Topknot48
The mood in the grand hall had shifted. What began as cruel spectacle was deepening into something far more intimate and devastating. The court held its breath as the fourth prisoner was summoned.
“Benten,” Queen Elandria spoke, her voice softer yet no less commanding. “Kneel before me.”
Benten rose with the quiet authority of a seasoned captain. As a “Cepol,” she commanded an entire company of Kamigata warriors. Her presence was commanding — strong posture, sharp intelligent eyes, and an aura of quiet strength. But it was her hair that truly announced her status.
Her hair was magnificent: thick, glossy dark brown reaching all the way to her waist. It was styled in an elegant, perfectly sculpted chignon — a large, smooth bun at the nape of her neck, meticulously braided and pinned, with not a single strand out of place. The sheer volume and weight of it spoke of years of devoted care. This was the hairstyle of a true leader, heavy and regal, swaying sensually with every step she took in battle or ceremony.
She knelt directly in front of the Queen’s throne, her back straight and proud.
The Queen’s next words sent a ripple of shock through the hall.
“Bring forth Benten’s son.”
A small boy, no older than ten, was gently led into the hall by a palace attendant. He had his mother’s dark hair and sharp eyes, though his face was pale with fear and confusion.
Benten’s composure finally cracked. Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at her child.
Queen Elandria smiled coldly. “Young one, come here. Today you will help punish your mother for her failure. Approach her hair.”
The boy hesitated, looking between his mother and the terrifying Queen. Benten swallowed hard, then spoke with a trembling but gentle voice.
“It’s alright, my little warrior… Come to Mother.”
The boy stepped forward slowly. At the Queen’s command, he reached up with small, uncertain hands toward the large, perfect chignon. His fingers fumbled with the pins. One by one, the elegant braids and coils began to unravel. The heavy mass of waist-length hair tumbled down Benten’s back like a dark waterfall, cascading over her shoulders and brushing the floor.
The boy stared in awe and distress at the sheer beauty and volume of his mother’s hair now freed.
“Comb it,” the Queen ordered. “Play with it. Feel its weight.”
With tears streaming down her face, Benten nodded encouragingly to her son. “Go on, darling… It’s okay.”
The boy took the ornate comb offered to him and began to run it through the long, silky strands. He lifted the massive length, letting it slip through his small fingers, wrapping it around his arms as the Queen instructed. The court watched in silence as the child innocently played with his mother’s greatest pride — the same hair he had watched her brush and care for since he was a baby.
Benten’s shoulders shook with silent sobs, but she kept smiling softly for her son.
“Enough,” Queen Elandria finally declared. She handed the boy a pair of sharp ceremonial scissors. “Now cut it. Slowly. Start from the bottom.”
The boy’s hands trembled violently. “Mother… I don’t want to…”
Benten leaned forward and kissed his forehead, her voice breaking. “Do as the Queen says, my love. Mother will be alright. I promise.”
With tears falling freely, the boy began to cut. Snip… snip… snip. The sharp scissors slowly chewed through the thick, glossy strands. Heavy sections of waist-length hair fell to the marble floor in soft, luxurious heaps. Benten kept her arms around her son, whispering words of comfort even as her magnificent chignon was reduced to nothing.
The boy continued cutting upward until Benten’s hair fell in a blunt, uneven chin-length bob — “pendek sedagu.” The once-regal captain now had a short, simple cut that barely brushed her jawline, exposing her long neck and the graceful lines of her shoulders.
When the final snip was made, the boy dropped the scissors and threw himself into his mother’s arms. They embraced tightly in the middle of the hall, surrounded by the fallen sea of her dark brown hair. Benten buried her face in what remained of her shortened locks, holding her son as if he were the only anchor left in her world.
The court remained deathly silent, moved by the heartbreaking scene even as they savored the humiliation.
Queen Elandria’s voice broke the stillness.
“Four crowns have fallen. The judgment continues
