Chapter Two

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The kitchen was filled to the brink with workers barking orders and commands to one another, shouting over the collective clanging of pots, pans, and cooking utensils. Sweat beaded down the necks and frustrated faces of the chefs and kitchen staff as they sweltered the heat of the ovens, the numerous occupants in the kitchen, and the constant movement. The air was filled with the sweet aroma of luscious pastries, tasty fruit-filled pies, mouth-watering meats, and the lingering fragrance of freshly-baked bread.

"Carson? Carson!" hollered the head chef. His loud, effeminate voice was lost amidst the sounds of the kitchen. "Blasted boy never around when you need him," he grumbled under his breath. "Carson!" he shouted once again, beads of spit flinging from his mouth. His caterpillar-like mustache twitched and his face grew purple with rage and heat.

"Here I am," piped a wispy boy entering in from the hallway. He had shaggy, blonde hair that fell in a swoop, covering his left eye.

"Where were you?" The chef briefly paused, waiting for a response. Carson opened his mouth to prepare his story. "Bah, nevermind, it's of no importance. You're here now and that's what matters. I have an errand for you." 

The head chef was an obtuse man with wads of neck fat appearing as extra chins. Carson found himself staring at it, watching it wobble in correlation to the chef's movements. The chef started piling several items on to a nearby tray: two loaves of fresh bread, a flask of red wine with matching goblets, and a wedge of fresh curdled cheese. The master chef placed the bounty onto a nearby table and dusted his hands together. "I need you to deliver these to the king's study. Do you think can handle it?" The Master Chef arched his fuzzy eyebrows in an almost comical way. 

"It shouldn't be too hard Master Lucias," Carson said accommodatingly. He hated being talked down to, but that was his life. 

"Excellent." The chef ignored the boy's snickering with a roll of his eyes. "Off with you now, and don't dawdle around. I need you back here to manage these dishes!" 

Like the kitchen, the numerous hallways were chock-full of people pushing and shoving. It was difficult maneuvering his way through the crowd of servants, maids, and knights. A look of great concentration and disgruntlement adorned the boy's face as he wandered through the elegantly-decorated corridor of the castle. He was well-versed in the secret corridors that coursed through the castle like a labyrinth, but sometimes he preferred the scenic route.

Carson found his way through to the gallery. Hanging on the walls were glorious banners depicting the Lysander coat of arms: a barn-swallow in mid-flight, clasping an olive branch in its beak. The swallow symbolizing humble beginnings and the olive branch symbolizing a lasting peace. Backing the swallow was a shield divided into four sections: two bright green and two dark blue sections. Each of the colors angled to form a chessboard. The green symbolizing fertility and the blue symbolizing a melancholy past. A lesson and hope for the future of the Julien bloodline. 

In addition to the banners, several large paintings showed various locales of De Strada. Some of them were based off fairie tales while others were of real places, some with historical significance, others for their natural beauty. The nobility had a love for art, though Carson never understood why. He always thought it would be better to visit the places in person rather than just stare at them on the wall. 

Passing through the gallery to shorten his route to the study, Carson spotted a young noble, eight years his senior ambling through the collection. Carson ducked his head to avoid eye contact and the reprimand for being in a place he probably shouldn't be. He hurried on his way to the king's study when the noble called out to him. 

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