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| Queen Devi & King Arun |
Thursday, August 8, 2024 - 8:00 PM
The ancestral palace of the House of Laksana was nestled in the midst of lush, low-lying green gardens laced with a long mosaic walkway that meandered between clumps of coconut palms, yellow sea hibiscus, and pandanus trees bearing orange Hala fruit. The walkway led to a lookout built atop the 61-meter-high rocky cliffs overlooking the South China Sea. The white palace was visible miles out to sea, and, lighted at night, the building had become a reliable navigational aid for mariners. A colonnade of white columns and their capitals accentuated the wide 122-meter veranda facing the ocean and supported the red tile roof. The palace walls of whitewashed concrete were randomly embedded with squares of black-veined marble, into which symbols of the country’s natural resources were carved—copper, bauxite, iron, gold, and timber.
Inside, the ballroom was modest compared to the Akasaka Palace ballroom in Japan, but larger and more open than the Palace of Reunification ballroom in Vietnam. There was some competition for bragging rights over which country had the most elephantine crystal chandelier. While Sabriya did not have a fear of heights, she did have a fear of sitting beneath a metric ton of crystal that was apparently suspended by a silk thread.
Putting the threat to her life from an abundance of falling crystal out of her mind, Sabriya was profoundly self-aware and grateful that she, a poor village girl from the mountains, was attending the King’s banquet, wearing a beautiful satin gown, and on the arm of a handsome British diplomat to whom she was wed. Of course, David was not just a diplomat but the newly minted and dignified ambassador representing, perhaps, the most celebrated Western country in world history. And here she was, insignificant Sabriya, sitting next to the Queen of Pellagore, attempting to carry on a conversation with Her Majesty. Fortunately, their polite discourse, under the Queen’s interrogation, centered on their previous diplomatic posts in Vietnam and Japan, and not on the origins of her life or the years before she met David. If asked about such things, her karate training would need to kick in, and her answers would need to parry, dodge, and deflect, but not jab, sweep, or strike. Tonight, she was not a fighter but a diplomat, although diplomats did fight, but only with words.
Those thoughts raced through Sabriya’s mind and reminded her to be on her best behavior, not just because this was her country, her people, and her culture, but because everything she did and everywhere she glanced would be scrutinized by those who knew her, and unfortunately by a few who wanted revenge.
After the food was cleared and the perfunctory speeches, King Arun took the podium, dressed in a dark silk suit, a white shirt, and a Western tie. A descendant of mountain warlords from ages past, the 60-year-old royal had maintained his stocky 170 cm stature, commanding presence, square, stern face, kind eyes, and full head of wavy black hair streaked with gray. A decade ago, he had been forced to accept the political modernity of a law-making parliament and a judiciary that would judge the laws, leaving his Laksana house, with little power but great respect among the ancestry people and tribes of the hill country. After initial remarks lauding the beauty and resources of Pellagore, King Arun introduced the stately, matronly mother of their country, his Queen, whom Sabriya had briefly come to know and respect during the meal.
Queen Laksana Devi stood erect at the podium. At fifty years old, she stood 167 cm in 5 cm heels. Her long, black hair hung free but was pulled back to reveal a soft, wrinkle-free, blemish-free forehead of dark olive skin. She wore a dark blue silk gown with a single string of white pearls about her neck. Across her chest was the traditional yellow-and-blue satin sash, and on her head a diminutive bronze crown, as was the custom. The Queen spoke.
“Citizens of Pellagore. With King Aran’s approval, the endorsement by our parliament, and with the greatest of earnestness, I am moved to announce an initiative of my own design, which I hope will go a long way to correct decades, if not centuries, of moral blight on our dear society. I fear, however, that what I am asking our King to execute, our Parliament to guide, and our judiciary to encourage will not be easy, quick, nor will it always be fair or just. The alternative, however, will undoubtedly continue the injustice, the cruelty, and the destruction of every corner of our society. We must do something to change the course. We must steer our people to a safe harbor and abandon the chaotic and ruinous seas.”
Meanwhile, five miles west of the Laksana Palace in the Powloon District, where the strip of shops, arcades, and nightclubs lined Grandmall Avenue, flocks of teens and young adults searched aimlessly for a good time, in unison with pushers, pimps, and punks determined to capitalize on the same.
“Each year, no less than 1,500 of our children and young adults disappear into the dark underworld of domestic servitude and sexual slavery. It is further estimated that an additional 700 are murdered in the dark hallways of so-called medical clinics and derelict hospitals for the harvesting of their organs, which are shipped out of the country using mechanisms we cannot track, leaving the victims to be cremated and their ashes, we suspect, to be scattered upon the seas.”
At the east end of Grandmall Avenue, a nondescript utility van sat in an alley with the side cargo door open and mood lights glowing inside. Six meters from the van, at the alley entrance, two clean-cut young men with athletic builds leaned against the alley walls and flirted with a couple of young girls in short skirts and blue hair.
“The problem is not just in our cities but in rural areas as well. Our young citizens and foreign guests are disappearing in broad daylight. This societal epidemic perpetuates violence, erodes the rule of law, compromises our security, and brings lasting trauma not only to the victims, but to their families—their mothers and fathers, siblings, aunts, uncles, and even to us, your Queen and King. Sexual abuse perpetuates malnutrition, illness, depression, and even suicide. Such trafficking brings the loss of dignity and robs individuals of their autonomy, safety, and freedoms. Those that survive and are rescued, and there have been a few, face an impossible task to regain a life of normalcy.”
The two blue-haired teens warmed up to the young men and stood laughing next to the van’s wide-open doors, enjoying bottled beverages. One of the men reached inside and offered the girls small white pills, which each of the girls excitedly took and swallowed with their drinks.
“All of this to say nothing of the economic cost and loss to our kingdom that I will not detail here for fear of being misunderstood as if there was a price on the lives of our next generation, something that cannot be calculated. The specifics of this initiative, which I hope will be launched soon, are being worked out by a task force that includes representatives from every branch of our government, as well as the army and local police. To be effective, some aspects of the plan must remain secret.”
It didn’t take long before both girls lost their balance and fell into the arms of the young men who guided their bodies onto the floor of the van. As soon as their legs were inside, the van’s mood lights were extinguished, the men shut the side doors, got in the front seats, and the van drove out the back of the alley with its lights off.
“But we face a problem. Our country lacks the technology, organizational history, and infrastructure to effectively eradicate this evil. But there is a country that does have such resources. With us tonight, beginning a new partnership with the Kingdom of Pellagore in this endeavor is the newly appointed ambassador from the United Kingdom, Sir David Kensington. He brings a pledge from his government to provide the resources we lack to detect, track, arrest, prosecute, and eradicate these dark forces that plague our country’s dignity.
“However, rather than bore you with another political speech from an esteemed dignitary, although we will be hearing much from Sir David in the coming months, I have recruited his lovely and accomplished wife to say a few words. As you may soon guess, the accomplished Mrs. Kensington was born right here in Pellagore and educated in the Kolinggar Mountain St. Mary Elias Monastery. You may also want to know that she is a fifth-degree black belt in Wing Chun and is well respected in our martial arts community. I introduce her to you now: Mrs. Sabriya Kensington.”
The applause was heavy as the Queen stepped to where Sabriya had just risen from her chair at the head table. Sabriya curtseyed to the Queen, upon which the Queen reached out to shake Sabriya’s hand, and then the two women hugged lightly as protocol allowed. Sabriya, with her speech in hand, then stepped to the podium. The queen’s introduction had been compelling. For many seconds after Sabriya stood behind the podium, the applause continued before it finally quieted. No doubt the gathered body of several hundred Pellagorian officials and a few British embassy staff wanted to hear from this favored daughter. But they were not the only ones listening and watching.
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