The Secret of the Seven Princesses
Sanctum Chapter 6

Ty had to smile as he brought his wine goblet to his lips. Valeria had been explaining the odd behavior of the princesses over the last few minutes, and her crazy hand gestures and facial expressions were nothing short of hilarious. When her eyes popped out during her explanation of a particularly unusual experience with the youngest princess, Ty could hardly keep his wine from spilling down the front of his tunic.

"…and she's always falling, you know, but she nearly jumped out of her skin when I caught her staring at the curtains."

"Madam, I must point out that it is not only the young princesses who are acting strangely," Weston, the head butler, said. "His Majesty has been very concerned about their abnormal behavior and has been suffering himself."

"Suffering?" Valeria guffawed. "If by suffering you mean he's had to start dealing with the fact that the young ladies no longer bow to his every whim then I can see your point."

"Madam!" Weston gasped. His mustache twitched as he smoothed down his thin grey hair. "To say such things, especially of our most excellent king, are beyond your station." He extracted a hankie from his inner pocket and sniffled, glaring at Valeria. The woman glared right back, and Ty had to struggle to keep from laughing. Honestly, if the pair of them ever reconciled their petty quarrels they would make quite a good couple.

"I have to agree with Weston, Madam," Ty spoke up. Weston made a noise of victory as he raised his chin in the air. "The king has been acting strangely lately. But the princesses have been acting odd as well." At this point Valeria stuck her tongue out at Weston and took a swig of her own wine. "However, I believe it will pass. The princesses will go back to their nightly food fights and their father shall return to being the ruler we all know and love."

All were quiet for a moment as the conversation came to a close. Ty always had a way of putting in the final word that left little room for further arguments. As he took another sip of his drink, he looked around the kitchen. Along the far wall were several stoves used for cooking all the food in the castle. One wall was lined with wooden barrels used to hold wine, apples, potatoes, and many other food supplies. A narrow door led up a flight of stairs, the only real exit out of the kitchen, and a door opposite the staircase led to the laundry room and drying yards. In the centre of the room sat a large wooden working table surrounded by various chairs and stools, three of which were occupied by the present individuals. Hanging all around the kitchen were various pots, pans, herbs, spices, and the occasional dead goose or two.

Weston, Valeria, and Ty had been meeting for daily lunch as long as any of them could remember. Well, for as long as Ty had been Head Steward, anyway. Since the three of them were the leaders of their various duties – Valeria the cooking, Ty the household, and Weston the cleaning staff – they had decided that daily meetings to keep up with all the goings on in the castle would suit the manor quite nicely. But what had started as strictly business had turned into pleasure, and Ty now found that after a few initial minutes of working chitchat their conversations often turned to gossip, arguments, and laughter.

There were a few minutes of quiet as all three chewed their food quietly, savoring the delicious roast beef Valeria had worked on all morning. While they may not have been royalty, Valeria always saw to it that they were served food of the highest quality, and for that Ty was eternally grateful.

"What I really wanted to discuss," Ty spoke up after swallowing a large mouthful of roast, "was the presence of Sir Luka."

There was an audible groan heard from his two companions, and Valeria slammed down her knife into the table. "Is that cowardly, scurvy, no good slimy dog back from the Far Lands already?"

"Why, my dear Valeria, I had no idea you were so fond of our good Sir Luka," Ty laughed. He had to duck in order to avoid being hit by a flying dinner roll.

"Fond? Ha! I look forward to the day when that cur no longer sets foot in this palace!"

"Sir Luka is one of the King's greatest financial supporters," Weston pointed out. "He and his family have shown support for the throne as far back as the Galls."

"Just because he shows support doesn't mean he's a decent man," Valeria hissed. "You know that the last time he was here he showed—" she stopped and looked at Ty uncertainly, but continued in a hushed tone. "He showed intentions toward Princess Eralie?"

Ty, who had been in the middle of a sip, choked and put his cup down. "Intentions? I hadn't known that," he said, feigning calmness that he didn't feel.

"Toward Eralie?" Weston asked. "I thought it had been towards Princess Callia?"

"Aha! Proof that the slimy braggart is, indeed, a conniving dog sent from the mouth of hell. Trying to court two ladies at once – and princesses at that!"

"Really? Because I had thought he had shown intentions towards the milk maid," Ty said darkly. Both Valeria and Weston looked at him, unused to hearing such sarcasm come from his lips.

"Are you serious, Master Typharius?" Weston asked.

"Not entirely," Ty confessed, but he didn't smile. "But I do agree with everything Valeria says about him. There is nothing honest or good about the man, and everywhere he goes trouble soon follows. He is a no good, dirty, wicked fiend that would be better suited to taking up residence with the swine in their mud hole."

"Oh-ho!" Valeria cheered, getting up from her seat to hug Ty. "My my, I don't think we've ever heard such harsh words from the mouth of our young Ty! Here's some more wine, lad – drink up!" She sloshed the remainder of the bottle into Ty's goblet, and he couldn't help but smile.

Moving onto better subjects, Ty inquired after Weston's family's well-being and Valeria's needlework while finishing his meal. As soon as he was done he stood from the table, straightened his tunic, and bowed to each of his companions. "Until tomorrow, my friends. I bid you a good afternoon."

Walking up the stairs from the kitchen took a while, seeing as the spiral staircase kept winding tightly around the center column, but once in the corridor above it was a quick walk to his study. Where the kitchen had been dark and smoky, the walls browned from the years of cooking and the floor heavy with dirt, the corridor was clean and picturesque. The stone walls were a cream color, hung with bright tapestries and lined with various statues and suits of armor. The floor was a rich marble, covered in spots with ornate oriental rugs. Ty always loved looking at the décor of the castle and found that he never tired of discovering a tapestry or painting that he had never noticed before.

As he turned a corner he collided with an unexpected obstacle impeding his path. He was thrown backwards by the force, and as he stumbled up again he cursed under his breath.

"What in the name of—" he stopped and stared at the object he had run into. A woman, about four feet tall and stooped from many years, looked up at him from her spot on the floor, dazed from the impact. The fine gowns and tunics that had been in her laundry basket were thrown about everywhere, making her seem as if she were sitting in a pool of multicolored clothes. Ty quickly rushed to her side and helped her up.

"I'm so terribly sorry, Madam. I was quite lost in my thoughts and didn't see you when I turned around the corner." He gathered up the clothes for the woman, recognizing a few of the dresses as those belonging to the princesses. "You must be one of the washer women, then?" he questioned. The old woman stared at Ty as if she was still confused, blinking in a slow, thoughtful way. "Yes, I think I've seen you before… right then, you're probably looking for the laundry. It's just down the stairs in that corridor, the door leading out of the kitchens once you get to the bottom… of course you probably already knew that."

The old woman raised an eyebrow at Ty as the two stared at one other for a moment. Suddenly, she giggled, raised a wrinkled hand to his face, and patted it a few times before tottering off to the laundry. Ty looked after her for a moment before shrugging and heading off to his study.

Ty had been working on his papers for about a half an hour before he suddenly looked up and sighed. He looked around his office for a moment, trying to decide what to do next.

The emerald carpet perfectly complemented the mahogany walls, many of which were lined with all sorts of books. Books on diplomacy, books on traveling, books on seafaring – everything a steward would need to perform his job most excellently. His desk was mahogany to match the walls, and his chair was the same soft leather that was used in the library seats. Behind his desk hung a portrait of King Gustave, and if all truth be told it quite terrified Ty. Across from his desk was a medium-sized fireplace, over which hung his favorite part of the room: a portrait of his father. Before he had taken the position, Ty's father had been Gustave's head steward and premiere companion. Ty had come to live at the palace with his father as a young boy, and after his death Ty was old enough to take the position his father once held. It was a great honor to serve in so high a place, especially after his father had done it before him. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FindNʘᴠᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

He shook his head and placed it in his hands, but it was no use. The discussion at lunch had stayed with him and there was no possible way for him to continue working unless he got it out of his head. He looked around, then quickly pulled out his key ring and unlocked the middle drawer in his desk.

Placing the book upon his desk and opening it to the first blank page, he loaded his quill with ink and set to work writing.

12 February 1707

Once again I've found it easier to write down my thoughts and set them in order than simply dealing with them in my head, but this time it's not to do with travel arrangements or public appearance dates. It has to do with the princesses.

During lunch today Weston, Valeria and I were discussing the odd behavior of the ladies and, in turn, their father. There have been suspicious clues hinting that something might be changing around the manor, but I assured the others that it was simply a phase that will pass. However, I am not sure it is a phase.

For starters, I might as well write down what incidents I have witnessed to give me reason to suspect some strange goings on in the lives of our noble ladies.

I had an encounter with Princess Cliodne, though not face to face. I was looking in the library for a book on horseback riding when I found a note in her hand. I should not have read it, I know, but curiosity got the best of me. What I found was entirely perplexing, as it seemed to be a list of some kind, yet it was all done in shorthand and code.

In regards to Princess Callia, the event also took place in the library later that same day. I had walked in some time later, intending on returning the book on horses, when I noticed her sitting in the window seat slightly hidden by a red curtain. I walked over, wishing to bid her good day and to ask if she would be attending the local faire, when I noticed that she quickly hid something from my sight under her skirt folds and attempted to look as if she was casually reading a book. I decided it best not to ask, but I couldn't help but see that the book she was reading was held upside down and, as ill fate would have it, the subject was of castration.

Ty had to stop writing momentarily to shake his head and laugh, remembering Callia's terrified and disgusted expression as he made an off-hand comment on her subject of choice.

The next day, I rounded a corner in time to see the Princess Thaleia double over and fall down a few stairs in the entrance hall. Suspecting her to be ill and in danger, I dropped all the rolls of parchment I was carrying and rushed to her side, lifting her head and calling her name. After a few moments she opened one bright eye to look at me before quickly standing up. Of course, I was thrown off guard and stood as well, simply staring at her.

"Are you alright, my lady?" I asked seriously.

"Hmm? Oh, me? Yes, yes, I'm fine," she answered, laughing off the incident.

"What happened? Are you ill? Should I fetch a physician?"

"What! No! I mean… ahem… no. That won't be necessary, thank you."

"Will you at least tell me what happened, then?" I asked, still looking at her cautiously, afraid that she might collapse again at any moment.

"Well, I was walking down the stairs when I suddenly felt the urge to… you see, I was practicing for… Death is a funny thing… Bye!" And with that she picked up her skirts, hurried down the stairs and was out the door before I could really figure out what was going on.

Another event just as bizarre took place with her twin sister, Princess Raia. I was standing in the drawing room, discussing the plans to have the piano tuned and fixed so that she may play again soon, when suddenly her eyes seemed to lose their focus of me. She trailed off in the middle of a sentence and reached a hand over my shoulder, as though she were going to pull me close. But instead of grabbing me, she touched the brocade curtains over my shoulder and exclaimed, "These are perfect!" before running off and leaving me to wonder at her odd behavior. The next day those very same curtains disappeared from the room, and though I am sure it was Raia's doing, Princess Petra must have been behind it as well.

Speaking of Petra… more and more items have been going missing from the castle. This isn't to say that we've had our fair share of things walk away before, but never before have I had to order our craftsmen to make five new drawer handles, seven new doorknobs, thirteen brass candelabras, and three new decorative suits of armor. To be honest, I have no idea where she puts it all or what she does with it… if, in fact, she is actually the culprit.

As for the youngest, Princess Eurielle, even she has been acting strangely (more so than usual). I walked down into the kitchens the other day to speak with Valeria when I saw her in a corner, hitting different sized forks, glasses, and pots with a meat cleaver. When I approached her and asked what she was doing she blushed and smiled at me shyly, but gave me what is likely the most honest answer I've received from any of the ladies: "testing sounds."

"Testing sounds?" I asked doubtfully.

"Yes," she answered, holding up a fork. "You see, when you hit it with a mallet, each fork or instrument makes a different sound. Observe." She used the mallet to carefully hit the fork, and I could hear a slight hum emitting from the eating utensil.

"Ah, I see," I said earnestly. "What about that fork?" She struck the next one, but she must have done it wrong because the poor fork snapped in half. She gasped and looked at me, but I was smiling and laughing already. She laughed too, and after a minute I lowered my voice.

"So, Princess, tell me… why, exactly, are you testing tuning forks?"

She looked troubled by my question and tugged on a lock of her blonde hair. "I'm not really supposed to tell you…"

"My dear lady, you must forget who you are talking to. You know you can confide anything in me." I knew if she would have told me she would have sworn me to secrecy, which is fine. I don't mind keeping secrets, as long as I know that no one, especially the princesses, is getting hurt.

"I can't, though. If I do everyone will be mad at me, and—" But she cut off because at just that moment the door leading out to the laundry rooms swung open and the old laundry woman came through. She was halfway to the steps leading up from the kitchen when she stopped and looked at Eurielle and me. Though she has a kind, older face, her expression was one of annoyance and frustration, and this must have frightened Eurielle. She gave a squeak, gathered up her instruments, and ran up the steps away from the kitchen. I haven't the heart to tell Valeria that Eurielle is the one, in fact, who took her favorite stewing pot.

Ty stopped with a smile and looked into the flames across from his desk. He sighed before continuing, his mouth still in an amiable half smile.

I feel as if I'm forgetting someone… ah, yes. Princess Eralie. How could I forget such a dear friend? Quite honestly, she is the only one of whom I have nothing odd to report. I saw her strolling in the garden yesterday, stopping here and there to pick a flower for a bouquet she was making for the dinner table. I stopped for a moment when our paths crossed on the stone walkway, and we talked for some time about her sisters and her father, the state of affairs in the land and other things. She was the one who informed me of Sir Luka's presence, and when she mentioned him there was a slight change in her demeanor. Usually she is a soft-spoken young woman with a very calm countenance, but upon mention of that unworthy villain she seemed troubled. I turned the conversation back over to the faire happening in town, and she seemed much pleased by that. It seemed too short a time that we were able to speak, but soon I had to attend back to my duties and she had to go prepare for dinner, so we were forced to part.

End note.

Ty heard a knock on the door and looked up.

"Yes?" he called out.

The door opened and a stable boy was shown in by one of the maids. He approached Ty's desk and bowed his head a bit.

"Yes, Karl?"

"Sir, whenever you're up to going, your horse is ready to take you into town," Karl said.

"My horse?" Ty asked. "I thought I was taking a carriage?"

"All of our carriages are currently out of order, sir. His Majesty has taken two into the neighboring kingdom, four are out for repair, another few are in use by the Duke, and Sir Luka has just taken the last one for an inspection ride through the surrounding farm lands."

Ty sighed and shook his head. "Thank you, Karl. I shall be down in a moment."

Bowing once more, Karl left the room. Ty stood up and threw on his cloak and hat before locking his journal back in his desk. He sighed again, this time from frustration, and walked down to the stables. I can't stand horses – bloody death traps if I ever did lay eyes on one. Curses on Sir Luka!

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