[center][i]Her dress flows red, shimmering,
Reflections of the damned cast upon these walls.
They scream for salvation.[/i][/center]

"Execute him."

She gave the order with little compunction, her face showing nothing as she watched the hammer rise above the man shackled to the slab. His eyes closed as the steel head came crashing down with a wet smack, crushing his skull and leaving little more than paste upon the stone. Of course, she had already left as soon as the hammer was lifted, knowing the deed done without needing to observe. The man had been a traitor, committing the dire offense of attempting to sabotage relations between the twin monarchies. Not that it had been near successful, as the man's lies had been just that. Lies and treachery, pure and simple. Now his cohorts who had gone un-noticed would know the price of their efforts, and cease them. It did not matter to the monarch, however, for she cared nothing for whether they were executed for their crimes, only that they know that her law was absolute.

Beyond was her throne room, the great hall occupied only by a courtier who held news from the surrounding regions and awaited her response. "Alphonse." She greeted him, a slight bit of warmth in her comment, but overall without tone. The dark-haired man bowed deeply and held out the correspondences for her to read. "My lady, Marianna. I bear news from Naples, America, and Kzechverin, courtesy of her highness Princess Csilla herself."

"Very well. What news comes from the Americans?"

Unwrapping the cord around the letter, he opened it and read out loud for her, "From the Eisenkreis foreign detachment, we report that at last peace is coming to the United States of America with the capture of the Confederate general. We will remain here until the order is given to return to our homeland."

Marianna thought on the matter for a moment, her chin resting in her hand as she looked over the words "Well, it's about time they sorted their shit out. What of our neighbor, Naples?"

"Of course my queen," He returned, unrolling the next letter "Word has reached us of King Pagani's victory over Sicily, and his intent to stabilize his nation by shoring up the economy of the feudal nation. We believe he will look to sell their Blue Coal reserves, but the move is liable to incite unrest in the nation. The nation is also in need of restructuring and fortification against other, less civilized western powers who would see the nation as weak."

Her hand gripped the throne she sat upon tightly as she thought of the destabilizing effect a conquering of Naples would have upon the region, her lips curling into a sneer. "Let the good king Pagani know that I have the desire for two things his nation has in great supply," She said, a rare smile gracing her lips as she leaned forward. "I wish to build a monument to my ancestor, Baldur Von Eisenkern, and a new palace for myself and Csilla. My building material of choice is marble, something that he should have no problem acquiring. Second, I think it's time that we celebrate the joining of Eisenkreis-Kzechverin in earnest. It has been a month, and everyone is so dour, order as much wine as you see fit."

"Of course my queen." Hesitating, he looked at the seal on the letter from Csilla, noting the personal crest upon it. "Just hand it to me, probably for the best." She said, taking the letter from him and dismissing him to begin writing her missives. For a moment she sat upon the throne, her hand straying to the warhammer which had been embedded into the stone of the floor since Baldur himself had struck it there centuries ago. It had never been moved since that day, though many had tried, and all had failed. It amused her that she was so like her ancestor, a trait that others did not find as amusing. Well, others aside from Csilla. She got up from the throne and began to wander off, heading towards her bedchambers at first, but slowly deviating as she wandered.

Eventually silence filled the halls in between her footsteps, the click of her heels echoing for no one else but her own ears, and the dim corridors wrapping her in their gloom. "I am this country..." She whispered, her soft voice adamant in her words. For a moment, she paused, stopping at the portrait of her father Isaac Von Eisenkern. Looking around, she found that she had wandered into the royal halls, where the nobility had lived prior to her seizing of the crown. Dust caked the walls of the corridor, the moonlight dancing across the floor and shining on the refuse that had sat for fifteen years. Walking forward, she peered into the first room she found, that of a lesser noble, a pile of bones lying against the foot of the bed and a broken sword impaled into the wood. A sudden flash crossed her mind, of a small hand holding a blade and shoving it into the meaty flesh of a man cowering for his life, the force of the stab breaking the ceremonial weapon. A mirror hung loosely from the wall where years ago a girl of just fifteen had smashed it for her own reflection.

The dim light showed a woman of thirty, green eyes hardened in irritation as she looked over herself in the mirror. A modest dress hung on her thin frame, the curves of her body throwing shadows on the cracked reflection before she turned in impatience and left the room. Continuing past the remaining doors, she at last came to the room at the end of the hall, the one which had belonged to her father before she took the throne. Again her past flashed before her eyes, that of the door opening slowly and entering as her father slept in the bed. Slowly her hands wrapped around his throat, constricting the much larger man's windpipe and forcing him awake in a panic. His eyes widened as he came to understand what was happening, his struggle lessening as he saw the determination and tears in her eyes.

"The throne is mine!" She yelled, coming back to her senses as she knelt in the dusty sheets, her hands wrapped around the broken vertebrae. Climbing from the bed, she shook herself free of the dust and left the hall in a hurry, ducking down a side hall to avoid guards in the next hallway. Her door shut nearly as quickly as it opened, her feet shuffling her over to collapse in the plush bedding of her own bed. Laying there, she shut out everything around her, focusing only on the small frame which sat upon the table next to the desk, her eyes slowly closing in sleep as she drifted off as she did every night.