Her Imperious Benevolence
Good morning. Please, do pardon the clutter. I've never been much of a host.
My name is Professor Scratch, and what you see before you is a vision pre-mortem. For you see, my days are numbered. I know at least this much to be true- I know a lot of things, as a matter of fact. So many that a lesser scholar might get a big head about it. Proverbially speaking, of course.
Aha.
That was a joke.
...
My apologies.
While I do know a great many things, such as the inevitability of my demise, the various details of the world, I do not know everything. My knowledge is expansive and vast, near-omnipotent, even, but the holes in my vision are like moth-eaten pocks in a patchwork quilt, holes I've been readily mending on my own for some time. Only a few holes are left, and those are not up to me to fill, you see. The individual slated to fix these holes will be arriving shortly, as a statement of fact.
Until then, would you like to see a magic trick? Do you have a deck of cards? No?
Very well. Then perhaps I can regale you with a tale. A tale of ages past. A tale that is tangentially related to the imminent guest who will be arriving shortly. The story is about the past, but one could argue it is just as equally about the future.
The tale is about...
Her Imperious Benevolence.
You see, I've dropped the chapter's title in the dialogue, here. Snappy, no? Aha.
...
Anyway.
Long ago, on a grey planet known to its inhabitants as Beforus, a woman ruled with an iron fist. The Empress. Little is known about this period of history, as Trolls are not concerned particularly with the wheel of the past, but suffice to say The Empress was not a pleasant woman. Her role in this story, happily, though, is only with the following line:
Her Imperious Benevolence bested The Empress in combat, securing the throne for herself.
The Benevolence, as her subjects called her, swore to be a kind queen, kinder than her predecessor, defining herself in stark contrast to the last regime. Unfortunately, the Benevolence had a somewhat stilted notion of kindness, one that was particularly condescending. Lesser bloods further down in society would be made to serve their betters, while the greater bloods cared for them like lusii.
Ah- Pardon me. You ARE familiar with lusii, yes? And the Hemospectrum? I should hope so, for to understand our tale, you'd have to understand those. Very good.
In spite of one tyranny being exchanged for another, deaths did decrease, and lesser bloods did see a happier existence under The Benevolence and her rule. Unlike her predecessor, she had a sunny disposition, her face always smiling, her gills always twitching- But those fangs showed themselves in every grin, and she made sure to adorn herself with the baubles of hard-fought conquest, on her home planet, and among the stars. She might have been sweet, but her empire still rested on the backs of her subjects, backs upon which she examined her ornaments and jewelry quite comfortably.
Still, Her bubbly personality and outwardly kind experience made her popular among the throngs of easily swayed masses, and those who disagreed with her were ambivalent. It appeared, by apathy, the new world order was in full swing.
But wanton cruelty was not the only issue that The Benevolence had to contend with. There was another more primal urge that swayed her species. For she was of the highest blood- Fuchsia, and as such, she had a deeply ingrained biological need that she and each other Fuchsia shared: The need to best her peers. To contend for the throne.
Each generation, one Fuchsia blood was born to the Mother Grub, one that The Benevolence feared. For if she were ever to engage her kin in combat, her reputation as the peaceful matriarch of her society would crumble. Her solution? Raise her would-be-heirs in solitude, then, when they came of age, have them obliterated.
This unsteady pact continued for years, until...
In the Broodcaverns, deep underground, a long-time friend and confidant of The Benevolence ran the troll reproductive process with frightening accuracy. The Grand-Matron, as she was called, an austere and elderly troll living ages far past jadebloods had any business living. Her hair was ghostly white, her chitinous skin thick and ribbed, and her shallow, orange gaze chilled the blood of her diligent jades. Among the broodcaverns, it was rumored that the Benevolence endowed The Grand-Matron with an extended lifespan in exchange for romantic deeds.
This of course, like many rumors, was true in part only. The Grand-Matron was afforded her lifespan due to her passion for the work, not romance, but The Benevolence offered The Grand-Matron her life in exchange that The Grand-Matron... Grease the wheels, so to speak. After all, whenever the Fuchsia-blood was born, it was The Matron who turned the spawn over to her queen to be executed.
After generations of this gruesome ritual, The Grand-Matron became tired. Tired of life, tired of paying for it with the lives of innocents. So one generation, quite recently, in fact, just six and a half sweeps, give or take a perigee, the Grand-Matron took the fledgling fuchsia and stole away with her. The Grand-Matron hid the wiggler away.
Did she do it out of passion for this wiggler? Did she do it simply to end her own tired life? Who's to say? But the child was safe from The Benevolence's clutches.
Predictably, the Grand-Matron was killed the same day in a rare fit of rage for the Benevolence. Teams scoured the globe to search for the heiress, but all came up short- After all, the Grand-Matron didn't hide the progeny on the globe at all!
And, for those of you somewhat familiar with this story, you may be unsurprised to realize that the wiggler hidden away those scant few sweeps ago grew up to be-
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
yo scratch u there?? fuckin open up or ill break ya locks
Ah. Please excuse me, dear reader. My guest has arrived.