Chapter 1
The sunlight was fading as the twilight came on, but still the woman carried on with her work. The stitching she was finishing up was delicate, and required extra attention. She had gotten into a steady rhythm and was nearly finished.
Her long hair fell across her face as her soft eyes focused intently on what she was doing. She squinted in what remained of the light as she pulled the last thread through, finally completing the complex embroidery on the front of the smooth fabric. Her reputation for excellence had finally reached the right ears, and she had been commissioned to create elaborate designs for a matching set of chairs in the Count's household.
It was the chance she had been waiting for.
She had lived in this dingy hut for too long… forever, it seemed. But these good people had taken her in when she had nothing, fleeing from the terrible war that had nearly torn the planet apart. She had wanted to hide, and they had let her do so, never asking any questions she didn't want to answer. Strangely enough, because they trusted her, the woman trusted them. In the past few years she had become an important part of the Satenforhen community. She had begun working as a seamstress: an apprentice to the woman who had performed that function at the time. Satenforhen's resident tailor was quite elderly, and had no heirs, and was happy to teach the woman her craft.
The woman had done beautiful work in her girlhood, but hadn't had much time to practice this feminine art once her guardian had taken control of her. He had had plans for her… plans with which she didn't agree. Ultimately, this was what had caused the woman to run away from the only life she had ever known. It seemed so far away now... almost as if it had happened to another person. An entirely different person.
A person she didn't want to be anymore.
And so, the woman had embraced her position, graciously accepting what she had been offered, and repaying twice over in hard work and dedication.
Once her mentor had passed away, the woman had easily taken on all of the work the villagers had sent to her, and proven herself more than capable. She had even done some work for the Count's household, albeit small projects of little importance, such as repairing torn sheets and towels.
And then, one day, Mistress Hutanu had come to her in a terrible state of distress. Her daughter, Ecaterina, was due to wed her sweetheart, Constantin Volmer, within a week. Constantin was the mayor's son, and this was a social coup for Mistress Hutanu, a widower with low prestige and small means.
Constantin's mother had promised to supply Ecaterina with a wedding gown 'befitting her station'. Unfortunately, that had meant a hideous dress made out of rough linen, obviously showing that the poor girl did not come from wealth. It was clear that Mistress Volmer resented her son's choice of a bride.
With barely a week to the wedding, Mistress Hutanu had begged the woman to help, bringing the dress to her in the hopes that it could somehow be salvaged.
The woman had done more than salvage it. She had put in a soft lining, so that the rough fabric would not scratch Ecaterina's soft skin. Then she had spent every waking moment embroidering the outside of the gown with gold, silver, and jewel-toned threads, creating a pattern so brilliant and beautiful that the girl shone like a precious gem on her wedding day. No one in the village had ever seen anything so stunning, and Mistress Hutanau had praised the woman's name to the heavens, especially once it was discovered that she had refused to accept even a copper coin for her hard work.
Mistress Volmer had been angry that her plans had been thwarted, but had been easily mollified when the woman had presented her with an equally beautiful head scarf, to wear as mother of the groom.
After that day, the woman's position in the village had shifted somewhat, and people had begun asking her to perform more and more embroidery work.
Then, a few months ago, her work had finally come to the attention of the Majordomo of the Count's household, and the woman had been commissioned with some small pieces, to test her abilities. She had performed satisfactorily, and the Majordomo had assigned her a difficult task: that of the two chairs. The seat back fabric had been removed from the chairs, so that she could embroider the Egobossler family's scorpion crest upon them.
She had just begun the first chair back, when word came to the village that the old Count had died. The circumstances were mysterious, and filtered rumors reached her ears, stating that the man had been murdered by one of the servants in his home. Apparently his son Kaseru had fallen ill as a result of this devastating news. He had recovered, but there had apparently been some strange side effects of the disease, and it was said that his skin now had a strange blue tone, and that his hair had gone white.
The woman had contacted the Majordomo, who had told her to continue with her task, as the new Count would still want the chairs.
In the last couple of weeks, it had seemed that the new Count had walked right from his sickbed and into his study, where he had begun a military conquest of the world. Every day now, it seemed that they were hearing of another country that had fallen to the might of the Egobossler armies.
It appeared that Kaseru Egobossler was destined to rule the world.
The woman was just putting her work away when she heard the sound of booted footsteps outside of her dwelling. A heavy knock sounded; as if her door were being pounded by a large fist. Muted sounds of deep voices filtered through from the other side.
The woman felt somewhat nervous, involuntarily remembering a time in her past when she had been vulnerable, and prey to roaming gangs of men. Once she had been caught by such a group… and once had been enough. She never wished to endure that terror again. They had taken her maidenhead, in more ways than one, and the pain had been unbearable. They had left her for dead, but once the men had gone, she had managed to pull herself up from the ground and carry on, by sheer will alone. It had been in this bedraggled state that she had first come across the village of Satenforhen.
But she was safe here. The woman took a deep breath, trying to remember that fact. She had neighbors: people who respected her, and who would come at the first sign of trouble. Yet it was still with a shaking hand that she answered the door.
She had not expected to see the Count himself outside of her humble dwelling.
"You are the seamstress?" he asked bluntly, as she threw herself to the ground, prostrating herself before the authority he represented. His mere presence seemed to exude a sense of restrained power, like a caged tiger stalking back and forth across a small cage.
"Yes, Milord." she gasped, not daring to lift her face from her filthy floor.
"I have a task for you." he said, in a deep, commanding tone.
"Whatever you require." the woman groveled.
"Why is it so dark in here?" Egobossler complained.
"There is no light switch, Sire." one of the men accompanying the Count revealed.
"I do not have electric power." the woman explained in a quavering voice. "I was about to light a fire."
"No power?" the Count appeared not to understand such a thing. Of course not! How could such a great man know of poverty, and the inability to afford what he must consider the most basic of necessities?
"No, Milord." she replied, her face still pressed into the floor.
"You may rise." Egobossler graciously offered, and she did so, being careful to keep her eyes to the floor. She knew that high ranking nobility didn't always like having the lower classes look upon them, and this new Count was probably even more sensitive to this, given the oddities of appearance he now possessed.
She had only seen a flash of blue skin when she had answered the door, but it had been enough for her to know that all of the rumors were true.
With trembling hands, the woman moved to the fireplace, striking the flint she kept on the mantle with a small dagger, sending a spark into the neat pile of kindling that she had already laid out. Within moments, a cozy warmth spread from the glowing fire.
"What is this?" the Count asked, walking over toward the chair where she had been sitting when he had arrived. The woman turned her head just enough to see that Egobossler was holding the cloth for the chair back that she had finished embroidering only moments ago. He was gazing intently at the display of his family crest that was emblazoned upon it.
"It is yours, Milord!" the woman rushed to explain, afraid that the Count would think that she had stolen something that belonged to him. "Majordomo Wingert commissioned me to embroider your family crest on two chair backs. I have just this moment finished the second."
"I have seen the other." the Count commented. "It is in my study. I did not realize there was a second chair that accompanied it." He paused, gazing at the crest. "From what I can tell, this one is identical to the other. You do excellent work, Mistress…"
The woman paused. He was asking for her name.
"Nimeni." she replied quietly, her lowered posture revealing her shame.
"Mistress… Nimeni?" Egobossler asked. "That means…"
"Yes, Milord." the woman confirmed, her voice nearly choking with her humiliation. "I have no family. I am 'no one'."
"That is hardly of any importance in this matter." he said, his voice sounding softer… almost… sympathetic? No, surely such a great man would not be feeling this kind of emotion on her behalf.
But she felt a gentle touch on her chin, and her face was slowly raised to the Count's view. The woman kept her eyes lowered, not daring to be so bold as to gaze upon the visage of greatness.
"You may look at me." the Count chuckled softly, as if bemused by her demeanor. "I want to see your eyes."
Slowly, she raised her eyes to behold his face. She gasped quietly, noting his handsome, aristocratic features, not diminished at all by the unusual blue tone to his skin. Her gaze finally rested upon his pale grey eyes, and she trembled as she felt a strange connection to this man.
Egobossler smiled, and the smile went through to his eyes.
"Mistress Nimeni," he said, not releasing her face from his hand, "Majordomo Wingert recommended your services to me, and I can see by your work that he was correct in his assessment of you."
"What do you require, Milord?" the woman asked. Instinctively, she attempted to lower her head as she offered her services, but the Count's intent gaze held her captive, and his finger pressed gently into her the upper part of her throat, causing her to continue looking up at his face.
"I am told," he chuckled again, "that my attire is not appropriate for a future world ruler."
One of the Count's men shuffled uncomfortably.
"Sire, I only suggested…"
"I know what you suggested!" Egobossler snapped, turning away from the woman, but not releasing her face from his hand. The woman could feel his anger through his light touch, and she was afraid.
The Count turned back, and saw her fear in her eyes.
"I apologize." he said gently. "I did not mean to frighten you."
The woman did not know how to respond to this, so she remained silent.
"In any case," Egobossler continued, as if he had never been interrupted, "I require a new set of garments. Something befitting my current position. I would like you to make them, as quickly as possible."
"It would be my pleasure, Milord." With a confidence she did not know she possessed, the woman tore her face away from the Count's soft touch, looking at the garments he currently wore. A white shirt and black pants fit him well, but did not indicate his proper status, despite their elegance.
"I will begin immediately." she said. "I think I know what would suit a gentleman of your stature."
The Count appeared to find this statement amusing, but the woman could not determine why this was.
"You will come with me." he commanded.
"Milord?"
"This is no place for you to live!" he declared, sweeping his arm around the small dwelling. "And you will need to be close to me, for fittings and such. I will see that you have access to all of the fabric in my storehouses."
"Yes, Milord." she bowed her head again. "Thank you."
"Gather what you need, and we will depart." Egobossler instructed her, and the woman rushed to comply. She practically ran into her tiny bedroom, throwing in the few dresses she owned, and her hairbrush. There was nothing else she truly cared about, save for her sewing box.
She returned to the other room to fetch it, and saw the Count directing his men to wrap up the chair back fabric in a clean cloth. The woman smiled to herself, pleased that her Lord was satisfied with her work, and treating her efforts with respect.
"I am ready." she said quietly.
"Is that all?" the Count asked, his eyes sweeping over her meager possessions.
"It is all I possess." the woman replied.
Again, she thought she saw a look expression of compassion and understanding in Egobossler's eyes, and she was confused. Why would someone who had been born to privilege have such feelings?
Still, the woman took it as a good sign, and left her home without a second glance, following the Count and his men up the steep hill, to Satenforhen Castle.