Rob X Punzel ~ Prologue!

*Tap.*

The tension in the room was thick as Queen Brutehilda impatiently waited for King Frieden to arrive. She sat on a throne which looked more like a slab of crude stone chiseled into shape than a proper chair, the only seat in the room which could support her enormous frame. The queen was far too muscular for standard wooden chairs, with shoulders broad enough to put seasoned lumberjacks to shame. Her arms bulged grotesquely as she shifted around in annoyance, ropey veins and tendons slithering beneath her skin.

*Tap.*

As her fingers came down onto the stone armrest again, small slivers flew into the air from the point of impact, causing the advisors sitting nearest her to flinch away as they rained down on them. Finally, she sat forward, her massive, calloused hands gripping the stone of her throne and squeezing as she started to stand.

“If he thinks I'm going to let him waste my time, I'll drag him out of his bed and show him the error of his ways.” Instead of anger, it was clear to all that the thought of impending violence caused her lips to curl into a broad smile, revealing perfectly square teeth twice the size a full-grown adult could usually expect. She stood to her full height in an instant—from seated to ramrod-straight—her clothes releasing a sound like a dishtowel being *snapped* at a passerby.

Her dark, predatory eyes glinted with excitement as she looked around the room full of royal advisors. Pointing with her nose, which had clearly been broken and reset at least half a dozen times, she called out in a voice like the low rumble of a mudslide, “You. Where would he be right now?”

“I-I… I don’t-” The advisor was practically stumbling over himself in an attempt to find an answer which could be correct, but he faltered and let out a deep sigh of relief as the door to the room opened, and the king calmly stepped into the chamber. “He's here!” 

Everyone around the table stood as the king swept through the room and over to his far more modest throne, covered in plush pillows to offer support to the ailing man. “My apologies for my tardiness. I seem to have been coming down with something… for the last few years.”

Brutehilda grunted, the right side of her mouth quirking up in a sneer. “If you would do the exercises I taught you, you'd be sweating out those bad humors before they could affect you.”

“We all do what we can, my Queen,” King Frieden replied noncommittally, “Now, I believe we are here to discuss a few small issues among the commoners that have cropped up since my queen took the throne?”

No one wanted to be the first to bring bad news, but after the king stared him down intently, the most senior advisor reluctantly inhaled and took the lead. “Your Majesties, we have only a few… small issues. Normally, I wouldn't request your input on these, but some are quite strange indeed. Firstly, there is simply some confusion. I… thought it was perhaps just a symptom of my age, but after asking around, we've determined that no one can remember the name of our great kingdom. It is not on our maps nor in our books. Even our treaties simply have a strange smear where it should be.” 

“That's an easy one. I punched the name out of the kingdom,” the queen chipped in with a bored tone before the conversation could gain legs.

There was a long, lingering silence before the king coughed lightly into his closed fist and turned to face the queen directly for the first time since entering. “I feel… perhaps a bit more clarification is in order?”

“It was a long name. It took too long to read and way too long to say. So I punched it out of existence.” Only now that all eyes were on her did the queen sink back into her chair, satisfied with how the meeting was progressing. She tilted her head to the left, cracking her neck loudly, before showing a self-indulgent smirk. “Took you long enough to realize.”

Stunned silence filled the room as the royal advisors exchanged nervous glances, the subtle shuffling of feet and creaking of chairs the only noise noticeable during the oppressive stillness. 

One of the advisors, a gaunt man with thinning hair, dared to speak, his voice shaking slightly with both fear and fury. “Your Majesty… without a proper name, how will we be recognized on the world stage? Our treaties, our trade routes? How will the other kingdoms know… but before that, how is it that you managed to punch our name out?”

“Same way I became queen.” Brutehilda scoffed as she looked down at the frail-looking man. “I decided what I wanted and made it happen. When you're strong enough to do whatever you want, why shouldn’t you? Besides, they'll know us as the Brute Kingdom. The kingdom that will produce the strongest warriors this world has ever seen. We need no ‘proper’ name for crushing our enemies.” 

“Be that as it may…” King Frieden lifted his left hand and looked to the ceiling as though he would find divine inspiration carved into the embellished wood. He was a slender man, especially when compared directly with his co-ruler. His hair, once a deep chestnut, had dulled with age, his once-straight posture becoming more hunched with every passing year. Frieden's hand bounced back and forth as though he were trying to determine how he would frame his words, but eventually, he simply gave a quick, reluctant nod and let the outstretched limb fall to his side. “I don't know what to do about that, so… let's move to an issue we can actually tackle?”

“Yes! An excellent idea, Your Highness.” The aged advisor nodded obsequiously, hastily moving on in order to leave the utterly bizarre issue behind. “We've seen a twelve hundred percent increase in violent crime over the last year. Specifically, burglary and gang activity is on the rise. We've also-”

“It's only fighting and taking items, property, or gold by force, correct?” The queen leaned forward, suddenly very interested in the conversation. 

The advisor choked slightly. “Yes, as you've ordered, all other crimes are dealt with, um, incredible harshness. The guards have been trained to cut down those who commit any other serious crimes and leave their bodies to rot as a warning for those who would do the same. It’s just that-”

“Then we have no problem here.” The queen slapped the air to ward off the rest of the conversation. “If they're not strong enough to keep what they have, they shouldn't have it in the first place. There's no greater crime than possessing treasure without the strength to hold onto it.”

“Okay… then, next, there's been some unrest among farmers who are bringing their crops to the city, only for the goods to be taken by force,” the advisor explained with a dark warning in his tone. “I can understand luxurious goods being stolen from those who can afford to either train or hire guards strong enough to protect them, but even we will starve if we don't do something to fill our larders.”

“I'll go punch a few fields; that should cause the plants to pop out of ‘em.” The queen rolled her eyes when no one laughed at her joke. “Fine, find a few farmers that will work for us and have their shipments guarded as they roll into town.”

“That will work for us, but the common folk will quickly starve,” the king spoke out finally. “Strong warriors need full bellies to build muscle properly, correct?”

“Huh. You might have a good point there, Kingy.” Brutehilda looked to the side, stroking her chin in contemplation as she ran her tongue over her oversized, squared-off canine tooth. “Fine, no one gets to mess with the food supply anymore. Tell the guards. Everything else is still fair game. Figuring out how to protect what's yours is the whole point of this.” 

The furious scratching of quills punctuated her statement, as the extremely relieved advisors hustled to put the decision into law before she changed her mind. 

“Of what? Is there a specific result you have in mind?” When the queen declined to answer, the gaunt man sat forward, making eye contact with the king, “The last agenda item of the day… I guess… has been put forward by Queen Brutehilda.”

“I'll take it from here.” Brutehilda jerked her chin at the king in acknowledgment. “Look, the prince is going to inherit the kingdom one day. Before that day comes, he needs a queen of his own.”

Her words carried a strange undertone of something dark, and the king's composure nearly cracked as she stared at him with her close-set eyes. “The boy is so young, Brutehilda. There's no need to rush into such matters-”

“There's every need!” the queen snapped as she shifted herself forward, causing the stone of her chair to groan under the pressure of her iron grip. “He needs to be strong and find someone who will be even stronger. Otherwise, I just won't be able to accept ‘em. That means a training regimen I provide for him and a way to test prospective princesses in the future. I want to make sure that whoever becomes queen will be accepted by the wards of the kingdom.”

“Oh. I see.” The king frowned deeply, as he knew exactly what she really meant. She watched him carefully in turn, as he ever so slowly voiced his thoughts. “You know they will not accept just anyone. Only someone tied to the land, my bloodline, or otherwise deeply connected to the kingdom could be accepted in the first generation. Is this… what you are truly saying is that you plan to bring the eventual princess down your, hmm, reputational path with the system?”

“Yeah, I need this kingdom to start being cool with witches.” Brutehilda bluntly exposed her plan. “It's the most reliable way to become real powerful, real fast. But the way the Brute Kingdom’s wards are set up, you have to be more sneaky than I’m gonna bother with to be accepted by them, or the system itself starts burning you.”

“Or you just have to punch your way through them,” an advisor murmured under his breath, but not quietly enough. 

“Exactly.” The queen turned her eyes to the man who had spoken, and he went deathly pale. Luckily for him, the queen was focused on other things and hadn't realized he was backhandedly insulting her. “Not everyone in my coven is as robust as I am. They need a little more of a boost. But… I think I get what you're saying.”

The king exchanged a worried glance with the elderly man seated across from him, “No, I wasn't-”

“Someone deeply tied to the kingdom. Got it. Someone that's been here their whole life. Not a foreign princess. I can work with that.” Brutehilda stood, her hulking frame towering over everyone in the room as she walked over to the large bay window. Her gaze slowly scanned the capital city of the kingdom at the base of the mountain, a drab, gray city divided into districts via thick stone walls. “Yeah… it’ll be a real exciting thing for those weaklings down in the ringed city. Give ‘em a reason to put in full effort.”

*Snap.* Half of those in the room ducked when they heard the telltale retort of a ballista being unleashed. 

The others had heard the queen snap her fingers before. 

She turned around, lips spread in a smile so wide that her head was nearly bisected. “I've got it. We'll build a tiered arena. Bunch of different challenges. Whoever survives long enough to climb to the top of the heap will be the strongest. That’s the one I'm willing to invest my time into. I’ll just say it like it is; your son will be a perfect trophy husband.”

“There's… there's other considerations than strength-”

“No.” Brutehilda cut the advisor off, only for the king to weigh in on the subject.

“Yes, there are.” Bronze light crackled around him as he tapped into the ward structure of the kingdom. “I will not have my son marrying someone who can't do more than one thing. Double specializing is fine… but even you have enough magic to be able to punch a word out of our collective memories without touching a hair on our heads.”

“Wasn't even that hard.” The queen let out a mocking scoff, hesitating as she stared at the shifting light that represented the might of the entire kingdom focused upon one person. 

After a long moment, she decided not to test him directly. Neither of them were sure who would win, and until she had a guaranteed victory, Brutehilda knew better than to push too hard on subjects he was willing to potentially die for. “I get it; let's get down to brass tacks and start negotiating.” 

There was a collective sigh of relief as the luminescence faded away. The queen turned back to examine the city once more, letting out a sigh that fogged up more than half the window.

“I'm looking forward to giving a prince on a platter as a prize to the long-lost daughter I've always dreamed of having.”