CHAPTER 6

Henri Pemberton, Viscount Enfield

Thursday, the 19th of November, 2239

True to her word, Carrie hadn't eliminated anyone after the date yesterday. I didn't ask her yet, but my guess was that she was waiting for everyone to have a date before starting to dismiss the boys. A better spectacle for the palace, an easier time for her.

Now, me and 34 other boys were seated inside a large lounge that had been converted into a makeshift classroom. Apparently, Miss Van Der Witts wanted to do individual assessment before starting lessons. The history teacher who I've yet to meet -I've heard his name is Alan Brooms- was supposed to meet with us after this. Nothing quite like spending a sunny afternoon sitting in a stuffy room reviewing things I already knew.

"I will be calling you in one by one for a speaking test, then there will be a few posture exams in the ballroom where I will evaluate you all as a whole. It's simple. Please stay here until I say your name. You may talk quietly if you wish," Miss Van Der Witts explains, this time dressed in a yellow cardigan and bright blue dress. Something that no one in my family would ever wear.

Someone should really pass along that crucial bit of information if she wants to keep pretending like she's related to me.

Someone who isn't me that is. As stupid as I may find Miss Van Der Witts' claim, I'm not dumb enough to anger her. Plus, I don't think the rest of the selected -excuse me, my classmates- would take kindly to that.

Nyson raises his hand, "What's going to be on the test?"

"Things you should all already know." Miss Van Der Witts describes vaguely, "If you're really that worried Mr. Avery, you can be the first to go."

"No- that's okay. Really...I don't need to-"

Nyson's face is set in a deep frown and he seems worried by this new revelation. In an effort to win myself a few new friends, I raise my hand, "I can go first. If you don't want to, of course," I direct the last part to Nyson who nods eagerly.

"Thanks," he says simply.

Miss Van Der Witts seems annoyed by me volunteering, but she doesn't argue. "Fine. If you insist. I don't suppose you have any worries?"

I flash her my cheeriest smile, "Not at all."

"Perfect." Miss Van Der Witts stands up, motioning for me to do the same. "Come along now, we don't have all day."

I follow her mutely down the hallway to a small room off to the side. Two hard-back chairs had been set up, a table in between them. There was a teapot ready, but Miss Van Der Witts doesn't offer any to me and I know better than to ask. I don't think she enjoys the idea of sharing. A clipboard with yellow paper and a blue pen attached is sitting to the side, and Miss Van Der Witts picks it up, plucking the cap off the pen.

"Are you ready to begin?" She asks me pointedly.

It's not like I'm going to refuse. Look at poor Nyson. "Of course."

"Great." Miss Van Der Witts opens a stopwatch, pressing the green button on the bottom. It seems like a bit much for whatever this is, but to each their own. "I'm going to ask you to say a few simple phrases and then we will hold a casual conversation."

"Sounds good."

"I expect good results from you, Mr. Pemberton. Now, please say I am from Angeles." Miss Van Der Witts says, her expression serious.

"I am from Angeles." I say, feeling ridiculous. I wasn't sure what she meant by a speaking exam, but it certainly wasn't this.

Miss Van Der Witts makes a few notes on her clipboard, the pen making a scratching noise against the paper. I wince at how the sound echoes in the empty room. "Hm. Please say The palace is very beautiful."

"The palace is very beautiful." What is she even trying to accomplish? I can't imagine anyone failing this test, in fact, the sentences are so simple I could say them in french, even with my limited knowledge of the language.

Again, Miss Van Der Witts makes notes before turning to me, "Finally, say I have a dog."

"I don't have a dog though."

Miss Van Der Witts shakes her head, "Doesn't matter. Say it."

I sigh, shaking my head, "I have a dog."

Miss Van Der Witts nods, satisfied with my compliance. "Thank you. That was acceptable." Acceptable? That's a bit harsh. "Now, moving onto the second part of the exam we will conduct a simple conversation. Just try to talk naturally, avoid using any language that you wouldn't use in the presence of royalty." I don't say anything, knowing how conceited the thought makes me look, but the thing is, I am royalty. Is she saying not to use words that I wouldn't use in the presence of myself? The logic there is really messed up.

"Alright." I say simply.

Miss Van Der Witts smiles, "What is your favorite book?"

"I like Ashes by Estrella Petrova." I answer. I had read the book in the 7th grade, it was one of the few assigned reading books I had actually enjoyed. I read them all sure, but schools really have a talent for picking out the most plotless, complicated, undeveloped books in existence. Not to mention the fact that all of them were written about a thousand years ago.

"I've never read it, where can I get a copy?" Miss Van Der Witts asks. As horrible as it is, I'm not surprised that she never read it. She doesn't seem like a particularly book-ish person.

"I think most bookstores here have it, but I got mine in Britain so I'm not completely sure." I tell her.

"Right. You moved to Illéa when you were...how old exactly?" Miss Van Der Witts asks. I can feel the conversation heading towards dangerous territory, and I can only hope that this woman is professional enough to not outright ask one of her students about his parentage.

"I was 16." I say slowly.

"Which country do you prefer to live in?"

"I think both are great. Uh, I mean, I grew up in Britain so I guess I have a fondness for it, but Illéa is really neat." My answer is unclear at best, but I wasn't trying to give her a straightforward response. I didn't need her blabbing to the papers. She's an ex-actress, how much more desperate do they come? She's probably looking for a story to catapult her back into stardom.

"I lived in Switzerland for a period when I was younger, boarding school and all, so I understand what you mean. Have you ever been to Switzerland?"

"A few times. Not so much anymore." I respond.

"The mountains were beautiful. Anyway, thank you for your time. We can head back to the main room now, I will inform everyone of their results at the completion of these tests." Miss Van Der Witts explains. She's really going to be that secretive about this? It just doesn't seem like that big of a deal, how someone performs on this silly exam.

Still, I give her a forced smile, "Thank you for your time."

When I settle back into my seat and Miss Van Der Witts leaves with her next victim, all the heads swerve to me.

"How was it?" Nyson asks, his eyes wide.

"It was fine, I didn't even get the point of it." I answer honestly. Maybe not the best thing to tell a roomful of guys I barely know, but I'm not in the mood to strategize about how to best approach a friendship with all these people.

"What did she ask you?" Nyson questions further.

"I don't know, to repeat stupid phrases."

"Are you being like that on purpose?" Tex asks, his voice tinged with annoyance. Wait, what? Oh come on. Can these people just lay off for a little while?

"Oh come on guys, chill out. It won't be that big of a deal." Nathaniel moves his hand in a so-so motion. Thank you. Finally.

"Easy for you to say." Texn says to him. I'm glad that he's focusing on someone else now. "You have nothing to worry about." And he does? God these people are getting on my last nerve. How hard is it to be calm like Nathainl is. I don't see him interrogating me.

"Sorry man." Nathaniel says, seeming concerned.

I tune out, letting the group bicker, plan, plot, and theorize without my interference. Not that I think any of them would want it anyway. I'm jerked out of my thoughts by a tap on my shoulder. "This is getting ridiculous." A boy says, voicing my thoughts exactly. He has an accent close to mine, through much heavier.

"I know. They're probably all stressed." I supply turning to the boy. "I'm Henri."

The boy laughs slightly, "I know. You're quite famous around here."

I flush, "I am?" Why does the universe seem intent on making this as hard for me as possible?

"It's not bad," he tells me hurriedly, "It's just the whole thing with you being connected to royalty. Forget I said anything. I'm Divesh Aragawal.

"You're the selected from...Allens right?" I ask, not entirely confident in my answer. I hadn't memorized all the province lists, but Divesh's name was familiar to me. Plus, Allens and Angeles were alphabetically next to each other, so I saw it often.

"Yeah. I would ask where you're from, but I think we all know the answer to that." Divesh says, his face bright.

"I don't know if that's a good thing or not," I say, looking down at my lap.

"Can't be a bad thing." Divesh states cheerily. "No one'es ever heard of me before this. It's kinda weird being so famous now."

"You'll get used to it." I assure him. At least there was someone in this whole messed up thing that actually seemed like they wanted to be my friend. I don't know if Divesh is just trying this as a way to get closer to Carrie, but after a miserable few days, I don't really care. I don't want to sit by myself in the men's parlor anymore. "Were you one of the guys on the date yesterday?"

"No. It's okay though, I probably would have fallen off. I'm not a big fan of going horseback riding. " Divesh admits sheepishly.

"Me either." I had been forced to attend many horseback riding lessons over the years, and though I could actually do it, I never liked it. It was too unsteady for me. I didn't like having my life dangling on the whims of a literal horse. "Have you ever tried?"

"Not really, no. Just at birthday parties and the like. Probably why I would have fallen off."

"You should try it."

Divesh laughs, "You haven't made it seem all that great."

"Sorry, don't let me stop you." I apologize quickly.

I talk with Divesh for the rest of the time, except for when Divesh leaves for his own test. In the end, Miss Van Der Witts comes in, looking disgruntled. "The results were less favorable then I hoped. Some of you will be needing a lot of work, but don't worry about it. It will be my pleasure to fix you." I grimace at the word fix. That wouldn't be my verb of choice. It was actually bordering on rude, but I know well enough not to say anything.

"Please accompany me to the main ballroom where we will conduct the second portion of the test." Miss Van Der Witts motions for us all to stand up, and without a second glance, she strides out the door, leaving us scrambling in her wake. I, unlike the rest of the selected, actually know where the ballroom is, but I make sure to stick to the back. It's easier to avoid conflict.

Miss Van Der Witts does a quick headcount at the doors before beckoning us in. I hadn't been in the ballroom since the Grateful Feast party a few months ago. It looked the same as it always does the ceiling painted with an intricate mural, large windows with gold accents. Of course it's empty right now, the normal banquet tables and floral arrangement not necessary.

"Now, I brought a special guest to help us." She motions to the left to reveal a bitter looking Carrie in a pair of dark blue jeans and a lime green sweater. "Her Royal Highness, Princess Carolynn Schreave."

Carrie forces a smile, "Happy to be here." No she's not. Carrie pauses, glancing at the boys, "What? No applause?"

On cue, the boys break out into loud claps, I join in. Carrie looks satisfied, "Thank you."

"We did a speaking exam, now I will be assessing your posture and stance. This is the foundation of the royal lifestyle. You must appear important, you must be able to command a room. The only way to do that is if you look the part."

"In other words, if you look like you know what you're doing, people will buy it." Carrie pipes up in an effort to annoy Miss Van Der Witts. She glares at the princess for a good second, but she can't offend her employer.

Instead, Miss Van Der Witts adopts a tense smile, "Thank you, princess."

"My pleasure."

Miss Van Der Witts turns to all of us, her steely gaze meaning business. I, along with the rest of the room gulp. Though I can pretty safely bet she's going to make us stand with correct posture for about 15 minutes, it seems like some of the other guys are clueless. "Now," she starts, her voice tinged with poison, "This test is fairly simple. We are going to have a sort of competition."

"A competition?" Owen asks, looking nervous.

"Yes, Mr. Polls. A competition. Whoever can hold a perfect posture for the longest will win a date with her highness."

Carrie, looking alarmed, turns to Miss Van Der Witts, "Wait, what?" She clearly had never heard of this prize before.

Miss Van Der Witts ignores her, "Of course this is dependent on the princess' schedule for the coming weeks, so it may take some time for you to be able to claim your prize. Now, are there any other questions?"

Tentatively, Nishav raises a hand, "What's the purpose in this?"

"The purpose is so that you all won't embarrass yourselves on national television. I suppose that's something you want, Mr. Levesque?"

Nishav, looking completely unfazed, answers her quickly, "That's more of a goal, not a purpose, if it's not too much to ask, I would like to know the purpose in this specific activity."

"So are you implying that this is a waste of time?" Miss Van Der Witts asks, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"I'm not implying it. I'm pointing it out." I, along with all the others selected, the guard standing at the entrance to the ballroom, and even Carrie let out a laugh at that.

"Fine, Mr. Levesque. If this is not worth your time, then you can sit out." Miss Van Der Wits pauses, surveying the room. Among all the other amused faces, she decided to focus on mine. "If you find this so entertaining, Your Highness, then you can join him." Damn, I knew this woman had it out for me.

I open my mouth to protest the unfairness of it all, but Carrie catches my eye, mouthing not worth it. She's right. It's just a stupid competition, there's no use in making Miss Van Der Witts hate me even more than she already does. If that's even humanly possible. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you." I say, crossing my fingers behind my back.

"Good." She flicks her hand at me and Nishav, waiting for us to step to the sidelines.

"I can't believe you challenged her." I say to Nishav, once we were standing to the sides of the very empty ballroom.

Nishav barely spares me a glance as he looks at me, "I wasn't challenging her. I was correcting her." His voice is cold, but I get the feeling that he isn't being that way to me on purpose. He's just always like that. Ah well. To each their own.

"Oh, well, it was still cool." I compliment him, hoping it would make him open up.

"Hm. I would apologize for making you miss out on posture prep, but I suppose you need it the least of all the men here." He comments, looking out the clear floor to ceiling windows instead of at me. That's nice.

"What do you mean?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"You grew up in a palace, I'm sure they gave you posture lessons," He comments, his voice surprisingly judgemental for a guy who quit his passion. I've heard of Nishav Levesque, and I really don't appreciate his judgement for my life when he basically ran his own off the rails,

"It wasn't a palace." I mumble, not wanting to engage in an argument.

Luckily, Carrie comes over, obviously shirking her duties as assistant to Miss Van Der Witts. "Oh my God, Nishav, that was epic!" She exclaims loudly, curls practically bouncing with excitement.

Nishav gives her the same cool glare that he gave me, "What was?" Ah. Clearly he didn't hate me in particular. That's a start.

"The whole thing." Carrie continues, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I literally thought I was going to burst out laughing. It was just amazing."

Getting the crown princess' approval doesn't seem to mean much to Nishav. He looks at her, pausing for a few seconds before speaking. " I wouldn't think that disrupting a class would be worthy of so much admiration, but then you anyway."

Carrie frowns, and for a second I think she might cry. "How'd she rope you into this anyway?" I ask in an effort to distract her.

"She went over my head. To my mother, of all people. The nerve of her. I swear, I don't even know why my parents hired Pearl." Carrie complains bitterly, crossing her arms.

"The reality tv star." I hum lightly.

"Please. That's the overstatement of the century. And now, I have to go on a date with whoever wins this stupid competition." Guess I was right. That really was the first time that Carrie had heard about the prize being given out. "I think I would have preferred to be in a budget meeting right now."

The last part of her sentence seems to catch Nishav's interest and he interjects himself into the conversation. "Do you attend a lot of the budget meetings?"

"Every. Single. One." Carrie bemoans.

"Maybe it would have been a better use of your time. Aren't you supposed to be helping Lady Van Der Witts with disqualifying people who aren't up to par?" He asks, gesturing to the boys crowding the ballroom.

Carrie surveys the room, "I think Pearl has got that one covered." Miss Van Der Witts is prowling through the room, her sharp voice admonishing people who slouch. None of the gentlemen look particularly happy right now, their faces contorted into frowns and the occasional downright grimace. I inwardly wince at the sight. Though I probably would have won the competition, I'm happy I wouldn't have to take part in it.

"Certainly looks like it." I remark lightly. Carrie giggles at my semi-joke, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

Nishav doesn't seem impressed. "Just because someone has it under control doesn't mean that they couldn't use the help."

Carrie sighs overdramatically, "You know what? You win. I'll go help." With that she sulks off to go pursue the rows of boys with only mediocre posture.

"That's good." Nishav says quietly, "She'll be nicer to them than Lady Van Der Witts."

"Probably." I agree. We don't say anything for the rest of the time just watching Miss Van Der Witts traumatize a couple of poor helpless souls and Carrie lightly tease a few lucky guys. Of course, I don't get to be part of it, but that's my own fault for annoying Miss Van Der Witts last week.


After nearly an hour of standing there, bitterly observing, Miss Van Der Witts claps her hands. "We are almost out of time, I'm going to need to hand you off to your history teacher, Mr. Brooms. Unfortunately, I don't believe that any of your performances were worthy of a date with Her Highness, please try to improve your performances in the future."

No surprise there. The boys all groan at their morning wasted, but Carrie grins broadly. She never wanted to go on a date with them anyway.

"Now, the results of your speech tests are private information so you will be receiving cards to your room later tonight. If there is a date and time indicated on the card, then I expect you to meet me in room 204 then." Wait, did people actually fail those tests? Wow.

Almost on cue, a man who I can only presume to be Mr. Brooms, pushes his way into the ballroom. "Are they done?" He asks Miss Van Der Witts, who nods in response. "Great. I have a welcome speech prepared for when we get to the classroom, so please, follow me. Your Highness, will you be joining us?" Thankfully, that question is directed to Carrie, not me.

Carrie bites her lip, considering her options. "Sure, why not? I have nothing better going on anyway," she agrees.

"Okay. Now, everyone, the room we will be using is up on the second floor, so if you will all just follow me…" With that Mr. Brooms motions for us to follow him out of the ballroom. We all comply quickly. I suspect everyone else is as happy to be rid of Miss Van Der Witts as I am. That woman is tiring. I don't know how I'm going to put up with her for the entire length of the selection.

"Right, If you will all find a seat…" He trails off as he opens the door to the classroom. "Your Highness, you can sit at the front or I can have a maid bring a seat in for you...or something."

The room seems like it hasn't been used in many decades. Of course the floors are scrubbed and the furniture is spotless, but there's something outdated about the wallpaper and the blinds. They're nice, obviously expensive, but they just seem outdated. This room looks like it went forgotten in the yearly palace renovations for quite a long time.

Almost as if he could hear my thoughts, Mr. Brooms speaks, "This..uh, room hasn't been used since the selection of Her Majesty."

"Why not Prince Lucas' selection?" Nyson asks curiously.

Mr. Brooms looks surprised that someone actually asked a question. "His wife wouldn't be the future ruler, so they didn't uh, need to educate all of them as in-depth as you all." He explains briefly, not seeming sure of his answer.

"Oh, that makes sense." Nyson agrees easily.

By the time that whole discussion was finished we had all managed to find our way into rows of expensive looking desks and chairs. Divesh had claimed the seat to my left, while a dark-haired boy had taken the one to my right.

"Right. Thank you all for sitting. Uh, so the selection is a process that picks the next Queen or Prince Consorts of the nation. Of course, to be a good ruler, you need to understand that past in order to make good decisions in the future. I am here to ensure that you know and understand the intricacies of this country's history and government systems. I hope to uh, make this class as enjoyable for you as possible, but unfortunately there will be homework, but I will try to make it as minimal as I can."

No one looks pleased by this news, but this time I know enough to keep my features perfectly neutral. I don't need a repeat of this morning.

"We're just going to start by assessing your knowledge of basic history. I have a test for you all to work on, let me pass it out." He looks to Carrie obviously expecting for her to offer to help. She doesn't, instead busy examining her fingernails. "Right, let me get them. Your Highness, would you like a copy as well?" He asks Carrie, who seems surprised to be called on.

"As interesting as that sounds, I'm good."

"Right. Of course, Your Highness, whatever you wish." Mr. Brooms takes a second to collect his papers before handing them out to everyone.

"Uh, we don't have pencils," a boy says from the back of the room

"You- You don't? Oh, let me pass those out too." Once he reaches the front of the room, Mr. Brooms searches through his desk, finally pulling out a large stack of pencils tied with a rubber-band. "Here you all go. You will have 35 minutes, please fill out the questions to the best of your ability. If you have any questions don't hesitate to ask."

With that, Mr. Brooms clicks on a timer, leaving us all to work on the test in relative-quiet.

I bite the inside of my cheek when I actually get a good look at the test. Illéan history has never been my strong suit, as I missed out on most of the lessons that I'm sure the other guys received in elementary school. I'm able to answer the easier ones of course. Independence day is February 8th. Gregory Illéa overthrew the American State of China. Others are just common sense, such as the states of North Carolina and South Carolina combined to form the province of Carolina.

There are a few I leave blank though. I don't know how many levels were in the original caste system, nor do I remember which forest provided the tree for the first tree-lighting ceremony in front of the palace. Though does anyone actually know that? I think not.

When the timer goes off, I've finished nearly three-quarters of the questions. Pretty good for someone who hasn't grown up here, at least in my opinion. We'll see how many I actually get right though.

"Let me grade these, I have a video for you all to watch in the meantime." A video? Not to critique his teaching style after knowing him for the better part of an hour, but we aren't a middle-school social studies class.

The video in question is nearly 45 minutes in length, though we only get through 20 before Mr. Brooms hands back our quizzes. "An 80?" Nyson complains, loud enough for me to hear.

God, I hope I did better than a 80.

"Nice effort." Mr. Brooms says to me quietly as he hands me my test face-down. That can't mean anything good. I flip it over cautiously, afraid of what my grade might be.

Oh.

Well then.

It's certainly not my finest work but at least I passed. Barely, but hey, a 68 is still passing. In most countries at least. God, I don't think I've ever done this bad on a test in my whole life. A 68. I can't look at it anymore, I quickly place the test face-down on my desk. Hopefully that'll deter the guys peeking to see what everyone else's score was.

"I know that some of you might be disappointed with your scores, but this is just a baseline for the future. Please don't be discouraged. I'm sure you will all improve with time and effort. After all, that's what we're here for. To learn." Mr. Brooms pauses, giving all of us a smile that seems weak at best. "You are all dismissed. Have a great rest of the day."

Carrie stands up first montioning for all of us to remain seated. "Malachi Levidon, can you come with me for a picnic."

The boy in question, a pale, nervous-looking redhead flushes, "It's Micheal Levison, Your Highness."

Carrie looks unfazed by this, "Right. Sorry about that, now are you ready to go?"

"Uh...of course." The boy goes up to Carrie, cautiously taking her arm. I have a feeling that he'll be in the first batch of boys eliminated.

"The rest of you can go." Carrie says, before leading Micheal out the door.

The rest of the afternoon is spent in a fair amount of quietness. A few of the boys engage in a sort of cup stacking competition in the men's parlor, but I'm not invited to join and I don't feel like forcing my way in today. Once the numbers start to dwindle they'll be forced to include me anyway. It's not a big deal. Divesh, at least, makes an attempt to be friendly.

After dinner, just as Miss Van Der Witts promised, I find a light blue piece of cardstock in my room. In excellent penmanship, it reads,

Henri Pemberton,

Please meet me in room 204 on Tuesday, the 24th of November at 1:30 in the afternoon

Perfect.

Hello my friends, we're here with another chapter. I almost have all the forms together, so then we can start to get into the story for real. Quick update on Nano: As of me writing this chapter I'm 3k behind but fingers crossed that I should be able to make it up. Right now, I have about 10k written so far for Nano. Next chapter we get to have our first date. Awwww cute. I really don't have a lot to say in this A/N, except for all my Americans, thank God this election is finally over.

That's it.

Bye bye till Friday