14: Mirror, resonance

                                    

                                          



Zinnia had once thought that she would never see the outside of the walls of which she was brought up behind. Never in her life did she imagine she'd one day get to walk into the very centre of the entire empire that left her in the mud of its war.
The throne room, less commonly known by its proper name 'The Council Hall', is perhaps not the heart of the empire, but certainly the brain. The Empress is its heart, a core function which one cannot live without, but not the part which controls it all. The body is the empire as a whole, consisting of smaller parts that are of varying importance, but still part of the same large picture. But the brain, The Council, exists only within The Council Hall. The throne room, as it is commonly known.
Zinnia has heard much about it. It's the core of the entire empire, even the smallest of rats have heard of it. When something bad happens to the empire, the people call out to curse the nine arms and their head. The nine thrones, and the throne of the Empress, the only seats and only voices that matter in an empire of millions of mouths. Zinnia has herself dared to curse the nine arms and their heads. Not once did she think she'd walk through the two large double stone doors of that room in question, into an empty, echoing hall of bleeding words and scheming eyes.
"Your Majesty."
A chorus of respectful greetings, of bows and averted eyes travel through the large, and rather cold stone room. A dark shadow falls from the very top of the ceiling, the candles and windows barely casting a light upon the high stone thrones that form a circle toward the very end of the room. In front of each throne sits a man dressed in velvet and silk robes, except for the ninth throne closest to the head, where a slightly older woman sits, her dress made of glistening silk falling down to the cold, half-wet stone floor.
This is probably the only room in the entire palace that lacks servants. There are no guards, no eyes, no ears. Just them, the seven most powerful men in the entire empire, the Dowager Empress, and her son- whose throne is the only one not occupied. How does Zinnia know this? Everyone knows this. In the empire of Ophion, only a fool would dare not know who holds the power to take their food, their homes, their families and even, their lives, with a single glance. And, of course, who holds the power to give it all back.
Zinnia has to walk into that throne room, acknowledge everyone around her, and approach a throne which could have her beheaded for even looking at. A room which people would behead her for walking into.
She shouldn't be here. Only high nobles can enter this room, only the very highest can even glance into it. But here she is, a lowly servant from the furthest most corner of the empire, approaching the throne of the Empress as if it were natural. She has to attend this meeting. There are council meetings every day, every single morning and apparently, sometimes in the evenings too. That's all the empress' handmaiden dared to tell her when she asked. 
She must attend to keep up the facade of everything being fine, and she must do it in the way Her Majesty would.
That's why Zinnia walks into The Council Hall, looks around at the members of The Council, the members of the Royal Family, and sits down in an otherwise empty hall, where the sound of her moving bounces off the walls.
A priestess can tell if she's nervous when she talks too fast, and tries to get out of a conversation or a situation as fast as possible. Zinnia has learned that, and much more from her time at the temple. So she doesn't do it fast. She does it slow. And she starts, by taking a deep breath, and looking around the room.
Seven men, one woman, one empty chair, and her. 
Most of the men are old, and all of them are dressed in their own colours. Zinnia observes the room around her, the seating order, their eyes and their expressions, the way they look at her. She does so because, despite her nervousness, she knows that she can. Right now, Zinnia looks like an empress. The empress can do as she pleases.