Louise sends Michael to the kitchens to ask the cooks to prepare lunch for the two of them.
Meanwhile, an emotionally fragile Montmorency struggles to cope with unwelcome advances from Guiche.
Montmorency's Plight
Louise stands in her bedroom's open doorway with hands on her hips and looks as though she expects something from me.
So, basically the same as always.
"Michael, I'm going to move a few things around in here. Whilst I do, I'd like you to head over to the kitchens and ask one of the servants there to prepare lunch for us," the pinkette instructs with a huff, flipping her curly hair away from her face with a toss of her chin.
"You, cleaning and tidying?" I question with a raised brow, chuckling. "I thought that sorta thing was beneath the nobility, Princess."
"Stop being so darn rude and do as I say, idiot," Louise glares at me. "You were complaining about being hungry after all. Well, weren't you?"
Not dropping my sarcastic expression for a moment, I bow laxly for my mistress. "As you wish, your highness," I say, not bothering to mask the humour in my tone. I give her a lazy mock-salute as she narrows her pink eyes at me in irritation. "What do you want for lunch, anyway?"
"I have quite a craving for creamed potato soup, as it happens. Freshly boiled Potatoes with a thick cream and stock shall suffice." She tells me from my left in a lofty voice. With that, she closes the door in my face in order to get to work on... whatever the hell it is she's doing with her room.
I let out a deep sigh and shake my head.
"A please goes a long way in my world, Louise," I remark in a low voice, exhaling. Taking up her demand, however, I head back down the Academy dormitory's stairway to the lower floor and make my way towards the courtyard.
...
I step inside the kitchens and take a good look around. Many chefs gather around the large counter tops, working to cut vegetables and various meats while the dinner hour is in full swing. They move with speed and professionalism, focused only on their work and nothing else.
Chef Marteau stands at the centre of the dining floor; he gives commands to his staff, making sure everything is in line.
"Get me some more venison, quickly now, young Renold," he orders sternly, clapping. "Chop chop, now. Those lazy nobles won't feed themselves."
"Yes Chef! Right away Chef!" A younger, green-eyed boy with blonde hair replies energetically. He runs fast, zipping past me and placing a full bowl of cabbage inside a cool, stone room with huge wooden doors. Its shelves are full up with buckets of ice and salted meats. A primitive freezer, I'm guessing.
Marteau notices me at once and, throwing his young helper a hard, long frown, makes his way over.
"Is there something I can do for you, Michael? Did Miss Valliere send you to reprimand us for the lacking breakfast this morning? You see, the trader whom usually delivers our jam was delayed yesterday, hence the lack of filling in the croissants."
I chuckle and wave off Marteau's concerns.
"Not at all, don't worry. Still, I'm guessing Louise made quite the scene about those pastries."
"Sadly, you guess right," Marteau answers with a groan. The distasteful frown tugging the corners of his mouth speaks volumes. "Anyway. What brings you to my kitchen today?"
"Oh, right. Sorry to bother you, but I have a favour to ask."
The head chef thumps his chunky fists together and nods without so much as waiting for my request, being the kind and welcoming guy that he is.
"Anything at all," he grins cheerfully, and I nod.
"Okie dokie. See, Louise told me to come to the kitchens. She'd like you to prepare lunch for us," I explain, glancing over the already bustling kitchen. "If it isn't too much trouble, I mean. Seems to me like you already have your hands full."
"Ah, of course. It's no bother. I assume the young lassie isn't eating in the dining hall, then?"
"Nope, she's eating in her room, today," I answer the stout chef and shake my head. "That said, she'd like you to prepare some creamed potato soup for her."
"I see. I'll have it sent up for her as soon as I can, in that case." He gives me a large, teeth-bearing smile before heading back to the kitchen staff.
I smile gratefully for the chef and give him a thumbs up.
"Appreciate it, Marteau. You're doing me a big favour here."
The large man looks back over his shoulder for a moment and nods.
"Don't mention it, kid. You're a friend, and Marteau always does right by his friends."
I bow my head gratefully and step back toward the door. So the cooks can work.
A handful of Chef Marteau's many apprentices set out bowls and plates onto the wood tables, mixing and pouring cream into the pots with quick and firm, though very precise and even movements.
"That's lunch underway," I say with a nod, my voice drowned out by the busy chefs at work. "Better get back to Louise."
...
I stop halfway up the path toward the dorms. Guiche and Montmorency block my way. Looks like they're having some kinda domestic.
Guiche is on his knees an pleading with some kind of gift box in his hands.
"We're supposed to be boyfriend and girlfriend..." he speaks in a strained, icy voice as though insulted and aghast. "And yet you would break my heart and abandon me, my dear Montmorency. Answer me! Answer me!"
Montmorency heaves a sigh and gazes back at him with some serious displeasure and shakes her head.
"Why can you not take responsibility for your actions like a real gentleman and just leave me alone, Guiche?" she asks, her question pained and frustrated.
Guiche's stare moves from the wrapped gift to Montmorency's face. There's genuine hurt in the young man's eyes.
"My actions?" he repeats through gritted teeth and nods. "How can you still hold such meagre transgressions against me? I told you, Montmorency, Katie meant less than nothing to me. As did all of the others."
Without saying anything more, the blonde woman takes the blonde gentleman's gift and drops it on the ground. Guiche's head sinks further down and his shoulders drop, as the box slams against the grey stone floor and skids away. Montmorency swings away, curly blonde hair falling around her face as she walks off.
Shaking my head, slip my hands into my jeans pockets and continue on toward the dorms.
"Guy can't take a hint," I say, sighing. For Montmorency, not Guiche.
Guiche notices me as I pass and slowly gets to his feet.
"This is your fault, commoner," he growls, nostrils flaring.
Stopping, I turn my head and glance back.
Then, turning around fully, I point to myself and scoff.
"My fault...? I'm to blame for telling the girl about what you were up to?" I ask, staring deep into the nobleman's blue eyes.
Guiche grits his teeth and frowns, nodding.
"If you had not opened your filthy mouth and spoiled everything, Montmorency would still love me as she once did. But now..." his tone trails off a moment, before Guiche casts me a seething glare. "Look what you have done, Peasant!"
Louise is probably starting to get pissed off with me taking so long. I'm not entertaining this guy.
"Look, Guiche, what you did is on you. I have places to be. So, I'll see you around."
Guiche's frowning face is the last thing I see before turning and walking. A moment later I hear him stamp the ground in frustration.
...
Montmorency closes her bedroom door and sighs exhaustedly.
Her heart feels heavy and her eyes quiver with feeling.
"Guh..." she cries, tearfully holding the bottom of her skirt. "He isn't my boyfriend anymore..." the beautiful girl utters, hugging herself with closed eyes.
The blonde-haired student looks her gift-cluttered bedroom. Each an attempt from Guiche to win her back. A heavy sense of loneliness draws Montmorency's lips into a gentle pout and she slowly treads a little closer to her bed and touches it with her right hand.
Gazing blankly up at her bed's headboard, Montmorency wonders if there is a way to make Guiche finally leave her alone.
His acting this way instead of taking responsibility for his actions only deepens her pain, after all.
As she sits down on her mattress, she cannot help but touch the gift Guiche had left her for earlier today: an elegant-looking silver bracelet inside an ornate wooden box. Montmorency stares at it for a few moments. Then puts it on top of her dresses and closes her eyes.
"I must speak to Louise," Montmorency mutters in a resolved and faint voice as her fingers tremble with anger. "She may help me find a way past this dreadful pain I feel..."
Montmorency gazes over at the wardrobe nearby; her expression softens when her attention falls upon a pink ribbon, carefully draped over a framed black-and-white picture. The wind rushes away the curtains off the window behind the blonde, revealing her reflection on a small mirror sitting next to her fancy-looking jewellery box on the end table beside her.
She pulls open the drawer of her dressing table; which houses a jewellery box, a perfume bottle, and some papers, and lets out a sigh, rolling her eyes back as she leans forward; head resting on its surface.
"You must compose yourself first though, Montmorency," she tells herself sternly, wiping her eyes and then patting her cheeks. "You cannot take yourself outside looking so awfully gloomy. It simply will not do..."
With that settled, the girl lays down on her side and closes her eyes. The room echoes with her pained whimpers as she, her voice strained by exhaustion, tries to calm her thoughts, and relax. Her senses drift as moments slip by, until, finally, she falls asleep.
...
Montmorency stands in the ballroom of an opulent mansion. Its marble walls glimmered brightly. A servant passes through the hall, he is a tall man with messy blonde hair. His clothes appear to be bizzare and otherworldly. He is carrying a wooden platter in one hand and wearing black gloves on both hands while waiting by the entrance for guests to come inside.
Enticed toward the young man for reasons unknown, Montmorency takes a few eager steps nearer.
"Excuse me, might we speak for a moment?" she petitions the man in a gentle voice.
The young gentleman turns around and, to the noble girl's great surprise, is Louise's newly summoned familiar of all people.
He cracks a dashing smile for her. Montmorency recalls it fondly.
It is the same smile that he gifted her when they first talked on that fateful day about a week prior. The day where he revealed Guiche's wrongdoings to her.
It is a look the blonde has found herself drawn to every time she has seen him since. So strong is the attraction to it that Montmorency inexplicably cannot help but offer him a smile of her own.
"My, what a timely coincidence it is to see you here, Michael." She says with a small inclination of her head and adds, "I am terribly sorry to disturb you, but might we walk together for a time?"
Michael beams for her. He then sets down his serving plate on a small side table by the ballroom doors and holds her eyes with a glimmering smile. "Of course," he grins softly. "I'm more than happy to chat with you. Follow me, Montmorency."
His voice is very soft. And very colourful with that unusual accent of his, too.
Warmth tingles its way down the young noblewoman's back, yet Montmorency finds herself at a loss for words and cannot say anything too intensive.
Where it is that the familiar leads her, she has no earthly clue, though that matters not. Not once the strange-dressed young man with his vibrant aura folds his hand around hers, and twines their fingers together, giving her no other choice than to trail after him.
"Michael..." the blonde maiden stutters, confused. The name sounds sweet upon her tongue and fills her chest with butterflies for reasons that escape her.
To look into Michael's eyes this deeply is a mistake. For his stare transfixes Montmorency with its deep charisma, its sharpness and radiance.
"Is there something on your mind?" the dashing young gent asks with an alluring smirk.
Shaken, Montmorency opens her mouth and closes it, lost. She is so uncertain about everything that she can not even begin to talk about the desires burning in her heart. And yet, when she gazes back at the gentleman her doubts turn to dust.
"This is quite embarrassing, I know, but..." the young lady mumbles slowly, her gaze quivering. "I-I just wanted to thank you again for revealing the truth about Guiche to me."
"There's need to thank me for a thing, Montmorency," he responds kindly. "A girl as gorgeous as you deserves far better than empty promises and lies," the blue-eyed lad smiles. "If anything, I'm just glad I could stop that bastard from breaking your heart."
Tears misting her eyes, Montmorency loops her arms around Michael's waist and draws him close to her.
"While I will admit this wounding separation with Guiche does hurt me so, nonetheless I feel a kind of—a kind of relish, being around you, Michael. And, though I don't know you all too well, witnessing your actions in these recent days has shown me what a kind and thoughtful person you are."
"Really...?" Michael's voice brushes against her ear, soothing her worries as his hand cups her cheeks and draws her forward.
"Yes, really..." Overwhelmed by emotion, Montmorency leans in and presses her lips to Michael's cheek.
...
Montmorency's eyes flit open and her heart hammers fiercely in her chest.
A thick, rosy warmth lights her cheeks when the nature of her dream comes rushing back to her, making the young woman shiver from embarrassment.
"H-How silly of me," she whispers, clutching a palm to her chest. "I hardly know the man..." The young lady shivers and closes her eyes as the cool air slips through the open window beside her bed, blowing against her figure gifting her a comforting sensation.
"And yet... he is someone I would certainly like to know better," the young lady mutters shyly.
Nervous, Montmorency swings her long legs out of bed, gazes around her room and closes her eyes.
She breathes in and out deeply to calm her thunderous heartbeat, and then nods to herself diligently.
"Yes, I must certainly speak with Louise about this whole business concerning Guiche."
And Michael, too. Doubtless, he will be at Miss Vallière's side.
To be continued...
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