Chapter 8: Mistress of the Bedroom

The ale had to be weak. Weak enough, I guess, that you could drink it in place of water. Presumably strong enough to kill pathogens. All that is to say, Morrentz didn’t get that drunk. My little body sure got tipsy and Tread was smiling and swaying. Still staying silent, though.

I felt my mind loosening up and didn’t stop myself from saying, “Let me get this straight. You guys have dinner for lunch and basically spend most of the day drinking?”

The girls looked shocked, the soldiers said nothing. Until the big guy spoke up, “Your Highness, perhaps you’ve had enough?”

“Yeah, I mean, I guess. It’s pretty weak ale, though.”

One of the girls, “Compared to the wine you mean?”

“I mean for ale. Where I come fro-,” whoops, too much information! “I mean, is this ale watered down for the daytime?”

Morry didn’t look so scary now, especially when he stood up to say, “I’m getting you some tea.”

I blurted out, “As long as the water is boiled, I’ll take it!” Though part of me wanted to get very, very drunk, hopefully pass out and wake up back in my own body and forget all this was happening. Yet it was happening, and I needed to make something of it. But in the back of my mind, I made an appointment to try being black out drunk later, for science. It was just possible that a simulation might shut down if you pushed the character into dangerous ethanol toxicity.

The large hand of Morrentz placed a hot mug of tea in front of me, a teapot to the side.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Ah, you’re welcome, Princess.” He sat down, biting into a large chunk of pork, brought his mug to his lips to wash it down.

“Say, Morry, when should we begin training?”

He coughed ale something fierce, “What?”

“Yeah. We talked about this earlier-”

“The dowager-regent just informed you that would no longer be a part of your life. We all heard it.”

“I’m not in agreement with her.”

“Even so, it’s never a good idea to play with weapons while drinking. Probably not a good idea to cross the dowager-regent, either.”

“Oh? And why not?”

“Just drink your tea.”

I did as he commanded. We sat there, the girls and my guards. I decided to make small talk. “So, why did you become a guard?”

“What’s decide got to do with anything?”

I felt stupid. Yeah, this was not a free land of opportunity. “Uh, I mean, how long have you been one?”

“Longer than you’ve been alive.”

How little he knew! All I could think to say was the childish, “Do you like being a soldier?”

“I’d rather have been born a king.”

“No one,” my turn to smile and wink mischievously, “is born a king.” I tipped my tea in his direction.

“You’re right. Perhaps I’ll kill my way into it.” He winked, but it wasn’t pretty.

I didn’t know what to say, so I went with, “I like having you around, Morry,” and refilled his ale. One thing I learned back in uni, when I was bartending. Keep your bouncers’ drinks full. The other thing, beer and caffeine don’t mix. “I’ll be back in a moment. Heading to the little princess’s room.” The guards rose, so I waved them back down, “I’ll be fine. And right back.”

One of the benefits of being royalty is having your own toilet room. Nothing compared to what I was used to, we’re not talking flush toilets with heated bidet-seats or anything. But it was better than standing or squatting near the latrine. Or so I imagined. I didn’t really know what the non-princesses did for these bodily necessities.

Time away from the table was good. It was like being a middle school teacher at a dance, trying to get the children just to talk to each other. Class differences making that awkward.

“I can’t believe you’re getting your guards drunk at our table!”

“What the hell!” Sapphire followed me into the toilet room.

“I mean, it’s very fun and so enjoyable! The other ladies are finding everything a touch awkward.”

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“Uhm, I’m here to, you know, use the toilet. Could you maybe wait outside?”

Blank face. “Whatever for?”

“Well, I mean, privacy?”

Laughter. “I’m the mistress of the bedroom!” She said, as if that explained why she was here.

“I’m kind of a private pee-er. You know.”

More laughter. She took my hands in hers and sat down, effectively pulling me down onto the toilet. “Do you think your little bodyguard has a crush on one of the girls? He’s certainly quiet! I think he has a crush.”

My mind was reeling. Mistress of the bedroom, mistress of the bedroom. It seemed that entitled her to my bathroom time. This was so not what I wanted. I tried again, “I came here to pee.”

“Well, yes.” She smiled, “Get on with it. In the meantime, whatever possessed you to invite the guards to dine with us? Genius is what! I’m loving it.”

It finally made sense to me why this costume came with no panties. You wore it over the toilet, like your own walls. Regardless, god, this was hard for me. I tried to keep her babbling, “What part do you love about it?”

“How unconventional it is! Soldiers dining with us – it’s never done. The dowager would lose her mind if she found out!”

“Will she find out?”

“Almost certainly. El will tell her.”

“Ah.” That made sense. The old woman would have people spying for her. I wondered if that included my guards. She’d chosen Morry, I’d chosen Tread, but who knew where Tread’s loyalties lie? And what would they be telling her. I couldn’t really ask Saph that, so I moved onto the next item on my list. “Hey, speaking of the old hag, I need to get my armor and weapons back. Any ideas?”

“Whatever for?”

“Does it matter?”

“I wish you’d let me in on it.”

“It’s pretty simple. I mean to learn how to fight. And lead.”

“Wonderful! They are stronger than you, though. The men.”

“Yeah.”

“And they hold all the power.”

“Yeah.”

“And you are under the regency of the dowager.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yes. All of that severely restricts what you-”

“-can do, yes. I’m being given strong lessons in that.”

“So, sword practice then?”

“Yup. Gotta start somewhere.”

“I think she’s going to try to marry you off.”

“You said that before.”

“It’s that or the church. That would be considerably worse.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know. We all know.”

“Tell me anyways. I want to hear it said out loud.”

“If she can prove . . . you’re impure.” Saph’s eyes lost their smile and she leaned forward, “if you were raped, she can prove it.”

I pulled back, appalled. “Victim blaming is . . . like . . . a power play here?”

“You’ll either be cloistered or married to someone so far beneath your station, she’ll control the crown.”

I let that sink in a bit. Not too dissimilar from medieval times, but the marriage thing didn’t make sense. Why would a marriage strip royalty of rank? And the purity test reminded me of the Spanish Inquisition. I had to ask, “How exactly does someone go about testing for . . . purity here?” I was hoping she’d reply with ‘magic.’

Scowl. “Come on, you know. A priest.”

“Ah.” The word ‘priest.’ Baffling that it hadn’t become the new bogeyman for children. Much too frightening perhaps. “Yeah. I’m not going to let either of those things happen.”

“You may not have a choice.”

“Well, I think I’m going to surprise them.”

“I don’t see how.”

“Me either.”

***

We returned to the table. The chilling conversation and the tea left me feeling clear headed. “Alright, I’m sober enough, it’s time for sword practice.”

“Your Highness, I don’t see how this is safe.”

“Not much is safe around here. Just show me how to swing the damn thing and I’ll practice that. I don’t need to fight just yet. I’ve never even picked one up. Well, maybe once or twice.”

“Huh.” Morrentz stood up. “Little man, hand the princess your sword.”

Tread did so and I took it. The big guy walked past me and pulled out his own sword. “Place your hands here and here. Are you right-handed?” I nodded, looked like this body was. “Now back up so you won’t hit anybody.” He also moved away from the table. “Hold it above your head like so and swing down.” His blade sliced through the air with a whoosh.

This sword was slightly heavier than the one I’d gotten from the dead body. My right hand was above my left on the hilt, I pulled it down.

He laughed at me, “It’s not an axe! Slice with it. Try again.” I did and he laughed again. “Your highness perhaps should use an axe?”

“I mean, maybe, but right now I’m holding a sword. Let’s stick with it. You can show me axes later.”

“Then keep swinging and don’t stop until your arms hurt.”

So that’s what I did. I started out feeling sober, yet little by little, the world became even more clear. As the alcohol drained out of my blood, the slight and happy blurriness it added to life went with it, replaced by sweat and dirt. I swung and I swung, up and down. Eventually, he corrected my footwork, and I practiced while stepping forward.

“You’re easily the worst swordswoman ever,” he said, sitting at the table, facing me, drinking more ale and laughing.

“I’ll make a teacher out of you yet.”

“Only a teacher would want a student such as you!”

The ladies in waiting were at first quiet, then intermittently clapping, then just chatting among themselves. I’d probably broken so many conventions by now that they were getting used to it.

***

My arms were exhausted, legs a touch tired, I handed the sword back to Tread. Suddenly thirsty, I grabbed a tea and downed it in one go – it had cooled by then. But I was young. A few minutes of pacing and my young body was ready to go. “Alright, big man, how do I use a spear?”

“What, now?”

“Yeah! The best time to train with spears was ten years ago. The second-best time is now.” I went and picked up Tread’s spear.

He reluctantly stood again. “Alright. There are two basic thrusts with a spear. Overhand and underhand. We’ll start with underhand. Where’s your shield?”

“Uh, you know I don’t have one.”

“It’s safer with a shield.”

“Ok, but I still don’t have one.”

“Well, you’re going to hold a short sword in your off hand, then. For weight.” After passing me his short sword, he set me up with the basic thrusts. It seemed easy at first. Spear by your waist, extend arm forward. If you do that over and over and over, your shoulder and biceps get very tired. When that happened, I switched arms.

The footwork was tough, he kept yelling at me, “No, don’t lift your leg up like that. Slide forward as much as you can. Keep your center of mass low. No! You’re not walking. Slide.” And so on.

The day passed and exercising felt good. Not just good, but great! I was starting to see the benefits of being young again – no joints clicking, no lingering damage from old injuries, just boundless energy. It was odd, though. I doubt I’d be able to thrust a spear like this in my previous, male body. But with this child’s body? Hours of practice. Either it was a point for the game scenario or these people were just stronger.