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voraciousvore · 2 months

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Giganterra (Chapter 5)

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------ Chapter 5: Sacrifice ------

King Charles desired to be alone, for he needed some time to brood. He dismissed his servants and sat by himself in his throne room, upon the magnificent golden throne embedded with precious jewels and decorated with intricate metalwork, the symbolic seat of power. A storm raged outside, splashing buckets of rain against the tall windows and darkening the luxurious purple and blue adornments of the room with somber gray. The occasional rumble of thunder echoed off the high ceilings and the stone walls, providing a forbidding ambience.

He was deeply troubled. His giant counterpart was waxing in greed and hedonism, and he wasn’t sure if he could hold off his assault indefinitely and maintain his kingdom. King Richard normally sought to replenish his supply of human maidens about once every six months, so for him to demand more so soon was highly concerning. It was hard enough to find people to fulfill the quota without having to essentially double the quantity. Not to mention his atypical request for men this time as well. What was he planning to do with them? King Charles had never actually met King Richard, since the giant king considered proper diplomacy with the humans below his dignity, but he could infer why a giant man might desire tiny ladies.

He huffed, closing his eyes and massaging his temples with his hands. He was stressed and discouraged. He tried his best to maintain the dignity of his reign, and of his people, but he couldn’t help but see it all as a farce. Even as he sat upon his throne, within the halls of his authority, he knew he had no real power in the situation, no bargaining chips. He had no choice but to roll over like a submissive dog and take the abuse, and he hated every second of it.

Even so, beyond his inner circle, he maintained a veneer of calm composure and regality. He couldn’t allow his kingdom to fall into depravity and chaos, without the firm guidance of a strong king. He shouldered a heavy burden, but not one as heavy as the poor souls who ended up in the clutches of King Richard.

The creak of a door opening heralded the entrance of another man into the room. King Charles glanced up to find his advisor, Giovanni, standing at the threshold of the great hall. He was a lanky and timid man, not very sturdily built, but useful for his intelligence and analytical nature.

“Come!” the king commanded in his rich voice, and Gio scurried forward, giving the king a respectful bow. “What is it? Speak.”

“I found one, sire. I scoured the jails and dungeons all across the land, and there was one specimen worthy of a king. A lovely young lady, with caramel skin, glossy brunette locks, and tawny eyes.” Gio’s voice, in stark contrast to the king’s, was reedy and uncertain.

“And what was her crime?”

“Oh…” Gio fidgeted with his hands. “Petty theft. She stole food from a market stall. Despite her beauty, she’s just a poor peasant…”

The king sighed with a labored grimace. “Not a crime worthy of banishment, torture, and death,” he mumbled under his breath.

“E-excuse me, sire?”

“What’s her name?”

“Uh… Tanya, I think?”

“Very well. She’ll have to do.” King Charles stroked his chin with a ponderous expression. “What about the men?”

“Well… since we’re not sure what the men are for, I wasn’t certain what qualities to look for… but there are far more able-bodied young men in the prisons than women, so we have plenty of options to choose from,” Gio concluded.

The king nodded, kneading his forehead to stave off a nascent migraine. After suffering through King Richard’s reign for as many years as they had, the human kingdom of Minimaterra had a system of selection in place to determine who would be chosen as tribute. The very concept was brutal and execrable to everyone involved, but they were powerless to refuse the giant king, lest he retaliate and enslave them all. The ruling class enacted their policies for the greater good of humanity.

The first chosen in the selection process were convicted criminals. While there were plenty of prisoners in the system, finding people suitable for tribute was more challenging. King Richard was very picky in his personal tastes, and always sent one of his trusted servants for the sake of quality control, so the humans couldn’t simply choose anyone, or else the tribute would be rejected. They had to be young, beautiful, delicious maidens, which excluded the entire male population, older women, and any woman that wasn’t pretty enough to fit the standards of a king. It was difficult to find such a fine specimen in the jails, especially with all the women they had already sent to Giganterra. Not to mention, women were far more hesitant to commit crimes when even the most petty infraction could result in such terrible life-changing consequences. In Minimaterra, women were taught from a young age about the dangers, with parents warning their children that they would be gobbled up by the giant king if they misbehaved.

After convicts, the next tier for selection was volunteers. In exchange for their noble sacrifices, the king honored a request, or provided one of their family members with a lifetime stipend. Although this method was effective in procuring more desirable individuals, it was not sustainable in the long term. Such a commitment placed rising financial burdens on the royal treasury over time. Minimaterra was a peaceful and reasonably prosperous kingdom, but resources in their limited territory were finite. The humans had no opportunities for trade with other kingdoms to facilitate economic growth, since Giganterra walled them in on all sides and kept them isolated from interstate commerce. The coffers would run dry eventually. When that happened, and he could no longer buy people’s cooperation, the human king would be forced to conscript free women against their will, an unsavory notion he wished to avoid if possible.

“Have we gotten any volunteers yet?” the king inquired, leading into the next logical point of inquiry.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Gio replied. Even though he was in the presence of royalty, he couldn’t stop himself from shuffling his feet uneasily. “A woman named Candy signed up this morning. She was babbling on, some nonsense about following her destiny and finding true love. She said she just had to visit Giganterra at all costs. I think something is off upstairs, but she is quite physically attractive, so she will be perfect.” When Gio reported to the king, he didn’t spare details: He knew the king wanted all the available information, so he would be more knowledgeable in making informed decisions.

“Okay. Was she the only one?”

“No, your grace, there was one more. A woman named Eren. She was very… shall I say... fiery? She had a savage look to her, like she was about ready to stab somebody, but still enough feminine beauty to appeal. Another quality candidate, in my humble opinion.”

“Hmmm. So three women. We still need two more. And with only a few days until the deadline...” the king mused gloomily, grinding his teeth. “Gio, bring me some refreshments. And fetch me entertainment. I need a break.” Gio bowed and left to carry out his orders. He held the position of an advisor, but he was more than happy to serve the king with anything he required. The king rubbed his face with his hands. He slumped down, remaining on his throne, as if clinging to whatever authority he could muster.

Gio came back quickly with a bottle of mead and an elaborate charcuterie board loaded with a variety of exotic cheeses, meats, crackers, nuts, and fresh fruit. He was accompanied by the court jester, Cesar, who put on a show to entertain the king. He juggled, performed acrobatics, recited humorous limericks, and told jokes. The king didn’t smile or laugh, but Cesar was unbothered. He was a goofy, confident, outgoing guy with a vibrant personality, unable to be dampened by the more serious king.

Another servant entered the great hall and came near the throne with a deferential bow, waiting to be noticed. The king gave him permission to speak with a wave of his hand. “Your Majesty, there’s a mother with her daughter who is requesting an audience. They’re here to offer themselves as tribute.”

King Charles’s heart jumped in his chest. “Send them in,” he ordered, releasing the servant. He indicated to Cesar to halt his routine and the jester stood off to the side, hands clasped stiffly behind his back. The servant returned leading two women behind him, a haggard older woman with a stern mien with a much younger, thinner girl who looked barely old enough to be of age. The timid girl was hunched over, hugging her arms around her slim body like a shield.

“You offer yourselves for tribute?” the king asked, his voice echoing in the empty hall. He leaned forward to look down upon the commoners.

“Not me—her,” the mother proclaimed, roughly shoving her daughter forward. The young lady looked miserable and scared, her eyes darting around the room as if seeking an escape. King Charles regarded her thoughtfully. She was rather plain, with bushy, ratty hair and limbs like twigs. She appeared to be unkempt and sickly, as if mildly underfed, with no curves and a flat chest. The king frowned. She was hardly the ideal candidate to satisfy King Richard’s perversions, but he was getting desperate. They could probably hide her flaws with makeup and padding.

“What’s your name?” he asked her.

Her mother cut in before the girl could reply. “Her name is Addison,” she interjected. “How much can I get for her? I heard I can get payments for life?” Addison cringed, ever so slightly, but kept her mouth sealed shut. She seemed just as afraid of her aggressive mother as being sold off against her will.

“That is correct,” the king confirmed. “But it must be her choice, not yours.” He stared at Addison expectantly. She hesitated. Her mother prodded her hard in between her shoulder blades. With her mother’s glare blistering her back, Addison reluctantly nodded.

The king felt an unsettling twist in his guts. He knew accepting her answer would be morally wrong. She was clearly under duress, being manipulated, threatened, or abused for the gain of a heartless family member. Yet, he felt trapped. Either way, he would have to send somebody, whether they wanted to go or not, with brutal consequences for failure. Presently, he lacked a sufficient quantity of maidens. He couldn’t allow himself to feel sympathy for this girl, just because she looked young and pathetic. He had to consider the greater good.

“Alright. I accept.” He turned to the servant that guided them in. “Take care of the details, please.” The man dutifully nodded and escorted the pair out. The king sighed and poured himself more mead. He needed a stiff drink.

“Excuse me, Your Majesty? If I may be so bold?” Cesar piped up, stepping towards the throne.

“Proceed,” the king allowed, draining his glass.

“I heard King Richard requested men as well as women this time around. I’ve given it some thought, and... I’m willing to make the sacrifice! I will go to Giganterra!” the jester announced, raising his pointer finger triumphantly. The bells in his hat jingled merrily with the motion.

King Charles looked him up and down, baffled. “Cesar, I appreciate your selfless bravery, but that won’t be necessary. We will have enough male convicts to fill the quota.”

Cesar’s face fell, but he set his jaw with determination. “But... quality is important! I’d be a better choice than some lowlife thug!” King Charles realized he did have a good point. Cesar was gifted with a strong, lithe build, and he was exceedingly handsome, with bright green eyes, wavy brown hair, a sparkling smile, and toasted skin. If he were a female candidate, his selection would be a no-brainer.

Even so, the king shook his head. “No. I don’t understand why you’re being so insistent.”

Cesar, spurned a second time, resorted to begging. He crumbled to the floor on his knees in an overly dramatic display of supplication, clasping his hands above his head. “Oh, please! Pretty please, sire, let me go! I really wanna!” he whined, giving the king doe eyes. The action was made more ridiculous with his particolored outfit and bells.

The king was nonplussed. “Why?”

“Because...” Cesar began, and paused with a blush. He decided to lay all his cards on the table. “Because I want to meet the giantess princess!”

“What?”

“That’s the reason why he’s asking for men, isn’t it? We’re well acquainted with his preferences by now; we know he has a thing for pretty ladies, not men. The men must be for his daughter! Oh, please, your grace, let me go! I so badly want to go!” He’d fantasized about giantesses since he was a young lad, and now was his chance to finally become acquainted with one in the flesh: huge mountains of soft, warm flesh, preferably with bulging breasts, a slim waist, and toned thighs and buttocks. He could hardly contain his lust as he prostrated himself before the king.

“You really want to go that badly?” The king shook his head in disbelief, yet for the first time that day, Cesar was finally able to make him chuckle. “Alright, Cesar: I shall grant you your wish. May God have mercy upon your soul.”

“Oh, thank you, sire! Thank you!” Cesar bowed and thanked the king profusely. He grinned from ear to ear, flashing his flawless white teeth. He would do everything he could to please the massive princess.

The humans still needed one final person to satisfy King Richard’s boundless lust and gluttony. As the days passed, and the deadline drew nearer, the human ruler became more desperate, calling for a single brave soul to step forward and save them all. They needed a miracle to avoid calamity.

Offering oneself as a sacrifice to the giant king was considered a noble, courageous, and selfless act, a form of martyrdom for the sake of humanity. Such a concept could appeal to those who wished for a larger purpose, wanted to inject meaning into their empty lives, or, in a darker vein, those who did not consider themselves valuable. As tragic and ghastly as this reality was, King Charles was in no position to refuse those lost souls who willingly gave up their lives.

Jackie, a resident of Minimaterra, found herself in an intolerable position. A year ago, a close friend of hers who had suffered a catastrophic personal tragedy chose to sacrifice herself. Jackie mourned the loss deeply and always wondered what happened to her, after she was taken. Her friend had no close family left, so she specified that Jackie should receive the stipend from the royal treasury in exchange for her life. With every payment, Jackie stewed deeper in guilt and despair. She didn’t want money, nor did she want to materially benefit from her friend’s demise: She wanted her friend back.

Her conscience gnawed at her every day as the calls for tribute became more urgent, and the pressure on her increased. No amount of tears sufficed as proper penance. She felt empty inside, despite overflowing with sadness and remorse. A grim idea surfaced in her mind, one that couldn’t be suppressed once it began to fester. While she feared what may happen to her, she sought to fight against her own insignificance and existential nihilism and do some good for her fellow man. For better or worse, she gave herself up to the giant king.

And thus, all the tributes were chosen: Candy, out of an earnest desire for love; Jackie, out of a sense of guilt and selfless justice; Eren, from a thirst for vengeance; Addison, too timid to stand up to her greedy, overbearing, abusive mother; and Cesar, out of pure horniness. The remaining two, Tanya and a male convict named Graham, were chosen against their will, and would not learn of their damnation until the giants came to collect them.

As a courtesy to the brave souls who self-selected for tribute, King Charles elected to meet with them personally on the day before they were sent off to a grim, yet uncertain, fate. He assembled all the volunteers together, excluding the prisoners. Most of them, with the exception of Cesar, had never been inside the castle before, so they were awed by the lavish opulence of the furnishings, the high ceilings and wide corridors, and the fine art pieces. The servants herded them like lambs into a private room with luxurious couches and gourmet refreshments.

They partook in the fancy hors d’oeuvres, some of which were so rare that the commoners had no idea what they were actually eating. Overall, the mood in the room was tense and gloomy. Addison huddled awkwardly on a corner of the embroidered couch and eyeballed the food hungrily, as if afraid somebody would slap her hand if she tried to take some. Eren seared a hole in the coffee table with her thousand-yard stare as she angrily munched on an appetizer and fantasized about slicing open the throat of a giant in glorious, bloody revenge. Jackie withdrew into herself, accepting her destiny with melancholic stoicism. Candy and Cesar were the only two who were chipper and chatty. Candy was oblivious to Cesar’s flirtatious advances as she prattled on about fortune tellers and handsome knights, stars blinding her vision to the gruesome truth.

A servant announced the entry of King Charles, and his subjects all stood up and clumsily bowed, not used to being in the presence of royalty. The king acknowledged them and gestured for them to sit; they scrambled to obey. “Thank you all for coming,” King Charles addressed the small group. “The salvation of humanity rests upon your shoulders. Our civilization would crumble without your noble contributions to the cause.

“As a token of our thanks, I invite you all to enjoy a night of luxury in my palace. You will be provided with lodgings of the highest caliber. Eat and drink and be merry to your heart’s content, for tomorrow your lives will permanently change.” The king omitted that he provided such accommodations to keep the tributes from backing out of their obligations.

His expression grew serious and intense. “I have one more thing to ask of you, from those who have already given their all.” He paused before uttering words of startling gravity. “You need to do anything you can to assassinate the giant king.”

The air seemed to suck out of the room as everyone sat in stunned silence. Eren’s face contorted into a malicious grin. The king continued to speak. “We’ve tried, in the past, to smuggle in weapons or poisons, but our efforts failed miserably. King Richard’s royal taste tester is a giant with an exceptional nose for detecting poisons of any kind, so we weren’t able to hide any toxic substances in sufficient quantity to kill a giant. And, of course, weapons significant enough to maim a giant are too difficult to conceal.”

“But we aren’t going to give up so easily. You will likely be dehumanized, locked up, and powerless at your size, but don’t underestimate yourselves. Do what you can. Use your eyes and ears and voice. Gather information, foment dissent, endear yourselves to his enemies, use any scrap of influence you can get to worm your way into the minds of those with strength. Divide and conquer!”

The assembled parties nodded, the cogs in their minds turning and scheming. “Good luck to you all. Enjoy the rest of your evening,” the king concluded, excusing himself from the room. He sent in the servants with bottles of drink and sumptuous meat dishes and desserts for his guests to enjoy their final night of freedom. They ate and drank and reveled in luxury, yet the king’s words hung heavy in the back of their minds. No longer were the tributes resigned to their fate; they had a mission to accomplish.

Chapter 6

#giant #g/t #giant/tiny #tiny #g/t writing #giant tiny #g/t story #sorry if this chapter kinda sucks I struggled with it and had to rewrite it twice #but the following chapters are much much better and worth the buildup!#it's hard to introduce so many characters so quickly but necessary for the story to happen

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