by Aya Ling
Back in her royal chambers, Valeria could not wait to cast off the heavy gown and jewelry and slip into her everyday voluminous gown.
“This will take a lot of patching-up.” Winifred surveyed the huge rips in the waist anxiously. There was nothing new about the princess outgrowing her gowns, but this time the dress seemed to be beyond repair.
“Throw it away.” Valeria pulled out a large golden hairpin and fluffed out her curly hair. “I don’t think I’ll want to wear that dress again. Ever.”
There was a pattering of footsteps in the corridor. Effie burst in.
“Oh, Your Highness!” She panted. “The Duke of Savona departed just a while ago! He said he had some important meeting that couldn’t be delayed. And the Baron of Makani said that he suddenly remembered that there was this urgent family matter that suddenly came up, so he sends his regrets. And the Earl of Linderall—”
“—cannot stay, either,” Valeria finished wryly. “Well, I’d say good riddance. I don’t think I’d want to see them at dinner either.”
“This is terrible,” Effie wailed, wringing her hands. “Everyone is talking about Your Highness, how your dress burst open, how you looked so different from what they imagined, and how humiliating it was to have all three suitors competing to lose your hand. Oh, it sounded so terrible, I just couldn’t help coming to tell you...”
“Effie,” Valeria said with all the dignity befitting her royal station. “Be. Quiet.”
Effie promptly shut up, but she couldn’t help sending desperate signals to Winifred and making flamboyant gestures with her hands.
“What’s to become of Her Highness?” she mouthed silently.
Winifred shook her head slowly. “Not now,” she mouthed back.
“Please refrain from speaking behind my back.” Valeria settled in front of her mirror. “I can see you quite plainly without my back turned, thank you. Effie, brush my hair.”
“Oh! Yes, yes, of course.” Effie rushed forward.
When she was done, Valeria yawned. “It’s been a really tiring day. I’m going to bed. And honestly speaking, I’m kind of glad that I didn’t get a husband anyway. They didn’t look very nice to me.”
Winifred and Effie looked at each other.
“Indeed, Your Highness, it has been a long day. We understand that you need to rest,” Winifred said in a sympathetic voice.
“Um—don’t you want any supper?” Effie ventured. The princess never went to bed without a meal.
Valeria drew the blankets to her chin. “No. Just leave me be.”
When her maid and nanny left, Valeria got up silently, slid off the bed, and stood before her mirror.
As indifferent as she appeared to be, the day’s event was rather humiliating. She couldn’t lie to herself and pretend that she didn’t mind being a spectacle in front of her people.
Valeria gripped the flesh on her stomach. She turned sideways, so her bulging belly was visible. If she slouched when she walked, she might even pass for a pregnant woman.
“I suppose my waist is thicker than most girls,” she mused. “Perhaps I had better eat less after all.”
The next day at breakfast, the princess announced that she was going to diet. The king, who was digging his fork into a mountain of bacon and eggs, paused abruptly.
“Are you certain, Valeria?” he said mildly. “You never seemed to want to diet before.”
“Isn’t this what you and Mother always wanted? To see me become thinner?”
“Well,” the king put his fork down, “If this is what you desire, then I shall not try to stop you.”
The queen smiled in satisfaction. Bringing in those suitors might turn out to be beneficial, after all. Upon seeing the reactions from those suitors, the princess had finally decided that she did need to lose weight.
“If you feel that way, darling, then we cannot be happier,” the queen said. “Have a cup of peppermint tea? I heard that it does wonders for your figure.”
However, old habits die hard.
In three days, Valeria had gone from eating plain vegetables to sneaking in bites of roast beef. In a week, she was eating the same amount of food as before: breakfast, morning tea, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner, and a tasty snack before bed.
The queen was exasperated. The king was mildly amused.
“This cannot go on!” the queen fumed. “We have to find a way to make her change.”
Two
A few days later, the queen made an announcement over breakfast. Both Valeria and the king were happily eating large amounts of artichoke quiche, buttered brioche, ricotta cheese sandwiches, and croissants dipped in coffee. The queen swept them a look of disdain and rapped her silver spoon against a crystal goblet to gain their attention.
“I have decided,” the queen said. “It’s off to training school with you.”
Valeria, who was drinking chocolate syrup coffee from her favorite ceramic mug, almost choked.
“Tr—training school?”
“That’s right,” the queen said, her voice severe. “I’ve been thinking all night long, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it is imperative that you leave the palace. If you continue to stay, it will be the worse for you.”
Valeria stared at her mother, a half-eaten croissant in her hand. All her life, she only heard of stories of princesses running off to do daunting tasks, but now her mother was actually forcing her to leave?
“I’ve already decided upon sending you to the Royal Rivieran Academy of Fighting Arts,” the queen continued. “They have an excellent program designed for training noble young people. Lady Matilda herself was trained there before she went on to fight dragons and dark lords.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“Valeria, it’s for your own good,” the queen said, after rising and walking towards her. “Do you really want to stay like this—” she made a motion of circling her waist “—for the rest of your life?”
“Jacinda...” the king began.
“Mossimo, do not take her side. You have spoiled her too long. Now it is time that she learned something.”
Valeria tilted her head. “Father has been fat for years, but you don’t complain.”
“Because princesses don’t get fat,” the queen said firmly. “Have you ever heard of a fat princess? No, of course not. A year in Riviera will do you good. You are not leaving the Academy until you reach a satisfactory figure.”
Valeria looked towards her father for support, but he shrugged.
“Sorry, darling,” he said, “your mother has already made the arrangements.” He lowered his voice, so that only she could hear. “Why don’t you give it a try, and if you really don’t like it, send me a message, and I’ll issue a letter for your release.”
Release. It sounded like she was going to prison.
Much to Valeria’s irritation, Winifred and Effie did not share her dislike for going to Academy.
“Change of scene might do you good, Your Highness,” Winifred said, patting her broad shoulder. “You always spend most of your time cooped up in the palace.”
“Oh, how exciting!” breathed Effie, doing a jerky little dance around the room. “It sounds like you are going on an adventure! And who knows, perhaps Your Highness will meet a handsome prince there!”
Valeria snorted. With the outcome of the archery contest, she doubted that any man would take any interest in her.
“Perhaps you will manage to slay a giant in the end,” Effie went on. “Or take on a mountain lion. Oh, how exciting it is!”
“You can go,” Valeria said, exasperated. “You appear to like it a lot more than I do.”
“Your Highness!” Effie sounded shocked. “I was just trying to make you feel better! Training school doesn’t have to be some ordeal!”
“Ordeal.” Valeria propped her chin on her hands and looked at her reflection in the mirror. A round, chubby face stared back at her. Nothing in that face looked anything like a dragon-slaying princess. “You picked the right w
ord, Effie. I haven’t taken any fighting lessons. Do you think that I am going to have fun? They will laugh at me, just as they did at the contest.”
“It won’t be that bad,” Winifred said, trying to soothe her. “You are a princess, after all. No one can bully you. And think about it, most princesses are learning how to fight now. You can still catch up with the trend.”
“Mother doesn’t really want me to learn swordplay and combat,” Valeria muttered. “She cares more about how I look. She is just using the Academy as an excuse to make me lose weight.”
“Well, that’s not exactly a bad thing, is it?” Effie said brightly. “Your hair is nice and curly, your eyes are pretty, and you show dimples when you smile. If you lose some weight, I’m certain that fool of a duke will be regretting his decision!”
Valeria wasn’t much comforted. Having grown up in the safe, familiar environment of the palace, she just wasn’t ready to leave. Especially so suddenly.
They were to depart for Riviera in a week. It was going to be a long trip: Amaranta was just a small island in the Archipelago, many miles away from the Continent. The prime minister estimated that it would take a week on the sea to reach the southern tip of Riviera, then they would travel northward for another week before finally arriving at the capital, Avon.
The king made all the necessary preparations. Despite some protests from the queen, he loaded up the ship with cartloads of fruits and vegetables, dried meats and cheeses, and pies and pastries. Other than fishing, there was no other source of food while they were on sea, and the king knew well that Valeria could not stand eating the same thing every day.
When it was time to leave, the king and queen and all the courtiers gathered at the wharf to see her off.
The day was bright and hot and sunny, just like any typical day in Amaranta, though the winds were strong at the coastline. The seawaters glittered in shades of turquoise and azure, and fluffy white clouds floated in the clear blue sky. Valeria shaded her eyes from the sun and wondered if the coasts at Riviera were half as beautiful as what she could see now.
“Farewell, my daughter,” the queen said, eyeing Valeria’s plump waistline with apprehension. Hopefully that waistline would become smaller after a year or two at the Academy. Then she turned to Winifred and Effie. “Write back often, and report on the princess’s progress.”
The two curtsied. “Will do, Your Majesty.”
The king laid a hand on Valeria’s shoulder. “Do your best, my dear. If the Academy truly does not agree with you, do not hesitate to write home.”
“I know, Father.” Valeria shrugged and tried to smile cheerfully. It was not as if she was sent on a dangerous quest, like the heroes she read about in story books.
The journey on the sea was terrible. At first, Valeria and her maids talked and laughed while watching the boat ride over the waves and occasionally spotting a whale or flying fish leap from the sea. But soon, they all got seasick, despite Winifred having brought some herbal remedies. Valeria vowed that she would never board a ship again—but then remembered that if she wanted to return home, she had to take the ship again.
Moreover, even though the king had ensured the ship was well stocked, Valeria was still intolerant of eating the same food every day. Due to warm weather, many foods, such as their tomatoes and soft cheeses, spoiled easily, and soon they were left with nuts, biscuits, and dried fruits.
“Take that away,” Valeria said when Winifred brought her a bowl of walnuts and dates. “I don’t want to eat that again. Have you anything else in the cabin?”
The crew had tried to fish, but since they forgot to bring the appropriate seasonings on board, the fish, fresh as it was, was too bland for Valeria’s fussy palate.
The only positive outcome was that Valeria’s dress became much easier to slip on; Winifred and Effie had no problem zipping up her back or making sure her sash was long enough to tie around her waist. She was still plump, but no longer the small elephant that frightened away her suitors in the archery contest.
After a week on the sea, they finally arrived at Hammond, a major seaport in the south of Riviera.
When Valeria got off the ship, she couldn’t help admiring the size of the harbor, which she estimated to be several times larger than Amaranta’s biggest seaport. Magnificent ships of timber, a couple of them containing four or five decks, were anchored at the harbor, with crewmen busily unloading the cargo. Riviera had made its fortune with sea trade, making its inhabitants wealthier on average than their neighbors. Several decades ago, they had even colonized most islands in the Archipelago, Amaranta included, and though the islands had now gained independence, commerce between Riviera and the island tribes have remained robust, so Valeria had learned Rivieran since she was a child. Known as the common tongue, the Rivieran language was widely used in both the Continent and the Archipelago.
Soon, the sailors had finished unloading the luggage, and Winifred had managed to engage a private carriage for Valeria and horse-drawn wagons for the rest of the crew.
As they headed inland, Valeria could not wait to eat her first meal in Riviera. Her taste buds demanded something fresh and appetizing. She desperately needed a change from the stocked food on the ship.
Valeria was in luck. The Hammond marketplace, which sold practically everything imaginable, had one enormous section devoted entirely to food. And not just Rivieran food either—food from the Continent, the Archipelago, and even distant kingdoms in the Far West could be found.
“Oh, let’s have fried chicken!” Effie said, pointing to a stall where a vendor was breading chicken and throwing the pieces into sizzling oil.
“How about roasted peppers stuffed with rice instead? I haven’t seen those back home,” Winifred said. She did not want Valeria gaining weight so soon. Better to stick to foods that had less fat.
Valeria was gazing around in appreciation and awe. Back in Amaranta, the market was probably a quarter size of the Hammond market before her. The variety of spices sold overwhelmed her, and the exotic dishes prepared and sold were much more than what they had in Amaranta. She tried the stuffed peppers and also rice balls wrapped in bamboo leaves, shrimp curry cooked with coconut milk, fried onions served with yogurt, beef broth topped with cilantro and thyme, and mango sherbet. Whatever weight she lost on the sea was about to now be regained.
If Rivieran food was like this, then she would not mind living here.
However, as they advanced north to the capital, Valeria’s good mood dissipated. As the climate grew cooler, the variety of the foods became much smaller.
On the third day after leaving Hammond, they stopped at a tavern called McDonnell’s Stew.
It was spacious, clean, and orderly. Rows of long tables were arranged exactly the same distance apart, waiters bustled around to make sure not a chair was out of place, and the menu was printed with wooden blocks. Valeria had never seen any menu that was not handwritten.
“Vegetable stew,” she read aloud. “Corn stew. Beef stew.”
“Lamb stew, bean stew…fruit stew?” Effie said incredulously. “Is there nothing else but one-pot meals here?”
“Hush,” Winifred said, seeing that they were attracting a lot of attention from other diners. “Personally, as it’s so cold and windy outside, I think stew is just the thing for dinner.”
As the portions were hearty and the prices reasonable, Valeria and the crew did enjoy the meal.
However, as they traveled further north, even the least picky sailor in their crew was discouraged. Most taverns were extremely similar to McDonnell’s Stew; it seemed that the people in Riviera did not bother with cooking other than throwing meat and vegetables in one pot
“How about roasting, grilling, or frying?” Valeria asked, and the cooks looked at her as though she were foreign. Well, she was.
Winifred was also unhappy. She missed having a cup of tea every day, and now she could only find either ale or water. She did manage to purchase some tea when strolling through the Hamm
ond market, but could not find any in the inns or taverns they lodged in.
Finally, they reached the capital, Avon.
Valeria raised the curtains and looked up at the city walls; they must have been at least three-stories high. Sentries patrolled the top, their spearheads and helmets gleaming in the sun. Below was a deep moat the color of dark green . The only way to enter the city, at least from this side, was through the drawbridge.
The city itself was impressive. The main street, paved with cobblestone, was wide enough to fit five carriages. It was flanked with neatly planted elm trees and stately brick houses. The people were tall and slender, and most of them had dark hair and pale skin. They walked at a brisk pace; there was much less talk and chatter compared to Hammond. While there was an occasional tavern displaying a sign for meals, there were a lot fewer street vendors selling food compared to Amaranta. When the coachman finally spotted a place that did not seem to resemble McDonnell’s Stew, Valeria could not wait to get off the carriage.
It was a small restaurant run by a chef from Tintagel, another Continent kingdom directly east of Riviera. Of all the kingdoms, Tintagel probably came second to Riviera in terms of wealth and power, but while Tintagel fell behind Riviera in military and economic aspects, it surpassed the latter far more with its elegant cuisine.
“I agree.” Valeria forked a piece of spinach-and-mushroom quiche and ate with relish. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to not be eating stew again.”
“Ah, you are not the first one to say that, madam,” the chef said, grinning. “Even Riviera people from the south complain when they travel up here.”
When Valeria returned to her carriage, she caught a glimpse of a building that could only be the royal palace. Though seen from the distance, the palace already looked intimidating. It was like a small mountain. Numerous turrets and towers jutted from the top, and the higher the floors were, the more mist covered them. The very top tower was shrouded in white. Perhaps it was high enough to reach the clouds, or the weather was too foggy. At any rate, now having seen the palace, it was easy to see why Riviera was regarded the most dominant and influential kingdom whether on the Continent or among the Archipelago. Only a kingdom of immense wealth and power could construct such a palace.
