This was it. The legendary annual gathering at the palace. The place was full to the brim with people. Some were excited, some sombre and some even crying due to the fear of being chosen by the Queen. Nobody knows where they go after they are chosen. The murmuring of the chosen as they stood at the bottom of the ballroom staircase stopped immediately as the sound of the queen's anklets resonated throughout the room. As she descended the stairs, Zithé counted three boys and four girls making up the chosen for the current season. "Your majesty, the first chosen, Lavyete of the house Oraan." the announcer said as a tiny girl of 18 years stepped forward, bowing low to to the Queen and with a tiny voice said, "My Queen, the family Oraan is honoured to have a member be one one of the your chosen this year." She didn't dare look up at the Queen's face, lest she want to be beheaded. "Mm" Zithé replied with a neutral expression. The girl was clearly from of the health faculty of the kingdom.
Next was a burly looking young man, Thejhl of house Bruntañ, whose body language screamed defiance as he puffed out his chest and stepped forward, not bothering to bow. "Your highness," he said tersely, clearly not happy to be here. A few gasps were heard throughout the room as Thejhl raised his eyes to make contact with the queen's, who just looked at him with a bored expression, before looking to the far left corner of the room, where a woman in black stood a few feet away from the rest the occupants. Kadnara, the queen's General and the last known Draghe in the kingdom.
The woman, clad in all black Sandrean armour l, walked towards Thejhl and unsheathed her sword, the weapon catching flame as she did so. The hall went dead silent and Thejhl's expression wavered from its previously defiant one. "Do not lose your courage now, boy, for it is too late to turn back on your blatant disrespect." Zithé's voice said ,almost a whisper. Thejhl dropped his gaze to the floor, his eyes looking glassy but still holding some defiance still. "Forgive me my Queen, but I give respect to those who have earned it."
Outrage broke out of the attendants of the ball. A middle aged man came out of the crowd and knelt before ZithÚ, visibly shaking. "Your Majesty, I a-am Honjr Bruntañ. Thejhl is m-my son. His grave offense deserves the worst punishment, but I beg my Queen to please have mercy. He knows not what he is doing or saying. Please my Queen."
"Your son you say?"
"Yes, your highness."
"You understand his slight against me?"
"I do your majesty, bu-"
"He has nothing to do with this. Father, leave this place now!" Khejhl tersely said to Honjr. It was then that true fear began to show itself in his face.
"Silence" Zithé said. She looked at Kadnara and nodded. Without another second, Kadnara swiftly swung her flaming sword down on Honjr's neck, cutting his head clean off, making the smell of burned meat waft through the ballroom. Honjr's head rolled to the floor to be stopped the the stairs Zithé descended from.
"Let this be a lesson to you, child. I should kill you as well but you are still of use to me. Be thankful for my generosity."
Khejhl, now with tears running down his crestfallen face, stuttered out "I thank you, my Queen" as he stepped back into the line of chosen candidates, his head bowed in defeat.
Kadnara sheathed her sword back in as it lost its flame and went back to her position in the corner.