13 Persecution

Crestienne Filia

The two of them raise me to my feet. As I dust myself off, I see one of them assist me with picking up the books I'm carrying. Before handing it over to me, he reads a few portions of it.

I keep my face straight as I wait for him to finish reading. In my heart, something tells me that this is odd. Why is he too keen on reading that book?

Suddenly, with a sly smile, he closes the book. "Mind you when you said she's a lady," the man holding the books says to another with easy smugness. "She's not only a lady." The man, then, shows the text in the book in front of his comrades. "She is a lady that possesses books about The Arts. Looks like another pyre will be set up tomorrow."

What? How is that illegal? It's just a book, for goodness sake! Anyway, it's not against the law to read books about The Arts, is it? I'm not quite sure myself. I have read The Scirese Law and Constitution, but there are some parts that are forbidden for access.

Suddenly, I remember. Romain! Now I understand why we must not talk about this. Somehow, this is illegal. But, why? How? Before I could come up with a hypothesis, I feel them cuffing my hands with a small wire. Right, the Scirese cuffs. It may be small, but if you try to break free, it will shock you with electricity. Though it is as thin as a strand of hair, it is as tough as diamonds, the jewel of Scire.

"I demand that you let me go!" I say immediately "And, let go of those books. A friend gave it to me!"

Annoyingly, the same man that read the book laughs. "Miss, you are damned! You will most likely going to face the pyre tomorrow. This evidence is enough to have you burned a thousand times over."

Burn me? I could laugh in this ludicracy. "You shan't burn me. I am Princess Crestienne of Scire, and I demand my release in the name of the king! You have no rights to touch a royal princess! I arrest you, too, for harassing me like this!"

What? It's true. Scirese Law also states that no man is worthy to touch a member of the Filia family without permission.

Tauntingly, he rounds on me. "You cannot fool me, girl! Princess Crestienne has platinum hair and she would never leave the palace without the king's permission."

Oh right. . . the hair. I'm wearing a wig and I have no means of taking it off. I had it glued so much that it wouldn't fall off accidentally. Well, he's partly right on what he said. I have platinum blonde hair, but I would leave the palace on my own accord.

What I can't stand is that he keeps rubbing the defeat on my face. Honestly, he could use a mint. The way he speaks near my face could kill even before being burned. "Just admit it! You are a Practitioner, aren't you? So, what arts? Sophisticated enchanters? Truth-seeking sorcerers? Warmonger warriors? Peace-loving mediators? 'Tis better if you confess now, child! 'Tis the pyre or Infelix. The latter is safer than the former. At least you will not die there. Even if you are indeed the Princess Crestienne, you will still face the pyre. You should know better than to possess these books."

I find myself stunned. I cannot think. I cannot act. I cannot do anything. I do not know what to do. My brain is not working. Think, Crestienne, think! You are about to be burned! One of them is already leading me by the shoulder towards the palace. They tug my sleeves as they pull me forward.

Suddenly, I see a light shining from behind us. I turn my back, and I find myself squinting to see what it is. As my eyes adjust to the brightness, I notice its blackness. It is a car, a citizen's car! I look into the driver's window to see who it is, but the headlights are too bright. Of course, the persecutors are too stunned to act. They don't know what to do. I think in their minds, they don't know whether to question the man or arrest him for being an interference of an arrest.

Before they could approach the driver, the figure turns off the lights and heads out of his car. He locks the door, and there I see a man in velvet hooded robes. His head is far too covered for me to see the face. Still, all of us are like sitting duck waiting for someone to speak or act right now.

I notice the man give an easy smile. "Gentlemen, what is fairing on this peaceful evening?"

Fairing? Gentlemen? What the hell? No Scirese would speak that way! Why does he speak so. . . formally? Yes, at court we speak in that manner, but he has it worse. I don't know why.

"Sir, do not meddle with our business," the head persecutor says. "'Tis better for you to go."

I see the man face me. I think he is looking into my eyes. I don't know if he can help, but I try my best to connect with him. I act blankly in this event.

And suddenly, the tables have been turned.