Servienne (LGBT)

20-Send the Valet

    It hadn't even been three days and he felt like death. Seventeen hours a day for three days straight, he woke up and went with some escort to a room on the far side of the castle--which had once been a school room for the royal children's' studies--where he met with Dorian Mackovic, an older man about Erwin's age with peppered black hair and deep set, tired brown eyes. He had taught each of Erwin's four children everything from etiquette to world history to how to walk. And now, he was teaching all of that to Noll again, but apparently everything Noll had spent his life doing was wrong and he had to re-learn how to do it all properly. Yeah. He had to re-learn how to walk.

  Though, he had to admit it wasn't all bad. He got a brush up on the history books from the Civil Wars of Nashali, the kingdom to the west, to the split of the island country of Mareid from Alksber to the south. He also got to know more about the geography of the kingdoms. Of course, there was Synfil in the northwest, Mareid in the west, Yoheim in the center and slightly east, Nashali in the east, and Alksber in the south, but he was also forced to know their geological make-up (fertility of soil, biotic components, etc.) and the small towns and cities outside of the capital cities.

  He remembered when he lived in Synfil and visited the capital of Ignis for the Festival of the Sun in the summer months. It was so interesting to him to see such a wild lifestyle as was exhibited by the people outside of Amali, his hometown in the north of Synfil. Amali was a town focused on the fur trade with its colder, rockier, forested environment, but the capital city was surrounded by rich farmlands, towns and villages, warmth, and life. It truly was the city of life. But at the same time, the thick Synfilian accents always made it so hard to understand, and being raised by a Heimen father, he was picked on a lot for his "foreign" accent.  The joke was on them--at least when he spoke in Heimen, the official language of Yoheim, he didn't sound like he was gargling water in his mouth; and when he spoke classic Synfilian, he also didn't sound like the wispy butterfinger like most of those from Yoheim did.

  Well, Dorian clearly didn't know that Noll had been born in Synfil because at every mention of the country in the history and customs books, he saw a look of disdain crossed the man's face. Noll smirked to himself each and every time. After the fourth day, Dorian moved onto mathematics and horseback riding. That fourth day could honestly be titled as one of the worst days of his life. Not only did he nearly snap a femur bone falling off his horse at 28 miles an hour or so, but Dorian said that he was so inept at understanding basic algebra that even a two year old who didn't know what a letter was could solve it faster than him. Hey, Noll had to admit, that one stung.

  He went back to his room which, until he completed valet training, was to remain his Assistant Cook bedroom, and he plopped down on the bed. The room certainly wasn't as nice as Aaron's, but it was cozy, with beige walls and wooden floors. The bed was small and for one person, but he knew from the way that the servants all complained about their backs that his mattress had to be five times more comfortable. It beat the hovel he had been living in before he moved into the castle.

  Noll sighed, letting himself slip into his thoughts. He thought of his father and what he would have to say about Noll working for the prince, about him working under a king who had taken so much from so many. Noll had told himself he wouldn't let his emotions get in the way, but sometimes he couldn't help himself. Whenever Aaron made thoughtless comments about this or that--about the useless servitude or how disgusting they were; about how the people were just complaining about not having enough food because they were being too lazy to work for the money; about the Liberty Syndicate's ideology on a free world being ridiculous and corrupt--Noll couldn't help but feel a knot curling in his chest, fury threatening to bubble to the surface. He had the Synfilian temperament regardless of how calm he outwardly seemed, as he often tried to swallow it as much as possible. And now more than ever, as a valet who would be surrounded by all sorts of aristocrats spouting that nonsense, he had to be careful with that temperament.

  Jolting up as a knock came to the door, Noll sat up fast, hair mused now. He had been given a wardrobe of finer clothes, but since Dorian had insisted he wasn't technically a valet, when Dorian told him to start wearing the outfits and making himself look presentable, Noll shot back with the argument that he wasn't technically a valet yet, so he didn't have to where the uniform for it or pretend to be something he wasn't.

    Dorian had fumed.

  "Come in," He called, trying to at least button his shirt all the way. A small servant boy came in, bowing. "Prince Aaron has requested an audience, sir," He said. Noll sighed, but he couldn't help but smile. "Of course, he did."

  It had only been a few days, but Aaron was anxious to know how Noll was doing. When the knock came at his door, Aaron had been sitting there waiting in the quiet, but he suddenly realized that it might seem strange that he was just sitting there ready. He ran over to his desk, sitting down and pretending to be sifting through papers, not wanting to seem as desperate as he was. With a cool, calm tone that he forced his voice to comply to, he cleared his throat and called. "Come in."

  "Prince Aaron." The door opened and Noll looked across the room to see Aaron sitting at his desk, going through papers, but it seemed a little rushed and random. He grinned when Aaron boredly looked over at him, but it was clear he was full of energy, his leg bouncing uncontrollably like he did when he was impatient. "Dismissed," Aaron called to the servant standing behind Noll, and the boy nodded, slipping out and closing the door. He stared at Noll coldly. "You can drop the snark act, moron," Noll teased. Aaron huffed in agitation, standing and rushing over, a bright smile crawling across his face. Noll leaned down, kissing his forehead. "Tell me, I have to know," Aaron said. "How is training?"

  "Hell. Mackovic is really enjoying himself watching me struggle. And god, the way he talks about Synfil.... The idiot doesn't even suspect that maybe I have a personal connection to it." Aaron frowned. "You should say something. Sir Mackovic tends to have his own way of seeing things and doing things, which is what makes him the best, but I'm sure if you said something, he would readjust the way he addresses Synfil if it bothers you that much." Noll shrugged. "I'll just kick his ass tomorrow in sword-fighting and hand-to-hand. Little does he know that I roughed the streets of Synfil for all my life." To this, Aaron laughed then raised an eyebrow. "Why'd you leave Synfil, anyways?" He asked curiously, to which Noll flinched. "Um... Well..." How should he word this? "Uh, after my father passed away, my uncle sent me here. Well, not my real uncle, but a family friend. He said that Yoheim is a place of new opportunities," He explained. Aaron nodded in understanding. "It's supposed to be. That's what I want it to be, anyway."

  Noll smiled, taking Aaron's face. "Never mind all of that. I'm here, so what did you really want me here for, Prince Aaron?" Through his hands, he could feel the shudder that ran through Aaron, and his grin widened. Aaron blushed brightly, his whole face turning red, and Noll thought perhaps even his shoulders were crimson by that point. "I really wanted to see you. Is that weird to say? I swear, I'm not being clingy, I just," Aaron hesitated before sighing, "Okay, that's exactly what I'm being."

  They both laughed, and Noll pressed his forehead to Aaron's, taking a moment to just appreciate that moment. They were in Aaron's room with Noll as his valet; they stood in the light, laughing together; they were happy; they were together.

    Why didn't he just take the job sooner?