bathroom. She kept herself to a quota, every day, partly to assuage her aching conscience, and partly to train herself to deceive without falsehood. One hundred lies a day. One hundred opportunities to spend the currency of state. Wasting the first one on herself was a luxury she needed - and more importantly, one she could afford.
“Your Holiness?” A nervous voice, her handmaiden’s, asked from outside the door. “You’re almost late for court. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine!” Astri called. Two. “I’ll be right along!” That part, at least, was the truth.
She dressed. Her Archangelic robes and regalia were cumbersome and difficult to wear. She hated that too. But it was winter right now, and at least it kept her warm as she walked past the gaping, open windows of the plain palace. She remembered promising her Throne Archon that the treasury would be full enough to install a window very soon. She’d docked herself two lies for that one.
The throne room was very close to her bedchambers. That was one advantage of having a tight budget: you spent on only what was necessary. Your court, your people, they all understood that there was nothing to waste on extraneous things. She’d seen some of the more luxurious buildings in Neo-Camvonia. This palace barely measured up to the least of them. But a lot of her citizens, those from the poorer regions especially, were enamoured with how grand their capital looked, and she decided that spending a daily lie on maintaining that illusion was necessary.
“Your Holiness.” A single foot in and her ordeal began. She turned to her Archon and gave him a genuine, sweet smile.
“Alex,” she said, letting the dulcet tone of her early years seep into her voice. “What can I help you with?”
“There’s been a small outbreak of plague along the mining villages,” he explained. “We’ve quarantined the infected. I… would rather not do this, but I’ve been advised that we may have to, well…”
“Kill them,” she finished curtly.
He shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, your Holiness.”
She sighed. “Do it. Give their families all due compensation. But say it was an accident in the mines. Panic is the last thing we need.”
Three.
“As you command.” He bowed reverently.
She started to add another comment about making sure hygiene standards were up to scratch, but he had already retreated. Courtiers quickly replaced him and hastily escorted her to the dais at the end of the throne room. A hundred pairs of eyes watched her advance. She took one step into the crowd. Two. Three. Then the questions began, and she steeled herself.
“Your Holiness, the Neo-Camvonian ambassador would like to have a private meeting.”
“Tell him I’d be happy to meet him tomorrow evening,” she said.
Four.
“Your Holiness, this year’s aid package demands more of the budget.”
“I’ll look into it.”
Five.
“Will you be visiting the border villages this year?”
“Yes.”
Six.
Question after question, they kept coming. Ceaseless. She swatted them aside with her quota. But the hall was long. By the time she reached the dais the count had hit thirty. Then court began, and the casualties kept rising.
“This time next year, we will be one of the great players in Noliterre. We have the strength, the will, and the heart to do what is right…”
Thirty-one. Thirty-two. Thirty-three…
“... yes, there are still many oppressed, many poor, many suffering people around the world we need to save. We have the means to support them all as they come…”
Fifty-six. Fifty-seven…
“... to answer your question, the Holy Illyrian Empire far surpasses the strength we need to defend our borders solidly, let alone take care of a few ragtag bandits and pirates…”
Seventy-five, seventy-six…
By forty she had already begun stealing glances at the open windows. By fifty the glances had become more obvious. By sixty the window commanded more attention than her petitioners. The sun crept up into the sky, higher and higher, but time stood still in her hall of lies.
Her court did not stop for lunch or dinner. They ate, and she ate, as she talked. Lunch segued smoothly into tea and into dinner. By the time the sun began to set, the count crept well past ninety.
“Your Holiness—”
“Enough!” she shouted. At long, long last, the room fell silent. “Court has concluded. Petitioners, please come back tomorrow.”
“But—”
“I will gladly see you then.” Ninety-seven. “I will not ignore the needs of the people. But I need my rest to call upon Angelica’s wisdom.”
They listened. One by one, they took their bows and trod slowly out of the throne room. Once the last of them, save her personal courtiers, had disappeared, she heaved a huge sigh of relief and let her tired face fall into her hands. Lying always took a huge toll on her. Her courtiers wordlessly took her by the arms and guided her back to her room.
“How did I do?” she asked one of them.
“Splendidly, your Holiness,” he replied.
She wondered if they had a quota, too.
Back in her bedchambers, she began to undress. The one time her robes ever made her feel good was when she was taking them off. She deposited them in a heap by her bedside, for her handmaiden to attend to tomorrow, and crawled into bed. She wrapped her hands around herself, curled up, and turned over, and then she noticed the letter sitting on her bedside table.
Sister,
How have you been? You haven’t been writing recently. Is something the matter? You know I'm always here to help.
Kira
Astri stared at it for what seemed like an eternity. Then she grabbed it, took a pencil and paper, and began to write.
Sister,
I’ve been alright. Ninety-eight. Just busy. You know I’d ask for your help if I needed it. Ninety-nine. Thank you for your
She stopped. And she began to think.
Sister,
I’ve been alright. Just busy. You know I’d ask for your help if I needed it. Thank you for your
Please come. I need someone I can be honest with. I hate this place. I hate being Archangel. I can’t take it anymore.
Astri
She folded the message up and sealed it. She left it on her table for her handmaiden to find in the morning.
“It’ll all be over soon,” she whispered to herself. “She’ll fix everything. She’ll save me.”
She shut her eyes and went to sleep.
One hundred.
One Hundred
She had many vices. Honesty was her worst.
Astri Illyria was no stranger to money. She was the head of her country and her church. She dealt in money every day. But she knew, in truth, that she was poor where it counted. Lies were the currency of the state. And she was a bad liar.
It wasn’t so much that she couldn’t lie. Her sister, bless her cruel heart, had always said deception ran in their blood. And she was right. No, Astri could lie. It was just that she hated lying. And that, perhaps, was the worst of all. She could forgive herself for failing if she tried her best. She couldn’t forgive herself for holding back. Knowing she could rule her empire made it all the more imperative that she do it right.
“My name is Astri Illyria.” The figure in the mirror, the one who bore her face, nodded in response to her assertion. Lies may have ruled her day, but she began it on her own terms. “I rule the Holy Illyrian Empire and the Angelican Church. And I hate my job.”
Her reflection gave her a subdued look.
“I hate my job,” she repeated. The face in the mirror soured further. “I hate lying. I hate saying what I don’t mean. I hate having to put on a mask all day, every day, and pretend to be someone I’m not.”
Monster, a part of her whispered.
“I am not a monster,” she said.
And so the lying began.
Pulling herself away from the mirror, she headed over to the bathroom. She kept herself to a quota, every day, partly to assuage her aching conscience, and partly to train herself to deceive without falsehood. One hundred lies a day. One hundred opportunities to spend the currency of state. Wasting the first one on herself was a luxury she needed - and more importantly, one she could afford.
“Your Holiness?” A nervous voice, her handmaiden’s, asked from outside the door. “You’re almost late for court. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine!” Astri called. Two. “I’ll be right along!” That part, at least, was the truth.
She dressed. Her Archangelic robes and regalia were cumbersome and difficult to wear. She hated that too. But it was winter right now, and at least it kept her warm as she walked past the gaping, open windows of the plain palace. She remembered promising her Throne Archon that the treasury would be full enough to install a window very soon. She’d docked herself two lies for that one.
The throne room was very close to her bedchambers. That was one advantage of having a tight budget: you spent on only what was necessary. Your court, your people, they all understood that there was nothing to waste on extraneous things. She’d seen some of the more luxurious buildings in Neo-Camvonia. This palace barely measured up to the least of them. But a lot of her citizens, those from the poorer regions especially, were enamoured with how grand their capital looked, and she decided that spending a daily lie on maintaining that illusion was necessary.
“Your Holiness.” A single foot in and her ordeal began. She turned to her Archon and gave him a genuine, sweet smile.
“Alex,” she said, letting the dulcet tone of her early years seep into her voice. “What can I help you with?”
“There’s been a small outbreak of plague along the mining villages,” he explained. “We’ve quarantined the infected. I… would rather not do this, but I’ve been advised that we may have to, well…”
“Kill them,” she finished curtly.
He shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, your Holiness.”
She sighed. “Do it. Give their families all due compensation. But say it was an accident in the mines. Panic is the last thing we need.”
Three.
“As you command.” He bowed reverently.
She started to add another comment about making sure hygiene standards were up to scratch, but he had already retreated. Courtiers quickly replaced him and hastily escorted her to the dais at the end of the throne room. A hundred pairs of eyes watched her advance. She took one step into the crowd. Two. Three. Then the questions began, and she steeled herself.
“Your Holiness, the Neo-Camvonian ambassador would like to have a private meeting.”
“Tell him I’d be happy to meet him tomorrow evening,” she said.
Four.
“Your Holiness, this year’s aid package demands more of the budget.”
“I’ll look into it.”
Five.
“Will you be visiting the border villages this year?”
“Yes.”
Six.
Question after question, they kept coming. Ceaseless. She swatted them aside with her quota. But the hall was long. By the time she reached the dais the count had hit thirty. Then court began, and the casualties kept rising.
“This time next year, we will be one of the great players in Noliterre. We have the strength, the will, and the heart to do what is right…”
Thirty-one. Thirty-two. Thirty-three…
“... yes, there are still many oppressed, many poor, many suffering people around the world we need to save. We have the means to support them all as they come…”
Fifty-six. Fifty-seven…
“... to answer your question, the Holy Illyrian Empire far surpasses the strength we need to defend our borders solidly, let alone take care of a few ragtag bandits and pirates…”
Seventy-five, seventy-six…
By forty she had already begun stealing glances at the open windows. By fifty the glances had become more obvious. By sixty the window commanded more attention than her petitioners. The sun crept up into the sky, higher and higher, but time stood still in her hall of lies.
Her court did not stop for lunch or dinner. They ate, and she ate, as she talked. Lunch segued smoothly into tea and into dinner. By the time the sun began to set, the count crept well past ninety.
“Your Holiness—”
“Enough!” she shouted. At long, long last, the room fell silent. “Court has concluded. Petitioners, please come back tomorrow.”
“But—”
“I will gladly see you then.” Ninety-seven. “I will not ignore the needs of the people. But I need my rest to call upon Angelica’s wisdom.”
They listened. One by one, they took their bows and trod slowly out of the throne room. Once the last of them, save her personal courtiers, had disappeared, she heaved a huge sigh of relief and let her tired face fall into her hands. Lying always took a huge toll on her. Her courtiers wordlessly took her by the arms and guided her back to her room.
“How did I do?” she asked one of them.
“Splendidly, your Holiness,” he replied.
She wondered if they had a quota, too.
Back in her bedchambers, she began to undress. The one time her robes ever made her feel good was when she was taking them off. She deposited them in a heap by her bedside, for her handmaiden to attend to tomorrow, and crawled into bed. She wrapped her hands around herself, curled up, and turned over, and then she noticed the letter sitting on her bedside table.
Sister,
How have you been? You haven’t been writing recently. Is something the matter? You know I'm always here to help.
Kira
Astri stared at it for what seemed like an eternity. Then she grabbed it, took a pencil and paper, and began to write.
Sister,
I’ve been alright. Ninety-eight. Just busy. You know I’d ask for your help if I needed it. Ninety-nine. Thank you for your
She stopped. And she began to think.
Sister,
Please come. I need someone I can be honest with. I hate this place. I hate being Archangel. I can’t take it anymore.
Astri
She folded the message up and sealed it. She left it on her table for her handmaiden to find in the morning.
“It’ll all be over soon,” she whispered to herself. “She’ll fix everything. She’ll save me.”
She shut her eyes and went to sleep.
One hundred.
