Dead Kingdom

Chapter one

The first time Tetra met Mistress Impa, she was sprawled in the dirt about to be flogged by the slave master. The first time she saw someone, besides a slave, die was when she was bound to the whipping post. She was eight years old, and eight years a slave.

Tetra had three possessions: a ratty blanket, a dull bronze knife, and a silver ring hidden beneath her shirt. The three possessions never left her person for fear of them being stolen by another slave. The blanket was doing little to keep her warm on this particular winter morning.

The slaves' cabin was built for ten and housed twenty, the mass of bodies producing unwanted smells, and sought after warmth. The ground was hard, packed dirt, and the walls wooden, the cracks stuffed with mud, in a bitter attempt to keep the biting wind out. Bodies clothed raggedly bunched together for warmth, yet last night Tetra was placed near the walls away from the warmth. Wind blew in through one of the cracks in the wall, stinging the young girl's cheeks. She huddled into her blanket and pressed her back against the cold slave's behind her.

The slave's back did not move. He was not breathing. Tetra turned to face him, and placed two calloused fingers to his neck, hoping to feel the blood flow underneath them, moving the leather slave collar aside. Nothing, but still, cool skin. Another dead. The air around her and the body was filled with shivers, whispers of breath and snores. No one would belittle her for taking things a dead man did not need. His blanket was newer, thicker and not as holey, so Tetra switched it with her's, tying her new possession around her neck. She searched his pockets in hopes of finding a scrap of food or a metal. Nothing but a bead, carved intricately in the likeness of a wolf. It joined the silver ring on the string around her neck. Tetra rubbed her cold hands together and took his fingerless gloves, sliding them into place over the ones she already wore, before slipping his far too big boots off. They'd be a good trade to another slave for food.

The door thudded suddenly, and loudly, followed by the slave master's bellowing voice. Was it dawn already? The slaves around her began to rise, and gather their few belongings, as the master moved to the next cabin. The slaves moved to the door, and Tetra noticed that three in all did not rise with them. The undertakers would be around to collect the still forms later. She grabbed the boots and followed the throng out the door. Fewer mouths meant more food. As a pack, they moved to the feeding area, and split into three different lines; women, men and children. Tetra grabbed a wooden bowl and joined the children's line. Tugging at the collar placed too tightly around her neck, Tetra held her bowl out and a thin soup, a mixture of wrinkled vegetables and dried meats were spooned in, a stale hunk of bread joining it.

Tetra grabbed her bread and placed it inside her shirt for later before moving aside. Sighting an old, gray haired man, she made her way to him and plopped on the stone wall next to him. The ground beneath her feet was frozen with frost; they wouldn't work the fields today. The man's weathered hands clutched his bowl protectively as he eyed her.

"Oh, its just you, brat." The old carpenter grunted in her direction. Tetra shrugged and began spooning the soup into her mouth eagerly. He watched her, before eating his warm soup. It was a small comfort in the bitter wind. The child's meal was gone much too fast and she looked mournfully at the empty bowl. The man grunted and poured half of what remained of his soup into the bowl. It disappeared with seconds.

"Thanks Dampe." He grunted coldly at her thanks, yet his eyes were warm.
"Not like some crummy soup is going to do me any good." He stretched, his old bones creaking and groaning in protest. "Doubt I'll make it through the winter, brat." Dampe looked at the girl, her greasy, golden hair catching in the rising sun. She shrugged, her eyes downcast.

"You still got that knife the dog boy gave you?" Tetra nodded. "Lemme see it, brat." He held his hand out expectantly and she hesitated. Dampe snorted, "I'm merely going to sharpen it. A dull blade'll do you no good, you hear?" The cold copper filled his palm, the wooden hilt a crudely craved howling wolf head. He grunted and took out a whet stone and began to sharpen it.

"Now, you remember what I told you about defending yourself with a knife?" Tetra nodded. "When I ask you a question I expect you to answer, brat."
"Cut with da knife, side to side, up and down, but ne'er stab."
"Why do we never stab with a knife?"
"Because its our only weapon, it could get stuck in da meat." Dampe nodded proudly. "That's right, brat." He handed the knife back to her, and Tetra slipped it into the sheath hidden under her shirt at her hip. "Now keep that close, you hear me girl? The new men slaves will do anything for a distraction and some of 'em have no morals." She nodded gravely. He muttered something under his breath and patted her on her arm,

"Dampe?"
"Eh?"
"Here." Tetra quickly shoved the dead man's boots into the old slave's hands, looking at the frozen ground, blushing. "They were on a dead man dis morning." She shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "Dead men have no need for shoes." He chuckled, shaking his graying head. "Damn rught they don't." Dampe bent down, removed the old shoes and slipped the new ones on. A rasping cough escaped his throat as he laced the boots up. Tetra leaned over him, concern etched on her face, and the bell tolled, ordering the slaves to work. She had to report to the kitchen, yet her only friend lay on the ground unable to breathe. The young slave made to help Dampe up, only to be waved away by the old man. "'M fine. 'M fine."

Reluctantly, Tetra nodded and ran to the kitchens; afraid of the punishment should she be late. She passed the whipping post on the way and shuddered. It was two simple posts, one intersecting near the top, yet it still sent shivers of terror through all the slaves. Near the leather straps on the horizontal post had gouges in the wood, and splattered, dry blood. Tetra quickened her step, and burst through the kitchen door. The slaves were gathered around the head chef, listening to her orders. She discreetly joined the group of six slaves, and looked around. The kitchen didn't usually need this much help, so what was the occasion?

"-everyzing must be perfect! The master will not accept anyzing less!" Tetra was confused but followed the rest of the slaves to the counters. Two went to scrub the dishes, as they slowly piled up, and the rest went to assist the chefs. Tetra stood next to a young woman, who didn't spare her a glance before practically throwing dough at her to knead. The young slave kneaded the dough to perfection before placing it in a neatly buttered pan, then the oven. She had barely turned around when she was handed a spoon and bowl and told to mix certain ingredients in.

An hour later, Tetra removed several loaves of bread and cakes from the oven, and replaced them, beginning the tedious cycle yet again. It continued as such until the cooks were called away to greet the special guests. The slaves took the opportunity to take a small break, resting their aching limbs. Tetra slumped in a chair next to Alyce, pulling at her leather collar, trying to wipe the gathered sweat away in vain. Alyce was almost ten years older than Tetra, and usually worked in the kitchens with the cooks, so she knew the gossip. She had once told the younger slave that all the gossip came through the kitchens, so if you wanted information, that's where you should go. Tetra withdrew the hard bread from within her shirt and gave half to Alyce; the price of information. Alyce took the offering and devoured it.

"Who's a'comin'?" Tetra asked.
"High Lady Katerina of Dalurndurn, from west of Hyrule field." Alyce said around a mouthful. She swallowed and continued, "Master Grenwid wants to join the two Houses togetha from what I figar. Dunno who'd wanna join with that slimy bastard that dough." She shrugged to herself taking another bite. Tetra wrinkled her nose in confusion. "Why's she comin then?" Alyce waved her question away dismissively. "Politics child, politics. Piss someone off and you'll get offed." Tetra nodded her head in agreement and took a bite of the hard bread herself. It wouldn't be long before the cooks returned.

When the chefs returned, the cooking had been finished and they were put to work organizing the food, so that it would be presentable for the Lords. Tetra was given a heavy tray piled high with pastries and instructed to take it to the library where the master and Lady Katrina were meeting. Her arms trembled with the weight, as she backed out the door and made her way up the servant's stairs. The kitchen was short on staff so it fell to Tetra. Before she had left the kitchen, the head chef had beckoned her over, and scrubbed her face, and gave her a simple, clean black dress to wear, as to avoid insulting the nobles.

Tetra was shaking. The tray rattled, as she tried to control her fear. Master Jonathon Grenwid terrified her with his cruelty hidden beneath a gentle façade. Tetra had more than one scar from him when she was too close to him when he lost his temper. Obviously all the nobles were just like him, why else would they have slaves? Too soon she was before the library doors, guarded by two soldiers. One wore the purple and white locus of House Grenwid. The second was a woman, surprisingly, clothed in sliver and red, and emblem of a bloody spear thrust into the ground stitched on her breast. Her eyes red, hair black, and skin pale, the guard's gaze alone terrified Tetra; she had the gaze of someone who had seen and ushered death many times. The Grenwid guard waved her in, and the woman guard's eyes followed her. Tetra shivered, and was surrounded by books.

Wall to wall, floor to ceiling bookcases crammed with books, lined the long walls. There were a few, smaller bookcases, also stuffed, in the center of the room, placed between the far wall and door. The far wall was the only one devoid of books, instead hosted a great hearth with a roaring fire, and paintings of the Grenwid family tree. Jonathon's portrait, the current head of Grenwid, hung directly above the fire, center of attention. The real Jonathon seated in a plush armchair beneath the portrayal, conversing with a strange woman. Tetra assumed she was Lady Katrina, yet marveled at her outlandish appearance. The Lady was seated as well, yet she practically exuded lethal grace. Harsh, but not cold, red eyes, one with a white scar cutting through it, stark white hair, though she was quite young still, and an athletic build made her tanned skin stretch tight over firm muscles that her simple, yet elegant silver and black dress did nothing to hide. Tetra was shocked to see a sheathed katana strapped to her back, surprised that she was allowed to carry a weapon. The Lady's eyes looked shockingly similar to the guard's outside, making Tetra tremble in fright.

Cautiously, Tetra crept forward to the hearth and offered the nobles the delicacies, the tray trembling. Jonathon took one without sparing Tetra a glance, which she was thankful for, but Lady Katrina met her eyes. Her master continued what he was saying without stopping.

"Joining our House would be a great move for the both of us politically, My Lady." Katrina looked back to Jonathon and inclined her head for him to continue, her eyes seemingly resting on his greasy beard and greedy blue eyes. Tetra's master persisted, loving the sound of his own voice. "Your army would be greatly reinforced by my riches…." Tetra droned him out and stood back out of their sight, but still where she could see them, should they need more refreshments. Lady Katrina's eyes followed her until she could not do so without turning her head.

Lady Katrina waved Tetra back over, and picked another sweet from the tray, studying the slave with interest. Tetra's arms shook from the weight; she was too weak to hold it much longer. Out of the corner of her eye, Tetra saw her master rise and turn away, still rambling on. Quick as a snake, Lady Katrina's arm grasped Tetra's wrist, and she jumped in fright. Looking into the red eyes, she saw only harsh warmth, and one winked at her. Her wrist grew warm, and strength flowed into her arms, banishing her weariness. The red eyed Lady winked at her again and withdrew her arm, just as Jonathon turned around and asked her for her opinion.

Lady Katrina carefully chose a pastry from the tray, nibbled on it, and spoke, her smooth voice belaying her warrior's frame; "I must think upon this…generous offer you have laid before me, Sir Jonathon. I will speak to my advisor and let you know my answer before the week is done." Jonathon's dark head nodded, obviously pleased with himself.

"Leave us slave, I have private matters to speak of with the Lady." He waved his hand at Tetra. She hurriedly bowed, and rushed to leave the room, but in her haste, tripped on the corner of the rug, and sent the heavy silver tray of pastries flying, efficiently ruining the clothes of the nobles. Lady Katrina did not so much as blink, only looking down at her dress and sighed. Tetra's master, however, was a different story. His face was a splotchy red as he looked down at Tetra bawling in fear on the floor. He lunged forward and grabbed her by her golden locks.
"You insolent slave! I'll have you whipped for this! This was my favorite tunic!" He screamed, spittle flying from his mouth as he dragged her to the library door, all the while calling for the slave master.

"NO! No please don't, please, I'm a sorry, I didn't mean to I'm a sorry! Please, please PLEASE!" Tetra screams were silenced by a firm shake from her master. Her sobs still echoed though, quickly gathering a crowd. By the time they had reached the courtyard, where the whipping post was, all the current residents of the manor had gathered to watch Tetra's whipping. Lady Katrina followed closely behind, fuming in all her cake splattered glory.

Jonathon threw her to the ground, and a guard picked her up and strapped her hands to the post, tearing open the back of her dress. Tetra stifled her sobs and braced herself for the white hot pain that she knew would come. Jonathon snatched the whip from the slave master and said that he would do himself. She buried her face into the post, and dug her nails into the wood, adding new gouges to the old. The whip was raised.

CRACK! His arm fell and pain exploded on her back. Tetra bit her tongue, sobs wracking her body.
CRACK! Tetra swallowed her scream as the ropes ripped her skin.
CRACK! This time she did not swallow the scream.
CRACK! White burst into her vision. Jonathon whipped her three more times before giving the switch to the slave master, breathlessly telling him twenty more lashes should teach the stupid slave to be more careful. With that he marched off, but the only thing Tetra was aware of was the scorching pain, and the blood trickling down her back.

CRACK! Tetra flinched before the whip even touched her. She braced herself for another lash and burst of pain but it never came. She heard screaming, and shouting, and … was that? Was that metal clashing? She did not know. Her head lolled onto her chest and she was dimly aware of someone undoing the straps around her wrists. Her limp body fell to the ground and the last thing she saw before everything turned black was illuminated white and glowing red.