"Why isn't she answering? Is she mute or something?" the king asked, his voice sharp with irritation as his golden eyes bore into her.
"Your Majesty," Duke Wolfhart interjected with a measured tone, "the girl doesn't understand the common tongue. She speaks Götter."
The king raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Götter, you say?" His gaze lingered on her, a cold curiosity flickering in his expression. "A slave-looking girl knows the language of God." He leaned back slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Fascinating."
His voice grew softer, yet no less imposing. "Only royal heirs and those chosen by the Goddess Aeon were permitted to learn Götter. Even if one were to acquire the texts illegally, they could never truly master it." His golden eyes narrowed, his tone turning sharp with intrigue. "Simply because the Goddess herself would never allow it."
He paused, the tension in the room thickening. His gaze on her grew more piercing, as if trying to unravel her very being. Then, with deliberate precision, he asked, "So… which are you among the two? A royal heir? Or one of the chosen?"
She didn't dare to look up, fearing for her life.
"Ashad ihma ikhmi?" What is your name? the king asked, his voice smooth but commanding as he spoke in Götter.
The unexpected question in the familiar language startled her so deeply that her head shot up, her wide eyes meeting his piercing golden gaze. The intensity of his stare made her breath catch, but she managed to stammer a response.
"La… nir ikhma," I don't have a name, she replied, her voice trembling.
The king's expression didn't change, but there was an unmistakable weight in the pause before he asked his next question, his tone growing colder.
"Abhir ihma biryi?" Where are you from?
"La nay badrab…" I don't know, she whispered, her voice barely audible, her gaze dropping to the floor.
The simplicity of her answers hung in the air, only adding to the tension in the room. She felt as though every word she uttered was being weighed, measured, and judged.
"One more thing," the king said in Götter, his tone colder than before. "Do you even know what you are?"
"I… I don't know," she stammered, her voice shaking as uncontrollably as her body. Her heart pounded violently in her chest. This is it, she thought, dread washing over her. This is where I die.
The room fell into an unbearable silence, the weight of his question hanging heavily in the air. Then, with a tired, irritated sigh, the king finally spoke.
"This is pointless," he said, rising from his throne with a graceful yet commanding motion. "The girl claims she has no idea who she is or where she comes from." His voice shifted to the common tongue as he addressed the room, his golden eyes sweeping over the gathered men.
"It's probably a lie, my King," Thornhowl interjected, his voice brimming with indignation. "We should interrogate her further."
"And how exactly do you plan to interrogate someone who doesn't speak the common tongue?" the king retorted sharply, his tone mocking. "You fools would only wither her to death without learning a single useful thing." His words sliced through Thornhowl's pride, making him squirm under the his cold gaze. "I have far more important matters to attend to than entertaining your incompetence."
As the king turned to leave, Duke Wolfhart stepped forward, his voice calm but urgent. "My King," he said, bowing slightly, "what about the girl? What should be done with her?"
She dared to glance up, desperate to know her fate, but the instant her eyes met the king's glare, she flinched, her gaze dropping immediately back to the floor.
"I will be the one to interrogate her," the king announced, his voice ringing with finality. "Feed her. Bathe her. And bring her to my chamber."
The room fell into stunned silence as his words echoed. Without waiting for a response, the king swept out of the throne hall, his robes trailing behind him, leaving the nobles in his wake.
The tension in the room shifted to disbelief and simmering resentment. Thornhowl broke the silence, his voice dripping with venom. "What a lucky whore you are," he spat, glaring at her. "It seems the king has found himself another bitch to toy with."