"Your Majesty, it's all a lie! I would never– I would never dare do that. It's all that wench's lie!" Lady Odetta's pleas and denials echoed in the chamber.
Her once dignified demeanor shattered as she sprawled on the floor. Zara, standing at the corner, found a twisted satisfaction in witnessing the torment of the woman who had relentlessly tormented her.
The irony of Lady Odetta's fall from grace resonated deeply, displaying the capriciousness of fate.
In her quiet musings, Zara couldn't help but wonder whether Lady Odetta would, in this dire moment, cast aside her pride and ask for help from the very person she had mistreated, if Zara had the power to do so.
Amidst the tension, Queen Emma's voice sliced through the air, charged with anger and frustration. "You spoke my daughter's name with that filthy mouth of yours to everyone and now you want me to believe your words?"
With a rapid breath, the queen seized a nearby cup and hurled it toward Lady Odetta, whose reflexes drove her to duck and shield her face. The chamber resonated with the sound of the cup's impact against the wall, a visual representation of the chaos that had consumed Lady Odetta's life.
Tears intermingled with her sobs as Lady Odetta's denials persisted, a desperate plea against the tide of accusations. Zara, privy to the truth of Lady Odetta's innocence in this particular matter, felt an odd mixture of emotions. Pity should have risen, but it was overshadowed by the memories of Lady Odetta's own bitter anger.
In the midst of these reflections, Zara's thoughts turned to Lady Runa. A sense of gratitude came with a subtle unease as Zara recognized the extent of Lady Runa's cunning and strategic mind.
Zara had been pulled from the brink by Lady Runa's calculated maneuvering, even as it plunged another into the abyss. It was a reminder of the formidable ally she had found, yet also of the potential danger inherent in Lady Runa's intricate webs of manipulation.
In a different scenario, had Zara not aligned with Lady Runa, she could well have been in Lady Odetta's woeful position.
"Please, Your Majesty, I only ever speak the truth to you. I would never sully Princess Eleanor's name—"
Queen Emma's patience snapped like a taut string. Her palm met Lady Odetta's cheek with a resounding slap, the echoes of her anger reverberating through the chamber. Her voice was edged with a raw intensity. "Don't you dare mentioning her name!"
Lady Odetta's form crumpled on the floor, her forehead pressed against the cold stone, an act of submission to the storm unleashed upon her. "Your Majesty, those maids ganged up to slander me because they are jealous of me. They are jealous because I can work by your side in the palace with all the luxury they could never dream of."
Zara knew the truth was far from Lady Odetta's desperate words. Those maids hadn't united out of jealousy; they had united out of a shared history of suffering. Lady Runa had orchestrated their stories into a web of deception that ultimately ensnared Lady Odetta.
Amidst the turmoil, Lady Odetta continued her futile attempt to salvage her standing. "I pledge my loyalty to you. You know that I wouldn't—"
A caustic laughter escaped Queen Emma, her face contorted with a mixture of fury and betrayal. Her voice was a blade, cutting through Lady Odetta's flimsy facade.
"What? What would you not do? How dare you lie to my face! Did you think of me as a fool, who would accept you after everything you've done? You are nothing. A lady-in-waiting is easily replaceable."
In this tense confrontation, Zara bore witness to the collision of power and pride. Queen Emma's rage a force that carried the weight of both a mother's shattered trust and a sovereign's authority. Lady Odetta, once haughty and confident, had been reduced to a pitiable figure.
"But, Your Majesty. I gave you the dress! I was the one who found it. Shouldn't that be proof enough of my sincerity?" Lady Odetta's voice trembled, a desperate attempt to sway the tide of condemnation that had crashed upon her.
The queen's expression, carved from a mixture of fury and disappointment, remained unwavering. She refused to allow her gaze to meet Lady Odetta's.
"You better close your mouth if you don't want me to gag you! You should be thankful that I am only imprisoning you for the grave sins that you have committed right under this roof. If your father isn't someone influential, I wouldn't hesitate to bestow a death sentence upon you."
The weight of the queen's words hung heavily in the chamber. With a dismissive wave of her hand, Queen Emma beckoned Zara to fetch the guards. Zara turned her heels toward the door and watched as the guards dragged Lady Odetta away.
***
Yohana closed the book with the word Tusshia on its cover, marking it the last she had finished reading from the five books that she borrowed from the library.
The books of Sanctus delved deep into the intricate history of Sanctus, tracing its origins from the very inception of its doctrine. Within the pages, tales of divine bestowals of authority upon the inaugural Saint and the subsequent propagation of his teachings filled the lines.
Woven through every narrative was the thread of fervent devotion to Sanctus, an unwavering proclamation of its supremacy among all beliefs. The texts highlighted the exclusivity of this faith, emphasizing its singular correctness in a world of competing ideologies.
It was an irony that Yohana discovered how the earliest days of Sanctus were marked by the ostentatious showcasing of miracles to attract followers – displays that the church now deemed 'magic.' The very phenomena that once heralded the faith were now cast aside as unnatural, aberrant, or even profane.
A recurring theme of transformation and evolution also threaded its way through Solism's history. Remarkably, both these faiths culminated each of their books by admonishing the contemporary practice of alchemy, branding it as a transgression against their doctrines.
While the Sanctus and Solism texts eschewed any significant reference to other belief systems, the Tusshia scriptures defied this trend. In contrast, the book of Tusshia boldly proclaimed to have been instrumental in giving rise to two major religions.
From the beginning, the book of Tusshia asserted its claim as the primordial faith across the continent, with the goddess Tusshia cast at its epicenter.
The pages unfurled tales of her extraordinary feats, her miracles rechristened as 'magic' in the evolving lexicon of the world. A particular narrative detailed accounts suggesting she had brought a deceased man back to life.
Goddess Tusshia was said to have two loyal followers, coming from different backgrounds and uniting them under her celestial banner at distinct junctures. The first one was Bateilla, Sanctus' first Saint. The second one was a female with no name, who was referred to as Priestess throughout the book.
Bateilla's 5-year pilgrimage, as celebrated through the Divine Unity Festival, was written as part of his journey following goddess Tusshia. The magic bestowed by Tusshia allowed Bateilla to summon life-sustaining rains upon arid lands, eventually earning him the appellation of the Water Saint.
Bateilla later chose a path of permanence, settling within a village to serve its people. While Tusshia's odyssey pressed onward, leading her to encounter the Priestess.
Throughout their shared journey, the goddess' weariness often prompted her to turn her prayers to the sun. In this interplay of devotion, Solism was born, its ethos grounded in reverence for the sun's life-giving radiance.
Although none of the books shed light on how Yohana could now inhabit a dead person's body, she felt like she was closer to the answer than ever before. She made a mental note to share these findings with Fabian when the opportunity arose.