19th of September, M.E. 753
I saw the young lady I mentioned before—Aleya E. Claren. Unfortunately, I was too flummoxed to speak to her. Indeed, if I had, it would have done nothing for my standing in the Royal Court. It was in the middle of the meeting—the economics briefing, to be precise. I had always noticed the four servants of the Crownskeep come in periodically to check if we needed aught to refresh ourselves with. I suppose I never paid much attention to which four they were, however. My attention has always been keenly rapt upon the proceedings. They must be, for I am keeping mental documentation for not only my benefit, but that of His Royal Highness as well. I never request anything, which divides my focus even less. And I certainly never turn around to determine who the Crownskeep behind me are. Nevertheless, today I suffered from quite an arid throat. In the brief pause of jotting down a note, I motioned with my hand that I desired something. A brief shadow passed over me. It was then that a heard her voice, very appropriately barely over a whisper. "Another Ebony, Mr. Scientia?"
I didn't immediately recognize her voice. After all, our meeting at the library had been so brief. Still, something in her tone gave me pause—a passing notion of deja vu, perhaps. When I looked up for the owner of the voice, I felt completely stunned. I imagined I looked foolish, with my mouth slightly agape and my eyes wide like an over-exerted chocobo. She placed a hand on the back of my chair and continued, "…or would you prefer something else?"
Lovely. Her voice really is quite lovely. And I was so surprised to come face-to-face with the woman I had been looking for these past few weeks that I simply had no idea how to proceed. Therefore, tremendously inanely, I ordered a glass of water. That was the extent of it. I could scarcely interrupt the meeting to apologize at that very moment, could I? She very merrily poured a glass and took what I suppose is her usual station in the back left corner of the room—directly behind my chair.
She was gone again by the time the meeting was dismissed, as the Crownskeep leave to attend to their duties before the members of parliament do so.
What a fool she must believe I am! First I scald her, leave her to clean up the whole mess, and then when we next meet, I order a beverage as if the whole event never happened.
Then again, I have been under much strain, lately. I'll have to explain when we next meet, and apologize doubly for my uncharacteristically rude behavior.
21st of September, M.E. 753
It seems the Empire is stretching its wings. First, it was Saxhom, then Keycatrich. Next, they invaded Galahd those several years ago. Only recently we've learned of their interests in the resting places of the Astrals. We've heard whispers of secret experimentations at Zegnautus. And they have recently begun aggressive posturing closer to home. They've shown themselves in mass on the borders of Lucis. The King has organized the Glaive to meet them in battle upon the discretion of Captain Titus Drautos.
Today, we learned of Imperial scouts at the meteor crash site. It is all very troubling, indeed.
I must confess, I had hoped Noct would somehow inherit a land that had found its way to peace. The King has confided to me that he fears Noct will inherit the most woeful burden of any of Lucis' past. I had hoped he was in error. But aside from his tactical genius, his kindness, and his wit, our King seems to have inherited keen foresight, as well.
Turning in early tonight. Our Young Prince has exams next week, and beginning tomorrow, I hope—somehow—to ensure he makes a mockery of them.
24th of September, M.E. 753
I saw young Lady Aleya Claren again today. However, it was not under the best of circumstances.
I witnessed the incident with my own eyes. I spied her walking down the hall across from me. She was a fair distance away, but nearing, and I made it my aim to approach her, as I've yet to formally apologize for our earlier encounters.
From out of seemingly nowhere, that Glaive—Furia, I believe is his name—stepped up to her and wrapped an arm around her. I thought for a moment they were engaged in intimate conversation. I had no intention of interrupting two young lovers, and so I made up my mind to re-attempt an apology at a later date. But as I turned on my heel, she stepped away, shrugging him off aggressively. She shouted something to the effect of 'I said no!', which of course caught my attention anew. I turned again to the pair, lest my assistance was needed.
He reached out to her face and she stepped back hurriedly, nearly tripping over one of the marble columns lining the hallway—and dropping the tray she had been carrying. Hors d'oeuvres and fresh tea went spattering in different directions. I recall the look of utter appalled dread as she stared down at the disaster in dismay.
And yet, he still wouldn't leave her alone.
I don't even really remember making the decision to intervene, but I did. In a mere moment, I had positioned myself between them. I asked him politely to apologize to the young lady. He demanded to know why he should and called me 'four-eyes', as if I've never heard that particular insult before. He demanded to know who I was.
So, I obliged him. I gave him my full name, title, and rank. He certainly seemed conciliatory at that point. He stumbled through a half-hearted apology and made himself scarce.
As for the young lady: After ensuring she was free from harm, I offered to help her clean up the mess, but she seemed horrified by the mere suggestion. She thanked me profusely for my help (blushing at least three different shades of red at the embarrassment of it all), chased me away, and set to work.
It was only after I walked away that I realized our meeting once again resulted in wet footwear—and the lack of a proper apology.
I do hope Tredd Furia takes his duties more responsibly. No doubt he was meant to have been on duty during his performance today. And I also hope he minds his manners. We wouldn't want the dear girl beset by anymore hot liquids.
28th of September, M.E. 753
Noct's been grounded again, which means, alas—so have I. Someday I will learn to stop taking the blame for him; Not that I believe the King truly considers me at fault. Someday I will learn to let our dear Prince suffer from the consequences of his own actions. (Even as I write this, I know I will never hold myself to such a foolhardy attempt). However, if the King is correct, I feel that time may be coming sooner than any of us may be ready for.
Perish the thought. I may as well indulge myself in catching up on my studies and doing additional training this week. I should also take the time to organize my schedule. It is certain that after this respite is over, it will be back to the frenetic pace that I've come to expect.
Uncle says I should look into employing an assistant. He may be correct, although I'm loathe to admit it.
Scientian Snapper
Red Snapper—(Native to Galahd?)
Duscaen orange
Allural Shallot
Garlic
Kettier Ginger
Leiden Pepper & Sweet Pepper
Saxham Rice
Schier Turmeric