Don’t Take Life Too Seriously; She is Only 10 Years

"Today's date is the first waxing of 7th Term in the year 101,254 of our Lunar Lady," Baafa announced, marking the official start of Amilia's lessons. Amilia hated lessons. Which is why she assumed her "learning" posture, lying sprawled out across her desk like a deflated sack. You would think the tutor would object to her clear lack of enthusiasm, but Baafa didn't so much as sigh.

I had thought her indifference was due to her inherent disposition, but after a number of sessions, I realized she did care; only with Amilia's obstinacy, she had long given up and come to terms with Amilia's lackluster effort.

Today was a Baafa day, Baafa being one of two tutors hired to instruct Amilia and the one tasked with subjects that broadly fell into the Art & Humanities, but also covered disciplines such as reading, writing, and history. Her lessons were an oasis in a wasteland of Amillia, the only thing I looked forward to while in the service of the pudgy redheaded girl. Baafa had a passion for her subjects and covered things unknown to me, and while such topics were not my general area of interest, they proved the more intriguing subjects. In contrast, Thesro, her other instructor, taught math and science. The problem with math and science is that they are much the same anywhere, though admittedly, there were some major differences. I had tried to slip out during his lessons, but Amilia pitched a fit.

"Now let us continue our discussion on King Kern from last time." Baafa pulled out a large tome and dropped it onto the desk with an intentional thud that echoed through the room.

"Uhn..." Amilia groaned and somehow sank deeper into the desk.

"Come now, Amillia, what do you remember about King Kern?"

"He was a king, and... his name was Kern."

"Really, Amillia. Are you even trying?" This would go on for several minutes, and Baafa would eventually drag a few additional details from her.

Personally, I had to stifle my tail swing, eager to hear more about King Kern, or more about the consequences of his policies. He had come from the time of absolute monarchy and was regarded by the time of his death as a good and wise king. Not so much during much of his life, though. Back in his day, the ever frugal monarchical regime had blown through all the royal funds, and the nobility was growing tired of footing the bill, crushed under the weight of exorbitant taxes. Not that I had any sympathy for those gentlemen, who, by definition, do no work.

At any rate, he had solved both issues by spitting in the face of the Laffer curve; he raised taxes. Well, sort of. In fact, he instituted a flat tax, and by flat, I don't mean a flat rate, I mean a flat amount, 50 tuums of silver—a Tuum being an ancient form of measurement. This equated to a steep increase, as before the tax came to 50% on vassal lands, which usually amounted to around 30 to 40 tuums of silver.

As you can imagine, this angered a lot of the nobility—I'm sure they threw plenty of soirees to curse his name. However, some of the more clever took advantage. The crown charged 50 tuums, whether you generated 60 tuums or 600 tuums. In the latter case, you would pay closer to a 4% tax. Well, this new tax structure shook things up and productivity soared. The crown had more money due to the increased tax revenue, and the nobility not only had more revenue from increased yield but also fewer grievances, at first.

That is what I wanted to discuss with Baafa, who would always delight in dialogue about whatever topic was on the lesson plan. In particular, she had never mentioned the perspective of the serfs and slaves that had to work the fields, or whatever enterprise the vassal ran. I doubt the nobles had devised ways to use labor more efficiently and probably found ways to wring more labor from the workers. Also, I surmised that enriching the nobility led to the toppling of the traditional monarchy; you needed resources to usurp a dynasty.

"This is boooring!" Amilia interrupted. "Right, Olavir?" Somehow, despite contrary evidence, she still believed nobody could find these lessons interesting. Could she not see my tail dancing about?

"Amillia, could you please limit yourself to constructive comments?" Baafa had long suffered these kinds of interruptions.

"Actually," I started. "I was wondering about..." Amilia's frown deepened as I engaged with today's lecture. Nothing like the scowl on a young girl's face to set the heart aflutter.

After lessons, a maid brought soup along with bread and some fruit for Amillia's lunch. In this world, a "sit-down" lunch was a luxury, and as such, it fell outside formalized procedure. Which explained why Amillia took the midday meal in her room with Tissa and me standing vigil over her luxury repast. Staff could partake as well, but you had to fend for yourself or swipe something from the kitchen.

As Amilia dug into her meal, Tissa passed me a heel of bread. In all fairness, nobody would go hungry here, I thought as Amilia slurped down her soup like a pig at the trough. Though perhaps it would be beneficial if some of us did.

Lunch also marked the end of Amillia's formal obligations. On special occasions, there could be other demands made on her time, but not today. So, how did Amilia kick off the start of her midday emancipation? With a tea party, of course. Though to be fair, she didn’t always start off this way; sometimes she would hold off for an hour or two to select another outfit. Today, the azure sun dress would survive through midday.

Don't get me wrong, it's not as though attending one of her indulgent tea parties aggrieved me; there was food, and the tea was quite good. But right after lunch? When I questioned her about the wisdom of partaking so soon after her midday meal, she failed to comprehend the point. I tried to explain that it's not good to eat so much at once, but she didn't see the issue with eating meals in rapid succession.

"It doesn't matter when you eat!" Amilia might have a point about this, but the real issue was overconsumption, as noted by her surplus BMI. Being the tactful fellow I am, I pointed this out, but she didn't think you could eat too much. No helping some people.

And so, she dragged me out into the gardens—a frequent venue for Amillia's overindulgence— for this afternoon's first tea party, with additional sessions pending. I couldn’t complain, the gardens teemed with colorful flowers artistically arranged, finely manicured hedges, sparkling fountains, artisan-cut stone paths marred by never so much as a tumbling leaf, marble statues polished to a perpetual sheen, and the life’s work of no fewer than a dozen peasants—a detail few noticed.

Today, Amillia had selected an isolated nook with a wending cobblestone pathway that ballooned out as it came to an end. Tall hedges surrounded the space and sealed it off from prying eyes, though probably not prying ears. Another first for me; we had yet to partake in the same space twice.

Servants prepared the table and tea, hauling them from some unseen location and placing them with a practiced speed. Once they finished, however, Amilia liked to serve the tea and refreshments herself. She took umbrage with anyone who tried otherwise. I made this mistake myself when I had tried to refill my cup, and she had growled at me.

"Will you take milk with your tea?" Amillia asked.

"Amillia... When have I ever taken milk?" I drew my hand down my face.

"Umm... I'm not sure." She placed a finger to her lips

"Never! I don't take milk with my tea, but every time you insist on asking!"

"But it's impolite not to ask." I rolled my eyes at this. Amilia was hardly an authority on politeness.

"I have never, and will never, take milk with my tea. So you can stop asking." I crossed my arms and turned away in a huff. Perhaps I let this bother me way too much, but clearly she got a thrill from asking, so I couldn't just let it go unopposed.

"So does that mean you don't want any milk with your tea?" If Amilia boasted a higher intelligence, I would swear she was trolling me. I stared daggers at her, but she just waited in response. It was tempting to continue this staring contest—I was sure I could win—but that would make me just as childish as Amillia. I wouldn’t hold myself to that standard.

"No... milk."

"Okay!" she said, a smile returning to her face.

Things proceeded as usual. The tea went down smooth, and I abstained from the hiscup because, unlike Amilia, I was not a glutton—her pudge a constant reminder of the wages of gluttony. However, today did have one thing of interest.

"It is a really nice day," Amilia said as she looked up, shading her eyes. "It will go wonderfully with some chocolate." She reached over for the box containing the sweets.

The box's presence had not gone overlooked; I had taken note. On occasion, this box would find its way to our table, I would say about once a week—humans use an 11-day week, and yeah, I thought it ridiculous too, until I saw how well the calendar fell into place. Supposedly, a god had given it to mortals, but I don't know if I buy that, but I digress. The box would only contain one piece of chocolate, and after witnessing the might of Amillia's appetite, my confidence that her "silly slave, chocolate is for the free" comment was just a convenient excuse. Don't get me wrong, I had not given up my side mission.

However, today followed a different course. Today, the box contained two pieces of chocolate. My tail perked up, and I had to chide myself. Reflexively, I had thought she brought a second for me. But she never so much as acknowledged my desire for chocolate, aside from that first time. Still, with some negotiating, perhaps I could finagle it off her.

"Oh, Amillia! My lovely daughter." At some point during my scheming, Valarina had sauntered in.

"Mama!" Amilia seemed just as thrilled. Valarina rustled her hair, and for a second, I thought she would pick her up, until she thought better of it. "Can you join the tea party?"

"Of course!" She said, taking a seat—Amilia always brought an extra chair for such cameos, though it rarely saw use. Amilia poured her a cup of tea and, not asking, added milk. I pressed my lips into a straight line. Impolite not to ask, huh?

Amilia unwrapped her piece of chocolate, and Valerina took note. "Oh, chocolate! It has been a while," she said as she reached across the table and took the remaining piece of chocolate.

I watched on, jaw growing slack like a fat kid who had just missed out on the last slice of pizza, as Valarina's face displayed a menagerie of emotions.

"It is absolutely delightful," Valarina said as she savored the last melting of sweet velvet. Of all the times to show up, why now? She always did have a randomness about her, like an unexpected encounter just before reaching a save point. I had never seen her crash one of Amilia's tea parties, but it was bound to happen sooner or later, but why today of all days?

"I see you have been taking good care of Olavir."

"Um-Um," Amilia grunted with a sunny smile.

"You have been making sure to be his good friend and to play with him, right, Amillia?

"Yes, Mama. I take him everywhere and..." as Amilia prattled on, Valarina turned my way. Did she just wink at me? Was I supposed to be in on something? Wait, did this relate to my second night at the chateau and her saying something about new homes? Was she secretly working behind the scenes, trying to break my resolve to never call this place home? Well... That seemed unlikely. Valarina wasn't the planning type. And it wasn't so much a resolve as an impossibility.

"I'm glad to hear you have both been having a wonderful time," she said after Amilia finished. "Oh, I almost forgot." She turned back to me. "There is something I want to give you..." She continued on, but I didn't care to listen.