Lorn never thought he could hate a person.
No, he told himself. He didn't hate the Royal Mother, hate was too strong a word. Perhaps bone-deep frustration would be a better descriptor of how he felt towards her. She was definitely going to be the reason why he was going to lose his hair before the age of thirty.
Gentillia's face was twisted into an ugly scowl as she glared down upon him, the veins at her hairline threatened to pop. She was as red as a tomato. "Lady Roeman dared slander my authority and you say that I should let her off easy!?" Her voice was booming.
Two guards held Lady Roeman down, one had her locked in his grasps and the other, a dagger. She was trying to put on a brave face but she couldn't quite stifle the sobbing and hiccups bubbling from her throat. She was a Lady and lived a life of relative luxury. Such horror and torture were unfamiliar to the tender-hearted noble.
Not that the Royal Mother cared. "She should have known her punishment before she uttered those dirty words. If I don't make an example out of this useless bitch, imagine the criticism I dare to suffer at the hands of those others fools. I shan't!" She was roaring and made wide gestures with her arms. The Royal Mother, Consort Gentillia was a tall woman with smooth black hair that fell around her in heavenly waves. She was once a beauty to be envied, with smoldering hazel eyes and plumps lips always painted red. She was the King's most favorite Consort, and now, she was the mother of a young, child-Queen.
Many said that she became mad with power, now that her beauty had faded with age. No matter how hard the Royal Mother tried, she couldn't mask the silver that appeared in her ebony hair nor could she rid herself of the lines that drew across her face. They said that that was the reason she became so terrifying and strict, as women tended to do when they lost their youth and beauty.
Lorn believed it wasn't so simple.
"Please listen, my dear Royal Mother," Lorn spoke with a calming voice. He approached her slowly and cautiously. "There is no need for this. Lady Roeman has been suitably warned. She won't do this again. Right?"
The poor Lady had snot dribbling down her chin, ruining the finely painted makeup she had upon her visage. She nodded vigorously, like a desperate chicken with a trembling voice that threatened to break into a sob.
"One chance! And a thousand chances! What difference is there!?" The Royal Mother shrilled at him. Her arms coming in wide and almost smacked him across the face. He very carefully dodged her without any big movements. "Tell me, foolish Adviser. Do you think ruling a country is a joke?"
He lowered his head and didn't dare look up at her eyes, "No, Royal Mother."
"Good. Now, off with those fingers."
Lady Roeman erupted in a full screeching cry while Lorn called out, "Please wait!"
Gentillia turned to him, ever, so, slowly. "Did you want to take her place then?"
Lorn's heart stuttered with horror. But he was resolute and showed no hesitance, "Yes."
"And here's your coffee, extra strong, one milk no sugar."
Lorn- No. November snapped his head and the barista blinked at him with a frown. She raised a brow and motion again to the coffee in front of him, "Your coffee? Sir?"
"Oh," he said stupidly, "thanks." He took the coffee in his hands. It was hot. But it didn't feel real. There was a painful throb in November's head and he looked around to remind himself where he was. It was the university cafeteria. There was sunlight filtering through the windows and it didn't seem that late. Or early?
November didn't even know what time of day it was.
"You finally get that coffee of yours?" Huit's voice sounded distant and November was startled to see that his friend was standing right next to him. "Damn, you're so out of it Nov. What's up with you lately?"
November groaned and ran his fingers through his hair, "I don't know," he confessed, "I haven't been able to sleep well lately."
"Yeah, I can tell," Huit said without mercy, "You look like a raccoon, man."
November sighed, "Thanks." But he didn't doubt it either.
"...Maybe you should go home." He said eventually, "I know you're a stickler when it comes to school and all but you're not going to die if you miss a day. Isn't the Princess now taking notes for you too?"
"Yeah, right." November rolled his eyes. "No. I'll be fine. I only have two more classes left. After I'll just collapse at home."
"You sure, dude?"
November wasn't sure, "Yes."
It was a bad idea because he embarrassingly fell asleep in the following class. The Princess was the one that woke him up and when he startled awake he had to bite his own tongue from calling her Little Queen.
"W-what?" He stuttered instead and wiped away the embarrassing sliver of drool that was coming down the side of his mouth.
Princess Ceci tilted her head and frowned, "You don't look very well. You look like raccoon-dog, you know?"
November wasn't really sure where or how the 'dog' got added into the description but he couldn't refute her either. He sighed, "Forgive me."
"What's there to forgive?" There was a girlish tilt in her voice, reminiscent of the Little Queen. "You look very tired. Shouldn't you go home and rest?"
"I have one more class…"
Princess Ceci shook her head, "Don't be silly now. You need rest too! It's Introduction to Summoning Magic next right?"
He nodded his head rather meekly. She beamed at him with a sunny smile, "Don't you worry, I have you covered." And even shot him a wink.
November chuckled. The Princess was rather cute and he felt the urge to pat her head. "Alright, if you put it like that, I suppose I have no choice." He reluctantly packed his bags and waved her farewell. With sleep deprivation as oppressive as his, November didn't realize how the pressure around Princess Ceci had eased a lot since the first time he met her.
For now, all he cared about was returning him and getting some good old sleep.
Ah, there was also his book. Not the one about Hugo Strays that the Reading Club wanted him to read, but his book.
His special book.
The one about a different Arcadia. His Arcadia.
The one about Queen Cecilia and Lorn.
…
The roads rumbled and November stumbled over his feet. He thought for a moment that he had simply tripped from fall asleep while walking. But there was a high pitched scream nearby and a large shadow was growing at his feet.
When November looked over his shoulder he saw the ugly head of a large, black raccoon.
…What? Its entire body was black and stood taller than a full-grown man. On its hind legs, it brandished sharp claws that swiped down on him.
"Watch out, son!" A deep voice bellowed out but November no warrior and was slow to react. The raccoon lunged! Its razor-sharp green claws inched closer and closer to his face! A small green blur shot out from behind him and knocked the raccoon on the head, making it stumble backward, swiping at its large muzzle from irritation.
A large hand came down upon November's shoulder, "Now's our chance!" It pulled him to his feet and dragged him back into the alleys. His savior was an older man, about as tall as he, with broad shoulders and silver hair tied back in a low ponytail. There was something painfully familiar about him and almost made November want to call him Father.
November shook his head and chided himself. Just what was he thinking even in a situation as such? They stopped in a tiny alley that smelt of sour rot. The mysterious man turned to him and took in his visage, "Are you ok, son?"
He wanted to answer no, "I'm fine."
Battle rumbled in the distance and they could hear the Nightmare cry but all November could think about was how he wanted to sleep.