Epilogue:
Nieve Quiles-Vega was humiliated and angry both. She was nursing a wound to her pride that made the soreness of her ass pale in comparison. He'd dared to touch her! That fucking jumped-up peasant had dared to touch her! She was a Royal! His father was a jumped-up thug, given power far beyond what a mere man should be allowed to have! The pretty young princess swore bitterly, her rage boiling over again and again, as she paced across her solar again and again and again. She wanted vengeance! She wanted to punish that fucking bastard, and she wanted to make his filthy father hurt for what they'd done!
As she was making her fifth or fiftieth circuit through the room, there came a knocking at her door. She ignored it. Muttering curses, she continued to pace, her mind twisting its way through all the ways she could hurt them. He was a wizard. She couldn't have him physically hurt. It would be hard to find someone who could challenge a man who held the Ice King's power in his hands. She could hurt his bitch, Ragnhild. He could have that old bitch hurt! Or maybe fucking Abeiuwa! Those disgusting cunts let him sleep with the three of them! Disgusting! They were disgusting!
The knocking came again, louder this time. When the pretty princess ignored the knocker, it came even louder until her rage boiled over. Striding to the door, she jerked it open, snarling, "what the fuck do you want?!" She couldn't have been more surprised by the presence of armed guards on the far side of the door. Her family's private guards stood there in the hallway. "Please come quietly, Lady Nieve," said their leader. "The family elders wish to speak to you." Lady Nieve?! She was going to have a chat with them about Lady Nieve, and she was going to have this man's tongue cut out.
Seeing the expression on the young woman's face, the soldier sighed heavily. She didn't see. Grabbing her by the arm, he deftly bundled her into a set of cuffs. It was so quick, she only registered what had happened after she'd been shackled up. Now she began to scream. Not that the guards cared. They took her by the shoulders and began striding down the hall. The elders had the power here, and this woman had managed to get the Royal Family royally pissed off.
The princess was spitting mad when she was dragged into the presence of the men and women who'd placed her in her position less than a year ago. "What's the meaning of this," she howled?! "How dare you?!" Her uncle, Edwin, retorted, "Nieve, know that you stand accused of crimes against the Kingdom." "What the hell are you talking about," snarled the angry young woman?! "I'm Princess!" "You were princess," her grandmother replied. Nieve's jaw dropped open.
Striding forward, her grandmother told her, "we replaced Yolanda for the same crimes, Nieve. Did you forget that? She wrecked our homeland. She destroyed our army, sending it on a foolish expedition for her favorite treat! Let that sink in, Nieve. You've been bitching that we have no guard of our own, save the handful of men who guard this palace. Your predecessor was responsible for that disaster. Now you're walking us down the same road..." Nieve gasped in fear.
Nodding, her uncle Omar reminded her, "you were put on the throne to right the ship, Nieve. Instead, you're pursuing the same questionable alliances that Yolanda pursued. The King of Ooo rid us of the zombies. Our peasants are in the fields again, and he offers to make us wealthy off the proceeds of our farms and vineyards. And you tried to piss on the whole thing! I have half a mind to spank your ass myself!" "I-I can explain," Nieve babbled! "You're not talking your way out of this," her grandmother tutted. The young woman shivered in fear.
Nodding, the family matriarch told her, "you need to be settled, Nieve. We're not going to remove you, yet." Her words suggested the young princess was on the ragged edge. Acknowledging Nieve's fears with a nod, the dowager told her granddaughter, "I've arranged your marriage myself, Nieve. I've sent an envoy to the King of Ooo." "I-I won't do it," howled Nieve! "I won't give myself to an old man who whores around with a dozen others!" "Do you think you have a choice, Nieve," Omar replied? Her face went red hot. She was standing there in chains. They could do whatever they wanted.
"It's not him that I'm making the offer to, girl," said her grandmother. "As you say, he's an old man. He's likely not got the stamina to be chasing a young wildcat. But he does have a son. A son that's more than capable of handling you." Nieve's flush deepened. He'd beaten her! They were giving her to a man who'd paddled her like she was a child! Nodding, the old woman said, "you can marry Billy the Human, or you can rot in the dungeon, Nieve. Take your pick, but you're not leaving here until we have your signature on the decree."
As Nieve faced down her nightmare, on the far side of the civilized kingdoms, out beyond the safety of the Tesla Barrier, another princess was having an ugly encounter with the consequences of her actions. The Lady of Spies had her mind figuratively thousands of miles away. She was to track down the so-called Bandit Princess. She was to gather intelligence on who this woman was and what was motivating her. Besides the obvious. It was at once infuriating–that she was being ordered about–and at the same time it was a refreshing challenge.
Taking the turns as one who knew them well, the thin woman hardly noticed the eyes that followed her. As she approached her office, anxious to read the latest in reports on her nemesis, six men stepped out, weapons drawn. "What is the meaning of this," growled the slender woman? "I'm authorized to shoot you," the soldier retorted, as he trained his weapon on her middle. The thin woman hesitated, her mind torn between the instinct to fight and flee what was clearly some kind of trap and the higher brain functions that suggested she could talk her way clear. In that moment where her primitive lizard-brain warred with her more evolved mind, the guards were on her, divesting her of weapons–even the obsidian knife she kept between her breasts.
They were the sort of clinical that spies were taught to be, with no concern at all for copping a feel or giving her any other sort of opening that would have let her fight them and survive the experience. When they had the weapons, the six men shackled her, hand and foot, and frog-marched her through the halls of the headquarters to an uncertain fate.
This didn't make sense. She couldn't for the life of her understand what was going on here. Why were they doing this? She would have expected this after her release. She'd dodged a figurative bullet when Finn let her out of the dungeon, because she'd been expecting to be eating a dagger shortly thereafter. Her predecessor had gone out that way after fuckups too numerous to list. Three agents had jumped her in a hotel room in Oceanside and literally rammed a foot-long dirk down her throat and left her to choke on her own blood. It was a pretty ugly way to go.
The entirety of the Committee was waiting on her when she was dragged into the meeting hall. That was a first. One of the reasons for having an Agent Princess was the trouble of getting all of the members of the Committee together in one place. If it wasn't the general hazards of travel in a world devastated by global nuclear war, it was the more specific hazards of being a spy and agitator. The various members of the Committee often had their own agendas and some even had their own, secret patrons. That gave them plenty of reasons for doing in their fellows, and made it unlikely you'd get all eighteen together in one spot.
But here they were.
"Zeus," howled Orzsebet! "What is the meaning of this?!" The yellow-skinned giant in his neatly pressed suit frowned down his twisted nose at her and said, "you know what this is, Orzsebet." "Princess," she retorted! "I'm Princess! You'll address me by title!" "Are you," muttered Gordon Wells? Her face snapped over towards the Wax-Hustler. His elegant mustaches twitched minutely in amusement. He often showed amusement at the looming deaths of others. It was a shared pleasure. Orzsebet had laughed and joked with him on numerous occasions as they did in this or that mark for some customer or other. This was going somewhere very dangerous.
The skinny spy was hauled into the chamber and forced to sit in the center of the room–the hot-seat–as the questioning began. As the members of the Committee began a thorough debrief of their supposed master, one of their number slipped out of the chamber to a private space. Flicking open his phone, he sheltered it from the prying eyes of the cameras, as he typed out a message.
Far to the east, the Bandit Princess stared down at her phone as Damien Vega's message came in. Orzsebet was in hand. The torture was about to begin. Orzsebet was a lightweight. He didn't imagine she would last very long. Shortly thereafter, he would be able to move to have her executed. He had allies lined up to vote for him as her replacement. And then he could move against the so-called King of Ooo.
Well, how's THAT for a plot twist and cliffhanger. Orzsebet's in trouble, and the Bandit Princess is (still) making moves. Hopefully, you'll all join me for Echoes of Evil, Empire of Ooo Part 2.