The Priestess of Fate
Spoiler! :
Chapter 1
The young woman waited nervously for the curtain in front of her to rise. It felt like a barrier, both protecting and smothering her from her fate. She could hear the sobering voice of the auctioneer coming from somewhere in the room, explaining the rules to the crowd – as if they needed to hear them. Standing next to her was her mother, who pulled at the hems of the young woman's dress, straightening it as a mother would. “You're slouching, Samantha,” said her mother.
The young woman tried her best to fix her posture. “Who cares if I'm not standing perfectly straight,” she said.
“These are noblemen,” said her mother, “they won't put up with your lazy posture like the chapel does.” Samantha stood as straight as she could, imagining that a book was resting on her head.
It wasn't very stable, this imaginary book, so she extended her arms and leaned left and right to keep it from falling. When that wasn't enough, she began to bend her knees, confident that it was the only way to save the book from plummeting to the floor. “What are you doing?” asked her mother.
“No sudden movements,” said Samantha, “unless you want the book to fall. Why do you want the book to fall, mom?” Her mother pushed her arms down and pulled her up to straighten her legs. “They'll think you're crazy if you walk out there like that.”
“Lazy posture it is, then,” Samantha asserted.
The sharp crash of the auctioneer's gavel startled Samantha, but it was music to her mother's ears. “This is it,” she said, “remember everything I've told you.” Samantha sighed as the curtains began to rise. The auctioneer started to introduce her with a total lack of enthusiasm.
“Our first piece hails from the secluded island of Ilen. She's come a long way, having been trained by The Priestess herself.”
The curtains rose far enough for Samantha to see the impatient noblemen crowded into the auction house. It was obvious that they weren't expecting much.
As the curtains finished rising, the auctioneer continued, “tomorrow is her fourteenth birthday – her coming of age – and she has yet to marry. Please welcome, Samantha Tenako, accompanied by her mother, Lorena.”
Samantha came close to stumbling onto the floor as her mother enthusiastically grabbed her hand and pulled her center-stage.
“Bid limit is ten. Begin,” The auctioneer announced, and slammed his gavel once more.
Immediately, a nobleman stood up and mockingly bid five silver coins. The room exploded into derisive laughter. Samantha blushed and turned to her mother, who patted her on the head and reassured her.
“Trust me, it will go just as I said.”
“How can we be sure she's even a woman? She's got the figure of a ragdoll,” another nobleman yelled. Samantha drooped her head and began to fidget with her fingers. Sheepishly, she faced the crowd.
“Even my uncommon childhood pales in comparison to another unique trait I have,” she said. She reached up to her hood and continued her scripted presentation, but a nobleman interjected, bidding his coat. Another bid the buttons off of his coat.
Now entirely discomposed, Samantha let her hand drop to her side, and once again looked to her mother, who was not amused. She gestured for Samantha to continue. Hesitantly, the young woman grabbed her hood.
Unsure of how they would react, she anxiously pulled it down, bringing the crowd to abrupt silence. Youthfully – but unenthusiastically – she pulled her hair out from her coat and twirled, sending its long, luxurious blue strands into a spin.
For a moment, the entire room was calm. All of the noblemen shared a feeling of shock; one even fogged and wiped down his glasses in disbelief. The auctioneer, who was not used to such a mellow auction house, was waiting impatiently.
Samantha could hear Lorena urging her to continue with the presentation, but the ambiguous reaction of the crowd made it difficult for her. Finally, one young nobleman raised his hand. Samantha looked at him coyly.
“Yes?” said Samantha.
“You're not an elf, are you?” asked the young nobleman.
“No, I am one hundred percent human,” Samantha replied. Instantly, energy flowed back into the auction house, but this time it was much more pleasant. One particularly wealthy-looking man stood and bid five hundred gold coins. The auctioneer asked if his bid was in jest, and when the man said it wasn't, the auctioneer confirmed it with a slam of his gavel. From there, the bidding spread like wildfire.
While her mother could not have been more excited about the change of attitude in the noblemen, Samantha couldn't help but feel grim about being purchased. Her thoughts began to drift as her price tag grew larger. Thoughts of the past – memories of the uncommon childhood she had mentioned before painted a nostalgic picture in her mind. The island of Ilen; segregated from the province of Sanam by religious feuds and political turmoil.
It was a vivid memory to her when she was a bit younger, but after seven years of mainland culture and chapel guidance, it has begun to fade. She could recall many things about the island. Perhaps not its exact size, but definitely that she had once trekked all the way around it, from the silver mountains of the Duskenheim Valley to the golden beach which cradled the village named “Salvus.” It was peculiar – as she remembered walking barefoot through the sand, her feet felt warm and safe.
Suddenly, the auctioneer bashed his gavel thrice, louder than he had before, snapping Samantha out of her daydream. The noblemen were in suspense, up on their feet and much less composed than their reputation implies. Samantha's mother was jumping up and down with joy. With great surprise, the auctioneer announced the tenth and final bid that had been placed on Samantha: fifteen thousand gold coins.
Samantha and and her mother waited inside the empty sermon room. The auction hall was packed with people, and her mother needed a quiet place to go on about how excited she was. She paced back and forth, talking about the mansion she intended to buy – the “Swardifice,” as it had been dubbed – in the rich district of Triun. It wasn't the largest mansion, nor the fanciest, but it was inside the rich district, and that's what mattered.
“Just imagine, Samantha, the schools you'll be able to attend,” she said, “and to think a lowborn like you could ever make it to the rich district.”
“Yes, mother, it's fascinating.”
“And that payoff – fifteen thousand is more than most favorable girls are purchased for!”
“Mhm. Good thing I have the cheap novelty of my hair color.”
Sensing the sarcasm in her daughter's voice, Lorena turned to face her. The young woman sat with crossed arms and her head hung over the back of the pew, filled with disgust. It seemed like the speech her mother gave her the night before would have dispelled these feelings for good, but they'd returned, stronger than ever before – feelings that Lorena calls selfish and inconsiderate, but Samantha calls human.
Feeling a tad bit guilty, Lorena sat down next to her daughter, though she did not look at her.
“You know, Ilen isn't so great. It's underdeveloped. There's no government to speak of. They don't even believe in Vol.”
Samantha sighed and propped her legs up on the pew in front of her; she'd heard this lecture a million times before.
“What future did you have there? Growing old keeping an inn for that filthy Elf? Marrying that swordsman fellow out of desperation? Do you really think you would have been happy?”
Marriage? Samantha thought. As usual, you're thinking ahead. I was a child. I only wanted to grow up surrounded by my friends. Fed up with her mother's patronizing, Samantha let her feet fall and stood up. It'd been a while since she explained just how wrong her mother was about Ilen and its people, and she was determined to do it with more passion than ever before.
She clenched her fist and turned around, but just as she summoned the last bit of courage she needed to face her mother, she caught a glimpse of someone standing in the doorway. It was a nobleman – one of the more powerful ones, as Samantha could deduct by his clothing; symbols usually reserved for Altars of Vol could be seen etched into his coat.
Lorena took notice of the man as well, and rushed to her feet. In the province of Sanam, a woman was never to remain seated when addressed by a noble outside of her family. To do such was considered disrespectful, and even treason in certain company.
“So it's true that you grew up on Ilen,” said the nobleman. “Just like the auctioneer claimed. I was suspicious that it might have been a bit of an exaggeration.” He spoke with a powerful voice, blessed with perfect enunciation. As he stepped closer, Lorena inched towards Samantha, clearly intimidated by the man.
“M-Mister Flavao, it's so nice to see you so soon,” she said, “I was expecting to wait until the end of the auction.”
“I wasn't participating in the auction; I'm an investor who happaned to have a snippet of free time. I never intended to spend any gold, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to purchase your... interesting daughter.”
“I see. I assure you, sir, you won't be disappointed. Samantha has spent the last seven years of
her life being trained by the Priestess herself.”
“As I heard from the auctioneer.”
“Yes... that's correct. But the auctioneer didn't mention her third class education!”
“Only third? That's unfortunate.”
Lorena, forgetting Flavao's unmatchable social status, had inadvertently made her daughter look bad. Samantha sighed and sat back down on the pew.
“Samantha!” Lorena scolded.
“No, it's fine,” said Flavao. “Tell you what, Ms. Tenako. I'd like to speak with your daughter
alone.” Lorena flinched, finding herself at a loss for words, but she wasn't about to refuse him. She nodded to Flavao, and gave Samantha a look that meant don't screw this up before scurrying off into the hallway.
Then came a cold silence. Samantha stared at her feet, while Flavao smirked and considered what to say. She was younger than most of his wives– by several years. Flavao believed that she might still have unrealistic expectations for her life. Not that Flavao was above shattering those expectations.
“Your mother is certainly proud of you.”
“I suppose.”
“You really have done okay with your life. Well, considering...”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Her words were sharp, and definitely weren't what Flavao was used to hearing. If not for her young age, he'd be enraged. He took a moment to admire Samantha's spirit – breaking it would surely be an interesting challenge.
“There's clearly a lot of tension as things currently stand. How about we 'break the ice.'”
“...What do you have in mind?”
“I will let you ask me whatever you want. No social restrictions whatsoever.”
Samantha immediately looked up, a bit surprised. “No restrictions at all? You promise?” she asked with a soft and cautious voice.
“That's what I said,” replied Flavao.
“Very well.” Samantha jumped up onto her feet and stepped towards the walkway to face him, mainly to buy herself time to decide on a good question. Dozens danced around in her mind. Should I ask where I am to live from now on? About what rules I am to follow? Oh, but I will be provided with those later. She continued to consider well after she stood in front of Flavao. The other women that live with him, what are their names? Will I get along with them? Will he provide me with an allowance, or will I have to ask him for any little thing I desire like a child?
Flavao stared at her face as she fell into deep thought. It was cute, but it wasn't worth his valuable time. “Samantha,” he ordered. She looked up at him, and then leftward. After sorting through dozens of questions that were fueled by petty curiosity, she found one that was important to her.
“What am I to you?”
“I'm sorry?”
“When you look at me, what do you see me as?”
Any half-decent man would put some thought into his response to such a personal question. This man, however, was Flavao.
“In title, Tenako, you are my sixth wife to be. In reality, you are but one of my many trophies.”
“...I see.”
I also like how you've made a lot of mystery surrounding the characters past, the lands that you mention and the reasons why this girl is being auctioned off. But, you don't over do the mystery by stopping the reader from knowing what is actually going on, which is also really great! 
Keep your pencil sharp!
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