Recollection of Nostalgia

She woke up to the sound of the usual bell, ringing just right outside her quarters. “Princess! It’s time to wake up!” A maid said in a polite, but yet clear manner. She was annoyed at first, her sleep was so comfortable that she’d not want to open her eyes. Her dream was so beautiful and nostalgic. It was her and her best friend, she recalled. She dreamt about them reading a book from this very same room, and recalling that they were always taking out the same book every time. It’s always that old storybook, she thought, and that same old story. The book was in French, which she knew fluently. She always read it for her friend, Helene, who didn’t know how to read French. She’d always wanted her to learn French but Helene said it was unnecessary, for they don’t speak it anyway. She missed her friend, Helene. Anyway, she gathered herself.

Eleanor replied in a drowsy voice: “I’m up, come in.”

As the maid came in, she noticed the sky outside through the massive rectangular window on the eastern wall of her quarters. It was already beaming with the light of the sun, and she knew that it was already around ten o’clock in the morning. It was autumn, and since it was also nearing its end, she also admired the bare hedges and trees that surrounded the view she had outside. It was the palace gardens with the flowers she helped plant with Tom the gardener. Although there were no leaves on the plants anymore, she liked the bare structure it had. She liked the idea that when trees started shedding leaves, the people then also started wearing more clothes. Eleanor thought about the juxtaposition as it reminded her about the difference in situations. Some people were happy right now, and some were also sad right now. Not only that but also their place in society. She knew that she was a princess, obviously, but she always reminded herself of the responsibilities she had. Eleanor also knew that some people were poor, and despite having not as many responsibilities as she did, they might be struggling with only the little responsibilities they had.

The maid helped her get dressed up, for it was unbecoming for a princess to do it all herself. Although, sometimes she’d do it herself, well, if she woke up earlier than the maid. The maid’s name was Mia; Eleanor didn’t know her last name, or if she even had one is also a mystery. She didn’t dare ask, though. It was slightly rude. Most people without last names other than their occupation meant that they are of a lower class. Eleanor was kind to her servants, for she knew that without them, she’d be starving and looking untidy. The maid was wearing their usual uniform, a black dress with white lacings, and also a white apron on top of it. Eleanor always wanted to try the dress on, but her father, the king, would probably not allow her. He’d probably say that a noble should never wear a servant’s clothes. Despite her father's strict way of upbringing, Eleanor admired how he always supported her with her studies and hobbies. It struck her when other noblemen’s daughters talked to her that their fathers were always forcing conservative ideas on them and making them obedient to it.

It was certainly different. While her brother once told her, probably to be mean or out of jealousy, that their father was kinder to her. And that was simply because of how much Eleanor looked like their mother and that would have absolutely been a factor. Though, as far as Eleanor knew, she would never know. The portraits around the castle she grew up in always reflected a more nostalgic sense from her father’s time as a war hero. So, as she aged, she figured her mother looked less than an ethereal goddess and more of a woman who grew up with a title and stature. She was okay with that though, that would never have been a knock against her mother. After all, it’s rude to do so especially when Eleanor never had a real frame of reference. The portraits were painted by the war heroes after all, so it’s plausible too that her mother was more plain-looking like her.

Still, she was a woman of power and while the wedding of her brother and Princess Clover drew closer by the year, she started to think about her best friend more again. Maybe that’s why she had those dreams again. From the words of Princess Clover, who had claimed she was dead for eight years now, Eleanor wondered what it would’ve been like had Helene been alive. If she were alive now, would they live in the same castle? The idea used to make her blush but now it made her wistful and oddly, hopeful. It’s not a terrible thing for Eleanor to be interested in the company of women, but she wished that Helene was still around.

After she managed to get dressed, she was led yet again to the dining hall by the company of her handmaidens. As part of her etiquette, she kept her head down as she walked while somehow keeping her eyesight forward and ahead of her. She didn’t want to get lost in her ‘what-if’s scenarios. It was a dangerous hole to fall into and she only just woke up.

As Eleanor entered the dining hall, the usual music of the jongleurs permeated from the dining hall. The ironbound door was held open by a guard in an obedient stance as she walked in. She saw her father at the head of the table silently greeting her with a friendly nod. The music was loud but alive, as she would say, for its tunes were dancing along with the jongleur who was playing the fiddle. She noticed that her brother was still not present. Anyway, while going to her spot next to her father, she couldn’t help but notice the music that was playing. Eleanor liked music a lot, she’d often listen to the words the jongleurs were singing. Often, the songs were in French or sometimes in Latin, but the current song they were playing was an English one. A familiar song, she recalled. The song had a happy and, in her own set of words, a morning tune. She’d often hear the same song played over and over, and she knew the words already:

The Bird o’ wisdom flying free.
On morrow’s chanson only for me.
Horses driven; galloping steed.
For men, the sire, women bleed.
Th’ bells ringin’ o’er mountain’s sea.
Highland hounds barkin’ a’ thee.
. . .

The song made her feel upbeat and awake; she’d no longer need tea, she thought. Her father was munching on some eggs and bacon; elegantly spiced. A similar dish was waiting for her on her side of the table, and her handmaid had pulled her chair for her. She sat down silently, still listening to the song. Her father initiated, his voice already clear and loud: “Good morning, daughter.”

On the other hand, Eleanor’s tone was still a bit coarse. She replied: “Good morning, Your Highness.” She addressed him that way sometimes. Or rather, she had gotten used to it because that’s how Father wanted to be addressed in public.

Father looked at her intently: “How many times have I told you: I am your Father here at home. Anyway, how are you feeling, dear?”

She recollected herself: “I have slept well, Father.” She’d decided not to mention her dream. So, she chose to change the topic a little, trying to divert it a little. Acting as if looking around for someone, she added: “Where’s brother Edgar? We’re leaving later this afternoon,” she hesitated to add, but she did anyway: “To princess Clover; for the wedding, Father.”

Father nodded a little as if remembering. He had recently developed a kind of ‘forgetfulness’ in the past couple of months, but Eleanor knew that it must be because of his age. Father is turning fifty soon, and it’s quite normal for men that age to be forgetful. On the other note: he had a lot of responsibility and business to take care of, so Eleanor knew she can’t blame Father for his degeneration. She also noticed his aging face: there seemed to be more wrinkles on his face than there were a few years ago. Although he still looked handsome; his blonde hair and blue sparkling eyes that signified his authority, she couldn't help but see the loneliness on his gaze as well. He looked a bit agitated at the realization: “I do not know. He’s probably still sleeping, dear.” He signaled for a maid, and a maid who was standing by the wall behind him came up.

She bowed and said: “Your highness.”

“Do me a favor and wake up Edgar for me. Thank you.”

“Absolutely, your highness.” She immediately walked away.

The music was still playing. The same song:

O’, Bird of wisdom, tell man.
The morrow’s chanson’s plan.
‘Ere are words of faith.
For man to swim and bathe.
On a morning’s shining light.
Women laughed; adorable sight.
. . .

“Dear.” Father looked at Eleanor.

“Yes, father?”

“Take care of your brother. Vow to me.”

She was surprised at her father’s sudden request. She still hadn’t laid a finger on her food, and now a sudden unexpected request from father. She first couldn’t come up with a decent answer, but she realized she just had to answer it very plainly: “Yes, father.” Despite her brother being aged a few years older than her, she still acted as the older one. Father knew this, of course. He, needless to say, also supported their relationship because Edgar was a little bit reckless, and not to mention that Edgar was more slow-witted than his sister. Although Edgar was the type of prince who was kind, handsome, level-headed, religious, and good with the sword, Eleanor knew that Edgar always didn’t understand people’s motives behind their actions. And, she knew, that’s the sole meaning of her father’s request. She finally took her fork and ate a piece of bacon.

Father looked satisfied now, she noted. Eleanor and Edgar would be going to the Kingdom of Kolan later, and she was excited. Not because she’d be able to travel again, but because she was curious about Helene. It occurred to her that she’d be able to squeeze in a few questions to princess Clover about her friend. They’d be staying there for a couple of days before going back. So plenty of opportunities to ask, she thought. Ever since the news came about Helene’s death, she’d been piling up questions but none was answered. That’s also why she didn’t believe that Helene was dead. Her friend, she remembered, was a strong and diligent girl. Someone who couldn’t possibly give up and die that easily. But if, God willing, she’d been actually alive, she’d take her in the castle and they’d be able to enjoy and talk just like the old days.

The Kolan Kingdom was in ruins at the time, everything was in chaos for some years. This is because of the death of the king and queen. Normally, there’d be a successor but there was no one who was interested in taking the throne. Princess Clover, who eventually took over, was forced to do so. She didn’t want to, at first, for she didn’t see herself as capable as her parents were. Their cousins and other relatives also didn’t want to take over the throne, for they were afraid of the debts that had gathered during the ruler-less period. Till now, the debts that had gathered were still being paid and Clover had been proposing a unity with the Chapmans. That made her to finally propose to Edgar who took her offer gladly, for she was a beautiful girl with a small waist, flat belly, delicate face, flawless skin, and dark curly hair. Different from her little sister’s, Eleanor thought. Not to mention that she had also offered a generous dowry for the wedding; consisting of many lands from the kingdom and also other properties that included lots of precious livestock and the most-reputable servants in her kingdom. She was powerful, but also desperate, Eleanor noted.

Eleanor always questioned people’s motives and she still hadn’t figured out whether Clover had one. It was a surprise for the family to get the proposal of Clover to Edgar. Although both of the kingdoms have always had a good relationship, it never occurred to anyone that there’d be something such as this. Eleanor always thought that there’d be an underhanded motive behind it, maybe to save the Kolan Kingdom, by using the wealth of her own, The Kingdom of Cagia. But she trusted that Clover’s bigger plan was just because she was infatuated by her brother’s charms. She knew that they were together before and would also sometimes play during parties, or even dance, just like her and Helene. But the sudden events of the past couple of years had shaken everyone and it seemed to Eleanor that everything was in chaos. It was a perfect opportunity for many throne-grabbers to take the Kolan throne, but, to her surprise, no one actually took it. Perhaps they were afraid for their own souls, for they have sinned. Or they were afraid of something deeper than that. It was confusing, and everyone knew. Well, everyone outside the Kolan Kingdom, at least, including father. He accepted the proposal with a pinch of salt in his hands, but he thought the same way Eleanor did and hoped for the best. It would either bring unity or chaos, he said. Although the risk of chaos was small, it would have a devastating effect.

She noticed that the jongleurs began to change songs. The previous song was long finished. The jongleurs discussed while she was eating her scrambled eggs. Her father looked at the discussing bunch a little. He was long done with his food as well, she noticed. A handmaid came over and took his dirty plate.

They were still waiting for Edgar, he always took a lot of time to get ready. He’d sometimes fuss over what he’ll wear and things Eleanor didn’t really understand. He’s probably excited about meeting his future wife and was having trouble choosing his clothes.

The jongleurs finally started priming themselves for the newly-chosen song. The song, to Eleanor’s surprise, was not as lively and happy. It rather had a sad and midnight tone. Something you’d listen to if someone were dead. Father seemed to know what the song was, he looked with a surprised gaze at the jongleurs but he let them play.

It was only when the singer, out of the three jongleurs, started when Eleanor jerked herself to listen more carefully, dropping everything she was thinking about and listened carefully for each word. The song was in French, the so-called language of romance, but this time, it didn’t seem so. The jongleur sang:

Th’ Witches burn.
Its light goes clear.
The smell of you,
For all to fear.
Red fur’s muse,
Light goes near.
What’s in there,
For all can hear.
Red fur’s loose,

For running near’r,
To her wife’s noose.
. . .

Father looked frustrated, or more like agitated. He knew the song, of course, he should, he was a man who knew lots. He’d often read books, write reports, and the like. It always amazed other high-ranking nobles, for it was more common for people of his rank to be illiterate and be relying on the clerics or scribes to get everything written down or read. He looked so agitated, but when he finally raised his hand to the jongleurs, he still managed to order them in a polite voice: “I don’t want to hear that song, can you play the other one earlier? Thank you.” The jongleurs were surprised, but so was Eleanor. She wondered why father would change it so abruptly, but she thought that it was probably because the song was dark. It is still the morning, so a happier song would be nice.

They kindly nodded and started to play the song earlier. Its familiar happy tune, again, permeated throughout the space and father looked more relaxed. Eleanor finally realized that the previous song was about the story she knew all too well, The Fox of the Valley. It was a famous story, and people would often tell other people about it. Especially in Cagia, for it is said that the kingdom was the original village in the story. But some try to deny this, and some people accepted it whole-heartedly, even proud of it sometimes. Eleanor didn’t know how she, herself, felt about the story. She liked the story, but she had no opinion about it. She always felt that it was incomplete. It started the usual way a fairy tale would start, but it didn’t even feel like it ended. And above all, she got a new mystery. What did it mean? Her wife’s noose. Eleanor made a mental note about it for later. She’d want to listen to the song again.

Anyway, father decided to leave and started to do his usual work: He would be at the main hall talking to petitioners and hearing out their complaints. Eleanor never knew how he’d be able to manage everything and mediate each and every problem everyone had. She heard that some problems were even ridiculous: An earl had a quarrel with an abbot of a monastery because the earl had said that the abbot had been stealing from the earl’s quarry. It was an unbelievable story, for a man of God would never even think about stealing. It was only later revealed that the earl had a motive of closing down the monastery and he’d build a new castle on the site, for the monastery was strategically built on a hilltop. The quarry stone that was said to be stolen was actually planted by the earl’s men itself. Father’s verdict was that the earl would be hanged for treason, not only for deceiving the king, but also the church. A new earl had been, since then, appointed.

To Eleanor’s relief, though, father would go out hunting later. It was a good thing for the king to have some rest and hunt, he’d be able to move and let his mind wander about something else. Eleanor was always worried about her father’s condition. She knew that the king was getting old, and everything that came with age also came to him. All Eleanor knew that she could do was to be caring and supportive, father would not want any scuffle now.

Brother Edgar finally came in, he had a purple coat with his usual dark-grey tunic. His face seemed to be washed and his hair well-made. That is what took him such a long time, she thought. Edgar came walking in a confident pace, clearly practicing his walking to impress the princess. He had been a little nervous for the visit, and Eleanor would subtly laugh at his efforts whenever he was practicing.

Brother sat down in front of Eleanor who was silently eating her breakfast while admiring the jongleurs’ song. Unlike her, Edgar had a very likeable personality, or so what people said. It always occurred to new guests that Eleanor was very intelligent, and as the old saying goes: A woman’s intelligence is disproportionate to the size of her uterus. That was also probably why Eleanor hadn’t gotten engaged yet. Although, she wasn’t really bothered about it. She’d rather die alone than with someone she didn’t love. Father respected her about that. Ever since the death of her mother, Father had developed a soft heart for Eleanor who looked almost like her mother. Whenever father looked at Eleanor, he’d remember the times he and his wife had. That’s probably also why Father even told Eleanor that she could choose whomever she would want to marry. He just wanted her daughter to be happy, now. And he’d do whatever it takes.

Brother seemed ecstatic, he initiated starting a conversation with a jovial tone: “Good morning, Ellie.”

She replied: “Yes, good morning, indeed.” She was trying to hide the fact that she’d laugh at his rather hideous get-up. She added: “You look rather flashy today.”

“Of course! I have to make good impressions, right?”

“Yes, yes. Do not forget to bring her some gifts, though. It’s customary.”

“I know, Ellie. I know! You don’t always have to remind me of all these trivial things.”

“Brother, these things aren’t trivial. Your future is at stake here, you know.”

He raised his hand up slightly, Eleanor knew what this meant. She’d rather not start an argument now. “I know, sister. But you can count on me,” he said. Although a lingering sense of unsureness hung over her, she just nodded obediently. Finally, a maidservant served Edgar newly cooked bacon and eggs; the previous dish was cold, for he took a long time dressing up. He then began eating silently. He seemed to be very hungry, well, he already used up so much energy in the morning, Eleanor thought.

When Eleanor was done eating, she came back to her quarters. She figured to just leave Edgar alone and let him eat to his stomach’s delight. Eleanor wandered around the room, deep in thought. Her mind seemed to be floating around; trying to organize the questions she was wanting to ask: Was Helene really dead? If not, where is she? If she is dead, how did it happen exactly?

She sat down on the left corner chair where there were a set of chairs and a table. She rang her bell for the maid who came shortly after: “Yes, princess?”

“Can I have some tea? Thank you.”

“Of course,” The maid replied with a bow and left.

Alone and in waiting for tea, she continued her internal musings.She looked at the generous bookshelf on the side of her bed where her foot would be. She saw the old storybook where she and Helene would search for that particular story, The Fox of the Valley. She stood up and took the book, then sat back down.

The book in her hands, to her delight, had barely aged. It still looked like the same book as it had been from her childhood. It still featured the title of the book in clear gothic french: Les histoires de Cagia. ‘The stories of Cagia.’ Some people say that the stories written in the book were based on the kingdom. But it was originally the kingdom who took the name from the book. The original book was a national treasure, locked somewhere no one can see, but copies of it were written because of its significance and moral teachings. All of the copied books all had the same words as the original; trying to preserve the actual meanings of the unknown author’s intent. But there’s another thing that they all have in common, Eleanor thought, was that all of the stories were complete except for one, The Fox of the Valley. Maybe that’s why she liked the story the most, but she also thought bitterly about it. Others would always take the side of the village people, she noticed. They would sometimes say that the Fox was symbolizing a sly female outlaw who had been living in the forest. The said outlaw would sometimes go to town to buy food, but the outlaw can’t really buy a house in the village because it was prohibited for outlaws to reside in towns. Despite what others think, Eleanor disagreed. She always admired the Fox for her bravery and wit. Regarding women not as objects or sacrilege, but as an equal of that of men. Eleanor hoped to read the ending and tell her friend, Helene, all about it.

The maid finally came back, with a tray of expensive china on it. The maid kindly placed the china on the table one-by-one and poured tea for Eleanor.

When the maid was done, she said: “Your tea, princess.”

Eleanor replied: “Thank you. You can leave now.” The maid obeyed with a bow and left.

She returned to admire the book, trailing her hand gently on the last page of the story. She thought that this book didn’t only hold stories, but also memories. She reminisced about her days with her friend, sitting on the floor of her room reading the book. Helene sometimes fell asleep on most of the stories, but Eleanor didn’t mind it. She was merely happy that Helene was there, a warm presence that made everything so comfortable. She somehow longed for the same comfort now. Thinking of Helene, Eleanor wondered how she would look like now. Would her red hair be braided? Or were they flowing? Perhaps curly? Eleanor always liked her red hair, it reminded her of distant landscapes in sundown or sunrise. She figured also that Helene would be bigger now, with more womanly traits. Probably a bigger waist, now, and breasts. Would the way she smiled be the same too, she wondered. Thinking of Helene’s slight smile made her heart tremble a little. She thought it was cute.

Eleanor fell asleep sitting on the chair, and she woke up to the sound of someone knocking on her door. She ignored it at first, but when she sensed reality, she quickly stood up and opened the door herself. The maid, Mia, was surprised that Eleanor opened the door. Anyhow, Mia brought with her two menservants who were carrying an empty chest. Mia said that these were for the clothing and toiletries Eleanor would need during her stay at the Kingdom of Kolan. Eleanor would help pick out a few clothing that would be used for parties and other important events that’d need her to dress up nicely. But otherwise, she’d just feel like home over there, wearing what she would wear at home. She figured that Brother would do all the business and she’d just be there for support and guidance. Something she was used to.

“Princess, how many days will you be there?” Mia asked. The men-servants left when they dropped the chest near her closet.They’d be coming back when Eleanor would call them later.

“At least four days. It’s a pity that you are not coming with us.”

“It is, princess. I wished to be by your aid.”

“Thank you, Mia.”

Eleanor looked at Mia as she was packing her things. Eleanor just pointed at the dresses and undershirts she wanted to bring, and at the end, Mia packed an awkward amount of cotton rags. Mia had always been Eleanor’s personal handmaid and she found it a pity that she’d be left alone at the castle. She wanted to bring her with them, but Mia needed to be at the castle for preparation of the wedding. Although the date hadn’t been decided yet, it is a precaution. The bishop always chose the date, to make sure that it is a lucky day. But no one did ever know what date he would choose.

Eleanor thought she could visit the orphanage across the canal. She always went there to detoxify herself from her duties as a princess. Although Father wanted her to be escorted at first, she said that it would scare the children away. Eventually, Father trusted her and even gave her once some money to donate to the orphanage. She went to the orphanage sometimes to help out with the nunnery. She wondered if little Johnny was better now. He had been a little sick the last time she saw her and it worried her so much, his temperature was so high. She never gave any money, except that one time Father gave her some, to the convent, but instead helped them out with certain events: selling candles, charity work, and the like. None of the children really recognized her as the princess, but the nuns who ran the place did. They were always so nice to her, she thought. Other people would misuse her kindness, but she appreciated the nuns for their humbleness and vice versa.

“What time is it, Mia?”

“Around one in the afternoon, princess.”

Not enough time, she thought, they’d be leaving in a few hours. She also thought that she had slept a long time sitting on the chair. Mia went away momentarily to fetch the menservants and came back with them along with a tart. Eleanor knew that Mia made it herself and it is some kind of parting gift.

As Mia served her a piece of the tart, she said: “Thank you. You made this?” Although she knew, she didn’t want to be rude.

“Yes, I did. It’s for you, princess.”

“I really appreciate it, Mia. Why don’t you sit down and eat with me? The tart is big enough to feed four people!” Mia looked flushed, but Eleanor gave her no room to argue. Eleanor rang her bell for another maid and ordered for another set of china and utensils for Mia.

Once Mia sat down with her utensils, she still was quiet but took a piece of the tart she made. Mia seemed shy, Eleanor thought, so she initiated eating and invited her: “Come on. It’s really delicious.”

“Thank you, princess,” she replied shyly and soon began to eat as well. Both of them seemed to be enjoying the tart, it was Eleanor’s favorite: strawberry and vanilla.

The maids, especially Mia, liked Eleanor for her kindness and humbleness. Although they were mere servants, Eleanor was the kindest of all people they worked for. Edgar was kind, but he’s a pain to keep up with, they thought. His constant demands were a little bit too much. Nevertheless, the maids were happy to serve them. The king, they thought, was also a kind man. Probably the humblest of all kings, even.

The maids remembered when the king released new rules that revolved around the rights of servants. It was for them to have a day off during holidays and equal pay for maidservants. When it was released, Eleanor was happy, alongside the uncountable amounts of servants of the castle. But there was some backlash, though. Some earls, barons, counts, and other noblemen were upset about it, for they said they didn’t have the money to spend. They were not wrong and the king made an exception for the new rules: if the master can’t pay the maidservants equal to the menservants, the menservants’ pay will be reduced to that of the maidservants’. At first, there were some strikes led by some of the menservants, but instead of the king remaking the rule again, the noblemen were forced to find money. In the end, the kingdom prospered from the reforms; it increased the flow of money through each class in the society, and during holidays the menservants and maidservants would have the time to buy whatever they would want. Therefore when taxes were collected, it showed higher numbers than that of the past years.

A couple of hours went by, Eleanor and Mia were idly eating the tart and talked about some gossip. Gossip never occurred to Eleanor as a fun thing to do, but Mia seemed to be enjoying, so she just listened instead. Eleanor learned that Mia used to live in an orphanage similar to where she goes. Mia was abandoned as a child by her parents and she was left in the forest to die. Abandonment of children, especially babies, is a punishable crime. It’s often considered as murder. Anyway, a nun who was gathering wild vegetables found her on a mound. The nun immediately took her in and cared for her. Eleanor could sense the gratefulness in the voice Mia spoke in. She said that ever since, they’d feed her with goat's milk until Mia can eat porridge. She could’ve chosen to be a nun herself, which she did for some time, but she didn’t feel that dedicating her life to God was her calling. Up until she worked with the royal family, she had been tossed around like some ball in a children’s game. She’d often work for nobles, and one day, she was given to the royal family as a gift from her previous master. She never regretted working for the family, and never, especially, when she was working for Eleanor.

Eleanor felt touched by her story. Although she was always aware that everyone had a backstory, she never had carefully listened to someone from a lower class. She’d often hear people’s petitions when meeting with the king asking for help, but those people were often high ranking nobles or clergymen. Sometimes she’d notice poorer people, but they were not given enough time to explain.

Anyhow, Mia called for the menservants to bring the packed chest to the carriage outside. Leo, the coach driver, was already waiting for them. He looked a little tired, Eleanor noted. But for the rest, he still looked like the blonde, skinny man he always was. His teeth were a bit jaundiced when he smiled at Eleanor, but she didn’t really care much or judge him for that. She smiled back politely.

Leo said: “Good afternoon, princess. The prince is already inside. We’ll be leaving as soon as possible.”

Eleanor was shocked, his brother is already in the carriage. He was always late, she thought. Ah! It must be because he was excited. She was then trying suppressing a laugh.

Anyway, Eleanor also noticed Leo’s strap around his waist that carried a gun. She looked suspiciously at it, thinking what he’d use it for. She never really liked guns; they were loud, ugly, and they kill people painfully. Fighting, for Eleanor, had always been a useless activity. A masculine activity.

Leo humbly said: “Oh, this is because we won’t be joined by our escort until we have left the castle walls, princess. I hope you don’t mind. It’s for our safety. Although, God willing, we will never have to use it.”

“Of course, Leonard. I understand, but why is it that we won’t be joined by our escort until then?”

“It would draw too much attention, princess.”

“I see. Oh. Are those my favorite curtains?” Eleanor pointed at the curtains on the carriage. She liked purple, apart from red, it reminds her of lavenders. The smell of perfume Helene wore.

“Yes, princess. I specially installed them for you. I remembered you making me stop at a bed of lavender fields once. You said it looked nice and seemed comfortable to lie on.”

“Ah, I remember that time,” said Eleanor. Leo bowed and opened the carriage door for her, she saw his brother already waiting, fiddling on the textile of his tunic. He clearly looked like he couldn’t wait. Like a hungry child waiting for cake, she thought. Before going in, she took another look at Mia who was silently watching her from behind. She thought it might be nice to give her a hug before leaving and so, she did.

Mia was taken aback and said: “Thank you, princess.”

“No, thank you. I’ll make sure to bring you something when I come back. The cake was exceptionally delicious.”

Mia bowed and stayed with her head low as Eleanor silently stepped in. She sat on the opposite side of where her brother sat. She greeted him: “Nice to see you again, Brother.” Her earlier thought made her suppress a laugh again. He really looks like a kid, she thought.

“Me too, Ellie,” he said in an excited voice. “I can’t wait no more!”

Eleanor broke into a laugh, merely because he also broke character. “I know, brother, perhaps everyone does as well.”

Edgar turned red and said: “Is it really that obvious, Ellie?”

“Oh, yes. Brother, you should try putting up a face. Princess Clover would think of you as a half-wit,” she said, although in her head, she said much more: not to mention that maybe she already thinks of you as one.

“Alright, Ellie.”

Leo rang the bell on the top of the carriage. The bell signified that they were going, but also as a signal for the coach driver that he had something to say: “We’re going now, please brace yourselves.”

Edgar replied: “Okay, Leo. We’re ready.”

The carriage started to move, and Eleanor could hear the horses heaving. She was afraid of horses, for they were big and scary, she thought She, therefore, never even rode one. But, nevertheless, she didn’t mind riding the carriage.

Soon enough, Eleanor heard the cobbled floor of the bridge. This bridge was built long before she was born and Father would always talk about it because he was the one who had issued its construction. Before the bridge was built, Father said that most people would take a detour to just go towards the castle. Father pitied the travelers who had traveled far and wide to just see the king and say their petition, so he had issued a reconstruction of streets and bridges to better the transport in the city walls.

Edgar initiated a conversation: “Ellie, I brought her some confectionaries from a chocolaterie. They said their chocolates are imported from France.”

At first, Eleanor didn’t know what he was talking about. She had her mind elsewhere, for she was thinking about what she would ask princess Clover about Helene. Though she replied: “That’s good, Brother. I’d bet she’d like that.”

“Do you think so, Ellie? I also brought some textile from a shop earlier. It is of fine, imported silk from the east. I think she’d be able to make a beautiful dress from it. Which one do you think she’ll like more?”

“I don’t know, Brother. I don’t know.”

She was getting tired of her brother, by now. So, she didn’t bother replying in full. Before her brother could say another word, everyone was interrupted by stirring from the horses outside the carriage. At first, Eleanor didn’t know what it was. She ignored it and focused back on her brother who was telling something.

Her focus was only broken when a voice of a girl yelled: “Eleanor!” The voice, Eleanor thought, was familiar, but she couldn’t remember from whom it may have belonged to.

So, she flipped the curtains and looked outside. She saw a girl running with the carriage. The girl was about her age, but had this skinny body and tattered clothes. Not to mention that the girl was wearing an eye-patch. Eleanor figured that the voice came from her. She looked at the girl with pity. She thought: clearly this girl had never seen the royal family up close before. She smiled slightly to be polite, but she’d rather not say anything. It’d draw some attention.

Leo replied in a yell: “Go away, child!”

The girl yelled again, this time her voice was clearer and it felt like a punch to Eleanor’s brain, shaking her head and organizing her thoughts. The girl yelled: “Eleanor!” The girl sounded like Helene. Another thought lingered, how did that girl know my name?

The girl stopped running and they left in a hurried gallop, eventually slowing down before the gates. Leo rang the bell and Edgar said: “What is it?”

“Sorry for the ruckus earlier, I hope all is well. How are you all fairing?”

“We’re alright here. We can proceed with our travels.”

The carriage continued towards the gates. Eleanor felt empty and her mind was in a sort of downfall. Her thoughts were going all over, trying to connect the pieces of Helene. Now that she looked at the girl, she really did look like Helene, except for the skinny structure, eye-patch, and not to mention, black hair! It cannot be her, Eleanor thought. But there was this side of her mind that said otherwise. Inside her was a brooding conflict only to be shocked later with the truth.