Now this is where the intrigue happens. No, not that kind; the kind of intrigue where martyrs play their hand. What is a story without intrigue? We are, after all in the high castle. Did you hear them calling; the others who are left?
I gathered my loves, holding them dear; I fear for them as they speak their minds. The talking head has the ear of our former princess and nothing they say is heard. Loud shouts are drowned in a river of lies and sorrow. My loves threw out a line; several in fact. No avail; the princess had been corrupted.
What is a courtier to do?
We gather and regroup; let’s play a little game.
The talking head spins tales of mutiny, treason, and insider trading. All the while I notice something the princess left behind. A dirty little note hidden in the pages. It’s filled with secrets and longing. I show my loves what I have. Glittery and shiny, like a dime-store whore.
This is where I break your heart and listen to you bleed. The messenger waxes on in judgement, casting stones and deceit. The messenger tells those who will listen of the plight that has been suffered. All the while, the princess sits idly by and lets chaos reign.
Are you waiting for blood little one? I will be glad to show you yours.