To Whosoever Is Reading This,
Hopefully it will be my family, but nonetheless, I will like to be sure that these words reach you, especially if I can no longer send them myself.
First, a bit of good news, I went to the Capital Hospital today. They are saying Mary is doing better. Her color is coming back, and the doctor thinks the new treatment is working. The cost is still astronomical, but please tell Father that the extra wages I sent last month should cover the next four weeks. I am working as many shifts as I can manage.
I just keep picturing her face when we were children, racing down the path by the tree, and she tripped, scraping her knee. She cried more about the dirt on her dress than the blood, she was always so determined, even then. Give her my love, and tell her that tree is still waiting for us to race again. I know she will beat me this time.
On my side, I have fit in well at the palace. The work is hard, the hours are long, but I am considered a competent butler. The other servants mostly keep to themselves, which suits me fine. The wages, of course, are the best to be had in the Kingdom, which is the whole point of this difficult placement.
Now, to the delicate matter of Her Majesty, the Queen.
I believe she has taken a certain liking to me. She sends me on personal errands, often asks for my opinion on trivial matters, and her eyes. She has even suggested I call her by her first name when we are alone.
However, I want to reassure you both, Mother, Father; that your lectures about the dangers of the Court were not wasted on me. I have done nothing with the Queen. I promised you I wouldn't be stupid enough to risk that. The penalty for any indiscretion with the King's wife is swift death, and I cannot allow that to happen when Mary needs me so desperately. My duty is to her, and to you.
I will continue to be civil and professional, and I will maintain the distance necessary to protect myself and my employment, do not worry about me.
May the Peace of Luminaris keep you safe, and may Mary recover completely and soon.
Your loving son,
Arthur Reid
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'Arthur Reid,' my mind reeled.
A life burdened by a sick sister, devoted to his family, and currently trying to fend off the flirtatious attention of Queen Marcella.
And yet, that's all I managed to get about him.
He didn't write about any personal habits, favorite foods, or people he regularly mingled with.
So how am I supposed to play Arthur's social life? The last thing I want in this world are cringeworthy and awkward conversations. I certainly wouldn't want to talk to someone Arthur despises or has a feud with.
And his sister? I will find a way to keep sending the money for the bills; I wouldn't want to be the reason she dies. However, I'm not sure I can bring myself to visit her. I don't think I would be comfortable deceiving her like that.
Queen Marcella.
The novel didn't cover her much. She wasn't a villain or an antagonist; she was merely the heroine's mother who just happened to possess a strong, recurrent desire for 'bitter men.'
Thinking about what she said... Is Arthur bitter?
From the little information I managed to gather, he doesn't sound the least bit bitter. To me, he sounds more like a sweet, devoted guy.
"I will obviously approach Queen Marcella with caution," I contemplated. "All that attention she gives can be tempting, but based on what Arthur wrote, death is something I will like to avoid in this world."
....
Queen's Porch Garden,
Morning reached, as a new day welcomed me into this new world. Sebastian had tasked me with trimming the Queen's Porch Garden, the one that grew at the back of the palace.
From the list of chores I received, they all related directly to the Queen. It was now safe to say that Arthur was indeed the Queen's personal butler.
Cut! Cut! Cut!
The satisfying snip of the shears sliced through the quiet morning air. I moved slowly, deliberately, trying to appear competent. I couldn't risk butchering the Queen's prized flowers just hours after learning that my predecessor's life depended entirely on maintaining his professional facade.
This garden was stunning. Every plant here seemed to be vying for attention, much like the courtiers inside the palace walls. The scarlet Royal Roses, blooming fat and perfectly despite the cool morning air, were obviously the monarchs of this patch, demanding the most care and demanding the best sunlight.
Then you had the subtle climbers, like the Nightshade Lilies, their petals a beautiful, deceptive purple. They looked innocent enough, but biology mentioned they thrived on deep, hidden roots that choked out the smaller, less established blooms nearby.
It's funny. In my previous life, I never paid attention to flowers, a garden was just green background. Now, looking at this intricate, competing ecosystem, I could see the whole world of this novel mirrored right here.