Book 4, Chapter 3: Tread Scheduling
“Then on Thursday, Lord Regmenx is leaving after morning tea. You’ll want your ladies in waiting with you to see him off, perhaps General Brundle with you.” Tread flipped the page over and was about to speak, but I cut him off.
“I’m sorry, who?” We were going through the lists of nobles who were leaving for their own lands, and I had the unfortunate expectation to see them all off. What a waste of time. I didn’t even like most of them.
Plus, I had so much to do! Important work, like sword and spear practice, learning not to punch holes in people or walls with magical energy blasts, and-
“He’s the lord who, uhm, you met them-”
“What? Sorry, I was thinking about something. Them?”
Brin looked up from her nails, “Tread’s trying to tell you that he’s the father of the thirteen-year-old suitor whom you said wasn’t fit to clean our latrines.”
“Oh, that boy!”
“Yes, that boy.”
“I really have to see him off? I mean, yuck. Also, that kid was insufferable.”
“Yes, Cayce, you really have to see them off. You’re the princess. It’s part of your-”
“-job description, yeah. I got it.”
“I was going to say ‘duties.’ Lord Tread,” Brin smiled, pushing her blond hair off her face, as she looked at the boy, “I mean, Sir Tread, forgive me, still getting used to this new title and, really Cayce, who exalts their chamberlain? Anyways, who else is leaving that day? Let’s kill two birds with one stone.” She refocused on her hands, turning them over, checking each nail.
Tread blushed a little, flipping pages. He had a very good memory and didn’t need to look at the pages to know who else was leaving that day, but Brin had thrown him off. I jumped in with, “Sir Tread earned his title after bravely putting up with my mistress of the bedroom for so long!”
“Hey!”
“And fighting off the hordes of young women begging for his hand in marriage.”
Brin stopped fiddling with her nails. Looked up. “Who is courting you, Tread?”
“Uh, I wouldn’t say courting, I wouldn’t use that word. Ah, as for the schedule,” Tread increased his volume to finish his sentence, “it would be Lord Treymark leaving next.”
“Oh!”
“Oh?”
“The handsome suitor, the most handsome one, Cayce! The one you called cute. Maybe you should bring Maitlan along to say goodbye?”
“Do not, do not get me started on Maitlan. That boy needs a girlfriend to cool him down, get him off my heels. Also, Tread, take a note down, will you? No more private audiences for suitors. Especially from Gun. Suiting is done. The season is over. Is that what you call it?”
“No, Cayce, that’s not what you call it. Regardless,” she put her nailfile on the table, “I think you have a crush on Gun.”
“What?”
“It’s true. You turn the sweetest shades of red whenever he glances at you.”
“No, I don’t!”
“His black hair and chiseled cheek bones, muscles on top of muscles and not too old or too young.”
“Brin, I do not have a crush on Gun.”
“Yes, you do. Tell her, Tread.”
The poor boy buried himself in his notes, flipping pages, “Ah . . .”
“Why would I ask Tread to prevent Gun from contacting me if I had a crush on him!”
“Precisely because you have a crush on him.”
I stood up, started pacing. Always a good idea, gets the blood flowing. Then, remembering, I felt cold and quickly checked my hands – no fire! Hadn’t returned. Letting out the breath I was holding, glad for not blasting my friends here, I wondered at the energy’s absence. Does it only come out when I’m angry? Not just flustered, embarrassed, but angry?
“Yes, well, that proves it. Pacing and everything. Anyways, it’s a good idea to keep contact to a minimum with Gun. I think that’s the first good example of you being a proper princess.”
“What?” I shook my head, “What are you talking about?”
“You’re not going to marry the fellow. He’s a major in your army! Marriage for princesses, for you, I’m afraid, is to cement your power. Protect the kingdom.” Brin stood up, smiling sadly, “Here, let me do your hair.”
“I’m fine. Not getting married for any reason, ok? So, no, I’m not bothered at all. Not even a little.”
Tread, with a touch of a smile, whirled around on his chair to face away from us, avoiding seeing whatever toiletries Brin was going to thrust on me, “Maybe a little.”
“Tread!” I sighed in the most exasperating manner possible, hands up in the air, “Alright, alright, we can have a couple’s night. You can bring those girls, I’ll bring Gun. Brin, who will you bring?”
Brin roughly pushed me into a chair, mouthing quietly, ‘Oh, you witch,’ then moving behind me and saying, “Maybe it’s not too late to ask Treymark to stay the winter.” She then began to brush my hair and I expected it to be rough, too, but she was gentle.
“I don’t know. He probably needs to be home. And there are more than enough boys here.”
Tread chimed in, speaking over his shoulder, “Decidedly more than enough.”
“Actually, a gathering, perhaps a ball for just us young people, might be a good idea.” Brush, brush, tug.
“What? No, I was joking. I really don’t-”
Tug, tug, brush. “You can have Maitlan and Gun vying for your attention! How fun that will be?”
“Like a living nightmare.”
“And I can bring those girls who are interested in me?”
I could hear the scowl in Brin’s voice as the brushing stopped, “The party would only be for nobles.”
“They are nobles.”
“Tread, that reminds me,” I cut in between them, “no more suitors. And Gun, only military meetings from now on.”
“Yes, you already said that, my lady.”
“Well, make a note of it!”
“I did, twice now.”
“And the ball,” Brin said, “shall we hold one after the suitors leave and the castle is cleared out?”
“Can’t I just get the army ready for spring? That’s a lot of work, you know.”
“Oh, I know. Telling the smiths how to work metal, exhausting.”
“And training. I need lots and lots of sword and spear training.”
“Dance lessons. You need dance lessons. You were embarrassingly bad at your birthday celebration.” Brin leaned in close, whispering so that Tread wouldn’t hear, “And boy lessons. You could use a few of those.”
“I really don’t have the time, even if I wanted to. And you know I don’t. Really and truly! Anyways, I have to pound out a treatise on what ‘knighthood’ means, how knights are expected to behave, their rights and so on. The oath they are to live by.”
“The oath?”
“Or oaths, maybe. Like, rules.”
“What kind of rules? What they have to wear?”
“A moral code.”
“Wearing a moral code, huh? I hope it involves dress requirements and proper bathing.”
“Brin! Is she smiling, Tread?”
“Uhm, yes. Her voice changes when she smiles. But, I’d like to know what the, ah, code I have to follow is.” He pulled up a sleeve, tugging at it, “Do I have to buy new clothing?”
“Not a dress code! Ok, so, yeah. I still have to work this out.” Not a problem in the slightest as I’d perfectly memorized all the historical documents on . . . ok, this was going to be tough. What were knights and how were they supposed to behave? Now I knew why so many laws were vague and open to interpretation. Because those who wrote them had no idea what they were doing.
“Is it really that difficult? You made them nobility. Now they can own land, rent it to people, have their own armies-”
“No, no, not like that.”
“Then like what?”
“I’m going to implore the knights to be good, you know. Don’t be mean. Protect the innocent, rescue kittens out of trees, that sort of thing.”
“Gods, Cayce, no wonder the earls are fighting you on this.”
I held my breath. Arthurian legends weren’t this insufferable. “Alright, ok. It’s going to take me some time to write up a treatise on the institution, the rights and responsibilities of those given knighthood.” And after all that, my life would be filled with lots and lots of heated discussions with the earls. Angry about the knighthood, angry that I was changing things, angry at my gender. I’d probably have to give concessions and remove the bits about hunting them. Sigh.
“I wonder if any of the history or law books in the castle library will help?”
“Wait. Tread, what did you say?”
His back to us, he raised is right arm to point at the bookshelf on the wall, “The late duke had an extensive library. Not just here, in this room, but scattered throughout the castle. I’ve been browsing it in my spare time. Lots of history books, tomes on law, some on other topics.”
“Oh, they’re all so boring. Philosophy, legal treatises, some even dealing with the peasantry.” Brin pulled the brush through my hair again and again.
“Huh. I’m going to have to comb through those, try to find some precedent. You guys will have to show me which books to read.”
“That’ll be fun.”
“I can show you where some of the books are,” said Tread. “There are lots, though.”
“Great. We’ll get around to that when we have time. Hey, hey,” I took a hold of Brin’s hand while she started tying up my hair, “what’s the brother of an emperor called?”
“Prince.”
“Oh. The ambassador is the emperor’s brother. Should we have called him ‘prince’ instead of ‘ambassador’?”
Tread spoke up, “He’s actually your next appointment.”
She tugged a bit, though gently, pulling it through some devious loop of her own creation that would ultimately prove pretty, “The man is leaving today and this is the discussion you want to have?”
“Well, I’m suddenly curious.”
“Ah. Alright. Given your blood ties to the Laemacian throne and position in this kingdom, addressing him as ‘ambassador’ is appropriate. For one thing, it sends the message that you don’t see him as your equal. Which he isn’t. I mean, you’re technically the empress and his brother is the usurper.”
“Oh, fudge.”
“Hmm?”
“I tried to abdicate – I have no desire to take the Laemacian throne! I’m perfectly happy with acknowledging the current emperor.” I put my face in my hands. The hair slipped down around my neck. “We should have greeted him as the prince.”
“Hey, I was just doing your hair up!”
“Sorry.”
She held my head straight, went back to work. “Anyways, it’s a little late now. They agreed not to attack us, right? Except you have to visit them.”
“Right. Yes. Yes, I did. Definitely looking forward to that.”
She tilted her head, “Cayce, when you visit their state as the monarch of this one, you’re acknowledging the legitimacy of their rule.”
“Oh! Ok, that’s good.”
“Unless, of course, you attack it.”
“I’m not going to attack Laemacia, Brin.”
“Perhaps you want a larger kingdom? Perhaps an empire.”
“No thank you. Just getting stuff done here is hard enough. I mean, the earls barely listen to me.”
“They don’t listen to you, you mean.”
“No, they don’t! And it’s so frustrating.” Maybe I’d try to sneak the bit about knights hunting them for sport into the document anyways. It would certainly make the knights happy. Not my fault if the earls don’t read the fine print.
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