"Bring her out," he ordered. A silver-helmed changeling by his side flew off to give the orders. The great doors of the hall swung open, briefly silencing the room as they revealed the sorry figure of the fallen queen being led into their midst. Her wings were bound and her chains dragged across the ground with each movement. The unnecessarily large and heavy iron collar about her neck chafed and tore at her dermis. With each step she took, the clamour built and built until it reached a crescendo of invective and vicious hatred. 