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Curse and Blessing | bungakawa2000 | 1

 

Two chairs were brought in hurry to the low balcony. The crowd had been asking for an audience with unusual insistence, almost in a frenzy. From guard to the captain, from the captain to a counsellor and from a counsellor to the King, the word had spread in the castle that the people were begging their sovereign to hear their plea: there was a witch in town!

So the King and his Queen finally stepped out on the low balcony, from where they could see and hear each and every people that came to the castle that day. The crowd was dense, but at the feet of the balcony was a round clearance in the middle of which a woman stood alone. She was tall and strong, and her face bore a firm and resolute look. The tan of her skin, the blackness of her hair and the shape of her muscles hinted more at a warrior and an adventurer than at a peasant or noble maiden. She bore no weapons though - or maybe had she been stripped of them, as her arms were tied behind her back. Her boots of supple leather were high and worn out; boots of a poor traveller. She wore a ringmail skirt of foreign craft, and bore a modest golden tiara. Her breastplate caught the attention of the King more than any other piece of her armor. Not only because it was magnificent to look upon, shining as if it were embroidered with the very light of the Moon and the stars; not only because setting eyes upon it meant feeling as if a cool and refreshing breeze was blowing... No, it was because it was crafted so that the woman's breasts, larger than any woman's, were obscenely exposed to all eyes, young and old, man and woman, against all laws of decency.

At this sight the King staggered and quickly turned around to keep the Queen from soiling her eyes on the prisoner's body. "How could you grant an audience to a half-naked woman?" he asked his counsellors with wrath. They all took a step back and lowered their eyes in shame and fear, but the King felt they feared more than his words. He turned to Norensberg, his most trusted ally at the court. "You, my friend, if you know anything about this matter, speak up!" The counsellor took a step forward and raised his bald head a little. His voice whispered softly: "Ask her yourself, my King, and witness proof of her witchcraft."

The King went back to the balcony in haste, the Queen following him at a much slower pace. Ignoring the chairs that had been brought there, he walked to the very edge of the stone platform. Casting his eyes down on the woman, he waited in silence for her to break eye contact, but she held her head high and did not stir. Her insolence angered the King even more, and pointing his sceptre towards her, he asked in a clear and loud voice: "What folly possesses you so that you come to your King clad into obscene garment?" And she answered, with equal authority in her voice: "Though you rule a great realm, I cannot call you my liege. I come from a land far from your most remote boundary, and only to the ruler of this distant land did I ever swear obedience. But in respect of your authority, I would cover my bosom if that action was within my power."

The King pondered her words for a moment. "Harken to me, my Lord, whispered Norensberg. Order one of your guard to cover this woman's... breasts with a piece of cloth; then you will see her witch's powers at work." The King nodded and threw a piece of cloth towards the alleged sorceress. A guard walked up to it from the castle's entrance, picked it up and turned to face the prisoner.

 

What happens?


          Cloth? What Cloth?

 
 
 

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