The War of Nightingale

Chapter 3

Writer's note: Hi everyone! I just wanted you to know that this book is not done! It's been a long time since the last chapter, but I promise that it's coming back. I'm sad to tell you, however, that EmTheMinecraftTurd won't be co-writing with me anymore. She has given me permission to take over this book, and continue with it as I please. She will be helping me out with it behind the scenes with little things, but other than that, it's mostly up to me.

 Anyway, I just wanted to make that clear. Enjoy! --Lex

Bright rays of sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains of a young Prince's bedroom, stirring him awake. His eyes fluttered open, lazily spotting a small beast sprawled out across his covers. He smiled to himself for a moment before lifting his hand to stroke it's soft fur. The beast stretched out long, but never even opened it's eyes despite the Prince's scratches moving from it's stomach to it's chin. He sat up in his bed after a pleasant few minutes of peace, before ultimately forcing himself to rise. And conveniently timed too, as a knock could be heard at his door just a moment later, followed by a voice.

"My Prince, may I come in?" A woman's voice asked politely.

"Yes, of course. As always, Rosemary." He replied. Rosemary was one of his two personal servants, she being his morning servant. But he'd much rather consider her a friend instead.

Rosemary walked in and curtsied, before walking over to his closet to pick out his wardrobe for the day, as she usually did. He made it clear to her several times that he was perfectly capable of picking out his own clothes every morning, but she always insisted, saying that not only was it a part of her job, but that she enjoyed it. He eventually gave up. But Rosemary's search was interrupted by yet another knock at the door.

"Are you awake, my prince?" A familiar voice called out. He hoisted himself off his bed and walked open his birch bedroom door. There, stood a young, strong woman with fiery red hair. Her posture was pristine, as was her blue uniform and leather armor. He greeted her with a simple "Good Morning, Petra."

"To you, too, my prince. We must get going soon. Can you be ready and meet me by the front gate in an hour?" She said with a neutral expression. He agreed, and with that, she nodded, then turned on her heel to leave. He closed the door behind him, but could still hear the fading of the soles of her leather boots against the stone floors as she walked away.

After a minute or two of friendly conversation with Rosemary, she finally stepped out of his closet, holding a neatly folded pair of clothes in her hands. Looking at the fabric, he immediately recognized the pattern, and smiled. She had knowingly picked out his favorite outfit for the day, which brought a smile to his face. This is why he loved his maid, among other things. He grabbed the clothes with a quick thank you before ducking away to go change while Rosemary tidied up a bit. After a swift costume change, he came out wearing a pristinely white dress shirt, with a skin tight, orange vest over top of it. The vest had elegant red embroidery and an embroidered sun emblem on each shoulder. And with leather boots and terra cotta colored trousers, his outfit was complete.

"Rosemary, do you know if breakfast is ready?" He asked over her shoulder, watching her put some calligraphy pens he had been using the night before into a small vase on his desk.

"Oh, yes. It's waiting for you downstairs." She answered. "You might even be able to catch your mother."

Upon hearing that, he rushed out the door, leaving it wide open. Seconds later, a "thank you!" could be heard echoing through the stone corridor, the boy's voice pouncing off the walls. Rosemary merely smiled to herself and shook her head.