Prologue

Maryanne walked into the study where her master was sitting, alone. Maryanne quickly looked around, hoping another servant would be there, but no one else was. She grew scared, and tried to hide it. She gave a long toss of her waving blonde hair and continued walking.

"Hello, sir." she announced much more confidently than she felt, "You called?"

"Yes." He told her, "I have written a letter to museums across the world."

Maryanne gave the best smile she could, "You do love your history!"

Ignoring her, the master continued "The money I've inherited from my grandfather should pay for this, with much left over."

"What are you buying?" Maryanne asked curiously.

"Everything, or close to it." The master said giving off a sly smile and a small shrug. "I'm buying pieces from museums: Fossils of dinosaurs, replicas of famous historical figures, and even some pieces of a pharaoh's tomb. It has sculptures of Anubis, many hieroglyphics, and the actual mummy. Oh yes, and some tablet."

"Interesting, Master!" Maryanne squealed, "So why did you call me?"

"Just so you can deliver these letters to the museums." He told her, while handing the letters to her. "You are dismissed."

Maryanne scurried out to deliver the letters without any hesitation, for when the master dismissed you, he meant get out at once, and no one wanted to disobey the master.

Maryanne continued on, noticing the halls near the West Wing were emptied.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle! Where were you? I missed you." A tall, skinny boy teased Maryanne as he ran behind her from nowhere, wrapped her in his arms and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Noah!" Maryanne yelled, trying not to laugh. She soon straightened her body to look as official as she could get it, "Master has put me in charge of something very important and I mustn't be interfered with."

"Well then, I mustn't get in your way." he cooed.

"You mustn't" Maryanne yelled angrily as she walked on to the outside door. After she heard him walk away she let loose a smile. Noah was amazing. No one else could bring such a smile to her face. She was so glad Master brought him and his sister to the castle. Most residents, like Maryanne, were born from past servants. Both of Maryanne's grandparents, Lumiere and Babette, worked for the master's grandfather.

Babette had told Maryanne many times how Noah was of striking resemblance to Lumiere, from both personality to looks. Maryanne would just smile in return, as she tried to picture her grandfather as a young, handsome man. Then Babette would usually change the subject to Noah's twin sister, Angel.

"Polar opposites," she would tell Maryanne, "and from what I know about twins, that kind means they're closer together. To win your way to Noah's heart, try to be sweet to Angel."

So Maryanne did, but Angel wasn't very sweet back. Angel would give Maryanne a nice, cheery smile, and sometimes a wave or a friendly "Hi," but they never talked. Angel would just lower her head and take out a pen and continue writing things. She wrote poetry, books, newspaper articles. You name it, she wrote it. All she ever did was read and write. Maryanne would offer to comb her pitch black hair that was always in a crazy mess, or put makeup on her just white face but she would politely say "No thank you," and continue reading.

Thankfully, Maryanne's failed attempts to make friends didn't go unnoticed, and she was asked on a date two years ago. Noah was great, she just felt so happy around him. On her birthday last month, Noah got Maryanne a giant bouquet of roses in a sheer gold vase. It was the definition of beauty. It was perfect. Noah was perfect.

Maryanne put the letters in her master's giant mailbox; lined with gold, silver, and bronze. It didn't look like a mailbox, it was far too magical. When Maryanne was younger she would use it as a castle when she played with her dolls. The one with brown hair was her favorite. Her grandmother made it for her; it was modeled after a girl who visited the castle when Babette was exactly Maryanne's age and married the master of the castle. Babette always told a fairy tale about how the master at that time was cruel, and how an enchantress came to the castle and turned him into a beast, and all of the residents into objects that could talk and walk and sing and dance. Babette said she turned into a feather duster. Maryanne would look at her in awe, and ask questions.

"What was Grandpa?" she would ask, and would always be told he was a candle. Chip Potts was a cup, and his mother a teapot, and the only way they could become human again was if the master could fall in love with a girl, and earn her love in return. The girl, Belle, ended up falling in love with him. They had kids, and grandkids. Their grandson was now the new master. Sometimes Maryanne wished the story was true, that it wasn't a kid's fairy tale, and that it would happen again to her own, heartless master.

With a heavy sigh, Maryanne returned inside. She glued a giant smile on her face to hide the fact she was lost in a world of memories. The master wouldn't want her to be thinking. She was called a servant, but she was truly a slave. Born into an occupation of doing whatever she was told by a cruel master.

Maryanne clenched her fists as she walked to her room, passing Chip Potts, who was speaking to Angel. She smiled and waved to the two, and followed by turning into her room. Sitting down on the bed, she thought optimistically. Maybe when the museum artifacts came in Master would be in a good mood.

3 / 4 / 1917

8666 Darke Woods

Province Town, France

Greetings,

After my grandfather's death I inherited quite some fortune of money. He was a rich man, a prince. Adding to the fortune, he married a girl whose father soon became a famous inventor, and made bucket loads of money from selling his bizarre objects.

Over the years I have become more fascinated with works of art, and Science. I've taken an interest to History, and predicting the future. Because of this, I am asking you to send me your greatest artifacts. I will pay you there amounts worth, at least. You will pay no tax; I will guarantee that with the money you shall receive there will be no disappointment. You will be rich without ever working a day again.

Sincerely,

Prince Adam of France

"Hey! Look at this!" William called.

Lewis ran over, and hunched over the piece of paper William was reading. "What is it?"

"A letter, from the prince of France." William responded, still reading. "Read it."

Lewis skimmed the letter, and without making a sound looked at William. The two stared at each other. "Do we listen to him?" Lewis finally asked.

Clark blinked twice, and shrugged. "Let's do some research on him first. Check the books. If he's not a fraud, not much can happen."

Lewis looked at William. "Not much? He could still be a fraud!"

"But is it worth the chance?" William responded, "It's not like we're making much of these things now anyways. Our 'greatest artifacts' are barely why people come. They like local history, or talking. This place gets close to known near the good stuff!"

Lewis nodded. "I suppose your right. Let's check the library."

William followed Lewis out the door, across the street, and into the library where they discovered the address was accurate for the Prince Adam of France, his handwriting near identical, he did inherit more money than the human mind could comprehend, and he was known to be an honest man, though slightly harsh.

William and Lewis shook hands, and wrote a letter back to the man, saying they would honor the prince's letter.

As did thousands of museums worldwide, and soon, the prince received every letter back saying they would take his word, so the prince told each person what he wanted from them, and gave them more money than they needed.