Emerald Eye

The Princess and the King

As the curtains were drawn across their railings and the warm golden rays of sunlight lighted the dark walls of the bedchamber, the Chamberlain, a snob of his late forties by the name of Henry, was assigned to Princess Courtney's chambers and tasked himself daily with waking the young princess.

His eyes moved to the large bed of which he drew the drawings surrounding it. Sunlight bathed the white linen and the young, beautiful face of Princess Courtney of Anglor slowly woke from her slumber.

'Good morning your majesty,' he greeted cheerfully, trying to boost the morale of the sleepy adolescent, 'the maids have brought several gowns for your choice to wear to breakfast with Lord MacKavack and Sir Eric. These ones were made especially for you and they will make you look stunning. Directly from Parlècc, I hear'

He added the last phrases, examining the gowns. Courtney threw the blankets off her elegantly curved figure and emerged from behind the drawings. Five maids ushered her into a wardrobe to where three stunning gowns were brought forward.

'They say these are the new fashion,' called Henry awkwardly, as he strutted over to the window, uninterestedly looking out at bustling Seacliffe.

The new fashion?! fumed Courtney, holding her breath as the maids tightened the drawstrings within the whale-bone corset. Her usual gowns were much more comfortable but Henry had bought the dresses for her and so she must at least make the effort try them, even if she couldn't breathe.

'Do you like them your majesty?' asked Henry.

With another awkward statement he idly scanned the books stacked upon the Princess' bedside table.

I adore them, thought Courtney sarcastically and then gasping for highly restricted air, she said aloud, 'Oh, they're lovely.'

Henry felt slightly concerned, listening to the grumbling of the maids as they fitted a large hoop-like frame around her body to hold up the heavy silk skirt of the gown the reply was not entirely true. He strutted over to a four-legged stool and sat down just as awkwardly as his attempts at conversation. Finally, behind the wardrobe walls a bright red and white gown was draped over the top and attached to the underwear.

'How does it feel your highness?' asked Henry now getting up from the stool, unsure of where to position himself next.

'A little heavy but quite comfortable,' answered Courtney wary that her reply was not genuine. Her hoop-skirt was weighing her down but she managed to keep herself up. The final drawstring of the gown was tightened, much to the pain of Courtney. The wardrobe door opened to let the Princess be ushered out to a large mirror where a flurry of hands combs and makeup portrayed a stunningly elegant and beautiful teenaged girl as the Princess Courtney of Anglor.

The dining room of Seacliffe castle was filled with ornaments of much nationality. The finest porcelain, ancient crockery, silver cutlery and golden dishes all imported from across the globe. Upon which was served a breakfast of toast, eggs and several rashers of bacon. Four maids marched from out of the kitchen, three balancing the meals on their outstretched palms and a fourth holding a warm jug of coffee and a pitcher of grape juice.

Lord MacKavack and Sir Eric entered, their smooth white cuirasses gleaming in the warm sunlight. Heavy sabres hung from belts around their waists; ornamental naturally.

The two bowed low before the Princess and then took up the high-backed, carved seats. Courtney would have bowed as well if the tight corset had not restricted the movement of the waist. Instead she nodded before being seated.

Lord Victor MacKavack, Courtney and Eric's Pictan mentor was the only noble who was casual about one's rank and title. Courtney never minded and Eric felt more informal, much like the highlanders of Pictany, bearers of his admiration.