"Serena I tire of this debate, you are my daughter, you are of age and you WILL take a husband!" He lamented how closely his daughter resembled his beloved wife, long fire red tresses cascaded down alabaster skin edged with delicate freckling that ended at her shoulders into the long form fitting velvet gown. For all the beauty she had inherited from her mother could do little to veil her open hostility to the topic of conversation, a heated debate that had raged back and forth between the buxom princess and her father for nigh on 4 years and as her 21st Birthday drew nearer, the topic of her impending nuptials had become as much a daily part of castle life as sun rise and sun set. Little progress had been made on the subject, Serena had treated each potential suitor with contempt regardless of age, experience, charm or fortune. He took little solace in the fact she seemed indiscriminate in her disdain for her fellow nobles and as word had travelled the many kingdoms of her legendary wrath, there were now as many potential suitors questing for his daughters hand as there were knights willing to throw themselves down a dragons gullet just to avoid being in the same room as her.
The summation of their latest engagement had led tot he princess roundly cursing her father in front of his own court and storming from the chamber in a fit of fury that had she been any other woman in the kingdom, would have seen her tried for witchcraft or at the very least, held in the stocks for an indeterminate amount of time. The princess was not entirely to blame for her attitude, her mother had passed early in Serena's youth and in his grief the king had not taken another wife, without any guidance on the subject of how to placate the modern medieval man through the use of feminine wiles or comely virtue, the princess had fallen back on royal privilege as a means to dictate terms as if every conversation was to be a military invasion into hostile lands from which prisoners would be taken. Her handmaidens, while the closest she had to friends, had learned to temper the thoughts that passed through their heads lest to incur her wrath themselves, they trailed behind the raging princess as she stormed from the chamber like flotsam caught in the wake of a tropical storm.
The King leant back in his throne as the assembled courtiers filed from the chamber in respectful silence, He steepled his fingers as the perpetual frown he carried this days grew in depth across his wizened brow. The disrespect his daughter showed both him and his station was coming to a head, her refusal to marry in the service of the kingdom was one thing, but a King that could not control his own daughter could not be taken seriously as a monarch of a country, her tantrums were becoming more than a local matter and now, incredulously, her brazen attitude was becoming a threat to the safety and security of his kingdom. With a heavy sigh and his mind made up he turned to the court chamberlain and with a heavy, weary sigh he spoke his royal command
"Send for the Warlock"
The warlock, as he was known, was a man of unspectacular form, from his average build to his medium length raven hair, even his attire seemed catered for projecting an air of abject normalcy, especially for one who claimed to be learned in magical arts, yet the façade breached the realm of the uncanny valley, a man who appeared so statistically average as to be impossible, an illusion cast in the minds of all who laid eyes upon him and forgotten almost as quickly as a sideward glance. He walked with no staff or cane, carried no occult objects, sacred or sacrilegious and carried no bag that reeked of herbs or exotic spices, the only marked abnormality in his appearance seemed to be an eccentric apparatus that obscured his eyes by thin black panes of glass and sat upon his nose, held in place by dint of collapsible brass supports that looped around his ears. The royal guard drew closer as he entered the throne room and bowed deeply before the throne, his voice smooth as silvered glass "My Liege, my name is Adam Dumont, scholar of the Arcane Arts, I am as ever, at your service your majesty"
The handmaiden dived at the last moment, a teal coloured crystal vessel of perfume sailed over her head and shattered against the castle wall in an explosion of glass shards and a puff of scented vapour. The glass shards fell like a razor rain onto the furs below that often protection from the draughty stone floors of the old castle, she made a mental note to have a servant replace the furs lest the princess cut her soft delicate soles on the concealed razor shards, for surely in the princesses murderous mood such a thing would see the handmaiden sent to the gallows regardless of her innocence. She tried to placate the young woman, in her years of service she had come to care for the girl despite her episodes and while it were true she was often unreachable when consumed by her unseemly wrath, the princess could by all accounts be a lovely young woman when the mood took her, kind caring and attentive to those around her, it was a simple fact that year of coddling and a father who seemed incapable of saying the word "No" where his daughter was concerned, had led to such a temperamental brat who flitted on a knife edge between idealistically cheerful and impulsively murderous.
The maiden raised her hands almost in surrender "Please your Majesty, you really must calm down, I've sent the servants for some heated water, perhaps a bath with some scented oils would soothe your majesty..." A wild green eyed stare fell on the wavering handmaiden and it was at that moment she realised the error of her approach, she had not the time to brace herself before the younger women fell upon her, fists balled up in rage and while she did not strike the terrified maiden, the blur of green velvet dress and red hair crashed into the larger woman and sent her cascading backwards onto the glass tainted furs. She screamed as the blades of glass bit deep through her dress and into the soft skin of her back, a dozen sharp slivers cut deep into her each drawing streams of blood that rapidly stained the ice white furs, terror held her still as she knew trying to pull herself up might result in more of the shards sinking into her flesh. She could feel the growing wetness on her back as her heart hammered in her chest with fear and pain, she saw the princess looming over her with an unfamiliar expression before her eyes rolled backward and blessed blackness took the terrified woman.
The sun hung low on the sky, evening rays doing little to illuminate the chamber as servants began lighting the chandeliers in preparation for nightfall. The conversation had, in the way that any conversation with the magically inclined tended to proceed, consisted of much discussion with very little explanation. That his daughters temperament required mastering was beyond doubt, while the two men had been deep in counsel word had reached the king that one of the royal handmaidens had been badly injured in her latest tantrum and while the girl was expected to live, it would be with scars she would carry for the rest of her life. In the grand scheme of kingdom management a maimed servant girl was not a cause for great scandal, but in this case it was a final straw that broke the proverbial camels back. The king leant forward, eager to reaffirm the admittedly vaguely defined "Specifics" of their arrangement
"You believe your magic's are up to the task of taming my daughters tendencies?" he spoke slowly and deliberately, carefully measuring each word with the apprehension of a man who was fairly certain he was taking part in a devils deal.
