Princess Quo
image source: google images
The night was still bright on the eve of the coronation of Princess Quo. The Venetian streets gleamed gold with the fires burning on the torches lining every building and street of the innermost portion of the city. Quo walked along the small cobblestone walkway built across the canal and sat down in the middle, her feet dipping slightly below the water. The reflection of the torches and lanterns illuminated the surface of the canal and reflected back onto her face. A small gondola swayed to her left and suddenly arose the desire for a late night cruise down the canal and into the Venetian Lagoon. As she floated down, she looked to her reflection; her hair finally loose - so big as though it was stretching out after being bound to her head so tightly all day. She was to be the first Queen of Color in over 1,000 years. For some time in the middle, there had been leaders, known as presidents, but it was discovered that most had been up to no good, so a new order was established and after thorough vetting from the people and officials they had elected, she and a few others had been chosen as Potentials. After some tests of mental and physical acquity, it had been determined that Quo was the most qualified to take this job. A small faction of Olders had been protesting, claiming leadership was no place for a woman, let alone a woman of her heritage - many believed that because Italy had been fully white Italian once, that it should remain that way. This was quite outdated; all the world’s countries had fully integrated centuries ago, but there was a lot of work left to be done. Regardless of all this, she knew that there would always be people that opposed progress and it was her responsibility to change their minds. She was almost out to the lagoon when she heard scuffling from the corridor to the right of her. Immediately, Quo pulled out her dagger from the cuff hidden in her thigh; all royals had the option of doing this elective surgery; it ensured that no matter what, they always had a weapon on them in case of emergency. This was a little known fact; even the metal it was made from was not of this world; it was undetectable by most metal detectors. She pulled it out quickly and quietly, using the tall bow in front as cover.
“Show yourself!” she commanded.
More scuffling and sounds of tripping met her in response.
“Forgive me, my lady,” said a small, weird voice, “My name is Giblen and I am here to warn you that you are in grave danger.” And out from behind a barrel of grain stepped a small goblin.