001

In Which A Tale Begins

Esmerelda hurried, almost panicked to the church. A rainfall so dense, she thought God was trying to drown her. And I deserve it, she thought. If God was even real, The could only hear the thunder overhead, the thunder of her own heart, and the fall of her boots on the cobblestone. Need help, keep going...

Down at the end of main street. She couldn't see more than a couple of inches in front of her face. Breathe. Walk. Breathe. She only could grasp her location by the shops and homes she passed. Erik the baker. Daniel the cobbler. Not too much further now. She prayed for mercy from every god she could think of. Old and new. She needed all the help she can get.

It was the middle of the night. Would someone even see her? She was still Queen regent, for the time being, they had to see her.

A little bit further now. She stood on the stone steps and looked up at an imposing arched doorway, and she felt very small in the shadow of the tremendous oak doors. At the top, a carving of the last judgment of Christ. The saviour looked a mixture of sadness, disappointment and anger. Or maybe those feelings were inside of her own heart. He knew what she allowed to happen, the madness spread out of control. Her godmother was dead, and so many others. It was time to put it to an end.

She pulled the cloak back over her chest, the rain stopped suddenly like the bucket it was poured from was suddenly empty. You can do this. Just step inside. Help lies inside.

Stepping into the end of the church, she walked the full length of the nave. A choir was practicing their chant around a tremendous book. The solemn sound echoed around the room, which smelled of incense. The voices mingled with the tumultuous pounding of rain on the windows and the booms of thunder that shook the stained glass.

She paused periodically to look at the paintings of all of the stories from the scriptures. The tale of king David, who sinned most egregiously but God still loved him. Issac who wrestled with an angel, he was hurt but God loved him. And Thomas the doubter, who needed to see Christ’s wounds. She didn't go to church. She didn't feel like she belonged. But her sister, rest in peace. Told her all of these stories, and read them from her prayer book.

The dread sat heavy on her shoulders, but she could stall no longer.

"Your Majesty!" a young man's voice startled her. He stopped and bowed.

"Please, stand friar Thomas. I need to make confession. And I need your help."

"this way", he gestured to a small office.

"This is quite unusual. Have you ever given confession before?"

"No. This will be the first and last time. It is an emergency."

Friar Thomas wanted to tell her, that if she hasn't been through the traditional rites, that this wouldn't count. But then he thought better of it. The queen was in his church. It was an honor. It was a sign. She would be back, he knew it. He wouldn't mess this up. She had never been to a single mass, this is what they all prayed for. Surely the Lord would make an acception in the rules, for this one woman's soul.

The friar's office was tiny, it was covered in manuscripts. And rolled parchment. Some looked new and some looked very very old. On the wall behind his tremendous desk, hung a heavy tapestry that overwhelmed the room.

Thomas gestured to a faded chaise. Also covered in books.

Esmerelda swept them aside. She sat tidily on the edge of the seat.

"What brings you here to confess, now. Tonight of all nights? It is incredibly brave of you to come out after dark. And with no guard? What did his highness say? I'm sorry I'm babbling. This is unusual."

Esmerelda held up a hand, to gesture him, gently to silence.

"I understand, all of this. I understand the danger."

Thunder began to boom outside the church. It echoed around the entire cavernous building. The choir ceased singing.

"I came here alone. You know all about the problems in town. You know all about the attacks going on, supposedly from wild creatures that no one can seem to find."

He nodded.

"Well, I am here because it is all my fault."

"Now, ma'am..." the young man began to stir uncomfortably.

She held up her hand again.

The town is filled a gang of people, who have succumbed to a bloodlust curse.

Thomas crossed himself. "Vampires?"

"Colloquially, yes. Vampires."

"Nothing like that has been seen in these parts. Rumors, from the other side of the continent. Far off lands."

"Well, that is the very curse they have. And it gets worse. It is my fault."

"Oh surely not!"

"I assure you."

The thunder rumbled again.

Ma'am? Where does the king believe you are?

"The king is dead."

A silence as heavy as stone, and as dark as hell itself sat in the room for a very long moment.

"I think you need to tell me everything." He leaned forward at his desk, with intense interest. "And start from the very beginning."