The royal apartments of the castle were built to be fully enclosed, with the only access coming from the grand stairway (which was guarded by the fearsome Veronomigan Guard) and the throne room (which, itself, only had one entrance which was also under guard). Being so self-contained, the apartments themselves were built around an internal staircase that provided access to three levels- the bottom being primarily servant's quarters, the middle having both larger suites and several functional rooms, including a library, and the top housing the suites for the king's direct family. The view from some of the outward-facing rooms was breathtaking, revealing a world cloaked in fog, seeming to sparkle as it slowly faded in the bright morning sunlight.
On the way across from the stairway on the middle level, where nobody on any business of real importance in the royal apartments could miss it, was a large slate chalkboard, as tall as a man and as wide as his shoulders. It was a list of names and rankings. Written at the very top, one above the other were "Princess Consort" and "Concubines", although both entries were otherwise blank. Below that was "Head Maid: Colette", followed by "Maids: Katarin, Leana, Cleo". At the very bottom of the list were two further entries, "Whores: Desiree", and then "Pets: Gabrielle, Marie".
The implication of the chalkboard was clear- anyone could move up these rankings... and anyone could drop down.
Angelique has discovered all of this in her explorations this morning. She did not fully recall the events of the previous night- most of it was cloaked in a sort of warm, fuzzy haze. What little she did recall was that she was undergoing her studies when the king's massive guardsmen took control of her mother's estate and seized her. She was brought to her mother's bedroom, and there... things began getting cloudy. She had the shameful, albeit dim, memory of performing lewd acts with King Roland, with her mother watching, and then a carriage ride in the moonlight. Because Angelique woke up in the royal apartments she supposed those events must be true to some degree, but the memories themselves were as ephemeral as dreams.
Angelique had woken up in a large bed, in a sparsely decorated but grandly sized room- large enough to eclipse her room at her mother's estate, at least. Attached to it, she had her own privy and bath, as well as a more modest sitting room. Awaiting her pleasure in the sitting room was a slender, blue-eyed maid only a few years Angelique's senior who introduced herself as Cleo, and offered to arrange for Angelique to break her fast. After the maid had helped Angelique dress, an embroidered blue silk dress plucked from her closet at the Nessane estate, and scurried off to fetch the meal, the younger lady had taken the opportunity to slip outside of her rooms and explore this strange new place she had found herself in.
Which had led her to the slate, and it's mysterious list of names- including her mother's, and Cleo's, but, strangely, not her own.
Angelique against struggled to recall what happened with her mother the previous night, although the fragments- an image of her mother's face covered in some kind of white syrup, a musky, salty odour, and the feeling of the king's hot breath on her neck- caused her to rub her thighs together in response to some poorly understood need that seemed to swim inside her, just under the surface of her subconscious.
It was also so confusing for the poor young girl. She knew what lovemaking was... but knew it wasn't supposed to involve your mother. At least, not directly, if your mother had played matchmaker for you and your husband. But the fragments of the previous night gave her these strange thrills as specific memories broke through the haze.
A strange suspicion reared itself in Angelique. She hurried back to her room, wondering- hoping?- what she might find if she were to lie back in bed and sink her fingers into her moist blossom. What would those fingers find? The same familiar sensations? Or...?
No, she thought has her fingers explored her sex, her skirts bunched up around her waist, nothing felt out of place or different. To be sure, Angelique didn't quite know what she was feeling for. She had only assumed that losing her virginity would make her feel different. At least, that's how everyone acted about it. But then, her handmaids has once confided that her maidenhead likely wouldn't survive her learning to ride a horse.
Was it all a dream?
What did turn out to be different was her own self control. As Angelique pondered her fragmented memories, she idly rubbed at the petals of her flower, moaning huskily at the sensation. Abruptly, she realized what she was doing, and, with great reluctance, pulled her hand away. She had masturbated in the past, but had been too shy and nervous about that lewd act to allow herself to become fully absorbed in the sensation. Now, it seemed, it took a concerted effort not to masturbate without even realizing it, and it was only with difficulty that she managed to stop.
To stop her hands from straying again, Angelique smoothed out her skirts and rose. Cleo had dropped off her breakfast- a fresh heel of bread, a plate of grapes and apple slices, a small pot of honey and a bowl of steaming potato chunks topped with bacon. It was probably more than she could handle, but this must be what it's like to live like royalty. She nibbled on some fruit and enjoyed a chunk of honeyed bread, while she struggled to make sense of the situation.
When Cleo returned to take the plates away, the fruit and bread were all gone and Angelique was eyeing the bacon like a princess might regard a possibly poisoned apple, knowing what making a habit of breakfasting on bacon would do to her figure. Luckily, the maid had provided a new distraction. "Please, take this all away, Cleo," Angelique said, flicking her fingers at the food.
"Of course, My Lady," the maid replied, bobbing a curtsy, "Right away."
Angelique looked with some misgivings at the steaming remains of her breakfast being taken away, but then blinked and sat up straight. Here was a golden opportunity to get more information, and it was slipping between her fingers! "Ah, Cleo."
"Yes, Lady Angelique?" The maid paused, tray in hand, partway to the hallway door.
"Um... would His Grace be available to speak with me? I have some questions about my, ah... presence here." Angelique was hesitant to even ask, but the king was the one man who might be able to tell her the truth of last night.
"Of course, My Lady," Cleo replied as she carefully arranged the used dishes on her tray, "His Grace has ordered me to see My Lady into his presence as soon as she asked. Please, when My Lady is ready."
Leaving the dishes, Cleo led Angelique down the stairs to one of the function rooms, a simple private audience room with a lesser version of the throne on a raised dais, a few chairs for petitioners to use, and a fireplace with a small, welcoming blaze working. King Roland was facing out a massive bay window, while the subject of the audience, a fat older man in the grey robes of a priest, spoke to him. On either side of the door were a decided odd couple- to Angelique's right, one of the massive royal guardsmen, and to her left, a maid, only slightly older than Angelique herself, with pale hair.
As the door clicked shut behind her, Angelique could begin to make out what the priest was saying. "This comes as a great surprise to me, King Roland," he said, carefully examining an unfurled parchment in his wizened hands, "Of course, I'll need to examine the Sister for signs of torture and manipulation."
"Of course," replied the king, without looking away from his vista, "She will be made available to you within the day. But, first, a gift for you, as thanks for your assistance in this matter of justice. Your moral rectitude and sterling example is an inspiration to us all, Bishop Mathys, and I look forward to seeking your spiritual counsel in such matters in the future."
The pale-haired maid stepped forward, and proffered a silver tray, on which was a small pouch, stuffed full to bursting. With a shaky hand, the Bishop took the pouch, losing his grip at first so that Angelique could hear the sound of metal on metal when it hit the tray. Eventually the old man took up the pouch with two hands, and it vanished into the sleeve of his holy robe.
"You honour me, Your Grace," he said, inclining his head, "Such a gift will stoke the zeal of our, ah, moral rectitude. Thank you."
"Please, though, inform Her Holiness or her duly appointed representative that even if the testimony of Madame Nessane and Lord Amrien are disregarded, I no longer desire Sister Gabrielle's presence in my capital, await her replacement to to tend to the devotion of the people."
