The Flower of Serving Men - 2. Chapter 2

Many sought to serve their king personally, so the lines for interviews for staffing in the castle were handled not by the king himself but by proxies, who screened potential servants with the utmost diligence, making sure their background and personality would be welcome in the castle. All of this was overseen by the seneschal, who watched with a keen eye and silent judgement. The hall they were put in was crammed with people awaiting their turn, the cacophony of voices bouncing off every surface. Fair enough, Turmeric had Ellis wait in line, but he was suddenly unsure with all these needy folk looking for work. He felt almost guilty, but he had to remind himself that he himself sought work; while his hands were nimble, they refused to settle down from trembling when he focused and thus had lost their precision. The only reason they were at the castle was because he thought he could aim high. But now...

"Perhaps we should turn back," Ellis muttered, half-standing to leave when Turmeric pulled him back down onto his seat. "Turmeric, I do not think this is a good idea anymore."

"You deserve this as much as anyone else here does," he told him. "We can wait until they say otherwise."

"But Turm..."

"But nothing, El... William."

Ellis looked around him, seeing people clearly from far away trying to become part of the royal household. "Are you sure? I think I could gather a job elsewhere."

"Let us try here, first. Such a shame to lose our place in line."

"Next!" a loud, gruff voice called. Ellis jumped to his feet and marched to the interviewer, Turmeric in tow. The interviewer was a pudgy sort of man with a serious face and frown lines that made him look more wizened, more chagrined. "You brought your brother along?"

"Brother-in-law," he corrected. "I was one of the younger guards here, actually. I just came to offer my support."

"Well, it ends here." The man shooed him away, and it only took a second for Turmeric to get the idea. He leaned down and whispered he'd wait outside for him. Ellis nodded and faced his interviewer, eyes forced on his. "Okay, what's your name?"

"William Valen. Of Swordsworth."

The man stilled his hand and looked up. "The Gallahad territory?"

"That's right."

"What work experience do you have?"

"I was a doctor's apprentice for a long while, and a personal assistant to the Gallahads. Um," Ellis reached into his satchel and offered the letter the Gallahads had made for him. "They told me to give this recommendation?" The interviewer eyed the letter precariously, gingerly taking it and breaking the wax seal that held the Gallahad emblem. His eyes surveyed the letter before he told him to wait and left to speak directly to the Seneschal. They read the letter together and some words were exchanged. When the man returned, he looked shaken, but he put on a calm air as he gave back the letter. "Is something wrong?"

"How soon can you start work here?"

Ellis found himself dumbstruck. "Oh! Um, today, actually. I've just arrived in the city today. Nowhere to rest, exactly, save an inn."

"Gather your things, report here tonight." The man reached into his drawer and pulled out a sandalwood chop, holding the emblem of the kingdom. "Present this to the guards; they will let you in. We'll have you settled in right away and training and work shall begin tomorrow."

Ellis took the chop, befuddled even more. "What was in that letter? I asked, but the Gallahads never spoke."

"The highest of praises," the man answered with a sneer. "You better live up to your reputation."

"I hope they did not exaggerate my details then," Ellis muttered as he tucked away the chop. He reached out and offered his hand. "Thank you sir."

"Try not to fail miserably," the man countered, firmly grasping his hand in a terse shake. "And welcome to the castle."

Ellis pushed through the crowds and saw Turmeric leaning against the wall, a knowing smile on his face. "Well, how did it go?"

"Your parents may have put me up high on a pedestal. I fear I may fall over."

"You? I doubt it. You're a quick learner and the only one willing to wash dishes. I think you'd make a great servant."

"How many servants do they take in, do you think?"

"Often, they cycle, unless they're proven to be efficient. The seneschal makes those decisions, half the time. It's a lot, but he gets to know the staff as much as possible. It's sort of a nervous tick he has."

"I suppose he has to make sure everyone does their part."

"Well, seeing as you made your way in by being another son to my family, care to celebrate employment with lunch? I know this wonderful place that melds together pastries and potatoes. Then we can come back and have you settled in."

"Potatoes in pastries? That's a rather old trick, isn't it?"

"If it is, none of us have ever heard it."

*

They spent the day touring the capital, with Turmeric showing him how much had changed since Ellis and Dallas left to live in Swordsworth. There were more stands selling trinkets and fortunes, the market area had grown a lot. Nobles were building their homes three stories high as of late, and it felt mustier and more humid in the more narrow streets of the city. It felt altogether familiar and alien, a concept that did little to ease Ellis.

The little shop Turmeric mentioned was not too far from the castle. They found it quiet as few people lined up around noon, but the breads were mostly fresh and the potato pastries were sinfully delightful. Turmeric went on to tell the tale of how the shop rose in popularity with the barracks, how a soldier had charmed a young lass out of a basket of breads and how the owner swore he'd share the loot with the rest of the barracks. Now, they had regulars from the castle, sometimes more than they could handle on a bad day.

The humble hole-in-the-wall was not a place you just walked into. Most transactions were at the window, where someone would come and take their order and hand it to them once it was ready. Ellis could see it was a good way to maximize space for equipment, though he had to admit it was at the expense of keeping their customers loitering by their shop. When it was finally their turn, a sunny young lady came to greet them at the shop's window. "Good day, fine sirs, and welcome to the Baker's Dozen. What will you be having?"

"The usual, Margaret."

Here eyes snapped to Turmeric and her smile widened threefold. "Oh, Turmeric! I haven't seen you in months. How've you been?"

"They've been keeping me busy at my hometown. Guard duty is extending to a lot of things there." Turmeric gave the shop a good once over before adding, "The shop's doing pretty good still. Even with all the competition."

"It's a mighty fine blessing from the Lord." She cast her eyes on Ellis, curious and mischievous. "Who's this one? Another boy you charmed to your good graces?"

Turmeric's indignant "No," chimed with Ellis's deadpan "Yes." Turmeric looked at him with disbelieving eyes while Ellis held his ground and raised an eyebrow. "No one's told you how much you look like your brother? Why did you think I married him?"

Turmeric, flabbergasted, choked on his words, nothing but odd sounds falling out of his mouth. The young lady, Margaret, hid her snicker behind her hand. "Oh, I like this one. He pulls the rug out from under you without even trying. So, what will it be? The Potato Wonders?"

"A half dozen, please," Turmeric muttered, feeling lost as Ellis smiled at him. Margaret left to take care of their order. "God, that was embarrassing."

"A little teasing is good for the soul, I hear."

"You're quite the sadist."

Ellis grunted an agreement, but he was briefly reminded of his agony. He let out a shaky breath, and almost shuddered with the force of it. Turmeric clapped a hand on his shoulder and offered the most rueful of smiles. "Sorry."

"Does it hurt when you look at me, then?"

Ellis had the answer on the tip of his tongue, but he had to act in decorum. They were in public. And quite honestly, seeing the man was more bitter-sweet than anything else. "Your handsome mug does have its benefits."

Turmeric laugh came by surprise. "You silver-tongued devil."

Ellis smothered the faint echo of a time past, something that pricked at his heart. The last time he ever spoke to his mother. But quietly, he muttered to himself, "Yes... A devil..."

*

Later that night, Ellis packed his things and was escorted to the castle by Turmeric. There really was no need; there were guards posted at every other corner. But they knew it was more to say their final goodbyes, if anything. Turmeric still had business to do before getting back, and Ellis would most likely be living in the castle from now on until something maybe arose.

At the castle gates, they squandered a bit, hesitant to say anything. "I suppose this is goodbye, then?" Turmeric asked.

Ellis nodded solemnly. "Tell your family my thanks. For everything."

Turmeric nodded, voice faltering just the slightest. "If you need to come back, you'll always have a home with us."

Ellis moved up to him and wrapped his arms around him. "I'll miss every single one of you."

"Us, too," he whispered back. Ellis felt a brief kiss planted on his head. THe words unspoken rang between them. Take care. Goodbye. They pulled away and gave one last good look at each other— both of them miserable and hopeful— before Turmeric moved to leave. Ellis took a deep breath and turned to the gates. He showed the sandalwood chop to the guards, and he was allowed entry.

He steeled himself as he was led through the courtyard. This was it. This would be his life now.

It was too late for regrets now.

*

The seneschal, Sebastian Kay, was a prompt man, a cordial and well-arranged man. He did not tolerate delays and departures from the plan, and he would not let anyone hinder his progress and efficiency, even if that someone was the very family he served.

The Crown Prince had been bestowed the title of 'King' ever since his father's untimely departure from this earth the past year. He had expected more from the fledgling, but the man was still, in many ways, a brat. Much more wizened, thankfully, but still a brat.

"Why would this need my attention?" King Brandt Aurelian implored. "This is your duty, isn't it, Sebastian?"

"Be that as it may," Sebastian started, making sure to tug on His Majesty's ear a little harder. "These will be your men and you must ascertain of their loyalty and worth. Besides, you specifically sanctioned this ritual, did you not?"

"That was before I realized the toll this would have on me."

"We scarcely have a dozen men over tonight. And we have a week to fill the roster, your Grace."

"That's plenty of time to let this one pass for tomorrow!"

"You'll repeat that until we are pressed for time and energy," Sebastian reasoned, pulling on Brandt and all but tossing him forward, letting the man stagger over his feet before he righted himself. "This will be brief, sire, and on the way towards your next errand. So please, just humor this batch. These men were sponsored by some of the families of the knighted men that were sworn to guard you and your family."

Brandt's bright blue eyes bore into Sebastian's icy ones. Brandt felt the fatigue flowing out of Sebastian, frayed and throbbing. He brushed his hair back and let the fringes fall where they may. A long-suffering breath escaped his lips. "Fine, let's get this over with, Sebastian."

"Excellent choice, Your Grace."

"The only choice, no doubt," the King muttered. But Sebastian paid him no mind as he led the way again, this time much more calmly. "Maker, aren't the dozen councils I go to enough to excuse me from this?"

"I'm afraid not, Sire."

"Brilliant."

There were over a dozen men with the plaques that were gathered by the guard. Night had fallen outside, and the hall was lit vibrantly by a blend of torchlight and witchfire, supplying light for every nook and cranny. The new servants mingled with each other, save for one, who seemed to eye his surroundings warily. For a brief moment, their eyes met. Those eyes were friendly and docile, yet the young king could feel something behind that gaze, more just beneath the surface.

Everyone delighted upon seeing him. The lone man was more restrained. Perhaps even professional. He addressed the new servants of the castle with the usual fare and formality, but his eyes kept gravitating towards the one man who seemed less enthusiastic about it all. It was different, to say the least, finding someone who wasn't as eager as the others. Looking over to Sebastian, he noticed his eyes focused on the same man.

King Brandt spoke to them one at a time, and the others reacted in the usual manner: with reverence, awe, and fear. They more often than not fumbled over their words, spoke up of their trade, and managed the regular formalities. When it came to the little enigma they had, there was an air of difference. The usual manners were there but he was more schooled, more controlled, than the others. Practised, even, but bright in sincerity. He spoke enough, little but enough. Brandt couldn't help but think of it as 'guarded'.

"So William, is this your first time serving the kingdom?"

"I have served the Gallahad territory, if that is included, Your Grace."

"In a manner of speaking," Brandt clarified with a smile. "What brought you here, then?"

"I was in search for employment. There was nothing left for me in my old home."

Brandt took in mind the words for later. He studied the smile, worn and wry. "I see. Well, thank you for offering your services to my castle. I trust you will not let us down."

"I will do my best, Your Grace." William bowed before joining the others. The Seneschal stepped forward, announcing how he would deliberate on their tasks and instructing some of the guards and servants to guide them to their new quarters.

Once away from earshot, Sebastian spoke to Brandt, "That Valen fellow. William Valen? Would you like for me to look into him?"

"He looks like a man scorned by fate."

"Such sorrowful eyes," Sebastian remarked. "Makes you curious, doesn't it?"

King Brandt almost rose in his seat, eyeing his seneschal warily. "What are you implying?"

"You've always had a thing for puzzles, Brandt," was Sebastian's simple retort. "I'll see about his tasks and I'll send scouts to gather information on him, though I think a direct visit to the Gallahad house is our only way here."

Brandt glared at him, but the seneschal merely brushed it off. "I am not enamoured by the new hired help, Sebastian."

"No, but you do so love a challenge."

"Please don't orchestrate something bizarre. Remember what happened with my mother in the last Autumn Festival."

"I would not want to trouble the Queen mother again. Nor the Crown Princess."

"Mentioning my sister does not help your defense."

"Perhaps." Sebastian left at that, dotting another period on his parchment. "I'll set to work. You however, must see the new building proposals for the kingdom. I hear an expansion of the city is being called for."

Brandt groaned in his seat, hanging his head forward as he contemplated over what needed to be done. "This will take all night."

"Not all night if you set to work now, Sire." The man patted his shoulder. "Now go on. I will handle our new minions."

"Please don't call them that; they are under my servitude, not yours."

"Still under my authority."

"I overrule you."

There was a trace of a smirk on Sebastian's lips. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."