The sound of trumpets pierced my ears. Judgment day, I thought.
I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was a huge carved wooden door... and two guards in medieval armor. I closed my eyes. Okay, no. Let's reset the simulation and open them again in a hospital.
Spoiler: they were still there.
As the trumpets rang out on the other side of the doors, my heart seemed ready to break an Olympic record. I refused to open my eyes again. Maybe this was a hallucination caused by some sedative, or the last parade of my brain before it shut down. Although, to be honest, it all felt too real, even the scent of incense that seeped through the cracks.
Someone elbowed me.
"What's wrong with you? You're pale."
I opened my eyes. I didn't recognize the man next to me at all: tall, thick beard, clothes so ostentatious they almost blinded me. He looked at me with the same expression a boss gives an intern who has just spilled coffee on a million-dollar contract.
"What's wrong with you? Why are you looking at me like that? Have so many experiments deteriorated your brain?"
I swallowed.
"Where am I?" And that's when I noticed my voice was no longer mine: it was that of a young man. My deep, confident voice had evaporated, replaced by that of a brat. It was like going from James Earl Jones to a teen drama extra. If karma exists, I must have earned tons of it to deserve this.
He grabbed me by the shoulders, looked at me with a mixture of sadness and resignation... and hugged me. I screamed inside, "What the hell is going on?" I held my breath. Did this body belong to a... I didn't even want to think about it. God, if you did that to me, I curse you, I really curse you. I must admit I only had one girlfriend in my whole life, but it wasn't because of my preferences, but because of lack of time.
"My poor brother..."
I breathed a sigh of relief. God, I take it back.
"I knew those unholy experiments would drive you mad." He let go of me to look me in the eyes. "Relax, you might be upset, but you shouldn't believe everything they say... the queen isn't so evil."
"So evil." That "so" worried me more than everything else combined.
What did he mean by that? I felt like a rag doll, for a few seconds I was about to fall apart right there, but I resisted. Not even in my first hearing did I feel so weak, so vulnerable.
I wiped the sweat from my forehead, although it was he who handed me a handkerchief.
"It's an honor for the family," he continued. "You promised to accept it, you can't back out now."
"Accept what?" I asked, with that suicidal instinct I have for asking questions I don't want answered.
"Don't play dumb. You did it for our family, you promised mother." He leaned into my ear. "You can't chicken out now... the queen has already paid for you. If you back out, they'll kill us all. Do you understand?"
The doors swung open. Trumpets. Choirs. The full spectacle.
The hall was filled with nobles, knights with more iron on them than a mechanic's workshop, maidens orbiting a throne, and on the balconies, a celestial choir singing as if all this were normal.
And there she was, at the top of a purple-carpeted staircase: the queen. Haughty, imposing... and with those red eyes that saw through even the best-constructed lies. The gaze of a madwoman, it was undeniable.
How did I know? Easy. First, because I got goosebumps, and second, because it was the same look my ex-girlfriend gave me while she was stabbing me. Exactly the same. I even felt a couple of phantom stabs run through my ribs.
Were they selling me as a slave? No. Who puts on such a circus for a slave?
A bald old man advanced to the first step of the throne. He raised a hand and everything fell silent.
"Receive the sons of Baron Brandell: Fedel, the eldest, and Arian, named by Her Imperial Highness, Eldariadna Clovindel Al Harzal VI, empress of the north, conqueror of barbarians, scourge of the gentiles, the pious, the intrepid, beauty personified, empress of the immaculate kingdom of Clovindel."
He stopped to catch his breath.
"Come forward, new strategist of the kingdom."
I had to hold back a laugh. Who the hell comes up with these titles?
The choirs resumed their singing, the trumpets thundered again. I looked at my supposed brother.
"Should I go forward?"
Fedel sighed.
"Let's go... before you run away."
I swallowed, feeling my throat as dry as sandpaper. I followed him. I had no choice. And yes, I was dangerously close to peeing my pants.