Chapter 1

She awoke from her slumber with panic in her eyes. The queen was unprepared, at that particular moment, for her own pawns to pick her clean of the golden fruit she had so carefully spent years sculpting. Yet the intruders did as they had done each morning: charged into her sleeping quarters and lamely made an attempt for the crown with their rubber tipped foils.

"Really? Servants this time?" the queen smirked, as she did each time, "honestly, why did I ever pass that law?"

The servants scanned the room, eyes darting wildly, until one settled their eyes on the curtain.

"The roof…," a servant muttered, "she escaped to the roof!"

Indeed the window was wide open, as if inviting them to attack.

"That crown will be mine and she shall be my wife!" the three servants yelled unison, still wearing their nightgowns.

The cleverest of the three, who was admittedly as dull as they can get, noticed the sword the queen always kept at her bedside as she slept was missing from its usual place. Without hesitation, he charged towards the roof, with a renewed vigour in his eyes. The other two followed his lead. As he peaked out the window of the castle, connected to the roof, he saw a piece of glistening silver swipe down towards him. The servant quickly ducked back into the building but dropped his foil into the castle moat in the process.

"Drat!" the he servant hissed.

"Clear the way!" the other two servants hollered.

The first servant spun his head around,the other two servants were at the other end of the room and were aiming for the window. The first servant distinctly heard the queen's chuckling, stepped aside, and decided to see what the other servants' plan was. The other servants sprinted quickly across the room, doing a summersault in the air, latching onto the edge of the roof as they landed on it.

Not the brightest bulbs in the bunch the queen thought. To the queen, it seemed as if she simply was going through her usual motions as she dodged their foils and sent the swords careening down the castle and into the moat. This group's attempt for the throne seemed particularly lackluster compared to some of the prior ones. The queen's sword, light as a feather as it is, had had little trouble with these foes. She imagined it would, were it to think.

The queen whistled for Mistle to come with the other elite guards. Only they were allowed to be in the queen's private quarters, which, the author assures me, is nowhere near as lewd as it sounds. Mistle and the guards entered the room.

"Yes, my queen?" Mistle asked not even remotely startled that the queen had tied up the servants.

"You are to send these three to the dungeon, Mistle," commanded the queen as eloquently as one could while in her nightdress.

"Yes my liege," Mistle smiled faintly as he swiped the rope from the queen.

"Better luck next time…?" the boldest of the servants asked with a guilty smile on his face.

"Terribly sorry, there shall not be a next time," the queen menacingly chuckled.

The three servants turned white as a sheet, as did two of the guards. Mistle, his long, flowing blond hair peeking out from beneath his helmet, gazed absent mindedly out the window. He pondered what he should prepare for the queen's dinner.

Mistle, pleased with himself having narrowed it down to a lazy dish of succulent duck meat with a side dish of grapes mixed with other assorted fruits, turned his gaze towards the queen. Her curly, shoulder length hair bobbed up and down in the wind from the open window. Apple red lips and entrancing brown eyes… it was no wonder why many a man had wanted to rule with her as their queen.

It had not entirely been the queen's choice, that whosoever should best her in a sword duel should obtain the crown from her, and rule the kingdom in her place. Nevertheless, she had agreed rather quickly to the proposal. The past few years, night and day, there had been countless people swarming the queen for the chance at the throne. This isn't to say the queen dreaded her existence; she enjoyed the thrill of the sword duels. Mistle was very aware of this, it was the only reason the queen had allowed the circus act to carry on for as long as she had.

He sensed something had changed in the queen over time, and that it would very likely turn the kingdom upside down, he simply felt indifferent towards all things which weren't the beauty of the human form. In short, he was a pervert. The queen grinned as Mistle was leaving the room, dragging the servants whose souls seemed to be sliding further and further from their bodies with each passing step.

"Oh, by the way Mistle, be sure the elite guards are present at the throne once these 'servants' are dealt with," the queen snickered, "this includes yourself."

The oldest and cleverest of the servants could feel his soul slip away from this world with those words. The other elite guards were noticeably on edge as well.

"May I inquire as to why, Priscilla— my queen?" Mistle asked, grinning with a wink, though he too had no idea what plan she had set in her mind.

Nami put a finger to her lips, "It's a secret, though I assure you, a thrilling one."