Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
“Ah.” Mr. Tabellion wrapped his arms around himself and stroked his beard, something I had noticed he did a lot. “The Order of the Fallen Knights.”
“Yes, that is it.” I nodded. “What is that?”
“Ah, well, good question.” He grinned, and he reminded me of a professor. He enjoyed teaching. “About three hundred and twelve years ago, a faction in the military rose to overthrow the king and end the House of Monterey.”
“So, a coup?” I asked, and he nodded.
“Their plans for a coup d’état had gained some support of a few other nobles too. So, a scheme was hatched to massacre the royal family on Christmas night. One thousand soldiers stormed the palace gates, and most of the guards abandoned their posts, except for two dozen knights who refused to abandon their king.”
“They stormed this palace?”
He shook his head. “No, Marimier’s Palace, in the southern region of Chourmondeley.”
He must have seen the confusion on my face, so he lifted his tablet to show me a map of the country. “Remember, Ersovia has been divided administratively into twenty-two regions. This one is Chourmondeley, where the House of Monterey originates. Every other Christmas or New Year’s, they go back there.”
“Okay.” I nodded.
“As I was saying, the knights were able to hold off the traitors until dawn, allowing the king and his family to escape. The king returned with his navy and ten thousand men, crushing the rebellion to the ground. However, of the two dozen knights, only one survived long enough for the king to return. On his death bed, the king said he and the other men were noble and, therefore, should be made nobility. However, the knight said his greatest honor was to be a knight and serve and protect his king. The king created The Order of the Fallen Knights for the twenty-four men who died protecting him. He proclaimed that for as long as their bloodlines continued and they remained loyal, they and their descendants would always be considered knights and welcome into his palace.”
“So, for the last three hundred years, there has been a Wolfgang von Wolfgang working in the palace? So, Wolfgang—the current Wolfgang—is named after his ancestor, the first Wolfgang von Wolfgang?”
“Exactly, miss.” He nodded approvingly.
“Do all of the descendants pass down their names? So, Iskandar’s name is Iskandar Ruegg XV, then or something?”
“No, the first Ruegg knight was named Matevos. So, it is not a tradition of all their families.”
“They are knights. The modern-day would-be guard. So why is he a secretary and not a guard?”
“Another good question.” He stroked his beard again. “But I do not know. Personal preference? Or maybe he did not pass through the academy. I do not wish to speculate. It would be best if you asked him directly.”
“Of course, thank you, Mr. Tabellion,” I replied, rising to my feet and outstretching my hand.
He took it but only shook it once, nodding to me. He exited the room, and a second later, Gelula stepped in.
“The Lady de Marissonne is here, miss. Do you need a moment?”
“No, it is fine. I’m ready.”
She turned back to the door to allow the fabulous Lady de Marissonne, my tutor, for what I called Etiquette 101, to enter the room. She was a very thin, much older biracial woman—at least in her late sixties or early seventies—with a small head and big eyes. But what was more interesting about her was her overall style and look. She wore a knee-length beaded dress, like a 1920s flapper, with stockings and two-inch heels. And it got better. She also wore purple lipstick and eyeshadow, along with thick eyelashes. I couldn’t help but think of Yzma from Emperor's New Groove the moment I saw her.
“Your Royal Highness, it is a pleasure.” She waltzed in and curtsied to me. Before I even opened my mouth, she’d already lifted her head to look at me. “Your reply must only be delayed for three to five seconds, Miss Wyntor. Any longer than that, and it will seem as if you are angry with me. Any shorter, it will seem as if you are uncomfortable with the greeting and, therefore, clueless. There are many times to be distracted, miss, but an introduction is not one of them. Remember, you must always be alert and attentive.”
Obviously, it was a pop quiz, and I failed.
“Today, we will go through all the basics of proper tea etiquette,” she went on.
“Tea etiquette?” I repeated. “Do you mean sticking my pinky out to drink?” I snickered at the thought of it; however, she looked much more disturbed.
“Never, under any circumstance, ever raise your fifth finger to drink tea. It’s rude and connotes elitism.”
“Aren’t monarchs the elite?” I asked carefully, not wanting my Americanness to come out too much, fearing Queen Elspeth would come out of nowhere and tear into me over it. Over the past few weeks, I had spent most of my time learning to walk, learning to sit, and how to curtsy, the proper titles for everyone, and how they were to be greeted—the fundamentals. And I could not even complain because the one second I had forgotten to sit like a duchess, the press lambasted me.