Part One: Princess in Chains
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Chapter 1: Compatibility test
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A story from the not-too-distant future...
I love Michael. We've been friends since junior school. Our fathers are business partners. Michael and I have been officially dating for the last ten months, and living together for the last three. But I must be insane to agree to his request. Well, it isn't exactly a request. More a perfectly logical demand that we test our compatibility for marriage using the Personality Compatibility Test. According to Michael, it's proven technology, and the many hundreds of couples who have taken the test swear by it. Marriages among tested couples ending in divorce are an insignificant number compared to those who were married without taking the test before the big day. The logic is simple. Better to know if your intended life partner is, or isn't, compatible with you before taking the plunge into marriage. No nasty surprises after the big day. Fewer children living in broken homes following bitter divorces. You use technology to discover whether your intended spouse really is the man or woman of your dreams.
At least, that's what they say. There's plenty of glossy brochures and video advertisements promoting PCT. Even medical and social support agencies encourage couples to take the test prior to committing to marriage. It isn't compulsory, but at least completing the PCT means Michael and I will be fast-tracked for a birth permit, if and when we decide to start a family. In these days of strict population control, every couple needs whatever state-approved advantage we can get.
Supposedly the test teaches us as much about ourselves as our partner. Are we ready for marriage? Are we compatible marriage partners? How do we relate to the other? Would we be good parents? What are our real likes and dislikes? Apparently all will be revealed... yeah, right! I'm a sceptic about the validity of the PCT despite what all the government agencies decide. But Michael is sold on the idea.
I successfully navigated the short preliminary test on my own yesterday. A fifteen minute fantasy loosely based on some pirate movie I vaguely recall watching when I was younger. I admit that it was fun... creepy, but fun. If nothing else, it removed several reservations I had about doing the test with Michael. The extent to which the PCT shares your thoughts and emotions with anyone doing the test with you requires a huge amount of trust. I guess that's one of the reasons the test is reported to be so successful. If you don't trust your partner, then the likelihood of a successful marriage is not-so-good.
Our appointment is set for nine o'clock in the morning. The check-in and preparation process takes about ten minutes. The technician seats us in the padded modules we will occupy for the three hour test. He hooks up the sensors to our bodies and lowers the metal hoods over our heads. Finally he reminds us that will experience an AI generated scenario that will seem to last for weeks, whereas only a few hours will elapse in real time.
I have last minute jitters at entering into an unknown scenario with Michael. We were warned that we won't recognise each other inside the scenario, other than by identifying each other's personality and behaviour. Names, physical appearance, and even our voice will be disguised by the avatar representing us inside the fantasy world. Towards the end of the scenario, we will be prompted to identify the character with whom we feel the strongest emotional connection. If our chosen characters are the avatars of each other, then we pass the test. If we fail to find an emotional connection with anyone, or if either of us chooses a different character, then it reveals that Michael and I aren't compatible in the real world. To my mind that seems too simple a solution to a very complex issue, but the experts insist that PCT has a 99% accuracy rate. Tough luck on the 1% who get the wrong answer.
The AI powering the test will implant a back-story for my avatar into my mind (more creepiness!). In my case, a back-story influenced by Michael's impression of my personality gained from his preliminary test scenario. Equally, my preliminary test will have influenced Michael's avatar's back-story. Quite how or why is one of those questions that invariably receive a vague answer. However, once the scenario begins, every action and emotion my avatar takes or feels will be of my own making. The AI will simply... or not so simply... adapt the scenario to respond to Michael's and my actions. It's too late to back out now. For better or worse the room goes dark and we begin.
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Chapter 2: Surrender
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"Name and age," growls the Briniates sergeant, looking through a long list of names on a scroll.
"Annalisa Monti," I reply. "I'm twenty-three years old."
"Says here that your occupation is Princess of Cambris," mutters the sergeant, once he's found my name on his scroll.
"Yes, sergeant," I sigh, really wishing I wasn't in anyway connected to the Cambris royal house.
"Fetch the general!" cries the sergeant to one of his soldiers. "We've found a live one."
Minutes later a battle scarred warrior with two swords strapped to his back arrives. He's wearing what passes for a uniform among the Briniates. There's no insignia of his rank, but the way every soldier around him reacts, he's clearly their commanding general. The sergeant stands to attention so quickly that his scroll falls onto the floor. He's obviously torn between retrieving it or holding his position.
"She's a girl," sneers the general after looking briefly at me. "Can't you find anyone better suited to negotiate a surrender?"
"No, sir," replies the sergeant. "The only other survivors from the palace are stable boys, kitchen maids, gardeners and the like. This girl... woman... is the only survivor on your list who is of royal blood."
"Hmmph!" grumbles the general. "Is there anybody on the list who has still to be found?"
"Only a handful of servants and children, sir. The bodies of the king and his sons have been located and identified."
"Shit. Well I suppose she'll have to do. Bring her to the main square... in chains."
The general won't be the only one who regards me as unsuitable to be the new ruler of Cambris. I think I'm unsuitable. But what choice do I have? According to ancient custom, it is now my duty and burden to protect the lives of the citizens of Cambris. My uncle and cousins have all died trying to do so, leaving me as the last surviving member of the Cambris royal family. Which is a bizarre twist of fate and one of life's cruel jokes. My uncle has spent the last three years trying to disown me, and have the Cambris courts declare me an imposter. Another few weeks and he might have succeeded, but all that's now irrelevant.
The Cambris army is defeated. A hundred brave men lie dead on the battlefield with my kin. But the invading Briniates are merciful. By order of their king, the Briniates general has offered terms for our surrender. Apparently the Briniates have little interest in occupying Cambris, providing their king controls Cambris's rightful ruler. Which has been me for the last few hours. I suspect King Alejo's sudden generosity has more to do with his personal vendetta against the Cambris royal family. We are distantly related, and his son, Philippe and I were once childhood friends. But Philippe's close association with the brutal overseer, Drax, drove us apart. Philippe regards slavery as a part of the natural order of things, whereas I see it as an unsavoury evil. Since ascending to the Briniates throne, Alejo has embarked on a journey of war and conquest; a journey which now adds Cambris to its collection of vassal states.
I'm not even allowed to change my clothing. As soon as the outcome of today's battle became obvious, my loyal maid had me bind my breasts tight and disguise myself as a gardener. She tried to smuggle me to safety. A failed attempt that has left her among the many casualties of this war. My shirt and trousers are torn from rough handling by the Briniates soldiers who captured me. Fortunately for me they mistook me for a man.
At exactly three o'clock in the afternoon, I'm marched into the town square bound by iron fetters on my wrists and ankles. The general and his officers are standing on a makeshift platform. I'm horrified when I see Drax standing nearby. The citizens of the city are gathered around the edges of the square, watched over by scores of Briniates soldiers.
I'm made to stand on a separate small platform in front of the general. There are no speeches or proclamations. The instructions for my surrender were given to me an hour ago, and they are quite simple. I simply nod towards the triumphant Briniates general, signalling my irrevocable acceptance of the terms for surrender. Moments later, I feel the grip of the studded metal collar that Drax places around my neck. It's a cruel instrument that sits on my shoulders and imprisons my neck and chin in a vice-like grip. I'm all too familiar with this type of slave collar from my year long captivity in Quenier when I was nineteen.
The victors cheer, while the citizens and defeated remnants of the Cambris army look on in dismay.
"Now you will submit to me," orders the general in a loud voice for the benefit of the crowd.
I obey. My knees ache as I drop to the ground. The effect of the aphrodisiac potion that I was made to drink earlier is starting to take effect. Despite everything, I'm feeling sexually aroused.
"Lower," says Drax, who remains standing to one side of me.
I slide my body forward until my brow is touching the rough wooden boarding of the platform.
