A/N: My computer is being nice again, so I was able to update. Thank you for keeping up with me so far. I have a definite story line going now, so I believe the process will be a lot smoother. Oh! By the way: I made up the whole Kingsford market setting in the last chapter. I figured that there has to be more than two countries in existence…and with that last sentence I have made it obvious which region I live in. I'm actually in the process of reading Howl's Moving Castle. When I finish I might have more of an understanding of actual geography of the story. Review please! Thanks!
Howl's Moving Castle
Chapter 5: Of White Socks and Black Ties
Sophie nervously wrapped the end of her sleeves around her hands. She had been fidgeting ever since they had arrived at the palace, and that had been nearly two hours ago.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Markl pulling at his little black bow tie with a disgusted look on his face. In retrospect, Sophie could see that she tied it a little too tight, but at the time it had seemed like just treatment.
Earlier that afternoon, when the party had pulled out their nicest clothes, Markl had stubbornly refused to wear the black dress suit that Sophie had found hidden in the back of his closet underneath countless unrecognizable old toys and broken potion bottles. Markl had been so adamantly opposed to the business that he hid behind the tub in the bathroom and frightened Sophie when she came in to take her bath. In the end, Markl was in the suit and Sophie took care to watch him and make sure he didn't shed any clothing along the way to the palace.
Back in the present, Sophie sighed and watched the little hand of the large grandfather clock on the opposite side of the room slowly creep around its circular path. Every time another second had passed, the hand would emit a very light clicking noise, but everyone in the room seemed to hear it. The room that they had been waiting in was large with tall ceilings, and every sound echoed through it in a foreboding manner.
Howl sat in a medium-sized, elegant gold chair next to Sophie. His eyes were fixed on an impressive portrait of a large, furry dog. He had been staring at the portrait for so long that Sophie began to suspect he had fallen asleep with his eyes open again. Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, the Witch was busy exclaiming things like "what a lovely room!" and "I wonder who this could be?" whenever she turned towards one of the numerous paintings that surrounded them.
Just when Sophie was ready to give up on the dinner altogether, the Prince made his grand entrance. The double doors at the end of the hall swung open violently and two impressive looking men dressed in red velvet appeared and each took hold of their respective doorknob.
Three men in a single file line came next, each bearing various inanimate objects in their hands. One carried a moderate sized canvas, another a glass of water, and the other a small velvet box. Each man held the objects with the care of handling something like a newborn baby, and none of the three looked up from their careful tasks.
Finally, the Prince stepped through the door. "My honored guests!" he cried with a grand sweep of his arms. He immediately walked towards Sophie, taking her hand and kissing it in the proper style. "And, of course, my darling Sophie," he added quietly.
Sophie was not sure what made her more uncomfortable: his use of the word 'darling' or the apparent rudeness of his late entrance. She understood that he was a prince, and as such an exact schedule was hard to come by, but he had invited them to his home at the time. It had been hard enough just to get everyone out of the castle, let alone encouraging a brisk pace to their destination.
But, in spite of her inner thoughts, Sophie replied, "It is our honor, your Highness."
The Prince smiled, and finally released her hand. "Shall we dine, then? My chefs have prepared something exquisite, no doubt. Of course, it is nothing compared to your cooking, Sophie…" he added, his voice trailing off as he moved towards the doors through which he had just entered. Then, as if realizing that he had forgotten something, he turned around and offered Sophie his arm.
"Oh….I," Sophie began. She glanced over at Howl, now wide awake, and tried to determine whether or not he was going to rescue her. When it became apparent that he was indifferent to her plight, she grabbed the fragile arm of the Witch. "I…" she began, but an explanation was now rendered unnecessary. The Prince straightened himself up and continued on down the hallway as if he had never paused.
Sophie held onto the Witch's arm dutifully and, with a moment's glance at a placid Howl, continued down the hall and past the double doors at its end.
Once Markl, the disgruntled last of their party, had crossed the threshold the two men holding open the double doors slid in between the polished wood and closed them silently behind their stately figures. This was done with such a grace that only monotonous repeat could cultivate.
From the hall, the party proceeded into a large gallery which held more likeness of white dogs and cross women and men, each more grandly adorned than the last. Sophie's gaze rarely sat on one painting, for the longer she stared the more she felt hundreds of cold eyes looking at her with a disdain that could only be explained by her rudeness.
She had a hard time keeping up with the Witch, something she had not anticipated. The aged woman was the picture of youth as she took in all she saw and walked quickly to keep up with the brisk pace of the Prince. Well, after all, Sophie thought, the last time she was in a palace was hardly like this.
The only disadvantage that came from the Witch's new sense of strength was the way she insisted on being so close to the Prince and his servants. Sophie did not want to walk too close to him. He did not seem like the same person who had visited her in the castle yesterday. He was not just a gentleman, he was…royal. Royalty demanded respect…worship, even. For a moment it seemed unreal that she knew the Prince at all, that he had spoken to her as his equal in a kitchen when he should have been wandering the great, golden rooms of his own home.
"Pleasant, isn't it?"
Sophie jumped as she heard Howl's voice and realized that he had caught up with the Witch's vigorous pace.
"Yeah, wonderful," Markl piped up from the back of the line. Noticing the way the young boy fidgeted and played with his clothes, Sophie turned her head to look at Markl directly and reminded him to stop pulling at his bow tie.
"It will only tighten and choke you," she said with a straight face. Markl's hands immediately dropped and his eyes widened.
"Really?" he asked curiously. Sophie answered with an indistinct nod and consoled herself to her lie with the possibility that such a thing could happen. What Markl had not put together was that the bow tie was something like a clip on with only one tie in the back.
Howl was still walking by her side, even as they entered a large dining hall, which Sophie predicted was the one they were looking for. However, she had been expecting an empty table. To her shock and slight dismay, the long polished wood with its elaborate gold-lined chairs held several important-looking people, most of them female.
The Prince's astonishment was nothing compared to hers though. He had stopped dead in his tracks as soon as the two servants in charge of the many double doors inside the palace had cleared the way. The manner in which he was turned allowed Sophie to see his face. At first it seemed like he was only shocked, then angry, then outraged.
Feeling the tension that seemed to float in the air between the Prince and the occupants of the table – particularly the one that sat at the head- Sophie unconsciously moved closer to Howl. He in turn smiled comfortingly in her direction and then turned his eyes to the scene that lay before them.
Suddenly, the man at the head of the table stood up, his chair loudly protesting such violent movement against the polished wooden floor.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Seat your guests," he commanded without sounding too stern. He had a stiff smile on his face that Sophie suspected was a suppressed chuckle.
The Prince glared at the man but did as he was told. "Of course, excuse me. This way," he said, extending his arm out to signal his party to continue in front of him and find a seat.
The Prince's three servants, still bearing their objects, took their places in the shadows of one of the great walls that stretched a long way to connect with the high ceiling.
As Sophie passed by the Prince caught her arm lightly. "Lady," he began, "please permit me to show you to your seat." He motioned to a servant who appeared seemingly out of no where, and the skinny young man took the Witch's other arm and led her around the table. Seeing this unfold without incident, Sophie smiled slightly and took the Prince's arm.
Instead of leading her to a chair near her family, the Prince seated her next to the grandest lady in the room. Her hair was an unusual pale gold and her eyes were a dazzling green. The woman's dress was equally beautiful with its many graceful ruffles, gold threading and pale green tint.
Compared to this woman, Sophie felt smaller than she had when they had first approached the front gates of the palace. She had never seen the estate before, and Howl had laughed when he noticed her awed expression. It was much larger than any of the other palaces she had seen. Instead of using its mere height to impress, the building spread over acres of land, hulking like a great stone animal. The moment was shattered, however, when Howl made a comment about the retail value of such a structure, causing Sophie to roll her eyes and sigh exaggeratedly.
Glancing to the lady currently at her left, Sophie also regretted her choice of wardrobe. She should have listened to Howl when he suggested she go in a new dress instead of her signature blue number. Well, it hadn't been her signature dress for quite some time, but she had decided to wear it despite Howl's advice. She didn't want to bring attention to herself or make the Prince think that she would go out of her way to look different for him. It was silly, and Sophie couldn't recall why such a thought had entered her mind at all.
The lady, unaware of the discomfort she caused Sophie, turned demurely to her side and smiled politely.
After pushing Sophie's chair in to the point of his liking, the Prince took his seat on her other side. Feeling trapped by more than just her position at the table, Sophie was almost glad to hear the man at the end of the table speak again.