[b]Dolce![/b]

You are bought in bondage before the Supreme Ruler of Earth. 

It is a terrifying experience. Not for the power she wields, though it is absolute. Not for the cruelty of which she is capable, though it is vast. What is terrifying about her more than anything else is that some day in the not too distant future she is going to [i]die [/i]and then someone else is going to have to step up to do what she does. And you feel, as her gaze bores into your soul, the horrifying feeling that it might be you. You would be good at it. But more importantly, you would not be able to leave it alone.

And that is the only reason why someone would come here. This is not a place of glory or privilege. There is wood rot in the walls and the footprints of demons on the floor and the windows rattle with each gust of wind. There is no treasury of gold and jewels, no fine art or badges of station, no swords or legacy of military glory. Apollo gave Lycurgus his iron laws to build the nation of Sparta; these were imposed upon the poor, while the rich were spared. So Sparta went the way of all nations, and all nations went the way of Sparta. It was only in the cleansing rains and the shattered ruins of nine suns, when the Earth inverted and all the low became high, did those with courage and vision have the chance to do what Snowball and Napoleon never could: They burned the farmer's house. They took the gold and cushions from the throne. They forged an iron crown so heavy it would bend the neck of any who bore it. And then, stripped of all gilt and ornament, they gave their pauper kings power more absolute than any constitution would dare.

In this Omelas, the king steps willingly into the forsaken pit. 

The ancients knew this too. It took the spilled blood of the summer king to safeguard the green and pleasant land. The Fisher King's malady cursed his land; how might he have reigned if his land's malady cursed him?

There are many Supreme Rulers such as this nameless old woman, the base of a vast inverted pyramid. They have power to demand any sacrifice, to abridge any right, to say 'get it done!' and have it be done no matter the cost and the consequence. Their only checks are the curses: any evil which endures under their domains is inflicted on them by the Ministry of Curses; any hatred the people have for their world or society is placed upon them in full. 

As that understanding soaks in, the fact that this woman sits with unmarked skin, in a house of her own with four walls and a roof, with food and medicine in the pantry and clothes for every season - it is the realization that she has built this house in the heart of Hell itself, and not one among the abyssal host begrudges it of her.

And then, to demonstrate the terrible immensity of her virtue, she pours you a cup of tea.