The Historian’s Novel

The morning after Amelia had accompanied her father on patrol, the princess’s answer arrived forthwith on horseback. Delivered via a youth who the maids were already describing as a true gentleman. All because he had tried to make sure in talking with the guards that Amelia’s intentions with ‘his’ Grace were forthcoming and honest.

   Amelia almost choked on her tea when she heard that. Surely, he knew anything said in a maid’s presence would reach the ears of their master. Not wanting to appear impolite, Amelia waited until she had returned to her room before bursting out into laughter. Finding great amusement at the idea that Grace, even before rising in status, must have never found it difficult to find a man to do things on her behalf.

   Not that she found it unbecoming. In fact, Amelia welcomed the opportunistic nature of the princess, since it meant the likelihood of Grace turning down her offer was low. 

   The rest of the day passed swiftly in a flurry of preparation. With Amelia busying herself in making sure the bedroom Grace would stay in (next to her own) and the drawing room where the Strightsworth’s guests were received was brought up to snuff with the help of the maids. Amelia also had an expensive dress she had once secretly ordered through a magazine but never dared wear, (for it was designed to show off a great deal of skin), removed out of storage.

   Her out of the ordinary behavior had the maids curious. One of them even plucked up the courage to ask whether Amelia would be inviting a man.

   Silly gossips, Amelia thought, finding the perfect necklace to wear with the sleek, form fitting dress, there’s a difference between seduction between the sexes and wanting to get your charm across to a prospective friend.

   That’s right. She intended to charm the princess with a future of glamor! A stark contrast to the modest make-up and clothing Amelia had worn on patrol with her father, this new chosen outfit of hers was an assemblage designed to show off the benefits Grace could gain by agreeing to work under the Strightsworth name! Which was necessary, for Amelia meant to delay the discovery of the princess. Wanting time enough to properly water the gardens of friendship.

   Her plan, appeared flawless!

   Despite well… The moral dilemma that was purposely denying Grace her birthright by a few months. A thought which worried Amelia enough that by the time the princess arrived, she had only just barely managed to convince herself into pressing forwards regardless.

   Smoothing out her dress one last time as the door to the drawing room opened, Amelia’s heart skipped a beat upon finding the princess who timidly entered had also put effort into her look.  No wonder The Historian had once flowerily described Grace as a halo wreathed saint. When a simple hair-styling and light application of make-up, along with a change of outdoor work-wear to sundress, became a full transformation.

   Before, Amelia had considered Grace to be a fair beauty. Now, the princess was blinding.

   Good. A woman who could fell a Kingdom with their beauty should at least be of this level. Any less, and Amelia would have needed to track down The Historian to question them on what else they might have embellished.

   Upon spotting Amelia, Grace visibly swallowed. An expected reaction to having shown up for a job interview, only to be led straight to the boss’s daughter for teatime with cookies; An intentional strategy designed to give Amelia the upper hand in their dealings.

   Also snacks helped calm her down.

   “It’s a pleasure to meet you, under more… relaxed circumstance,” Amelia said, from the couch she lounged on, opposite a small dining room table. “Would you like some tea?” she asked, not giving the princess a chance to reply. Already gesturing for one of the maids standing idle to lead the princess to her chair while another began filling their cups.

   “Uh… Sure!” Grace said, eying the drink placed before her on the dining table, before turning her gaze to the bouquet in her hands as if wanting to bring up their purpose.

   Amelia grinned; she took a sip from her cup.

   “How lovely, am I to assume the flowers are a gift?” she asked, putting into action what her mother had taught her about maintaining poise by looking directly at the princess while talking.

   “It’s… It’s a thank you gift,” Grace said, handing the flowers to a maid who stepped forward, “We were worried — Clarice and I — that our attempt to help did more harm than good.”

   Her words only made Amelia’s drink taste even sweeter.

   “Really? How so?” Amelia asked, holding back in showing any of the delight she secretly felt when Grace’s hands nervously shook when picking her cup up; the corner of which clattered against its plate in departure.

   “Well… The Baron of Strightsworth’s greatest treasure is known to be his daughter. We assumed even the idea of a threat managing to come close to you might have irritated him.”

   Bother. Now Amelia’s drink had plunged straight into tasting bitter. She only wanted the princess to feel a little anxious. Not a lot.

   “There’s no need to dwell on any of that,” Amelia said, pushing over an envelope that contained an offer of employment. “Here, this is the contract I mentioned in my first letter. Do take your time in reading it over. And let me know if there are any points you believe need changing.”

   Grace had barely opened the letter, when again Amelia chose to poke with her words.

   “I might be mistaken; however, I can’t help but feel my presence is making you… tense.”

   The letter in Grace’s hand bent in half. Nervously chuckling, the princess avoided Amelia’s eyes by beginning to read.       “I’m not surprised you noticed,” Grace said quietly, “after my boss got himself beat up by the Baron’s men, I’m a mite worried that I might be out of a job. If this doesn’t pan out…”

   Making sure to sound disappointed, Amelia sighed, “And here I thought my reputation would have been enough for you to trust in me. Although I’m sure once you’ve finished reading my offer those worries will be quick put to rest. As far as I am concerned, you are already hired.”

   An adorable cheery tinge rose to dot Grace’s cheeks. Amelia wanted to roll her eyes at the sight. No wonder the men were lining up to do the girl’s bidding. That air of innocence mixed with her looks held the power to have people killed.

   “These are extremely favorable conditions Miss Strightsworth…” Grace said, once finished reading.

   “Call me Amelia,” Amelia said, before tutting, “though I’m sensing a ‘but’ hiding behind those words of yours.”

   “I’m ashamed to say that you’re right. As willing as I am to become your handmaiden, even starting this instant… Can I first ask you a quick question in private?”

   Fantastic, Amelia thought, Grace was practically doing the work for her. Sending away the standing maids who huffed in disappointment, she waited until only herself and the princess remained.

   “Go on,” Amelia said, prompting the other woman to sit a bit straighter.

   Breathing in deeply, Grace slowly blinked. And when she opened her eyes, Amelia found herself faced with the same focused demeanor seen when the princess had talked with her father.

   “I’ve been wondering since it happened. But how did you know it was me who created the drink my former employer has been selling? I can’t imagine him spilling the secret, since with it they’ve been bringing in more money than the rest of the bar’s menu combined.”

   Playing with the handle of her teacup, Amelia turned her drink round and around on its plate. “Is that really so important?” she asked, studying the watery reflection.

   “I’m afraid to say it is,” Grace answered, sounding genuinely upset her request might ruin her chances at a high paying job, “you must know… being the daughter of a Baron, that magic is something usually associated with —”

   “Nobility,” Amelia said, finishing the princess’s words. Finding a wicked pleasure in how shocked Grace’s face looked. “Yes, I am aware of that stereotype. However, a trip to the capital is all you would need to learn such beliefs are purely… rural, in nature.”

   Amelia wasn’t lying. with enough training, and should you have access to the right resources, basic magic could be learnt by just about anyone favored by a noble. Magic, and the understanding of nature, was not necessarily a matter of birthright, though there were exceptions like with the royal family’s bloodline, or her father.

   “R-Really?” Grace asked, and Amelia felt her heart ache for the woman who sounded as if her most fervent dream had been squashed.

   The poor dear. But no matter. After eating a lemon, the honey that awaited the princess could only taste sweeter.

   “Allow me to show you something,” Amelia said, standing up from her couch. When Grace stood to join her, she seized the initiative, and began guiding the princess by the arm, as if they were old friends.  Amelia felt Grace shiver slightly, but since the princess didn’t pull away, she persisted in maintaining touch till they arrived at a particular bookshelf.

   Humming a childhood tune as she counted the books, Amelia found what she searched for. A gasp of shock escaped Grace, when with a tilt of its spine, the entire bookshelf swivelled; revealing a gap in the wall.

   “This is where I’m supposed to hide should I ever fear for my life,” Amelia said proudly, giddy from sharing such a secret.

   Her mouth opening wide, Grace fumbled a question, “You… Why…? Please, pardon my words… Amelia, but I don’t think you should be trusting me to such an extent. Or anyone for that matter. Not with a secret like this!”

   Placing a finger under the princess’s chin. Amelia copied a scene straight from The Historian’s novel that ought to have happened between Grace and Vanridge Dowsinger, the underworld suitor.

   “Well, would you look at that,” she said, softly sliding her thumb along the underside of Grace’s lower lip, encouraging the mouth to close shut, “now we’ve both got a secret that needs to be kept. And it’s not like I could gain your trust by telling you I secretly want to learn how to ride a horse. No, that would be silly.”

   Amelia let go of Grace. Twirling back to the hidden lever which she closed with a flip. With a skip in her heart, she walked to a large window side couch that offered the best place in the room to feel sunlight.

   Amelia patted the cushion beside her to get the princess to sit.

   “Grace,” Amelia said, continuing with her plan despite Grace now looking bamboozled, “To you, what kind of man is my father? Even if your view of him is based completely on rumors, I want to hear your perspective.”

   Grace appeared unwilling. “I’m not sure it would be appropriate for me to share what I’ve heard,” she said quietly, “drunks can get very… descriptive.”

   The princess’s warning did not bother Amelia. Since she already knew public opinion of her family had been on the downturn. Despite her mother’s policies that had transformed a rural barony into a humble but well-kept estate, with their ruler hiding away from the world, it was to be expected the seedier sides of humanity would slowly begin to grow bold.

   Their family’s reputation might even be called ‘rather bad’ in some places. The capital’s paparazzi had on more than one occasion in their publications called their Barony more a gathering of mercenaries than a proper domain.

Huh? You’re trying to stir trouble against the reason why your Kingdom isn’t being ravaged by savages? You’re going to turn me wearing the same dress twice to a party into a headline?!

   Unacceptable. Amelia would drag her father and the Barony into greatness or die trying. Even if her plans might not be all that forthcoming or righteous. To improve her family’s lot in life, Amelia fully intended to seek out those pivotal people who had destined their Kingdom to brimstone. Some, she would recruit. Others would need to be dealt with.

   Regardless of how dirty her hands would get during the process.

   Even befriending the princess would be based on deception. Such was Amelia’s commitment to seeing things through. Before discovering the Historian’s novel, she might have been willing to let things continue as they were. But now knowing the future, the responsibility she felt for the Barony which her mother once loved had never been greater.

And like clockwork, that persistent small voice would descend from the heavens. Wrapping its ever so warm arms around Amelia’s neck to whisper the soft-spoken words of the past which told a child that her mother’s death had not been her fault.

   But it had. And Amelia knew she would hold with her the sin of having entered the world weak to the point her first night should have ended as her last, forever.  

Responding to Grace’s concern, Amelia simply said, “Loose lips might sink ships, but they can also hold truths. If you’re worried about using uncouth language, then I’ll say it now that I already know most of the bad words.”

   The princess did not look convinced. But in the end, she began talking.

   “The town elders speak of him as a protector,” Grace said, “a self-made dragon whose earliest accomplishment was to crawl his way out from his mother’s corpse. Before he made for his first meal not the succor of milk, but the blood of those who had drunk themselves into a stupor after having robbed a child’s only chance at a family.”

   “W-What?” Amelia said, believing her ears might need to be cleaned. Having expected at most, a few mean words she thought herself able to handle.

Grace bashfully covered her face with her hands. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you! All the stories about your dad are like that, they’re all super gory!”

   The two sat together in mutual embarrassment for a moment. Amelia the first to muster the resolve to keep talking. “Anything else?” she asked, desperately hoping the princess wouldn’t catch the reservation in her voice.

   “I mean, there’s a lot more,” Grace said, which did not bode well, “but most stories that aren’t a rendition of your father’s birth, follow how he became a mercenary at the age of seven and made a name for himself through violence, only to eventually have a leash placed around his neck by the daughter of a Duke he accidentally saved.”

   “Oh… Oh, okay,” Amelia said, wanting to ask the princess to stop. But Grace had started a roll, and it didn’t look like her tongue would stop wagging anytime soon.

   “You’ve got to understand the relationship between your parents was legendary. It’s like… the hottest thing ever. A Duchess to be, throwing away a billion to one future just to hook up with a roguish mercenary? Who during their courtship, came to blows with the Duke of Winchester himself before earning his title? Except… There are some who say that meeting his princess might have been the beginning of the end for the dragon. So used to violence and murder had he grown, that after having finally found his place of respite, the Baron lost track of all else when his wife died. Growing disinterested with the world, as well as the people who he once swore to watch over.”

   Amelia tried. She really tried hard to hold back the tears she could feel forming. But she didn’t quite manage to be subtle when looking for a handkerchief, since the princess desperately placed both of her hands on Amelia’s arm.

   “I’m sorry! Please don’t cry. I don’t believe your father is anything like the rumors make him out to be.”

   “I don’t blame you,” Amelia said, alarmed Grace would take her sadness as such a big deal. And embarrassed it hadn’t even taken an hour before she flubbed up her acting.

   “No, you were right!” Grace said loudly, and though it didn’t appear the princess would start crying as well, it was clear hidden frustrations had been accidentally dug up. “I know you told me to be honest, but I always go overboard when I talk. I… I know other more pleasant rumors as well! Like how since the Baron is a dragon, it would be suicidal to steal from him, since he can sense if even a plate disappears — and oh my god that one doesn’t sound any better at all, all I’m doing is parroting nonsense! I really do want to work for you, please don’t hold this against me.”

   Amelia tentatively patted the princess’s hand until they both calmed down. “Actually, I’m pretty sure you’re right about that last one,” she said, trying to salvage what had never meant to be such a complicated talk, “and it should be me who needs to apologise, since I only wanted to confirm what those in his territory might think of my father from a third party.”

   Though it was funny for the princess to bring up a rumor Amelia had once tested. As a child, she would often hide one of her toys, proceed to tell her father she had lost it, and come morning, it would have reappeared on her bed. But there seemed to be a limit to the range of Havoc’s ability. Discovered when she had testingly thrown a stuffed rabbit outside the manor gates. Only for the toy to never show up on her bed.

   She had really liked that stuffed rabbit.

   “Sadly, the ‘dragon’ you’ve described is as the rumors might tell. My father has become a drunkard without motivation who hides himself away from the world. He isn’t violent mind you, just… absent. Even I only ever see him every few months, and that’s during dinners.” Amelia took a deep breath, “Now, if I were to tell you that I only found out it was you who has been creating Lurington’s most popular commodity by pure chance, would you be willing to work in my name, despite… what I’ve said?”

   “Amelia… Of course, I’ll work for you,” Grace said with a hint of pity in her voice.

Amelia turned away; not wanting to earn compassion because of a problem she had created. Ringing a service bell, it didn’t take long for the maids who had left to return. 

   “Is there a problem miss?” a maid asked.

   “None. She’ll stay with us,” Amelia answered, wanting to make it clear Grace was to be treated with welcome, “from today onwards, this woman will serve as my handmaiden. She will be staying in the room we cleared out that’s adjacent to mine.”

   “Of course,” said the maids.

   Amelia pointed to a sizable pouch filled with money she had earlier taken out from her allowance and placed on the windowsill. “I want you to fill Grace a wardrobe. Top to bottom. If there’s not enough in there for that and a new town dress for every maid who helps, go to Heimdall for more.”

   The heads of the maids bobbed in eager understanding before they hurried off in a frenzy of movement.  Amelia could already imagine them getting ready for a full day of shopping. But that was okay, she had already portioned away enough money to convince Thompson Brown, the merchant who had discovered the princess in The Historian’s novel to work for her later.

   Grace moved closer to Amelia, “I really don’t need anything new,” she whispered quietly.

   “Nonsense, now tell me your preference of color or we’ll never get started,” Amelia said, watching the fun start as a half dozen more maids returned to begin dragging the princess away.

   “I like blue!” Grace shouted back, after the maids had stopped moving to allow her to answer.

   Blue? Amelia thought the color oddly suited Grace, although she couldn’t quite put a finger on how.

“One more thing,” Amelia added, just before they could leave, “when you asked me about why I can trust you, do you still want to know?”

   The princess’s head nodded yes, several times over.

   “It’s intuition,” Amelia said, her laughter the signal for the maids to finish dragging Grace out and close the door loudly behind them.