THE MEMOIRS OF QUEEN CATHERINE I OF THE PETRA - Frayed and Snapped

[Zaerie 3414]

— THE MEMOIRS OF

 QUEEN CATHERINE I

OF THE PETRA —

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

– FRAYED AND SNAPPED –

These memoirs are private and are currently unpublished.

10-13

 

I once believed that there was room in the world for the dreamers, those that hoped for good and light. That’s how I went into my reign, with sparkles in my eyes and hope dancing between my fingertips as I attempted to work diligently to preserve and restore the Commonwealth. I had believed in the sweet tales I had been told, of rebuilt Veletzian honor. In lies that they were our good allies that were only there to help. Myself and Konstantin, my Lord Regent, worked diligently to stabilize Petra internally, but externally, things were brewing. Even a child could see it. The Veletzian developments taught me of the many masks a leader must make.

 

The mask of a child, an innocent who doesn’t know any better.

The mask of a woman, frail and breakable.

The mask of a scribe, who doesn’t know battle plans.

The mask of a Queen, that needs to be respected.

The mask of a Leader, where the weight of everything rests.

 

The mask you choose to wear changes depending on the meeting. The purpose. For the Veletzians, it was the masks of a child and a Queen that I would wear; innocent, doesn’t know better, but deserves respect due to her station. The consequences of those masks slipping before planned could be catastrophic. The masks never slipped, not until I threw them to smash against the wall when I was done with them.

 

Between the tense meetings surrounded by Veletzian dogs, and the arduous task of securing the nation, it felt like the weight of the world rested on the small shoulders of a little girl. Each meeting was more tense than the last. It seemed like they gave me a tentative benefit of the doubt after their near-assault on my Grandmother, Queen Renilde, apparently I was new and untested enough that perhaps I’d be moldable into something useful enough to have around. I had hope, still- oh how there was hope in my heart that they would be my allies, my friends. That perhaps the past was simply the result of my grandmother's mistakes. Every meeting became more tense as the desire of the Veletzians became clearer: I was not to be an equal, I was to listen, to behave, to follow orders. They wanted a puppet, and I wanted wings.

 

The meeting where all became clear was filled with chaos- it was a whirlwind of terrible timings and tense situations. The Veletzians wanted access to a copper mine that didn’t exist. A Petran guard saying that he should’ve brought a will-o-bottle to kill the Veletzian visitors. A Ferryman leaning over my shoulder explaining basic concepts with toys. Sir Gaspard claiming that it broke our treaty for me to sign a Non-Aggression pact. A tornado had gone off in the Petran palace- and I had to sweep up the mess while the wind still blew.

 

The guard was reprimanded and removed from the Palace to prevent further outlash.

 

The Non-Aggression pact was rescinded, to prevent the Veletzians from pushing further.

 

I said that should we find copper, they would be the first to know of the mine's opening.

 

The guard, Pelym, who I had enjoyed very much, had multiple chances over the years to remedy dangerous behavior- he was executed by my own sword after the meeting for putting everyone in danger.

 

When I think back to the different meetings with the Veletzians, I distinctly recall having a tense feeling of hope in my heart. There must’ve been a reason that we had allied with them, there must’ve been a purpose that we had chosen them above the others- though now I do not know it. They once seemed like a good, honorable sort of people, with a specific code that could be counted upon. Perhaps the mistake was mine, for never getting a copy and reading it. I always have thrived off of having more information, and I always seemed a step behind them during this time. I was unaware of so much that perhaps could’ve prevented the war, or at least the Petran involvement in it. If I had known more about the Veletzians' grudge against Balian, if I had known to not leave my Uncle alone in a room with them, if I had known why they distrusted my Grandmother so, if I knew why they employed the Ferrymen. Perhaps, with more information, or perhaps with more experience, Sir Gaspard would’ve looked at me as an equal instead of a child that could be pushed. I suppose in the end he was the one with a lack of information, as in the end it was his calculation that was wrong. I could not be pushed.

 

As I re-entered the room with Sir Gaspard and my Uncle, I came to a scene of Sir Gaspard and his Nephew challenging him to a duel that was accepted. I never asked what was said to cause the duel, but that itself was not an issue. We all gathered on the bridge between Petra and Veletz, and the duels commenced. Alberic was not a duelist, and was bested by both men.

 

As the second duel, the one with Sir Gaspard’s Nephew, came to an end.

His sword came to Alberics throat.

It rested there, as he looked at the child Queen.

“So, about access to that copper mine.”

 

There was no copper mine.

Catherine was not involved in the duel.

The sword of her “ally” rested at the Uncle that raised her’s throat.

 

So the final tether on her hope snapped,

And Catherine learned how to hate.

 

[Dj_McMuffin 112]

In a separate point in space, in a separate point in time, in a separate mind, a younger woman reflected on her choices. A child princess, so new to the world, perhaps in as much need of guidance as she was now. 

In her older days, the aged woman reflected in a similar manner even still. It was not her place, that she had determined then. Even still, the rogue thread plucked at her heart. 

Was it the fear of ill intent? Or perhaps the risk of ridicule? 

 

And during such times, to make such bold claims, before the world was ready... how?

 

Who was she? To decide such things; no one in specific was intended to. 

 

Perhaps, rather than perform a role, it was better to play the part. 

[MrMojoMordor 524]

A certain ex-guard shivers a little and rubs his neck - despite it being sunny he feels cold.

Perhaps he should have packed an extra blanket along to his retirement on the beaches of Nor'asath?