The Bread Queen: Traveler at Midnight Chapter One

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are,” sang the female teen ghostly, “up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky. Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are.” She paused and looked down at the streets below. Arielle Cabot, the young singer, was leaning out her bedroom window, aiming to sing herself to sleep while stargazing; until a bustle came from below. She sighed. “What now?” she wondered, “I’m sure the Bread Queen will not be happy with the noise aroused at this hour of night.”

Down below, in the main streets of Grimshire, a traveler had just wandered into town, in search of a place of stay. True, this alone could cause a crowd of people to gather since Grimshire wasn’t a popular town. But, no, the thing that drew attention to the traveler was what he was calling for—or, rather, who he was calling for.

“Princess Helvetica! Princess Helvetica!” he called out as he racked upon the doors of townsfolk’s homes.

Arielle sighed deeply and rolled her eyes at the man. “What a twit, this man is. Why on earth does he know of the Bread Queen? And, even more mysterious, why is he calling out to her?” she wondered.

Lisa Collision, a 24-year-old who works for the Bread Queen, walked slowly out of her townhouse and stood in front of the traveler. “Who are you and why do you come to Grimshire looking for the Bread Queen; Princess Helvetica?” she questioned.

“The Bread Queen? Who is that?” the traveler asked.

“Princess Helvetica is our queen of the shire here; the shire of Grimm. Please, make your way to the end of this street for the night. I or one of the Five Guardians will come for you in the morn to question you. Beware, currently, you are under high inspection of the latest attempts on the Bread Queen’s life,” Lisa explained, her black boy-short hair blown in the slightest of winds.

“’Tis twelve, everyone! ‘Stime to go back inside and sleep for the night. Morning is the Torn Sunday!” Arielle shouted as she came out of the front doors of her townhouse, trying to clear the crowd. Only a few minuets of this and the streets were once again quiet and peaceful.

Lisa turned to Arielle, who was about to go inside. “Ari, take extra precaution about this man. The Bread Queen must be protected,” she said.

Arielle nodded once. “Tomorrow night, we shall kidnap him and take him to see Princess Helvetica through the veil.”

Lisa nodded and had on a sly smile. “Surely this man’s life means little—if not, nothing—to the Bread Queen in comparison to the shire. She might spare him, though…”

“But, please, Lisa, take into account that he found the shire—most likely on his own, too. He could be a Cyrus.”

“Oh, please, Ari! That scrawny lad? A Cyrus? Impossible! Cyrus’ have long been dead or disbanded.”

“’Tis still credible. There are no official records of the Cyrus’ dying out, only going on a long journey and never returning. But this young man—this lad—could be a descendant of Phylum Cyrus; our true ruling master!”

“No! Princess Helvetica is our true ruling master. You know this, you swore your allegiance to her.”

“Yes, but please remember, Princess Helvetica is only here when the shire is in dire need of her. And she has been for the past 280 years, as the records go. Once the Cyrus’ return to power, she will go off somewhere.”

“Do not speak of such things, Arielle Cabot! I will not tolerate this, and I am guessing neither would Princess Helvetica.”

Arielle bowed lightly. “I apologize. I will now retreat for the night. Good night, Lisa.”

ψψψ

In the morning, Arielle got a phone call once she had come out of the shower.

“Yes? Arielle Cabot speaking.”

“This is Lisa Collision on order from The Bread Queen. You were selected to go to the traveler’s quarters and question him on the following: how he got to Grimshire; how long he imposes to stay; how much money he has for fare; does he pose any threat; any persons after him; and what he implies to do while in Grimshire.”

Arielle nodded once, although fruitless to Lisa. “Alright, Ms. Collision. I will be down to the traveler in only moments,” she said firmly.

“Good, then. Farewell.”

“Goodbye.” Arielle placed the phone down nicely on the receiver and quickened her pace to reach the Gloria Inn, only a mile away from her townhouse.

The busyness of the main streets were quite confusing to the traveler as he stared out the window next to his bed. Dry dust rose to the wooden mahogany wheels of the carts and trolleys that drove by in a rushed manner. Many a men stopped by the inn to drop off or pick up things, but it seemed to the traveler that the persons were checking up on him. He grunted once as a reply to the call from down the stairs. Then soon a lady clad in white and red with blond hair came through his door.

“Good morning, Traveler, and welcome to Grimshire. I have only few questions to ask you that no one was able to last night in your hysteria,” Arielle said calmly.

“It wasn’t hysteria. I was trying to be serious. How else did I make it here to this inn?”

“You made it here with the help of the townsfolk of Grimshire. Simple enough. Now on to the questions. You will answer them truthfully, or else you will be thrown out of the shire and into the lonely streets and barren lands of Mahania.” The traveler swallowed hard before the lady continued. “I need your full name.”

“Dayton Yarn Cyrus,” the traveler said.

Arielle’s face paled and her pupils thinned. A Cyrus, this traveler was a Cyrus! Her facial expression must have been grave for Dayton’s face showed curiosity. Arielle waved it off and wrote it down in the small notepad she had brought with her.

“How did you locate, and arrive in Grimshire?” she asked.

Dayton coughed once. “I don’t remember. Last thing I do remember before winding up at the borders of this shire, was a city with tall buildings and skyscrapers.”

“Ah. Most likely Amesville, since that is the closest business city to this shire,” Arielle spoke as she wrote down Dayton’s answer. He shrugged once. “How long do you presume to stay?”

“I don’t know. However long for me to get well again, I suppose,” Dayton answered; albeit quite drawlingly.

“Ah. How much Silvers do you have on you? Even so you are a sickened traveler, there are no deals or discounts—you are assumed to pay the full debt of Gloria Inn.”

Dayton scratched the back of his head uneasily. “None, last time I counted. Sorry. I guess I’ll work it off, eh?” he said, laughing lightly at the end of it.

Arielle’s face was strict and plain as she wrote down his answer, however wrong it was. “What is your action ability limit?”

“Um…Five?”

“Good enough,” Arielle muttered as she flipped the page and began writing on the lonely lines of paper.

“What do you mean ‘good enough’?” Dayton asked.

“Nothing. Do you have any persons after you?”

“Not that I know of,” he responded.

Arielle nodded once. “What do you imply to do in Grimshire?”

The traveler seemed puzzled by this question and honorable dilemma. “I intend to do nothing. I was not even aiming to pass, let alone go through this shire—never even heard of it.”

Arielle nodded once more. It was not often a traveler came to Grimshire, as it was not on a map; not any map known to man, that is.

“Well, then, Mr. Cyrus. Thank you for answering all the questions. I will leave now; today is Torn Sunday,” Arielle said before packing up and exiting.

Dayton sat in his bed, pondering about “Torn Sunday” and what it was. He looked out the window now, and noticed that most of the carts outside were grain products and vegetables. This certainly made him wonder.

A knock came at his door, alarming him. “Who is it?” he asked.

“It’s Mr. Oliver Finch, I’m the manager here at Gloria Inn. I’ve come with your breakfast.”

“Ah.. Come in.” The brown wooden door swung open and in came a tall man with white-ish blond hair and grey eyes. Mr. Finch set the tray of breakfast food on the bedside table and poured the milk into a glass. Then a question came to Dayton’s mind. “Mr. Finch, what’s Torn Sunday?”

A small smile came upon Mr. Finch’s lips. “Ah… you’re new to this place so you wouldn’t have any idea, eh?” Dayton nodded. “Well, then, I’ll tell you. Torn Sunday is a special bi-weekly Sunday that the people of Grimshire go through. It’s when all the townsfolk gather up a quarter of their farming wages and give them to the Bread Queen; Princess Helvetica in return for either yearly protection, a single limited wish, or a blessing for an object or person.”

“Why is she called ‘The Bread Queen’?” Dayton asked.

“Because she was the one who came to us here in Grimshire and gave us many seeds and free grains. We planted and grew with her blessing of true weather. One of the first things we made besides fresh veggies was bread. And she loved bread, a lot. She would always have a stockroom full of bread at all times; and the best thing is that they never get moldy. It’s the magic of the Bread Queen; Princess Helvetica,” Mr. Finch explained, sitting on a seat next to Dayton’s bed.

“But.. who exactly is the Princess?”

“She’s actually a Queen, mind you,” Mr. Finch corrected. Dayton tilted his head side to side three times as a signal of understanding. “But, anyway, about Princess Helvetica. No one really knows who or what she is, really. I heard that, one time, she healed someone who had been mauled by a Chubaka Bear. And when there was a drought, she made a new river that flowed fairly close to the shire.”

“Why is her title still ‘Princess’ if she’s actually a Queen?” Dayton wondered, diving into his wondrous food.

“Ah, that’s a real thinker. No one knows for sure. But there have been a few rumors that say she came down from the Gods, or ‘The Land of the Gods,’ whichever way you interpret it. Others say that she’s a known traveler that picked up many spells and learned to use magic on her own to look the way she is now. I don’t know, have your pick; I, myself, like the first one.”

“Yeah, sounds more serene..?” Crystal bells could now be heard very distantly. Mr. Finch perked up.

“Oh! I must go and make my drop-off! I’ll be back in half an hour to an hour. See ya!” Mr. Finch called as he strode out quickly from Dayton’s room. He peeked out over the edge of the window to see Mr. Finch run down the road to his left and soon out of sight.

“Ha, he’s offering bread?”

ψψψ

“Princess Helvetica, the next townsman has arrived,” Lisa said calmly.

The Bread Queen nodded and a purple veil was pulled up, leaving only a golden one in place. Mr. Finch stepped through the grand Silver doors and up the three steps to the small cushion set before the gold curtain. First he bowed then kneeled on the cushion, pushing the basket of bread into the veiled area. Another member of the Five Guardians took a few steps to retrieve the bread. He inspected it, then nodded, dumping the bread in another rather large pile of bread.

“What is it you want from me?” Princess Helvetica asked patiently.

“I wish for the traveler to return safely to the outside world.”

“I cannot assure that wish to be granted,” she spoke, her voice hollow and gentle, yet rough and chilly. Unsettling.

“I know that, Princess Helvetica. It is simply a wish, I do not intend for you to fulfill it wholeheartedly,” Mr. Finch said firmly then left the chambers.

“That is all, Princess Helvetica,” one of the Five Guardians said.

“That traveler is to be brought to me at the time of sundown. He is not to be harmed, or notified, neither is any of the townsfolk. You may return to your homes until then,” Princess Helvetica ordered in the same cold voice.

The Five Guardians bowed once before exiting the veiled chamber. Princess Helvetica then stood and walked away to her personal chambers behind the veiled room. She sighed heavily as she laid upon her embedded heart shaped bed. “Oh my, my years of rule have, at last, come to an unruly end,” she mumbled to herself. A faint wind blew through her room and made the Princesses hair move. “Again?” she wondered.

“Yes, My Lady, I have come again. This time, I shall reap your heart for mine,” came a cold, willowed male voice.

“Chiaro, you must remember, I’ve done away with you. This shire, you may no longer enter,” said the Princess.

“Oh, but my Princess, have you lost touch? These chambers, I sense, are no longer any part of the shire. Your powers do grow weaker, and my charm seeps in,” said Chiaro.

“Yes, I do so understand my weakness is the Cyrus child. And I do perceive it was you who had brought him within Grimshire, am I correct?”

Chiaro chuckled darkly. “Yes, Milady, you are so very right; as you always ever were.”

“Now, do please tell me your method of retrieving my heart once more?”

“Now, now, Milady, you get to hasty,” Chiaro said before finally showing himself from a corner of shadows. He was tall an thin, his black hair grown long with purple highlights and eyes of gold. He was adorned in purple, even his usual black top hat was purple and seemed to glow in the candlelight. “First you must see the new me,” he said and smiled a sly grin.

Princess Helvetica laughed lightly. “Do you really think looks is a real part of love?” she wondered mysteriously.

“Why of course! Appearance might not be the main fortune of love, but it surely is a great part of it.”

“You must understand, now, Chiaro, that I don’t love you. And I never will again.”

“You’ve been through too much to see the real me, anymore, Milady. Our history dates back way farther than anyone else can imagine!”

“I thank Zeus for what he gave me, Chiaro. I thank him for my sight and a sense of mind. Even my father couldn’t have done better. He made me see the real you that I had not seen before.”

“No! He lied to you because he did not approve of his only daughter dating a spawn of Satan.”

“You think with too many Gods in mind, Chiaro. I met you while in human form, but then, and now still, I see you as a great demon of destruction.”

“Come back to me, Milady.”

“And I say never.”

“Then I must steal your heart, once more.”

“It is guarded by steel bars; it is something you cannot steal, only given. And it already belongs to someone else.”

“Ah, yes. It already belongs to someone, that someone being my brother. How else are you surviving with being so cold to others currently?”

“My heart does not belong with me. I do not yet deserve it.”

“Your heart is mine,” Chiaro said darkly before a giant wave of dark cloud came from the shadows and bound the Princess to her spot, looking completely defenseless.

“My heart, is not here.”

“I do intend to retrieve it, not from you, but through you.”

Princess Helvetica raised a single eyebrow. “You intend to rape me?” she wondered disbelievingly.

An evil smile came across Chiaro’s lips. “Yes, Milady, I do.” And before she could react, he was on top of her, caressing her, already nude, and getting ready for himself to plunge in her.

A controlled, steady breath came from the Princess as she controlled herself. “Get off of me,” she said darkly as she closed her eyes.

Chiaro laughed. “Now, now, my Princess. You don’t have to be embarrassed about finally being able to have sex with me!” he said before lifting up the frill of her gown, quickly pulling down her lace underwear, and plunging into her all in one fluid motion before the Princess could do anything.

She let out a shallow gasp and tightened her eyes as he pulled out then slammed into her again; her virginity lost to a shallow demon. He repeatedly pulled out and literally slammed into her five more times before he climaxed and came. She had tried to exert her powers upon him several times but with no avail as the dark clouds held her weakened powers in and held her still.

He rolled off of her onto the bed and tried to relax. The Princess was still strapped in by the dark cloud bands. She felt sore, and forced herself not to cry. She was over 300 years old, she would not cry in front of this unruly man.

After a few minuets, he sat up and brought his arm around her waist. “How was that, Milady? Fine enough for you? Good enough to be your husband and aid you to rule Grassland?”

The Princess shook her head roughly. “You will never be by my side, Chiaro,” she said quietly.

“Oh?” he said curiously as his arm made its way up her side to her breasts. His hand started caressing her left breast, and he could feel her nipple harden through her gown.

“Stop,” she said firmly.

“You aren’t wearing your bra? And why is your nipple going hard if you don’t really love me?” he wondered aloud as his hand groped her breast tightly. She let out a soft cry, her dislike of him made her want to vomit; it made her very sick to know that he was inside of her.

“You love me, I know you do. When you were with James, you imagined it was me instead; I just know it. That’s how much you love me. You knew I was coming today, that’s why you’re not wearing your bra, isn’t it?”

“I… loathe you,” she whispered.

“Ah… and I love you, Milady.” Chiaro let go of her breast and slid underneath her. Then he whispered, “Milady, how far do you think I will go to get your heart?” He plunged into her arse. She gasped and started to struggle. “You like it, I know you do.”

“Stop it, now, Chiaro!” she shouted, her eyes wanting to throw tears down.

“Do I have your heart yet? No,” he said plainly and pulled out of her, preferring on top to be better. He drove himself into her again, whether she was ready or not.

“Stop, Chiaro, stop…” she repeated. “I don’t have my heart, I gave it to someone already!”

Hurried footsteps could now be heard and Chiaro stopped molesting her. “Who the hell…?”

“M-my guards!” the Princess shouted and Chiaro turned to cloud, and was gone.

“Princess Helvetica?! Princess Helvetica, are you alright! We heard some defining sounds!” called one of the guards.

The Princess, still, forced herself not to cry. “G-get me some sweet bread… and I’ll b-be fine…” she called.

“Alright, then, Princess Helvetica.”