Rise of the Unfavored Princess

Ch. 43: Buckweed

What on earth did people do for fun before the invention of technology? Watch paint dry? Count clouds floating by in the unpolluted sky? I would give an arm and a leg just to scroll through Instagram or binge-watch a crime show.

When I’m not researching or eating, I find myself trapped in the void of boredom with only Emma and Marie as company. Transmigrated novels are always so much fun to read, from exploring a new culture to the heart-throbbing interactions with the hot and no doubt wealthy male lead. I saw Augustus, the crown prince, from a distance at the Spring Ball, and let’s just say if he were a few years older and not my brother, I would definitely see the appeal.

But who’d have known that such a luxury is only available to the main characters?! As a pitiful side character, there is little I can do but stress over my uncertain future and count the clouds floating by my bedroom window. Today, I’ve even swallowed down my 26-year-old pride and have decided ‘act my age’ by kicking a ball with Marie. Emma is busy with sword lessons after sending a painfully large amount of my gold coins to Lady Westmont, so I only have my slightly graying nursemaid to accompany me.

The pretty garden of Rose Palace makes for a scenic setting for this dull game. We are surrounded by aromatic roses, a far cry from the slightly smelly shack I lived in before. However, the balls of this era lack proper bounce to them, so our game is restricted to kicking the ball back and forth between each other. I specially requested for Marie to help me change into a lighter skirt and blouse combo for better movement, but the skirt is still aplomb with layers.

“Your highness,” Marie asks gently, “How are you adjusting to the imperial palace?”

I ponder on how I should answer. In terms of treatment, I’m like a duck in water. The good food, comfy bed, and pretty gardens make for an appealing stay. However, the Grim Reaper’s sickle hangs over my neck every second of every day and I’m also practically broke.

“Quite well,” I lie awkwardly as I catch the ball in the curve of my foot. “It feels nice to have a family.”

Granted, none of my so-called family members other than Julian have acknowledged me and at least two want me dead, but maybe if I survive long enough I can befriend one or two of my siblings. Marie nods, happy at my answers, but I can see a hint of worry lingering in her eyes. Eager to offset my nursemaid’s worry, I quickly change the subject.

.....

“Tell me about you, Marie! How did you come to work at the palace?” I ask in a chipper voice.

Marie looks surprised and a little delighted. “Oh! Well, it’s been a while since I’ve come to work here. Must have been right around when Crown Prince Wilhelm was born. I was quite a bit younger back then and much better at playing ball games.”

“I think you are quite good at playing with me, Marie,” I say to soothe Marie. She is a bit slow at returning the ball to me, but it really isn’t a big deal. Besides, with my skirt, if she were any faster, I would be huffing and puffing around the grassy courtyard at the center of the garden.

“Who is Crown Prince Wilhelm?”

Marie blanches slightly, her eyes veering away. “Oh... someone from the previous dynasty. You don’t need to worry about him, your highness.”

I nod and don’t question her further. I already know my dad technically usurped the throne from the rightful heir, but this is the first time I am hearing his name. There were no books mentioning him in the library though, telling me this is no simple matter.

“Ok. Where are you from?”

“Guess!” Marie exclaims with her past cheer.

Her moods shift quickly and clearly. When my nursemaid is sad, you will know. When she is excited, your heart can’t help but quicken as well. It is refreshing to spend time with a two-dimensional person you can easily read like a book.

I pretend to be Sherlock Holmes and inspect her for clues. I lower my voice slightly and rub my chin thoughtfully. “Well, you don’t carry a deep tan so I’m going to rule out the South. I’ve heard that people from the Western Provinces of Belhelm and Avernall tend to have fairer colored hair, so I’m going to count that out as well.”

I have just made broad guesses, but the act pleases Marie greatly and she claps for my charade.

“Good! Good!”

I slump my shoulders and stick out my bottom lip. I tell her, “I can’t guess anymore, Marie! Give me a hint.”

“Alright, just one!” Marie promises and I brighten my face right away. She smiles wide and says nothing else. I catch the ball under my foot and look at Marie, waiting for her to give me the hint. But she just stands there grinning which confuses me greatly.

“Uh...” I start, wondering if the woman is having a stroke or something, “The hint?”

“This is the hint! Come, look at my bottom teeth, your highness.” Marie beckons me closer, her smile bright as ever and I approach curiously.

I should note that since this world takes place in what would be deemed ‘the past’, the hygiene isn’t always the best. Deodorant is nonexistent, and if it wasn’t for my makeshift toothbrush and crush mint paste, I would not be able to engage in the usual dental care I’m used to. I’ve previously noticed that Marie’s teeth are not the sparkling white Colgate smile that is commonplace in the modern world, but I never pay much mind because this is quite common for many maids.

Marie’s top teeth are slightly yellow and have never seen braces, but they aren’t much worse than the usual modern smile. However, her bottom teeth, which are rarely visible when she smiles, are slightly stained black. After ensuring I’ve gotten a good look, Marie returns to her usual motherly grin and they disappear from view.

“I’ve served you buckweed tea before, haven’t I?” Marie asks.

I wrinkle my nose at the memory. The bitter, dark tea was not to my taste at all, causing me to nearly spit it out at the first sip.

“Yes, you have,” I mutter in displeasure. Marie lets out a short peal of laughter at my scrunched up face.

“Buckweed is found around the D’anjou Mountains. It’s surprisingly expensive too. My father, he wanted to farm it when I was young to earn more for the family, but the tools cost too much.” Marie is clearly passionate as she speaks about her family and I listen intently. It is one thing to read about the Empire from a book and another to hear from someone who’s lived in it.

“Anyways, even if you can’t farm it, it grows in patches around the foot of the mountain. So a lot of us growing up in my poor village would chew generously on stalks of buckweed to stave off hunger. Each piece is as long as a strand of wheat, but black as soot. After chewing for a while, your teeth would get stained as if you made a meal out of a fireplace!”

The mental image of a person on their hands and knees eating the ashes out of a fireplace is too funny for us both and we break out in loud giggles. As we slowly calm down, Marie continues.

“I’ve left my village for many years, so my top teeth aren’t stained anymore. But I’d wager my sister and her nephew have black smiles!” Marie looks wistfully down at me. “When I left the village, my nephew was just about as small as you. But I had a friend in the laundry department who wasn’t far from my village and she gets letters from time to time. He’s married now with a little girl. I hope she is just as cute as you are, your highness.”

“I’m sure your family is doing well, Marie,” I reply warmly as Marie’s despondent face rises to the surface.

I know Marie isn’t much good at reading and feel terrible that she can’t send letters home. Maybe in my spare time, I can find a way to arrange correspondence between herself and her sister. After more than five years away from my mother, I understand all too well how hard separation between family members can be.

From the sudden pang of missing my mom, I reach out and squeeze Marie’s hand. It’s a touching moment, one that is quickly interrupted by multiple slowly approaching footsteps.

Before I look up, I eliminate possible suspects.

It can’t be any maids, since I specifically told them not to bother me while I was out playing. Ever since the incident with Janice, they have been much more diligent and probably wouldn’t disobey this small order.

It also can’t be Emma. In addition to the fact that she should still be suffering sword lessons with Sir Dick, erm Sir Robbie, she has the ability to pop up out of nowhere. If it were her, I would just have to turn around and have a heart attack at her sudden, stealthy appearance.

I reluctantly relinquish Marie’s hand and steel my nerves. The empress has left me alone long enough, perhaps she has come around to fake more affection or make me hold more cups of tea. But the approaching figure shocks me in a pleasant way.

Followed by a few maids, it’s easy to see that this is not a woman of ordinary status. Her aging body is wrapped up in a modestly colored court dress, the subtle jewelry tasteful yet still showcasing her nobility. And I’ve met this woman before, a rush of suppressed excitement running through me as I meet her friendly eyes. The words, ‘potential ally’, might as well be tattooed on her forehead.

I drop into a curtsey, my knees automatically bending to the 45 degrees Mrs. Laroche had me practice a thousand times.

“Greetings, Duchess Taylor.”