An indiscriminate country located somewhere in the continent of Europe is our setting, our time is the end of a fictional 18th century. For your approval, I submit to you that everything about this tale is entirely plausible, as are the events foretold within the tale, but they are entirely fictional. Well, almost. Most of them. Okay, a good 4:7 ratio of this story is fictional and entirely fallacious. So that's like, what, a little over half? Yes, a little more than half of the story is simply made up to make the tale itself somewhat more interesting. Okay, so we're clear; generic old-world European country, really long time ago in a fictional setting, most of it is total bologna. Alright, got it.
The beginning of our tale begins with the looming castle of Francois Marquis, a stereotypically evil man with a stereotypical taste in ostentatious decoration and lavish lifestyle. He was a nobleman, and very much a family friend, to the royal family at the time and had sopped up enough of their wealth through wiliness, conning, and general kissassery to construct himself the gaudy eyesore that sat on a plateau next to the shore. He was not, as most villains seem to lack this trait, without charm and a certain attraction about him but he was far from a good and honest man willing to sweat and toil for his aspirations. The royals loved him for his quick wit, sharp tongue, and wonderful power of storytelling; so much so that he was offered a lady's hand in marriage almost on a bi-daily basis. It was presumed that Lord Marquis had preferred the company of, what they were known at the time as, "fuck buddies" to the humble beguiles of marriage.
While he was adored by the royals, Monsieur Marquis was absolutely despised by the public. Black and white, slave and master, poor and somehow even more poor; everyone outside castle walls hated Francois Marquis. Understandable; He was the one who convinced the King to allocate funds from the town treasury into the castle's decoration budget (proposing, "Solid Gold Everything" as its theme), the one to suggest taking a demolition crew to the orphanage in light of the strange "diaper smell" that somehow managed to waft through his windows even several miles from town (followed), and he was the one to fund for construction of the Captain's Daughter, a pub that was pleasant in all sense of the word except for the matching high base boards outside the exit so that drunk people managed to stub their big toes on every single time they walked out. "A truly evil man without recompense" was what they called him in the town newspaper. Those who couldn't read just called him a jerk.
It was this, fueled by his strange absence in the public's revolution against the crown, that eventually led to the angry mob formed right outside his doorstep. Well, right outside his doorstep guarded by a rather deep mote. But whatever. And said mob had just the torture in mind for the despised nobleman once they managed to fish him out of that castle of his... that rather large, intimidating castle with turrets and armed watchmen on the other side of a rather deep mote. The public would not be intimidated, well at least not very much, as their shouts and hollers eventually cited a response from deep within the Marquis manor. At the top of the bridge between the foremost turrets, a figure came into view; a distinctly female voice rising from the sun-eclipsed shape before the mob.
"This is noble territory and is strictly a no-trespassing area." her voice was stern and calm, yet somehow managed to overpower the vigorous roars from the crowd, "Can't you read?"
"No!" someone shouted from the crowd, "And the Crown don't mean Jack Sprat no more, this is a People's Revolution!"
The outburst cited lots of whooping and cheering towards the nameless man and his ideals, a clamored myriad of thoughts opinions and demands roared across the plateau. How droll. However powerful strong opinions and pretty words were, they were all silenced and left cowering in the single utterance of one command: "Fire!" Surprisingly, no one was shot with arrows. It was just a sadistic ribbing to get the locals shivering and quiet. "Now, whatever the business of a People's Revolution, I sincerely could care less." the figure said blandly, "I have no business with the King, nor his crowd of revolting peons." The eclipsed woman turned casually back out of view. Amidst the severely underpleased cries of the people, one voice rose over the crowd and exploded like a firework:
"I DEMAND TO SEE FRANCOIS MARQUIS AT THIS VERY INSTANT!"
The mosh pit around her seemed only enthralled with the harsh words; taking it as incentive that they could act like hooligans until their demands were met. A lot of them started actually trying to swim past the mote. The ones who actually knew how to swim were the ones eaten by crocodiles and the remainder either drowned or were also eaten by said crocodiles. However most of the crowd remained on land acting like the fools that the Crown's poor educational system had left them. Only one of them looked skyward at the tower, to where that mysterious woman had last been seen; knowing that she was still there. Or at least still within earshot. There was silence from the Marquis side, not even the clamoring of what must have been at least a couple dozen, probably fifty, loading of crossbows and muskets at once. After a solid minute or so, the shadow re-emerged from behind the castle walls.
"FIRE!!" she shouted again, much to the dismay of the refrightened peasants below her who cowered in fear once more. Again, no one was hurt. It worked every single time. "Now, which one of you has the gall to demand anything from me?" There was silence. "Answer me or I'll just shoot you all." She scanned the still-painted audience, looking for indifference and hate. In all eyes but two, she found cowardice and idiocy. Those two strong eyes that, despite the great distance between hers, seemed to pierce the very air around them. Her gaze was melting, one that would have shaken any normal woman to her soul. Eyes that screamed, "I hate you, I really really hate you and everything you stand for and I hate your mother and I hate your father for shipping such obviously defect product into the world." Thankfully, this girl wasn't quite dealing with a normal woman.
"You." she pointed directly into the crowd, "Conveniently the only young woman in the crowd; Where is your better half?"
"Unmarried!"
A sneer traveled up the castle walls and quickly attached itself to the mysterious woman above. "Not surprising, what man would have such an outspoken wench by his side?"
Below, said woman's cheeks began to color slightly. "What does that matter?!" she hollered back, rage still burning brightly within her chest. Unphased by her seemingly one-sided chances, the young woman pushed the burlier, significantly stronger men to the side to escape the crowd and make herself known. She was revealed to be wearing men's clothing: tight leather stockings that made the belt around her waist all but useless, a white shirt obviously not tailored for her with pinned sleeves up onto her arms and ruffles of loose fabric puffing out and about from her leather vest, her hair tucked under a tricone that had seen far better days. The cross dresser stood defiantly from the flock, as if painting herself different from the other upstarts. With tensely straightened arms hanging parallel on her shoulders she stomped towards the mote, and began in demanding tone "I am Kath-
"Your name is irrelevant." the brooding face above her dismissed, "Guards, escort this young woman into castle walls." Below their fellow armsmen, seemingly appearing as if from nowhere, several more of the red coated mounties arched into position as the drawbridge opened from the inside. The rebels, where credit was due, were at least intelligent enough to see this as an opportunity to storm the castle while the courteous offer was being offered. In one unanimous jerk, the crowd inched towards the still indrawn bridge before a universal cocking of muskets rifles and crossbows would stop them dead in their tracks. "And only the young woman please; I'd rather not have these stinking Rebels dirtying up the decor." As the crowd roared in protest from their stilled position and the bridge was fully drawn, two eerily similar guards broke from the six collective ones that stood on the other side of the mote. They marched across in perfectly rhythmical fashion until reaching their guest, where they turned on a dime to face forward. They each offered an arm to the defiant girl; "No thank you." she spat bitterly, "You reek of Marquis." She started ahead of them, to which the twin guards obliged by following her from the rear.
After the girl entered, her guards led an even train of their ilk back behind the walls of the castle and slowly, the drawbridge was raised again. The peasants below were none to happy about the unfair treatment, and the outright sexism of the events that unfolded before them. Many griped loudly about their own personal qualms with Marquis, but they fell onto deaf ears for the mysterious shadow above was gone. As few took a brave single step out of line towards the castle, they were immediately shot with ungodly precision...
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