As night fell on the Palace, the figure who had been watching on the roof of the throneroom slipped quietly into the deserted, out-of-the way courtyard where three others waited.
“Well, you made it, then,” said one of them. “I’d have wagered you’d break your neck up there– it must be true there’s Elvish blood in Dol Amroth. –Bad, is it?”
“Very bad. Curse these Southrons! Yes: she’s gone over to the Enemy. What did you expect?”
“Nothing less– but you know our realms are hardly prepared for this. Morgoth take that woman! If it weren’t for her the Haradrim would still be bickering amongst themselves.”
“You know,” said a third, “I believe that if “She who is Brighter than the Moon” were to meet with an… accident… the empire might simply fall apart.”
“Hmmn… do you suppose the Grey Pilgrim really had something like this is mind when he enchanted us?” asked the fourth member of the group.
“Oh, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Besides, it’s in a good cause.”
“But that’s not all,” said the climber of Dol Amroth. “That Black renegade is on to us, and has told the Empress. I fear we may not get out of the Palace alive as it is.”
The four of them looked at one another. “Well, then,” said the one who has spoken first, “nothing to lose, have we?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The morning sun glittered on the spires and domes of the Palace. Even at this hour, the wind blew like a hot breath from the desert, but the coolness of night still lingered in the marble hall that was the ante-chamber to the throne room. Welcome it must have been, since the chamber was crowded with those seeking the favour of the great ruler as well as the slaves and performers who had been selected to entertain them.
The great doors, whose rich carvings and inlays told of the many bloody campaigns on which the Empire had been built, had now been kept shut an hour past their usual time, and the throng was starting to grow restive or alarmed, according to the nature of its individual members. One particularly impatient man, a wealthy merchant by his robes, shouldered his way through the crowd to confront Eruhen, the Chief Eunuch. “Look here! How much longer are we expected to wait? I’ll have you know I’m meant to have an audience with the Empress herself. My coffee is the finest, my camels the best bred in all–”
“She Who is Brighter then the Moon,” said the eunuch coldly, in his clear, high-pitched voice, “may make the Prince of Khand wait until the inland sea goes dry if it should please her Splendour– let alone some cheating merchant!” He clapped his hands. “Be off with you!”
The merchant was too shocked and humiliated to protest– or to notice the alacrity with which Eruhen spun to question the panting messenger-girl who had just run up from the direction of the Empress’s private chambers.
“Well, Sally? How long before her Implerial Splendour is ready?”
“Master, there’s something wrong!” the girl gasped. “The Empress’s hand-maiden says there’s no answer from Her Splendour! No answer all morning!”
Eruhen found the outer doors of the Empress’s quarters already opened. A guard-lieutenant and a diaphanously-robed slave-girl were listening at the doors to the Imperial Sleeping Chamber with anxious looks on their faces.
“You are the handmaiden?” Eruhen asked the girl.
“Yes, Master– Rikae is this one’s unworthy name, if it please you, Master… Oh, what can the matter be? She Who Is Brighter than the Moon has always before heard this slave’s knock in the morning!”
Eruhen peered at the guard. “I don’t think I know you. Who are you? And where is the Captain?”
“Lietenant Shastanis Althreduin– and… I… well, I’m not quite sure where the Captain is, actually… but there can’t be anything wrong. Why, I’d never fail her Imperial Splendour! I have not moved from my post all night!"
“Open the doors!” the Chief Eunuch ordered.
“What!” the guardman gasped. “But– but her Splendour– will– she will–“
“Open them!”
Shaking with fear, the lieutenant pushed open the door.
The chamber was carpeted in scarlet and gold, and scarlet were the tapestried curtains that hung around the royal bed. But none were so vivid as the blood that drenched the silken sheets and pillows where the Empress lay, or the gaping wound in her throat.
A trail of bloody prints led across the room to the open window.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Living
Boromir88 –Wealthy mûmak breeder.
Sally –Messenger girl.
Galadriel55 –Professional assassin.
Shasta –Particularly attentive guard-lieutenant.
Steve –Court Jester (from Umbar).
Pomegranate –Entertainer.
A Little Green –The Empress's favourite snake-charmer.
Rikae –Empress's handmaiden.
Eruhen –Court eunuch.
Pitchwife –Captain in the "Provisional Royal Númenórean Navy" and emissary of Angamaitë IX, Lord of Umbar.
Lottie –Accident-prone sorcerer's apprentice.
Bom Tombadillo –Greatly afflicted beggar.
Inziladun –Minister of the Treasury.
Lommy! –Court physician.
Nogrod –Camel and coffee trader.
Legate of Amon Lanc –Legate of Khand.
Dead
The Empress of Harad (mod).
Day One has begun.