CHAPTER 2 - A SENSE OF DESTINY
Irmgard
I sense the unfolding of my destiny.
It was written long ago. I was always meant for greatness. The moment the Lord Rulers first ran for office with their joke-party, in the last elections ever held in human history... that's when my future was sealed.
I was only a child, then, and I didn't know I'd be one of them, soon.
But not soon enough.
It's criminal, really, how long it's taken the world to acknowledge that I, Irmgard Gast, am nothing short of Lord Ruler raw material. But at least now I know that I was right.
I've been Awakened, and in a short time I'll crush that formality of a challenge against two losers, and go on to finally claim what is mine.
Of course, it is a bit of a travesty that two lesser creatures as Carolina and Ragnar were Awakened: a slave girl and a guy from an insultingly common family, it's basically a slight to present them as my peer competitors.
But the more I think about it, the more I realise it makes a weird sort of sense. Of course this "challenge" requires some cannon fodder for me to slap around, before I'm inducted into the inner sanctum of the true power residing at the heart of the world.
I smile. My family has been stuck in the doldrums of regular wealth far too long. Outlandish wealth, to be sure, but... mundane, really. Ordinary.
Rich people have always existed. A wealthy family such as mine is something you might have seen before the Seizure Of Power as well, and therefore... inherently human.
In the New Order, there is no more damning insult than that.
I run a hand through my hair, reassuring myself. The indignity is almost over. Soon, no one will be able to doubt me any more, although frankly any doubters just need but to look at me: I am every inch a queen.
The jade and opal necklace declares it. The glossy sheen of my black boots proclaims it. The form-fitting leather trouses and greatcoat affirm it. I am a queen-in-waiting, a goddess waiting to be born.
To so many petit bourgeois people - like the Bothnias, for instance - dominance is just a word. So is slavery. They've adopted the trappings of the new order, but not its philosophy, its ethos.
They don't understand the artistry of true mastery, not like I do. The deft skill required to slowly peel away at a human mind, until you irreparably damage it, and the victim ends up begging to be enslaved: their only option left for self-fulfilment.
They don't get the velvety cruel aesthetics of dominance and submission. Not like I do. A girl like Carolina -- made for breaking, really -- is wasted on two dummies like Arthur and Audra. They have her do their homework. God, how dull and unimaginative is that?
But no matter, no matter. Their incompetence just makes my talent shine all the brighter... and gives me a perfect excuse to have some fun with the livestock girl.
I reach the Botnhias' apartment, my heels clicking ominously on the polished marble floor of the hallway -- a poor excuse for one, truth be told, but consistent with their limited bourgeois means.
My reflection in the mirror-lined hallway is like a rippling fractal of my power and superiority. The Awakening is making me feel more than human already, as if I've been kissed by the sun itself. I wonder if I look different to myself only, or the outside as well. Even my features look different to me today.
I'm confident, regal, splendid - a predator, elegant and ruthless. The corridors stretch out before me like an open field before a conquering general.
It's Arthur who greets me, with his usual befuddled expression. I've only been here yesterday, and he didn't expect me to pay a second visit so soon. Especially when his sister Audra isn't at home.
He knows nothing of the Awakening, of course. How could he? His limited mind is not receptive to the astral, otherworldly psionic language of the rightful rulers of mankind. His ears are deaf to the music of the spheres.
The only time he'd ever feel a thought from a Lord Ruler, would be if he is being compelled to obey an order.
Note to self, I'll have to make sure he experiences that some day, after my ascension.
I spy Carolina in the background, tending to her chores. Her mother Georgia and her brother Utah aren't in sight. She's scantily clad in a see-through bedlah, appropriately baring much of her chattel flesh to display.
She raises her head at the intrusion, a hint of surprise lighting in her eyes, before they harden when she recognises me.
Of course she can begin to guess why I'm here.
My dear Carolina. My victory over you may be preordained, but did you really think I would ever let you go off easy? No mind games? No... preparation? What'd be the fun of that?
"Hey, Irmgard," Arthur says, hesitantly. "Audra isn't, uh... Did you want something?"
With a sly and mischievous grin spreading across my face, I coyly ask, "would it be alright if I borrowed Carolina for a little while?"
My eyelashes flutter innocently as I speak, my tone soft and playful. "I'm planning on going out shopping, and could use a slave to chaperone for me. May I have her collar and leash?"
Even from out here, I hear Carolina's sharp intake of breath. Slaves don't control their bodies, their minds, their actions. They are tools, and utility is their religion. Only thus can the chaos of the old world give way to a rational, structured optimisation of the human species... and its herders.
Slaves soon learn their own bodies will never belong to them. The fact that this resignation doesn't inoculate them from pain is what makes it truly delicious. Yes, she logically knows she has no say in this... but she still hates it.
She also knows - as well as I do - that Arthur wouldn't dare refuse me. Both because I'm his social superior, and because the dumb fool still thinks he's actually going to score with me eventually. Ha! As if I'd ever fuck someone so bland and lowly as him. He's not a slave or even a grunting labourer, to be sure, but...
