Chapter One- The Brilliant Plan
“Come on Hexatrix, you’ve got to help meee!” Princess Isadora whined, kicking her feet in the air. “It’s just not fair…”
Hexatrix Crumm, handmaiden and witch of the ninth order, watched her sworn charge flail about on her titanic bed. She had known the princess since they were both fourteen and it was fascinating what Isadora could be discontented with. The girl was in a giant pink bed, with silk sheets and a tasteful mural of naked angels on her ceiling. This chamber by itself was bigger than the house Hexatrix grew up in.
“As your royal witch, I’m sworn to always help you.” Hexatrix chuckled softly and rolled her eyes. “But what do you really want me to do? Turn him into a frog?”
“No…” Hexatrix groaned. “That would cause an international incident, your majesty.”
For all the gold and perfume and silk that surrounded Isadora, there was always some price to be paid. The castle had larders full of every food imaginable, but the princess had to remain on a strict diet. Her parents had horses and ships, but Isadora was rarely permitted to leave the castle grounds. They had libraries stocked full of books, but all her tutors taught her was manners and etiquette. There was always a price to be paid… and this time the price was marriage.
By royal decree, Princess Isadora of the kingdom of Istrius was to marry prince Kenneth of Borgonia on her twenty-first birthday.
“It’s less than a year away!” Isadora wailed, her ink-black hair falling over eyes. “I don’t want to get married…”
“I’m sure it won’t be so bad?” Hexatrix tried, half-heartedly.
“He’s the worst. He spends his weekends fox-hunting and killing all sorts of other cute creatures. He says women shouldn’t be able to read or own property. And he thinks all magic should be outlawed!”
“What a perfect asshole.” Hexatrix sighed. “But I’m still not turning him into a frog.”
“Come on. You have a plan, don’t you Hex?” Isadora said, resting pouty lips on dainty hands.
When Princess Isadora was unwell, it was Hexatrix’s job to fix it. Solutions for headaches, acne, broken bones and bad weather all fell to her. But she felt a commitment to look out for Isadora’s emotions as much as her body.
“I always have a plan.” The Witch said with a confident smile. “Let me go get my broom.”
Deep in the Tanglethorn Woods, on the border of Istrius, stands a solitary tower. Very few people have ever seen the tower and almost nobody has been inside of it. The tower is sixty feet high and made of sheer stone. Most remarkably, it has no door at its base. It has no flags, no banners and no markings of any kind. The only way in (or out) of this tower is a solitary window on the top floor. This tower still stands and can be found (if you know where to look), but in those days it was ‘owned’ by the witch Hexatrix Crumm.
At the stroke of midnight two figures on a broomstick slid across the moon, over the clouds and through the tower’s open window.
“Damn, it’s dark in here.” Hex muttered, fumbling for her lantern.
There was the scratch of a match, and orange light bloomed throughout the circular room. The tower was a homey clutter, with big bookshelves and workbenches covered in crumpled papers. Posters of old country fairs were plastered on all the walls, and a massive blue banner hung from the high roof. On the far right corner was a fluffy bed with a checkerboard quilt, and on the left was a cozy kitchenette.
“Hex, wow…” Isadora breathed. “This place is amazing. I can’t believe you’ve never brought me here before.”
“It pays to keep a few secrets. My little home-away-from-home. Or castle, I suppose. And it’s all yours, for now.” Hex chuckled.
“Is your plan to just kidnap me away?” Isadora said with a wink.
“Of course not, your highness!” Hexatrix said quickly. “No, never. This is where you’ll hide out for a few weeks while we find you a new husb… find you your soulmate.”
A dreamy smile played over Isadora’s lips. “Go on, Hex.”
“Well, it’s very simple. You go missing from the castle, and everyone assumes you’ve run away or been kidnapped. Classic princess stuff.”
“After not finding you for a week or so, your parents will start to freak out. They’ll offer gold and then jewels… and then the big prize: Your hand in marriage to whoever can rescue you. I’ll go looking for your perfect match, and they can be the one to bring you home safe and sound. You can make up some story about them slaying a troll or dragon or whatever and live happily ever after. Simple as that.”
“Simple as that.” Isadora repeated. “So! What do I get to do while all this intrigue is going on?”
Hex blinked and pinched the bridge of her nose. Princess Isadora had many fabulous features. Beautiful and alluring features, even, but the girl was made for dreams and not schemes.
“You stay here.” Said the Witch slowly.
“Aw, the whole time?” Isadora pouted.
“Yes!” Hex sighed. “You need to stay out of sight. No one can see you or the whole plan goes up in flames. Trust me, you’ll be comfy.”
Hex lit another lantern and took Isadora on a quick tour of her tower. The top floor, the one they were on, was the loft. It had the bed, the kitchen, plenty of tables and most of the books in the building.
“The fun books, anyway.” Hex waved a hand. “I have all my encyclopedias stored in the vault to keep them dry. Feel free to read whatever you like.”
Isadora stooped down and took out a tattered paperback, with an image of two muscular orc women embracing on the cover. The title read, in gold ink, ‘Broken Tusks, Promises Kept’. Hexatrix tried not to blush.
“This looks well-loved.” Isadora said, softly.
“Annd down this stairwell is the workshop. On with the tour!”
The workshop was even more cluttered, with odd bits of junk and art everywhere. Beakers, solutions, herbs, oil paints, easels and brushes were all over the place.
“Feel free to paint if you like, but here’s the real deal.”
Hex steered the Princes to a crystal ball on a pedestal.
“If you get bored, you can watch demonic wrestling on here. Bill Z. Bub is facing the
Abyss Twins this weekend in an Venetian death-match.”
“How…lovely?” Said Isadora, who knew nothing about demonic wrestling.
The floor below that, the terrarium, was the least cluttered so far. The rows of ferns and ficuses were neat and organized, manicured with a hand absent in the first two floors. Strange rocks in the ceiling gave off light that could resemble the sun or the moon. A magic watering can floated around the green space, seemingly ever full as it sprinkled the plants below it.
“Feel free to bring a chair down here if you want a bit more light.” Hex shrugged. “The floor below is my vault, but that's just a bunch of old boring books. So, that’s my tower. I trust you’ll be quite comfortable.”
“Hang on a minute.” Isadora crossed her arms. “What about food? Or if I have to… you know, pee or something?”
“There’s a bathroom in the kitchen. And speaking of kitchen…”
Hexatrix brought them back up to the loft, and went rummaging in her wand cabinet.
“Wand of marbles, no that’s not right… Wand of illusions, I’ll need that for later… ah, here we are!”
Hex took out what looked like a cooking spoon made of cherrywood and offered it to Isadora.
“Am I… supposed to eat that?” Isadora chuckled.
“No, dummy. It’s a Wand of Feasting. Just think of a food and give it a wave.”
Hexatrix gave the wand a twist and, in a flurry of purple sparks, a single piece of buttered toast appeared in her hand.
“See?” Hex passed over the spoon, as she stuffed the toast in her mouth. “It works for drinks too. Alright, I have to get back before dawn or they’ll get suspicious. I’ll return the next day or so to check up on you.”
“Alright. You be safe.” Isadora leaned in close and gave Hexatrix a peck on the cheek. “For luck.”
Hexatrix struggled to contain the blush that crept up her neck, and could think of nothing more to say. She flew out the window like a whisper on the wind.
For the first time in seven years, Princess Isadora slept in. It was past noon when she finally kicked off the quilt and rose. There were no ladies-in-waiting to dress her, no pages badgering her about appointments. It was heaven on earth.
She took a long bath and then relaxed amongst the plants. The watering can seemed to notice her, and bobbed around her like an airborne puppy. Isadora had a lovely time chatting with a garden tool that couldn’t talk back. When she returned to the loft for more books, the sun had almost set.
“Oh, I should eat something.” Isadora muttered, as her empty belly groaned.
She waltzed over to the kitchen, where the Wand of Feasting had been left. She picked it up and held it at arm's length, as if it might explode at any moment.
“Okay wand… garden salad with carrots?” Isadora said, asking for her usual dinner.
In a flash of sparks a bowl filled with greens, tomatoes and carrots appeared on the table. Isadora sat down to dig in, but hesitated as she speared her first forkful. She looked at the wand.
“This thing can make me… anything?” The Princess muttered, picking up the wand again.
A litany of food began running through Isadora’s mind. It had been two years since she’d had roast chicken. Three years since she had mashed potatoes with butter. She couldn’t remember when she last had onion soup with cheese melted on top. The princess closed her eyes as memories of a chocolate cake she had at her tenth birthday washed into her memory.
It was moist and rich, with sugary cream and a custard filling. There were iced roses on top and a spun-sugar finch on top. The taste of it had her walking on air for the next three days…
Isadora opened her eyes. On the table was now a roast chicken, mashed potatoes with butter, onion soup, and an exact replica of her chocolate birthday cake.
“Okay. Yeah. Well done wand." She said meekly.
Isadora was trying to keep her breath even, the saliva in her mouth and her hunger in check. An insatiable ape of hunger, locked away for far too long, railed against the prison bars of temperance. For a moment, the discipline that had kept her willowy held. Then the smell hit her. The divine, warm smell of the feast.
With all the dignity of a shipwrecked man, she threw herself on the food. Tears of pure joy flowed down her swollen cheeks. She shoved in as much as she could and never stopped chewing. When her fingers ran slick with butter or grease, she wiped them on her royal gown without a second thought. Bits of food soon covered the table around her, but Isadora paid them no heed. She was only focused on the intoxicating meal.
After thirty minutes of non-stop wolfing the princess leaned back and groaned. She was stuffed to the gills, a sensation that felt completely foreign to her. She had devoured half the chicken, massacred most of the potatoes, finished the soup and had two thick slices of the cake. The salad sat untouched.
“Okay. That was…urp- that was great. Wand, magic away this delicious food.”
Isadora waved the Wand of Feasting, but the feast remained.
She tried again, more vigorously. The food stayed exactly where it was.
“Um, okay.” Isadora thought furiously. “This will all go bad quickly and there’s no place to store it... I guess I could eat a little more.”
Absent-mindedly, she pulled to loosen the drawstring on her bodice. The relief in her gut was deeply welcome.
“Ohh, that’s better. Now back to that cake…”
The next hour was hazy at best for Isadora, as she made her way through the rest of the meal. She seemed to swim in and out of consciousness as more chicken and chocolate was crammed into her mouth. Uncertain of exactly how much she’d eaten, the princess did remember pushing herself away from the table, staggering to bed with her bulging gut in her hands, and collapsing beneath the sheets. Sleep took her instantly and held her under for hours.
When she awoke the next afternoon, the pain in her midsection had thankfully since subsided. Whether it was luck or a side-effect of the magic food, Isadora suffered no indigestion. She simply felt warm and full. It was a pleasant surprise, but when she looked at the kitchen table she was in for a shock. Every plate was empty, each dish devoured to completion. All that was left was the bones of the chicken and a wrinkly piece of lettuce.
“Woof.” Isadora sighed, resting a hand on her still-swollen stomach. “I’m gonna have to be careful with you.”
She picked up the Wand of Feasting from where it had fallen on the floor, and felt her gut press up against her slender thigh.
“Real careful. Okay.” She composed herself and gave it a quick flick. “Just an orange to start the day.”
The orange appeared. It looked very small and lonely.
“And maybe an omelet.” She muttered. “With something healthy. Mushrooms. Peppers. Oh, and a little cheese. And a piece of toast. With butter. And another piece of toast with jam. And some blueberries. Ooh, and a blueberry scone would be nice. And if I’m having that I could try some blueberry pancakes. Oh and…”
It took Princess Isadora a whole two whole hours to finish breakfast, at which point she went right back to bed. The mattress groaned comfortingly upon her return.
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