The Tributes (Sable)

The One Who Knows No Fear

Someone at the Queen's left side, a minister or courtier perhaps, was speaking to him ... Or at him ... she couldn't quite tell which. Something about having a string of charges against him and the Queen being willing, in her infinite mercy, to drop those charges in return for services she had found him fit for.

"And what's in it for me?" his loud, rough voice cut in, the words abruptly slicing through the air in the room like nothing else had dared to till now.

From where they'd stopped, she felt the two guards on either side of her stiffen.

"H-how dare you, you dishonorable cur!" the minister spluttered, shocked and enraged. "Her Royal Highness offers you mercy and you –"

"Don'thave much use for mercies," he cut in again, flippant, "Not for honor either. Can't eat, drink, or spend it."

From where Sable stood with her head bowed, still flanked by two guards, she raised her head slightly to peer under her lashes at the scene. She could make out a man in grimy clothes, standing in his mud-caked boots on the pristine floor. His face was marked with dirt and soot, his clothes seemed like they hadn't been changed or washed in weeks, and his dirty light-colored hair was an unruly, tangled mess. And to top it all off, even from where she stood feet away from him, she could get the tell-tale whiff of brandy coming off of him.

But his head wasn't bowed like hers: It was up and gazing straight in the direction of the throne, straight at the monarch who was known for her strange power and the blood on her hands; like he was daring her, challenging her despite the flippancy of his tone.

Then again, Sable considered that it might also just be the brandy's doing.

Sable wished she had a better view of the Queen. But, from where she was currently standing, the Queen was mostly blocked by the grandly decked minister, who was currently spluttering and growling at the man.

"Y-you in-insolent wretch!" the minister seethed furiously, seemingly inarticulate with rage. "You – you –!"

"I mean no disrespect," he cut in mildly. Though, the fact that he said it like an afterthought didn't really help. "But a man needs food and drink."

Sable could see the guards around him minutely steady their stances, probably tightening their hands around their weapons in preparation for skewering him. As for why they hadn't done so already, Sable could only guess that they were simply waiting for an explicit order. At the rate this man was going, though, he might lose his head even without an outright command. For it certainly seemed like the guards were just waiting for an excuse to shut him up.

She saw the rotund minister, who was bristling and apparently incoherent with outrage, open his mouth – either to insult him further or to issue the command the guards were waiting for. But before he could say a word, a lilting, low, feminine laugh echoed through the room; a laugh that seemed to slither through the entire room and render everyone frozen in place, abruptly cutting off all other noise and seeming to somehow chill the air even further.

The two knights still apprehending Sable by either arm tensed in place. And Sable held back a wince as their grips tightened on her arms, strong enough to bruise.

Right from her village to the palace, for every moment that these guards had handled her, they had been far from careful or gentle. Rather, she had had the distinct impression that they were being rough with her on purpose. But this time, she knew immediately that their actions had been involuntary.

And that, plus the way the entire courtroom tensed and stilled, made one thing obvious: That laugh was dangerous.

* * *

AN:

Ex-Knight who was brought to the Black Queen and given a job: Hey, idiots, I can't eat goodwill and mercy to survive.

Minister: *Splutters* How ungrateful!

Ex-Knight: You for real?

Black Queen: *Enjoying the show*