The Peasant's Prince

Chapter 3 - Chains of Service

I awoke to a gentle yet insistent tapping on my shoulder. Groggily, I opened my eyes to find a small, petite woman leaning over me, her innocent, soft tone urgent. "Miss, wake up! It's three in the morning. The head maid will be here any minute."

Dazed, I sat up and blinked, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. It took me a moment to remember where I was–sent to sleep in the servants' quarters after being sentenced to a life of servitude in the castle. 

The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls of the other handmaids. They were already dressed and standing in a neat line. I was met with looks of curiosity and judgment.

The petite handmaid, who had been so kind to wake me, looked at me with wide, sympathetic eyes. "Hurry," she whispered, before rushing to join the others. Her delicate frame moved quickly, taking her place in the line, her worried gaze flickering back to me.

I rubbed my eyes and swung my legs off the narrow cot, feeling the cold stone floor beneath my feet. Just as I was about to stand, the door swung open, and the head maid entered the room. She was a stern and meticulous looking woman, her posture rigid and her expression severe. Her eyes swept over the assembled handmaids before landing on me, still struggling to wake up.

"Good morning, ladies," she said, her tone sharp and commanding. "I see we have a new addition who doesn't yet understand the importance of punctuality."

I hurriedly stood up, my cheeks turning red. The other handmaids remained silent, their eyes forward, disciplined and ready for their duties. The petite handmaid who had woken me gave me a quick, sympathetic glance before focusing straight ahead.

"You," the head maid said, pointing directly at me. "Come here."

I stumbled forward, trying to gather my composure. "Yes, ma'am." I replied, my voice still groggy.

She looked me up and down, clearly unimpressed. "Elara, is it? You will learn quickly that in this castle, we do not tolerate laziness or tardiness. You are to be up and ready before I arrive, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, swallowing my nerves.

"Good. Now, go bathe yourself and get a fresh set of clothes from the servants' storage. We wouldn't want you frightening the guests with your appearance." She raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing on her lips, as if daring me to react.

I nodded quickly, watching her and the other handmaids exit the room. I hadn't even noticed how filthy I was since leaving the dungeons. I had grown accustomed to it after spending so many days there. But now, my new life has begun. I was determined to navigate it with as much strength that I could muster.

I hurried to the bathing chamber, grateful for the chance to wash away the grime of the dungeons. The water was cool against my skin, a welcome fondness to the damp and filth that had clung to me for days. As I scrubbed, I could feel the tension easing from my muscles, the weight of my confinement momentarily lifted.

Afterward, I tied my long orange hair into a practical bun. I secured it with a scrap of ribbon I had found in the servants' quarters. The fresh clothes awaited me–a simple shift that hung loosely on my frame, a reminder of the toll the food shortages had taken on my once-sturdy figure. I tugged at the fabric, trying in vain to adjust it to fit better. A pang of annoyance sparked at my own self-consciousness.

Standing before the mirror, I examined my reflection critically. My freckles stood out against my pale skin like they were mocking me. With a resigned huff, I straightened my shoulders and forced myself to move forward.

I found the head maid in the bustling corridor, her sharp gaze scanning the maids scurrying to and fro with trays and linens. When she spotted me, a small smirk played on her lips–an acknowledgment, perhaps, of my improved appearance.