“I see. I see! That’s it. That was it all along!”
“Yes, it was, Father.” Lady Megan bows before quietly and passively withdrawing into the tall, trailing shadow of the throne basked in sunlight.
“Someone! Is anyone here?!” he demands.
Then she watches. Inconspicuously from the shadows, without making a sound.
Imperial guards and private soldiers hurry into the room, their hands on their swords. She watches Lord Siegfried order the soldiers who don matching white surcoats that are bright on the eyes and decorated with great pomp.
“Capture all the seven-year-old girls who live within our domain. Bring every single one of them to the castle regardless of their social standing.”
Thus, the hunt began.
By the command of a single man.
✦ ✦ ✦
YOU can cut away however much of the white clover hill as you want yet still fail to locate the four-leaf clover that was never there in the first place. Needless to say, girls were seized from farms, ranches, fields, and the roadside, from their mother’s chest, their father’s arms, from under the table, and from their beds. Little girls were suddenly kidnapped away from their peaceful lives. Their cries of alarm fell upon deaf ears and blind eyes as they were shoved into carriages and carted off to the castle.
Given little to no food and water, some died before ever reaching the castle. But such manhandling of the goods during transport is a severe mistake. It would spell hell if their employer happened to find out—he’d cut their wages. So the senior members of the private army donning white surcoats would quickly carry away the corpses to dispose of them on the side of the road.
“Hurry! Hurry! Our lord is waiting!”
Not wanting to waste the time it would take to bury them, they left the corpses to the wild animals, crows, and bugs.
Even arriving at the castle gave them no time to rest. Having cried their hearts out over their journey, the girls who no longer had any energy left are mercilessly forced to their feet and lined up in the banquet hall like cattle.
“C’mon, look this way.”
They support each other, trembling because they do not know how to escape.
“Is this hair a wig? …Hmm, doesn’t pull off. Are these eyeballs real?” Lord Designs grabs the chin of each one, forcing it upwards to eagerly scrutinize every little detail. “Shut up. Don’t cry. Don’t sob. I’ll rip out your tongue. Hair and eye color can be changed as much as someone wants! I won’t be tricked! I won’t be deceived!”
Fear, anxiety, starvation, thirst, and fatigue weigh upon the girls. Lord Design digs his nails into the young cheeks that heave with gasps and strangled breathing as he yanks them this and that way.
“Open your mouth. Don’t close your eyes. Hey! Don’t you run away! LOOK! AT! ME!” After his hair-curling, horrendous inspection is done, he spits in their faces without fail. “Wrong. WRONG. This one’s not her either!”
And then he cruelly throws the girl on the ground like a used rag. “I’ve no use for this. Take care of it.”
Young bodies lay weakly collapsed on the ground. Junior officers run over to them as soon as they are tossed aside, grabbing them by their slender limbs or by their raggedy hair, and violently drag them away.
“He…l…p…m…e”
✦ ✦ ✦
“Yo…u’re…hu…rti..ng…me…”
The girls scream between gasps. No one answers them.
“Mommy…”
Be that as it may, the officers left with orders to get rid of the girls after Lord Designs is done with them are in a bind as well. Little girls were brought to the castle in droves. Each and every inspection ended futilely, for none were who he was looking for. He tells the officers to remove the discarded from the room and to dispose of them, but the officers have nowhere to carry the girls off to right away. As a stopgap measure, they created an enclosure in the courtyard, indiscriminately stuffing the girls inside.
“I wanna go home.”
“I wanna go back home.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“We haven’t done anything wrong.”
Feeble sobs and cries of hunger come from the enclosure. Each girl’s voice is tiny and quiet, but each of their words overlaps and unite as one, echoing to the deepest corners of the castle. Several fade away never to return overnight. But not enough die for the number of newcomers brought in every day. Their numbers do not decrease no matter how much time passes—it only increases.
“What do we do?” the officers gripe.
“What do we do?”
“What should we do?”
“Those kids are still alive. This is different from dumping bodies.”
“Damn straight. Even I have issues with indiscriminately murdering children… Feels like I’ll get cursed for this.”
“Wanna put them in the dungeons for now?”
At this very moment, four imperial guards and private army officers gather in the castle corridors, putting their heads together to generate the answer to their problems. Rejecting each and every idea that pops up, they fold their arms as they rack their brains.
“We can shove ‘em into the dungeons and just wait it out until they grow weak and die.”
“Oooh, nice idea.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Can’t happen. It’s outta the question—the dungeons are already full.”
“Why don’t we just return them to their parents already?”
“Wait, wait. Can’t happen. Outta the question. We haven’t a jot about who we collected from where.”
“What should we do?”
“What should we do?”
As a group, they grimace with their folded arms. Then sounds of rustling and trailing skirts draws nears. A sweet smell drifts through the air.
“The answer is simple,” offers a voice. “Why not discard them all in the forest? Good idea, is it not? All you have to do is leave them there. They will die on their own.”
“Lady Megan!”
“There is nothing to hesitate over. Your hands won’t be sullied.”
Successfully tempted by those blue eyes, the men in white surcoats nod in agreement. That’s the smartest way to go about things, they think without hesitation.
“We shall do as you say.”
“We shall act as you see fit.”
We were only following orders. We haven’t done anything wrong, they foolishly believe.