Life at the Castle

. . .

Rose tea poured into the smallest cups –"Careful, child! You are spilling so much that you are practically serving it in the saucer. We are not dwellers, are we?"– and sweet pastries made by Patricia the baker. Grace liked the pink sugar flowers that Patty used to decorate some of the mini-cakes, but she especially liked the fact that she never made flowers for the cake Grace saved for Logan. Logan always got a map, or a sword, or a crown. Brother and sister had tea together every afternoon, right after their lessons – geography, fighting, and fencing for him; sewing, decorum, and dancing for her. They had history lessons together, which didn't exactly work, since Logan already knew everything there was to know about the Old Kingdom, and Grace was just starting to understand what people meant when they called their mother a "Hero Queen".

Their tutor, Mr. Partridge, was a funny little man. He had a wine belly, sweaty hands, and a way of wrinkling their nose every time Grace made a mistake, as if he was afraid that the King would chop his head off if he dared correct her. Nevertheless, he would invariably say, "That's ah… That's all too well, Milady… Ah, but perhaps we should… Uh… Your answer is not entirely… Um…" and after what seemed to be a long series of interruptions and false starts, he would give them the right answer.

Presiding their lessons were Walter and Jasper. The former would sit down near the windows and snoozed in the morning sun. Occasionally, a soft snoring would come from his corner, and it would be immediately followed by a very loud "AHEM, AHEM!" from Jasper. Grace always gigglesnorted at the sight of the two men glaring at each other, and Logan coughed quietly to remind her that princesses were not supposed to chortle.

"Smile and wave, Grace," the young boy would say. "Smile and wave."

"Was Mama a real Hero?" Six-year-old Grace asked the question to her twelve-year-old brother, who was practicing his sword skills with Walter.

"That's what Papa used to say," the boy panted. Even if he was still a child, he was never coddled by the kingdom's adviser. "I guess you don't remember because you were too young when he died. Or maybe you still weren't born at the time?"

Walter hit him on the hand with the sheath of his sword. "Less yapping, more parrying… Your Majesty," he grumbled.

Grace washed down her cupcake with a sip of tea. She felt that there was something else that she needed to know, but when she was about to ask her brother after their father, Jasper pulled her hair, tightening back into her pigtails.

"Ow ow ow!" she whimpered, feeling the relentless pull of the butler.

"Little girls should look presentable at all times, Princess. Even if they are asking the most inconvenient questions…" he muttered, giving Walter a cautionary look.

"But it's so hard!" Grace whined, a little sigh escaping her plump lips. "Was Mama a little child once?"

"Oh yes, she was!" Walter smiled, easily dodging Logan's lunge. "Of course, when I met her she was already the beautiful woman you must remember. That leg was not fully extended, Logan. Don't be so hot-headed. Take your time to do it well, or don't do it at all." He pointed to a spot behind Logan and the boy grudgingly walked over there, ready to start practicing his moves again.

"Really, Walter? And did she look presentable at tall times?"

Sir Walter let out a hearty laugh and dropped his sword. "It's 'at all times', sweetheart. Oh, come here, you," he beckoned. Grace jumped into his arms and he made her spin round the room. He kissed her cheek sonorously and hugged her tight.

"Ahem," Jasper cleared his throat.

"Ah, shut up, you stone-hearted boffin. Can't a man-?"

"No, not really, no," Jasper said, crossing his arms. "A man cannot."

Walter made a funny face and Grace giggled. As he was letting her down, she tugged at his sleeve. "Walter," she asked seriously, "if Mama was a little child and she did everything right… Was it because she was a Hero? Can you teach me to be one too?"

The royal adviser scratched the back of his head and crouched so as to look at the girl in the eyes. "Your mother was a very special woman, Gracie. Before she… left, she made me promise that I would take care of you two. And you know why's that?" He poked her gently on the nose. "It's because you two children were the most special thing she had."

"I'm special?" Grace whispered.

"You are the most special little girl in all of Albion," Walter reaffirmed.

"Albion is too big for her to be that special," Logan commented distractedly. He was looking at the map on charted territories that had belonged to their mother and was now framed and hanged on the war room. Jasper coughed discreetly. Logan looked up. "I mean… Grace is definitely the most special girl in Bowerstone."

"Wow…" Grace said in awe. To her mind, Albion and Bowerstone were the same thing, and she assumed that the castle was part of one of them. Possibly both.

~ . ~

Sugared tea and crumpets, sloppily buttered and wolfed down as thirteen-year-old Grace distractedly ignored Jasper's words –"Do we need to revise the protocol once again, young mistress? Or have we forgotten that you are not to consume your breakfast in such a hasty way?"– one more time. She tried to slow down, but the excitement of seeing her brother back from his expedition was proving too much for her, and she dashed down the stairs with her hair only half braided.

"Logan!" she shouted, waving at him frantically. He didn't look up. How strange, she thought, as she tied the ribbon at the end of her braid. But before she could get close to him, a man blocked her path.

"Princess, if you would just hear me for a moment…"

Grace looked at the man. She had seen him before; he was one of the Captains of Logan's Royal Guard. Her brother had outposts all over the land, and this man had the air of someone in charge of a nearby area, but definitely not an exotic one. That moustache seemed to be high-maintenance, and she doubted that it had ever withstood the harsh climate of her brother's distant territories. She was about to protest when she noticed a boy of her age glancing in her direction.

"Oh, do forgive me, Your Highness." He bowed solemnly. "I am Captain Stanner, and this is my son, Elliot. I am in charge of the Millfields region." He watched as Logan was taken into the castle, surrounded by the castle guard. "I'm afraid that your brother needs plenty of rest, Your Highness. He seems to have encountered some… inconveniences during his voyage back home. I am sure that he will recover soon, but you must understand that until the physicians have examined him, we must care for your safety, Your Highness."

Grace cast an anxious look at the figure of her brother as he disappeared into the castle. "Were you part of his guard, Captain?"

"Er… No, Your Highness. My company received noticed of strange occurrences in Driftwood and when we were investigating, we found His Majesty's ship."

"And the crew?"

Captain Stanner's moustache trembled slightly. "We found no traces of the crew, Your Highness."

Grace cocked her head. How strange, she thought once more. She rested her hand on the wall and let out a long sigh. She would surely be kept in the dark once more. I guess I can always ask Walter, she pondered. I bet he would let me know if there's something wrong with Logan.

But many days went by and there was nothing but silence coming out of Logan's chambers. Grace spent her days gardening, and wondering why the royal adviser had stopped coming to visit her. Jasper always kept her fine clothes ready, in case the King decided to summon his sister at a moment's notice.

One fine morning, Grace was working on a particularly stubborn batch of white roses -which refused to be perfectly white- when she heard a familiar whistling. She peeked over the bushes only to see a radiant man, dressed in the latest fashion. He was taller than the rest of the people that were wandering about the garden, and he had an air of confidence and grandness that made her feel inferior.

"Hrm… If that guy's here, then things are worse than I thought."

Grace turned around quickly and found Walter hiding behind the bushes that she had been watering. She could barely contain her glee, but she managed to gesticulate furiously before she asked, "Where had you been? I've missed you!"

Walter smiled and patted her on the head. "I see that Jasper has you busy with menial tasks. You must be feeling lonely without your brother."

"You have no idea," Grace lamented. "Nobody will talk to me about Logan, and I know that things can't be right. He's never been so… What… What are you hiding back there?" she asked, craning her neck.

Walter placed a finger on his lips and produced a tiny puppy out of his deep pocket. Grace squealed silently and reached out to hold it in her arms. The puppy looked at her and wagged its stubby tail happily.

"Your mother had a dog a long, long time ago. Once she told me that he was her true companion, through thick and thin." Walter scratched the puppy behind its ears. "I'm afraid that you'll need someone like that by your side, my child." He scowled at the castle into which the tall man had just disappeared. "Dark times are coming, it seems. It may be time for us to do some serious training."

"You, training me?" Grace raised an eyebrow. "Etiquette or dance?"

"Battle, my dear." Walter stood up and offered her his hand. "It is time for us to see if you have what it takes to be a Hero."

…

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