“I see. But—”
The Baron cut in. “Please listen, Your Highness. The closest full fuel asteroids are in an orbit quite far from here. The only bodies that are orbiting in the vicinity are small, barren asteroids.”
“But how is that possible...?”
“Do you doubt my words, Fïac?” said the Baron, throwing her a hard look. “I’m the one who knows the most about my own territory.”
“Forgive me,” she pled sincerely. “We must however leave for that asteroid, however far it may be.”
“There’s no need to go out of your way. I am accelerating the asteroids. In about twelve hours, they’ll be much closer.”
“Twelve hours...”
“So I hope you understand now, Fïac, why I would like it if you could make yourself at home in this mansion of mine. I ask you at least take this time to bathe and partake of the modest meal we can provide you. I too have served in the military, and as such I know what it’s like inside a connecting vessel. It pains me to think that a member of the imperial family has had to spend a significant amount of time inside one of those dreadfully cramped things.”
“I’m not ‘an imperial’ at the moment,” Lafier reminded him. “I am requesting you provide me with fuel as a Star Forces soldier.”
“Then as the lord of this territory, I request more details of the Star Forces. I do have that right.”
“Ah.” He’d hit her in a blind spot. “You are correct, Baron. It had slipped my notice. There’s a Goslauth navigation logbook aboard ship, so I’ll send you a copy of the sections you need.”
“That would be lovely, but I shall examine it at the dinner table,” the Baron replied, though begrudgingly.
Jinto, who had been listening from the side, felt ill at ease all the while. Was this how the upper classes of the Empire spoke to each other? It was like the universe’s most refined bickering match. Lafier’s tone of speech turned far more formal and ceremonious than when she conversed with Jinto.
She argued her case relentlessly. “I still think that if we headed out in our vessel now, we would get there faster. As soon as I hand you the copy of the logbook, we would like to make for the nearest fuel asteroid.”
“You would get there faster if you left now, yes,” said the Baron. “However, I’ve received reports that Your Highness’s connecting vessel needs a bit of inspection. So, no matter what, you wouldn’t be able to leave immediately.”
“Inspection? What part?”
“I haven’t heard the particulars. Please ask the one in charge of that. Though that engineer is busy working on it, so you shall have to ask after you take some relaxation.” The Baron did not let her get a word in edgewise about it. “Now I will be having my servants be your guides, so I humbly bid you wait here.”
The video cut out. Lafier didn’t take her eyes off that space on the wall. “He ignored you, too.”
Indeed, the only reason he’d even spared him any words of greeting was because Lafier introduced him. After that, he might as well have not been there. “Oh well. Can’t be helped. I’m just a noble next to an imperial. It’s only natural he’d fuss over you more.”
“If he really wanted to give us a ‘cordial welcome,’ he would have included you. Am I wrong? Or is this ‘complicated’ to you, too?”
“Oh, it ain’t complicated.” Jinto turned the conversation with the Baron over in his mind. He’d been having a listen with the mindset of an outside observer, so it hadn’t bothered him, but it was true that the Baron had acted fairly rudely toward him. Sadly, however, Jinto was used to being snubbed, so he couldn’t really muster any anger over it. “I’m just happy you got pissed on my behalf.”
“I’m not angry on your behalf.”
“Oh.” Jinto took a sip of his coffee.
“I’m saying that that attitude means he can’t be trusted. They’re inspecting the vessel? It sounds like a big ruse. I’m sorry to say it, but it’s difficult to believe that such a small domain even has the technology. I think he may be trying to stall us.”
“Why, though? I wouldn’t get too paranoid if I were you, Lafier.”
“But he’s so unbearable.”
“Well, I’m with you there...” Jinto folded his arms.
He couldn’t argue with that. In fact, the Baron was the type who didn’t even need to open his mouth for one to instinctually dislike him. That aversion to his character wasn’t nearly strong enough to be characterized as “hate,” per se, but it did fill him with misgivings regarding the prospect of getting to know the man. If the first Abh he ever met had been the Baron of Febdash instead of Lafier or Lexshue, he probably wouldn’t have ever warmed up to the Abh as a whole. But there was always the possibility that the Baron was some pitiful sap who was just too awkward at making good first impressions.
“Let’s think about it logically. Let’s suppose that the honorable Baron has some ulterior motive. What could that motive be? What’s in it for him to draw us into his estate?”
Lafier could only cock her head. She looked just as clueless as him.
Jinto took a stab at it. “Maybe he wants the vessel?”
“But why?” The princess looked up.
“Why, you ask? Isn’t it obvious? To flee the enemy fleet.”
“That vessel only seats two people.”
“Yeah, which would be more than enough for him to escape by his lonesome.”
“And abandon his servants?”
“So you don’t trust the Baron overall, but you do trust in his sense of justice?
“Don’t be such an onh (OHNYUH, idiot)! It has nothing to do with his own ethics. To abandon his servants and the citizens of his territory would be the greatest shame he could ever incur as a noble. He would be judged for that under imperial law, to say nothing of hijacking a ship. He’d be better off in a UH prison camp than face the destiny that would await him in the Empire.”
“I see what you’re saying. His noble rank saddles him with selœmecoth (SELEHMKOHTH, obligations).”
“Yes. Exactly,” she nodded.
But Jinto wasn’t ready to shelve his conjecture just yet. “Though you know, when people come to their wit’s end, they don’t exactly act all that rationally. Back when I was in Vorlash, there was this high-rise that’d caught fire, and I saw a bunch of folks jump from the 35th floor. Sure, they must’ve thought that dying that way was preferable to burning alive, but it made me think, man, that’s the one way I never want to go. Maybe our Baron here’s about to jump out the 35th floor, mentally?”
“Did he look like he was at his wit’s end to you?”
“I mean, no, not really...” Then he grinned. “But that just proves he can’t be plotting something, then.”
“I suppose not,” she admitted reluctantly.
“I say we accept his warm welcome. I shall join in partaking of dinner.”
Jinto glanced to the side, and spotted the Baron’s servants walking their way.
Chapter 9: The Bar Ébhoth (BAR EVOHTH, Smile of the Abh)
The bath did hit the spot. Upon steeping herself in the hot brimming water, Lafier could feel her fatigue roll away as surely as all her sweat. The wariness in her heart, however, proved harder to wash away.
Part of the reason lay in her attendant.
She couldn’t fathom why, but that “Seelnay” woman had entered the lavatory with her, offering to wait on her by washing her hair, scrubbing her back, and all manner of other things. That must have been her mistaken picture of the imperial family lifestyle.
In truth, apart from her early infancy, Lafier had never had others cleanse her. She was quite satisfied bathing the way she was used to, in water infused with satyrh (SAHTYOORR, liquid soap), after which she’d simply get dry using a bimuciac (BEEMOOKEEA, drying machine).
And yet, Seelnay refused to believe her no matter how many times she insisted.
“I implore you, please don’t be so hesitant.”
‘Hesitant?’ Did she honestly believe an
imperial would ever be so inhibited?
Lafier eventually grew weary of raising objection and decided to just make Seelnay happy. Hence, Seelnay was still on standby next to her tub, with a fluffy white gusath (GOOSAHTH, bathrobe) at the ready.
“I trust you’ve been made aware of the enemy fleet heading toward the Sfagnoff Marquessate?” asked Lafier.
“Yes.”
“And you aren’t frightened?”
“No, I’m not. I’m certain my lord will do something.”
“The Baron? What will he do?”
“That, I do not know.”
“Hmm... The Baron must have some trust placed in him.”
“But of course! He’s a trustworthy man!” replied Seelnay emphatically. “I would not be here today had it not been for him!”
“What do you mean?”
“It was my dream, as a child, to become naturalized as an imperial citizen. But I didn’t like the idea of entering military service, and I lacked the skills to be a good servant.”
“If it had been your childhood dream,” said Lafier, “Then surely you could have spent your formative years receiving an education.”
“On my home planet, the Dreuhynh Frizer (DRUOOHYINYUH FREEZAR, Countdom of Friezer), women have little status. They don’t have access to the higher education that would allow them to become servants. Women aren’t expected to become anything besides good wives or mothers. Before I learned of life on other worlds, I had believed that was the case for all terrestrial worlds.”
“Is that true?”
“Yes. My lord picked me up from that world and provided an education for me.”
“An education?” How much of an education was needed to learn how to scrub people’s backs?
“Yes. I’m in charge of checking and maintaining the antimatter fuel tanks. That’s what I’m studying.”
“Ahh. So you aren’t a lavatory specialist.”
“Correct. This is my first time working lavatory duties, since my lord has never tasked me with it.”
“So the other servants do wash the Baron’s back and such?”
“Yes.”
Lafier concluded that the dear Baron had a screw loose. It wasn’t exactly rare for the lord of a territory to order their servants to take care of their everyday necessities, but that usually only went as far as batiac (BAHTEEA, waitstaff) fixing their meals. Having them minister to him even in the lavatory was a step too far.
“I can tell you,” Seelnay continued, “he is a kind and gracious lord.”
“‘Kind’ doesn’t mean ‘competent,’” said Lafier uncharitably.
“What can I do,” she replied dreamily, “except have faith in my lord?”
“How many people live in this star fief?” asked Lafier, changing the subject.
“Only fifty. Though I haven’t ever counted the exact number. If you’re interested—”
“No, that’s fine,” Lafier cut in. “How many are Abh?”
“Two are Abh; My lord and his father. His younger sister has been living in Lacmhacarh for a long time.”
“Uh huh... Life here sounds a tad, well, lonely.”
“It’s undeniable that there isn’t much by way of thrills. Yet we live exceedingly comfortably, so I can’t say I’m particularly sorry for that fact.”
“‘Thrills’... so I’m providing some much-needed stimulation to this estate, am I?”
“Heavens, no!” She was shocked, as though literally bolt-stricken. “Attending to Fïac Lartnér is the highest honor. I do not think so lowly of you.”
I’d feel safer if you did value me more as a fresh thrill.
Further, she had tired of her hot bath. I’ll become a prune if I stay any longer. She stood up out of her tub.
“You’re so beautiful...” Seelnay sighed, spellbound by her perfectly symmetrical frame and smooth skin.
Lafier ignored her jejune praises. Her near-perfect figure was the fruit of genetic engineering and the aesthetic discernment of her ancestors, not of any effort on her part. Complimenting her beauty did little to ingratiate her.
Seelnay dressed the royal princess with the bathrobe, which absorbed the water droplets on her skin.
When she exited the lavatory, she encountered a lady servant older than Seelnay waiting with a heap of bathrobes and duhyc (DOOHYUH, bath towel) piled high in her arms.
Lafier was fed up. “Is there no drying machine anywhere in the estate?”
“Our lord is of the opinion that that machine is uncivilized,” responded the older servant, who wrapped Lafier’s wet bluish-black hair with a towel. Meanwhile, Seelnay replaced her sodden bathrobe with a new one.
If she had to be waited on by others like this... she might as well enjoy it. There was no denying it felt good.
I wonder whether Jinto is receiving the same generous pampering I am, Lafier found herself thinking. By lady servants.
Because if so, then... She didn’t know why, but the idea was very disagreeable.
When all the moisture was wiped from her body and hair, Lafier would be subjected to yet another ordeal.
She saw the change of dress they’d arranged for her, and scowled: “What happened to my uniform?” She thought it imprudent to criticize the choice of underwear, but she could take issue with what she was to wear over them.
Dyed a vivid yellow and studded everywhere with jewels such as duc (DOO, rubies) latécrirh (LAHTECREERR, diamonds) and désœmec (DESEHM, cat’s-eyes), it was a gaudy daüch long robe. The jumpsuit to be worn underneath it was a tasteful light green in color, and clearly high-value. It wouldn’t be inappropriate garb for strolling through a palace, let alone here.
“We are running it through the laundry,” replied the servant.
“Not by hand, I hope,” she quipped. They had had more than enough time to wash her uniform while she was in the bath.
“Our lord said wearing the uniform to the dinner table would be ‘barbarous.’”
“‘Barbarous’...?” She was not bothered by somebody viewing her uniform that way. Everyone had their own values, after all. But the man had some nerve, to push his personal opinions on others.
Lafier had absolutely no desire to dress up like some doll. This was not a playdate with the Baron. “I will only wear my uniform,” she declared. “I will wait here until it’s finished drying.”
The older servant scrunched her face, on the verge of tears. “But, Your Highness...”
“Fïac Lartnér, please...” entreated Seelnay. Once again, she seemed ready to rub her head against the floor.
Lafier’s pity for them only grew, and she cursed the stupidity of the whole situation.
“Fine,” Lafier gave in. “Then I will wear the daüch over my uniform. That should be acceptable.”
The two servants locked eyes.
“But the orders of far lonh (my honored one), they...”
“We can’t disobey Her Highness the Royal Princess, either...”
Their whispering made it to her ears, however much she didn’t wish to hear. So much commotion over nothing.
The thought didn’t cross Lafier’s mind that perhaps she was being too stubborn about her uniform. Instead, she gazed at the Baron’s maids, her eyes thoroughly unamused.
Was this some kind of dream? Here she was discussing which dress to wear to dinner while the Goslauth was battling with the enemy far, far away.
She dwelled on the Goslauth. On how the battle was probably over by now, on whether they prevailed. She hoped the ship and everyone on it were alive and well.
“We will comply with your request, Fïac.” Finally, a conclusion. “I will bring the uniform shortly,” said the older one.
The laundry had been ready, and so the uniform was fetched for her.
“Now quickly, before Your Highness catches cold,” she said, somewhat nonsensically, as she took her underwear.
Naturally, the maids wouldn’t allow Lafier to touch the clothes; they dressed her while she stood as still as a tree. Despi
te herself, Lafier ended up admiring them aloud. “You’re very skilled.”
“We are simply accustomed to this,” said the older servant.
“Accustomed to it? So you dress him every day?”
“Yes, that’s correct. Just as you must have servitors at your palace, Your Highness.”
“We do have béïcaiberiac (BAYKEBOOREEA, chamberlains), but they don’t wait on us to this extent.”
“My, how droll!” She simply would not believe her.
When she’d finished putting on her clothes — or more accurately, getting her clothes put on for her — Seelnay dutifully held a doréth (DOHRETH, tray) and inched closer. “Accessories for Your Highness.”
A bright red crepe wrapper was spread out on top of the tray, and the whole array dazzled as the precious metals and jewels on display vied to shine brightest.
“Fïac Lartnér, please, choose whichever ones catch your eye,” said the older servant.
Lafier squinted. Yet again, what she needed most was missing. “What happened to my circlet and my compuwatch?”
“We were told they’re ‘barbar—’”
“They are no such thing. I need them dearly.” She knew they were just acting on orders, yet she couldn’t quite quell her rage.
Did these people think her circlet and wrist computer were just trinkets, just fashion statements to her? Her computer contained her daimhath (DEFAHTH, electromagnetic wave crest), and the circlet was useless unless it was attuned to whoever equipped it.
The centerpiece tiara was exquisite, yes, but it was no replacement for her military-issue circlet.
“We understand, Fïac. As you desire.” The older one sighed her resignation and nodded to Seelnay. She scampered away, and came back with her circlet and compuwatch.
As soon as she put the circlet back on, her sense of frocragh returned, much to her relief. Running about without one of her six senses made her feel all but helpless.
She was guided from the lavatory area directly over to the bisïamh (BEESEEAHF, banquet hall).
The floor was a pale ultramarine. Across the walls and ceiling, a multitude of stars twinkled against the dark blue backdrop. Here, too, stereoscopic fish were swimming in three dimensions. Lafier’s eyes lingered on a giant scarlet one with yellow speckles cruising leisurely.
Princess of the Empire (JNC Edition) Page 17
