Queendom 08: Poppetry

"Okay, okay.. But calm down. You don't have to shout.."

"Was I? My apologies.."

Both of them eased back into the seats.

"Let me think, let me think.."

Bella said, taking another sip. Ishikawa observed the girl tried to lift the weight that ws clearly beyond he class. He was truly impressed by her hutzpah from earlier, but alcohol didn't seem to help her situation. The more she thought the more worried her face got. May be we should change the topic. Ishikawa said, with a smile.

"Well, apart from that, the session exceeded my expectations. She was truly responsive. I don't know what went wrong between the two of you before, but I believe she's past it."

"That's.. That's great news. How did she take, to the trigger-words.?"

Bella wiped the sweat off of her forehead. This was her suggestion.

"Well, its too soon to test. Its hard, because the trainees usually remain alert, wanting to please the Mistress, and ends up consciously responding to the trigger call. Which defeats the point. Triggers are meant to work sub-consciously, beyond volition or reason."

"Still, you think it was the right call?"

Bella was worried, especially with the new information. Am I adding to the trouble?

"It was a great call, to start so early. Especially with trigger-words. If this thing, this beast, resides far beneath her conscious sphere, sub-conscious triggers are a good bet, at reining it in. Well, I'm no expert at taming beasts, but I suppose that's where you come in.."

"Oh, belive me Clergyman.. With this beast, we are all amateurs.."

"I could drill in a trigger-word in thirty minutes. She's been at it for two hours. If it was any other girl, I'd be doubtless. But this one. I'd advise against further re-inforcement, for now. Too much can either undo the progress, or spawn up irrevocable results. Give it time, to take root. Again I was careful to not remove her agency. If you say it, she'll feel an urge to respond. But she'll have enough will to resist. It will call upon the instinct, enough to surface, but not enough to act out. But again, it is important that you let it take root proper. Give her time to adjust. Bellatrix, are you certain, that the phrase won't be uttered around her, in normal life.?"

"Believe me Clergyman, I'm absolutely certain."

From the time Ishikawa hinted its possibilities, there's a reason Bella chose this particular trigger-word. Well, it's more of a phrase, a simple question to the ordinary. But to a Queen, it's a phrase one utters, at the cost of their life. The one question, that the true-ruling monarch is answerable to no one. From now on, her very own sexual trigger.

Three basic words.

WHO. ARE. YOU.

As Bella smiled to herself, Ishikawa continued.

"Well, regardless its effectiveness, I can promise you, she'll never forget the names. And the name is what allocates her the position, with respect to say her Mistress, or me. Just as I hoped, she hated the name I picked for her. A little conflict is desirable. She may forget Demura. But Poppet will stick to her, for a long while. What we admit in pain, will always have a firmer grip on us. Regardless the liking."

Ishikawa couldn't disclose to her, his personal touch to the trigger-training, especially in light of what he had just witnessed. At the time he got a bit carried away, relishing at the long-awaited opportunity, to let out the demons that had been troubling his faith. He had always rebelled against rules, and with Bella's adamance about her client's anonimity, the clergyman had to find a way to integrate some obscene name-calling to the training. The additional trigger-word came to being. He wasn't too worried about drilling into her a particular response for the question 'Who's the Poppet?'

But thinking back, it felt like a mistake. No, it's no big deal. There's no circumstance in which she gets called Poppet, and definitely that particular question. As long as we don't re-inforce the trigger, it'll fade on its own.

"For now, everything is within control, Lady Agrafena."

Well, considering the situation, any certainty was appreciated. Bella nodded, remembering the worries from earlier.

"Are we being helpful, then?! Or just fanning the fire?"

"Well, it depends. It's not just her, right? Its a thing of reciprocity. Its like this thing is communicating with you. Laughing, hugging, lashing out.. Only in the language of flesh. Its deeply affective. And you know how emotions can be. It may pull us closer, or push us over."

Bella leaned in, asking.

"Like, if she follows down this path, soon something may push her over the edge?"

"Not quite. I don't think it'll be a push. I think it's more of drawing out. She isn't wired that way, from what I know. This won't be a push, a mental break-down, loosing the mind for good. No.. This is like the tales of Iratsume."

"Oh! That would be..?" Bella sipped again.

"Appologies, Lady. How could I expect off you, to follow eastern myths. It's the classic tale of taming the untameable. Princess Iratsume was a legend, an embodiment of all things feminine, and unreinable. Of insatiable lust, truly beyond comprehension, of even the eldest monks. It's a legend, rightfully exaggerated. Or so I thought, until I saw her do that, your precious Poppet, that is.."

Oh dear! Bella noticed his face. He almost looked aged and exhausted, more so that his usual sagely-self. As Ishikawa took a moment, catching the breath, Bella asked.

"Just entertain me, for a moment. Apart from the Smeritia, what else could have caused this?"

"Let's say I was way off.. Even if I am to concede, you must know. Her capacity to resist an orgasmic release, to stay on edge, is beyond what I've seen. Truly miraculous, for an uninitiated. Lady Agrafena, I wasn't always an old man, I've seen a lot, if not all. Or, I so thought.. If it eases your mind, this is not your doing. I don't even think it's generational, nor a basal urge. This rings more.. Destined, if you believe such things."

"But.."

Remembering the rumours, from the gossiping maids, of the proclivity for the lasvicious in Elanor's family, be it her popular sister, or her mother, Queen Esmeralda herself in her haydays, Bella asked.

"Couldn't such tastes be.. hereditary? The cost of repression even..?"

"The repressed won't resist this strong. Not my fingers, hehe.. hmm.. sorry abut that.. But no, this isn't repression. And to talk about bloodline.. Bella, I'm afraid it isn't the kind of gift that replenishes bloodlines. The kind of lust that breeds sluts, this ain't it. By all accounts, such lust should drain to the detriment, self-destructive even. Yet she doesn't tire, not that spirit, if you could call it as such.. Nor does it surrender. This submissive of yours, well, first of all, that is no submissive. Obedient maybe, but those are not the same thing, at all. My point being.. Either she's fated to stay a slave, to this inhabiting force, this primordial carnality. This beast. Or.."

"Or ELSE..??"

Bella needed a proper out. A glimmer of hope at least. She wasn't having it, with her Queen slaving away to the shameful.

"Or.. It's a longshot, but it's the kind of lust that one transcends by careful integration. If fate wills so."

"Integration..?! You mean it can be tamed..?!"

"Not tamed, but integrated. Well, it isn't wrong to call it taming oneself. I mean extremely, careful integration. Again, Benison or hex, bear it with fear. Approach it with sufficient reverence. Through trials and errors, making an embodied link, to one's true self. And I repeat. Only, if fate wills so.."

Finishing the drink, Bella cleared her throat.

"Well, thank you clergyman. But with all due respect, I was hoping for something more scientific, and less superstitious."

The irony of it hit her as soon as she said the words. Ishikawa smiled at it, and replied.

"There is a limit, even to my knowledge, I'm afraid. I'm not bailing, I'll be of service, so long as you'll have me. But if the beast snaps, and takes the rein. She'll need you to step in. Again, these are just my observations. Opinions rooted in experience, but opinions nonetheless."

Bellatrix bowed farewell to the clergyman, and returned to her Queen. Thankfully the clergyman had taken an effort to cover her state, a cloth over her chest, and a fresh loin-cloth. Her skin too looked recently wiped, barring the hickies left all over her torso, by the pegs. Bella truly appreciated not having to witness her Queen in some terrible state of obscene.

Elanor seemed to be in a deeply restful sleep, a hint of smile on her lips. A result of satiation. Or tranquility? She couldn't tell. For a moment she wanted to leave the Queen be. Afterall, it was in search of the same peace, that she had to go to such extremes. But they were already running late. The ropes had been cutting into her flesh for quite a while, and prolonging it didn't seem healthy. Besides, the room required a quick wipe down, though she had no clue what to do about the drenched carpet beneath. Taking the brunt of weight on to herself, lifting the Queen to untie the core-knot, Bella couldn't help but whisper.

"What all must I do, in your service, my Queen.?"

Elanor mumbled back something in her stupor, which Bella had no doubt was sound and hilarious, if only legible. She replied.

"Sure, sure, Nora. That, and more.. I've no doubt.!"

***

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Royal Dealings

Three weeks later. In the inner court of Wolkenshire.

"With all due respect, Sir Grinwald, I don't think so. We may fare poorly against a political maverick such as you, but I find it insulting that you think we can't see past such hypocrisy."

The hypocrisy wasn't lost on Grinwald, as he maintained his cool at the uncharacteristic outburst from the young Viscount. After all, it had hardly been a decade, Grinwald turning a blind-eye to the treatment of the herdsmen-tribes by the royal guards, all for sake of the King, Barthomius Senior, and his old-grudge with the Ratchetty clan-head. Only this time, he wasn't being hypocritical. This time the order came from the true-ruling monarch, the Great Chaste herself. So he genuinely urged for the cooperation of all Lords-in-charge, for an immediate peaceful resolution.

However the hot-headed Lord Klavin, the youngest of the three Viscounts present wasn't having it. And knowing the history, the Archminister couldn't blame him. Klavin had grown up watching his predecessor, his father plead at both the Minister, and the King himself, to intervene. Not to mention the vast wealth lost in business opportunities, in the absence of peace amidst the herdsmen. Ignoring the Viscounts, and the Earl, Grinwald looked directly at the Duke of Laudville, Lord Dermowth. The only person capable of reining in these opportunists, especially the young Klavin. The Duke, who maintained a strategic silence.

What's his play? Why the hard-bargain? What does it take, for his compliance??.

Grinwald couldn't tell.

"Please be considerate, Lord Klavin. Wouldn't it be wise to quell it amicably, at the earliest? Considering Her Highness giving her blessings, not to mention her allowance for the Deznian troops, to pass through the herdsmen territory, a swifter alternative to the original military path."

The lords turned in unison, exclaimed at the one who said. The Duke made no efforts to hide his smirk of hilarity, as Grinwald turned visibly red, his glare piercing the one who just spoke. It was a young commander, filling in for General Scarlin, recently promoted second-in-command of the espionage wing. A promotion that was clearly not by merit, for it wasn't the most opportune moment to disclose that information, not to mention his inability to read the room.

Who the hell is that imbecile, and where is Scarlin?

Grinwald fumed within, as he thought up ways to salvage the situation. The cronyism that plagued the royal administration now and then, had always been a constant source of irritation to the Archminister, but this was far grave an act of idiocy he had come across. The other Viscount jumped at the opportunity.

"So the rumors are true! It's that Deznian log-head and his men taking charge instead. No wonder General Scarlin bailed, how could he face us.?! The shame! And to replace him, with General Radoslov, for heaven's sake.!? Is she committed, the Great Queen? To the idea that no men are left in Wolkenshire.? That we are all frail little excuses sucking at the teet, as she arranges for men from the rest of lands, to spill the rightful blood. It's our right to fight for our kin, to avenge our True Great King. By blood and valor! Instead we cower behind Radoslav.?!! How disgraceful!"

Not even hiding his contempt, Klavin added.

"That's not all, Lord. It's much graver a sham, you see. A peaceful resolution, for the sake of the subjects, was not the primary objective. But the arrogance to keeping her word to that warring philanderer! The conflict needs be resolved at the earliest, because Her Highness can't afford any incidents, between the Deznians and the tribes. After all those brutal sufferings under the guards of Barthomius Senior, you think the herdsmen will respond kindly to any approaching troops, Deznian or otherwise?? Or is it just coincidences again, Archminister? What does Her Highness have to say about that?"

"You may ask yourself, Viscount." Grinwald stood up noticing the guards moving outside.

As doors opened wide, and the herald announced out loud, in walked the Queen. As the whole room bowed, Elanor calmly walked towards her royal seat, studying the room. Something didn't seem right, she realized as she gestured them to sit. Grinwald lacked his staple overbearing confidence. Meaning, someone might have lashed out at the hypocrisy, someone with such just anger that even the Archminister couldn't read some sense into him. Elanor's eyes roamed over the faces, slowly lowering herself into the seat-cushion, as the men stood waiting respectfully for the lady, and the Queen, to sit down.

The Duke of Laudville, with his ever-subtle confidence. He's in control, and may very well be the key to this whole thing, but it's not him that's bothering Grinwald. The rest of them looked absolutely taken aback by my sudden appearance, and they couldn't be more than mere pawns in the larger scheme. And where is Scarlin?

As soon as she sat down, Elanor got her answer, the trouble-maker amongst the noblemen. When the rest delayed themselves by a tiny moment, for the Archminister to sit down first, the young one standing third to the Duke, almost dropped himself down to the seat.

So it is you, Lord Klavin. The one who needs be put in place. Worry not, I shall.

Elanor signaled to continue, as she leaned back and listened to the argumentation, between Grinwald and Cyrian on one side, and the viscounts on the other. Elanor was no stranger to the dirtier rungs of politics, and knew well by now that, regardless the merit, the arguments themselves were mere talking points, and clearly for political posturing. A disgraceful facade, part and parcel of such discourses. Their minds had already been made up. Her focus however was on the Duke of Laudville.

Lord Dermowth who was clearly unprepared for the Queen's sudden appearance, had a hard time listening to the back and forth. He was more than confident about dealing with Grinwald, considering their long history of intellectual-rivalry, but the true-ruling monarch?! Besides, this was the first time he was granted an audience with the Queen, blindsided as it was. And he knew how first- impressions could be the bedrock of all their future dealings. He knew what he wanted out of the hard-bargain, and how outrageous an ask it was, if not for his leverage on the situation. But bargaining with the Archminister is one thing. Bargaining with the royal throne?! There was no shortage of skulls littering the crypts, of the ones who dared. The Duke struggled to force out a smile every time his gaze crossed the Queen's, especially with the sweat beading around his forehead.

"Archminister.." Elanor interjected, "Where's General Scarlin?"

Grinwald nodded at the Commander. Cyrian replied on cue, with a slight shiver in his voice.

"Her Highness, the General insisted I come instead. He thinks I'm better equipped in discussing his current concern."

"Go on, commander. I hope this isn't with regards to the troop movements. Scarlin knows that's not up for discussion."

"It isn't. Highness, I'm here to implore you for stringent action, about the recent reports on conspiratorial movements in the Kingdom."

"This again?! The 'Order of Swords', right? I read the reports, Commander. Quite a short read, choke-full of unsubstantiated claims, and wild theories. Are you telling me there is new, credible information?"

"With your permission, Highness.."

Cyrian stood up, to elaborate on his concerns and findings, as the viscounts wondered about the sudden shift in topic. It wasn't like the prior issue was anywhere near a resolution. Elanor feigned interest, while observing the rest through her peripheral vision, especially the Duke. Despite the commander's enthusiasm, Elanor knew very well that the Order had ceased being a major threat long ago. Right now her priority was re-establishing peace to a very troubled sect of her kingdom. As the noblemen struggled to sit through, they failed to notice a servant silently walk up, with a message for the Duke.

Lord Dermowth was known for his immaculate poker-face, a skill that had helped him in countless heated debates and negotiations, even against the Archminister. But even the Duke couldn't help as his eyes widened in astonishment, reading the title of the message. Composing himself, Dermowth read through, with extreme care. Thankfully they were all still listening to the Commander drone on. Looking down, he reconfirmed what was written on the paper. In his hands, was the reason for his hard-bargain, the exclusive import licensing of exotic spices leased to his family for the next fifty years.

Is this an appeasement from Grinwald?! If so, the old man is losing touch. I'd have done it for twenty. But fifty years.. Does the ministerial wing even have authority for such large time-frames.? Oh, wait..

Looking down he suddenly noticed. The seal of approval. It wasn't from Archminister. It was a royal seal.

A gift. A deal, and debt. The final word.

From the Great Chaste herself!

The letter almost slipped out of his trembling hands, as Dermowth looked up. The Queen locked onto his eyes. Without an utterance, he got the message.

Have, and be thankful!

Well, he couldn't have been more grateful. Yet, it felt oddly threatening, the way her gaze lingered a bit longer past comfort. The intensity that flashed, unlike any royal dames he had come across.

Was it actually a gift? Or was she telling, swallow and comply?! He couldn't tell.

But for the legacy of the Laudville estate, the Duke could not have been more grateful. Elanor shifted her attention to Cyrian, cutting short his speech.

"I've heard enough Commander! More rumors and theories. Mostly prejudices."

"I disagree, Highness. Respectfully, it's circumstantial evidence, not prejudice."

Hmm..! Some push back.?! It didn't seem like he had it in. Elanor said, in amusement.

"Tell me, Commander. How long had you been monitoring the Order?"

"Eighteen months, Highness."

"Describe them? Make it short."

"A bunch of extreme misogynists, hellbent on overthrowing any corrupting feminine influence over the monarchy. A bill that I fear, fits you too well in their eyes, Highness."