Palazzo di Belermo, Belermo, Alpine Europa, 13/6/11243
Green and white were the colours of choice for the wall separating Akilah from the throne room, and for the two enormous green and white striped banners which draped down from the ceiling many metres above her head, their pointed ends barely scraping the white-silver flooring. 'This would look better in orange and beige,' Akilah thought to herself. 'Maybe add a few gazelles here and there.'
"Are you ready?" Proncawe asked.
Akilah took a deep breath. She nodded, her hand pressing against the panel to the side of the broad wooden door.
"Cast your spell, husband," Akilah instructed.
A faint murmur of melodic syllables emerged from Proncawe's trembling lips, the cold of his icy staff burning against Akilah's fingers.
The door rumbled open. The lights to the other side of the door began to flicker. The silvery stairs glistened underneath them, the bottom of the throne just about visible from underneath the doorframe.
"Shall we?" Proncawe asked, extending his left arm towards Akilah.
Akilah glanced upwards at the monumental staircase ahead of her. "Certainly," she said, her lips curving upwards as she linked arms with her husband.
The throne to the top of the stairs was coated in a shiny green finish, the back of the chair curving to a point with a thin white stripe running down the centre. Akilah made sure to appreciate every step she took, every stair she trod upon as she ascended to the throne.
The back of the throne was smooth, yet surprisingly uncomfortable. Proncawe stood beside her, his simplistic red tunic a little out of place beside an Empress. Akilah placed her arms upon the glossy green armrests, staring across her domain.
"An Empress needs a crown," Proncawe insisted. He tapped his icy staff against the floor twice.
A rumble of hooves sounded as a crowd of people, all donning ripped fragments of red, surrounded the bottom of the stairs, mere ants from where Akilah was sitting. Five people broke from the crowd, all with the faint black outlines of intersecting circles spread across their faces, walking in a V-shape with the man at the front holding a crown melded from the colours gold, red, orange and beige.
"A late wedding gift to you, my lady," Proncawe said, as Akilah's eyes were filled with the crown. "From myself, the Nor'oix, and all the united clans and tribes of Antarctica."
As the five reached the top of the stairs, the two people furthest from Akilah slumped to their knees, their circle-inscribed hands covering their faces. The next two followed suit, their bodies remaining more upright than their predecessors. The man at the front took another step forward, the hands bearing the crown stretched out in front of him.
"What do I do now?" Akilah whispered.
"Just sit," Proncawe smiled. "The High Priest will tell you what to do."
'Him?' Akilah indicated.
Proncawe nodded. Akilah looked forward again, her eyes fixed upon the intricacies of the crown in front of her. The way the red and gold blended with the orange and beige was extraordinary.
Akilah did not understand the words which came from the Priest's mouth. They melded together in a beautiful flutter, a melodic choir of perfectly selected sounds. Though she did not understand it, the language of the Antarcticans always brought joy to Akilah's heart.
"By the power invested in me through the Nor'oix and the Triumvirate of old," the High Priest continued in a language Akilah could understand. "I crown…"
A melodic yell screamed from below. A woman, draped in red with a staff in one hand and a circular pattern across her face stormed up the staircase, the harmonious sounds of her native language hurtling towards the throne like a spear.
"What is she saying?" Akilah whispered.
"She says that this ceremony is an abomination," Proncawe answered, listening intently. "She says you are an insult to the customs of our people. It is a travesty that you have been given the authority to send people to their deaths."
The woman screamed upwards towards the ceiling, the top of her staff pointed directly at Akilah's heart.
"She is bestowing upon you a deadly curse using the power that is granted to her."
"You shall cease immediately," Akilah demanded. "I am your Empress!"
"We recognise no Empress," the woman scolded in Akilah's language. "We shall not be ruled by one who does not recognise the powers of a priestess!"
"What does a curse imply?" Akilah whispered across to Proncawe.
"Depends on the severity of the curse," Proncawe whispered back. "She seems to be cursing you to an imminent death."
"Shit," Akilah choked. "Is there a way to stop it?"
"The one who made the curse must die through beheading," Proncawe explained. "It is the only way."
Akilah rose to her feet, standing high above the crowd below her. "Bring me her head!" she commanded.
"Do as she says," Proncawe muttered.
A handful of people emerged from the crowd below holding elegant swords. The priestess swung round where she stood, letting out a small hiss as the guards were knocked effortlessly off their feet.
The priestess pulled a dagger from her belt. She stared, unblinking into Akilah's eyes as she thrust it through her own chest, and collapsed into a heap.
"What happens if she dies any other way?" Akilah asked.
The High Priest swivelled upon the spot, leaving behind his followers who remained perfectly in position. He placed his hand upon the wound, whispering a spell underneath his breath.
The priestess blinked, slowly sitting upright, anguish upon her face. Akilah watched with cold, merciless eyes as a sword met the priestess's neck. The severed head bounced bloodily down the stairs into the crowd below.
Not a sound could be heard. Some eyes were looking down towards where the head had landed. Others were staring anticipatively upwards at the Empress.
Akilah's foot landed upon the first step with an echo which carried across the silent hall. Every footstep landed with presence until Akilah reached the crowd at the bottom of the stairs.
"I, Empress Akilah Tannoudji, have lifted your tribes and your clans from the frozen wasteland where you once salvaged a home, and brought you to this most magnificent of places. It is true, some of you may die as the old Emperor and his forces return to reclaim the throne, but you shall die fighting those who would have you banished back into the tundra to be forgotten once more. And when they surrender to us, we shall rule the entire world together! And all I ask is for your loyalty in return." She bent down and picked up the severed head through a handful of golden hair, lifting it above the heads of the crowd. "Alternatively, defy your Empress and this will be you. Somebody find a spike to put this on."
Akilah tossed the head to one side. Her orange and beige cloak flowed behind her as she walked back up the stairs in silence, the edges stained with crimson blood. The High Priest followed in her wake, taking his place in front of the four once again as Akilah returned to her throne. "Continue," she commanded.
"The High Priest must restart the ceremony following an interruption," Proncawe whispered.
"Oh," Akilah said. "Then do that."
The melody of syllables flowed from the High Priest's mouth once again. "By the power invested in me through the Nor'oix and the Triumvirate of old," he eventually said, "I crown you, Esteemed Lady Akilah Tannoudji of Fallam, Empress of Earth." His hands trembled as he placed the multicoloured crown slowly upon Akilah's straight, black hair. "May Rassilon give you leadership, Omega give you knowledge, and the Other protect you in times unknown. Arise, Empress Akilah the First of the House Tannoudji!"
"All hail the Empress!" roared the cries from below. "All hail the Empress! All hail the Empress!"
Akilah glanced at her husband. Proncawe nodded. Akilah rose upwards from her seat, taking Proncawe's hand. The High Priest joined with the sea of red downstairs in bowing to their knees before their new Empress. Akilah pondered the city beyond these walls. The world beyond the protective barriers of the city. Her palace. Her city. Her world. All of it was hers.
"All hail the Empress! All hail the Empress!"
"Leave us," Akilah commanded.
Two words from Akilah transformed the unified chants into an indistinguishable flurry of noise, as the crowd at the bottom of the stairs pushed their way out through the single doorway. As the High Priest and his four followers exited the room, the almighty doors slid shut, leaving only Akilah, Proncawe and the decapitated body inside the throne room.
"How did the mission to Acqua Fredda go?" Akilah asked.
"Only one returned," Proncawe replied. "It seems that the Clombite was unexpectedly resistant to all of our hexes and charms."
"A pity," Akilah said, straight-faced.
"What happens to Belermo if we cannot prove that we have the power to unmask them?" Proncawe asked.
"Inka Filippova will find a way to have the 'Emperor' destroy Belermo the moment they leave. His legacy is tarnished. Belermo is gone. Shakin becomes the new capital of Earth, and Inka the new Empress."
Proncawe looked flummoxed. "Then you have brought my people to certain doom-"
"No," Akilah interrupted. "I have brought your people to certain glory. We shall send reports of the successful revelation and murder of Chaac to Shakin. Danio may not be discerning, but he will not be so stupid as to destroy his own city on the command of another."
"Sounds like Inka will do everything she can to ensure that this city is destroyed," Proncawe said. "She will demand proof of these reports."
"And proof she shall have, dear husband," Akilah smirked. "That is not beyond the capabilities of this tribe, is it?"
"No," Proncawe said. "It is not."
"Very good," Akilah said, her hand clutching Proncawe's fingers. She examined the wall to the far side, the green and white stripes draped from the ceiling. "Perhaps this room would look better with a few more gazelles, what do you think?" She pulled her husband towards her so that he was facing her, his legs interlocking with hers.
"Yes," Proncawe agreed. "Alongside some magnificent golden seals." He leaned forward, kissing Akilah tenderly upon the lips.
"The gazelle and the seal," Akilah whispered, as their lips brushed softly against one another's faces. "I like the sound of that."