I looked around once again, still a bit confused by the sudden turn of events. There were two kinds of people in this intimidatingly vast dark hall. One kind had obviously agreed upon me being their new queen. The other kind was me: an imposter thrown into this mess by an unlikely series of events.
I had no idea what the exact qualifications for a legitimate ruler were. Being competent might not be high on the list, or the world wouldn't have looked like it did. Still, it seemed reasonable to expect the candidate to at least know the name of the kingdom. Maybe a bit of history wouldn't hurt, either. Knowledge about potential problems, about its geography, about its inhabitants, might be good. Hell, a clue about anything would be helpful.
I had no idea about any of that. Still, the black dudes in front of me remained on their knees, at my beck and call. I just had nothing to beck or call. I could hardly just leave them kneeling there. I had to do something with them, just to get rid of them and have time to regroup. No one should be thrown into that kind of situation: terrified possible murder victim one minute, supreme ruler the next, and just be expected to perform. At least, that's what I thought, but nobody had asked me.
I finally decided on the nonverbal option, just dismissing them with a wave of my hand, trying to look as regal and arrogant as possible. I was pretty sure being nice was not expected of me.
The messengers rose to their feet as one. It was so absurdly synchronized, I wondered if they met to train that move somewhere. Maybe, by sheer luck, I had mimicked the way my late aunt had closed these meetings.
Speaking of dead aunts, what was left of her was still lying on the ground, surrounded by a repulsive puddle of blood. I had no idea what to do with her body. Dragging her outside through the stables and burying her in the desert might look a bit inappropriate. I had to start considering my reputation, and dragging corpses around might not help.
The messengers wouldn't dare to do anything about this on their own, and I wasn't about to reveal my lack of knowledge about the courtly procedure for removing corpses from the audience hall by ordering them to do it. Maybe this happened all the time; in any case, nobody seemed to be shocked or even moved by what had happened. I wondered how my own body would be removed, once I was considered as expendable as my aunt.
I seemed to remember some kind of shadowy aides around the old queen and looked around to find them, but they were gone. I wondered if they'd ever been there or if they were just a figment of my imagination.
The messengers moved towards the exit like a swarm of black insects and the only person still around was some kind of servant. He looked older than anyone I'd ever seen and so motionless, I wondered if he really was alive. It would be embarrassing to talk to him, only to find out he's just part of the hall's decoration. His unblinking eyes were focused on something behind me. Feeling like an idiot, but unable to resist, I turned around to make sure there was nothing to be seen there.
I decided to inspect what was left of my aunt. Averting my eyes from what was missing above her neck, I took a look at her gun, which lay conveniently on the ground a bit away from her, and the blood. The thing looked surprisingly small; still, its design was much more beautiful and intricate than the sleek messenger guns. It also looked completely inert and I wondered whether it had died with my aunt.
I picked it up and it came to life immediately. Its surface was covered by a complex moving design of curled blue lines. It was so beautiful, I started to lose myself in it, forgetting my unpleasant surroundings.
My reverie was interrupted by the servant's harrumphing. So he was alive, after all, but his eyes didn't seem to have received this info. I saw the messengers were all gone, and I was alone with a possibly partially dead servant and a completely dead aunt.
The whole situation was eerie. The hall was way too big, I was way too small and I felt totally vulnerable, insignificant and alone. I remembered the blue protective layer my aunt had been covered with when she was still alive. Problem was, when I looked at her, all I could see were normal, if somewhat gaudy, clothes. The only thing looking vaguely hi-tek was her belt.
Tentatively, I touched the buckle. It opened immediately and started to shimmer blueishly. I just knew it wanted to be mine, which was convenient as I wanted to have it anyway. I pulled it from under her while trying to avoid touching her still warm body or stepping into the puddle of blood.
The belt was a cause of joy, like the gun. It fit perfectly and enveloped me with a blue shimmer at will. I assumed that shimmer could protect me to some extent and immediately felt less vulnerable, even though I still didn't know who controlled the thing in the end. With a new found confidence, I turned towards the butler to voice my demands, only to realize I didn't have any. I really had no idea what to do next.
His dead eyes stared at me way too long. I was sure he knew exactly what a little fraud I was. I might have fooled the messengers, but not him. After a while, he just nodded and turned away, obviously expecting me to follow. Not having any better ideas, that was what I did, feeling that perhaps starting my reign by playing follow-the-leader with a half-dead butler might not be in keeping with royal tradition.
He led me through the rear part of the large hall. At one point, I felt completely lost, as all I could see around me was featureless blackness. It was a bit like walking through a cloudy night at new moon. The world seemed to have gone, replaced by empty darkness. I turned around and was relieved to see the slightly illuminated throne platform behind me, like a beacon in the distance.
As I followed the butler, I was able to take a closer look at what seemed to be my new home. Having grown up in the desert, I certainly wasn't picky, but what I saw didn't exactly enthuse me. After leaving the audience hall, there were matte-black corridors, followed by matte-black corridors and some matte-black corridors. The layout seemed to be the work of a maniacal five year old. Everything was spotlessly clean and completely featureless, as far as I could tell. There was some illumination, but not enough to lift my mood, and I had no idea where it came from. It seemed to emanate from the black walls, which promptly sucked it back in.
I consoled myself with the thought that I hadn't chosen to live here, so I at least didn't just have to question the designer's, but my own sanity, as well. No, I was a queen in a prison and I had to say, for a prison, it wasn't too bad. At least I didn't have any cellmates, which suited me just fine. The butler didn't really count, as I still hadn't decided if he was actually alive.