*CHAPTER 1: A QUESTION OF POWER AND CHOICE*
She was wearing a very tatty dress that was too flimsy and short to be decent. It was an important day, after all, so she had to wear her best dress.
Though tatty, she was clean; like every other slave in line to meet the king, her owner had allowed her to wash herself in the garden using a bucket of cold water. She **felt** regal, with such fine treatment.
The line was long, but the day was fine, and, compared with the kind of work she was used to, standing up and waiting in pleasant weather was an easy chore for her. One might go as far as to say she was enjoying herself.
The throne had been carried outside the of the throne room where it usually resided, and set up in the courtyard outside. The line filled the entire courtyard, winding this way and that, and out into the streets of the city beyond the castle walls, continuing down the entire High Street and snaking its way through many other streets. This was a city full of slaves, and the rumour was the king was looking for a particular one for something very important, but of course those lowly slaves weren’t told what it was – they were just to be shown to him one by one until he found what he was searching for.