Questioning equality

Chapter. 1: same old same old

Oliver sat outside with a couple of other male servants. The female guards glared at them from across the room. Some of them flinched while the older slaves just sat there. A new one, very young, seemed fresh and was very jumpy, always looking around like someone was going to attack him from out of the blue. After a while, the door opened, and the guests exited, calling their slaves to their side. The youngest princess exited, her light hazelnut hair falling down to a little past her shoulder, and called for her slave. The new guy anxiously hurried behind her, his head hung low as she cheerfully strutted down the hall. The eldest daughter walked out next in a kind of a huff. She was going to be the next queen when her mother died so she tried to be like her in every way: the way she walked; the way she talked; the way her hair was tied up into a bun; and she had a huge distaste for males. She didn't even need to call her slave, just snapped her fingers and he sprung up behind her as she walked off. One of the security guards opened the door and glared at Oliver, flatly stating, "your mistress will be out in a second." She closed the door and there was silence as Oliver just sat there waiting patiently. The guards glared at Oliver as if it was his fault that they had to stay there longer. After a few minutes Morgen came out, her face blank with no sign of emotions, her stare as cold as ice, as she hastened her pace, not even bothering to call her slave as she knew he would follow. Her mother walked out behind her with a pleasant smile on her face. Oliver followed behind Morgen matching her pace but still leaving space between the two. As Morgen walked she stayed quiet acting like she was above Oliver, when they got to her chambers as he went to take care of the necessities such as drawing her bath or get her food she simply dismissed him clearly not wanting to deal with a human presence at the moment. For most this was typical behavior no women would want to talk to the lowly man, but Oliver knew different, he knew something was wrong.

When Oliver got to the slave chambers he had to duck to fit into the 4 foot door frame, and as he entered he almost tripped over someone who was fast asleep on the floor. The slave chambers were small and no one got beds, they just slept on the floor, and, on the occasional moment if it got too crowded, they would just sleep on top of each other. Oliver made his way to his spot way in the back. No one had any official spot but unless you were new you had an unsaid designated spot, as most of the guys worked together under the unsaid bro code. He found his area, and as he laid down he noticed the new kid trying to push his way into the tangle of bodies as many of the guys kept shifting to make it harder for him, the jealousy that this young kid got special treatment just because the youngest princess took a liking to him was very clear. Oliver tried to ignore it as he rolled over on the cold floor and put his arm underneath his head like a pillow as he drifted to sleep.

The next morning Oliver woke up earlier then the others to get a head start on his day. It was something he had been doing for years as it allowed him to prepare with out being stuck behind a large group. As he moved around all of the other sleeping slaves and made his way into the latrine he had to brace himself as the smell hit him like a bull, when he first arrived he was told that he would get used to the smell yet after 6 years he still could barely manage it. He kept moving and glanced at the small dusty cracked mirror and tried to make himself look presentable by patting his hair down with his hand as well as doing a few stretches trying to get the soreness to go away. As he did a few other slaves occupied the latrine as they tried to get ready before the rest of the slaves were crammed inside. He exited as a few more walked in. Oliver walked over to the dress room, one of the few good things about being the servant of the royals was you were required to wear semi clean clothes. He put on the black shirt and the black pants, which stood out compared to the other servants who had dirty brown rags.

At 5 in the morning the night guards came and woke up everyone to start work. Everyone crowded the latrine and the few who woke up early got in line for the small bowl of bland dry oatmeal, at least that's what they were told it was instead it looked more solidified chunks of ash. Oliver gulped down his breakfast and went over to help prepare for the royalty's meal. He entered the kitchen and as soon as he opened the door and was instantly blasted with smells of bacon and eggs that made his mouth water. He shook his head and went to his station in the kitchen where he proceeded to prepare the area for the cooks. After a few hours, once he and the other slaves finished preparing the kitchen and making it even cleaner then the last night shift had managed, the cooks came in to prepare the royal meal . Once it was finished and Oliver was given a tray filled with eggs, bacon, and three flapjacks he knocked on Morgans door and waited. After a moment of silence her voice came out with little emotion. "Come in." Given the verbal consent, Oliver walked in and approached the princess's dining table and placed the food down. The food sat there steaming, but Morgen stayed laid on her bed not moving. Her brown hair was out of her usual ponytail and was sprawled out in a tangled mess, her skin was as pale as snow from years of staying inside reading. Oliver waited patiently as the grandclock ticked loudly as time moved by. Morgen still did not move wallowing in self pity, she had been like this ever since she started her practices for the ceremony and it was frankly getting on his nerves. He waited a few more minutes before he remarked,
"food is just getting colder" he was promptly ignored so he let out a sigh before muttering "wasteful ingrate." He turned to look out the window before a shoe collided with his head.