Post by wordy on Aug 31, 2010 23:56:24 GMT 10
A Day in the Life of...An Empress
by PeroxidePirate
At eight o'clock, I tucked a couple of pastries into my pocket and made my way to Empress Berenene's private apartment. I'd been instructed to meet her there, “First thing in the morning” – but if she was like most of the gentry I'd met, she wouldn't be up and about for at least another hour. Still, I didn't want to risk being late; hence the decision to bring my breakfast along instead of taking a few minutes longer to eat.
There were butterflies in my stomach anyway. In the hundred and twenty-seven years since the Namorn Review began publication, not one of its reporters had ever been allowed to shadow a reigning monarch before. It didn't surprise me that Her Imperial Majesty was going to challenge tradition yet again – but I still couldn't believe I was the favored reporter who'd won this much-coveted assignment.
The guard who escorted me down the hall knocked at the door and then stepped back. I expected the knock to be answered by a maid, who would probably shush us, as Her Imperial Majesty would still be asleep. I had it on good authority that there had been a ball at the palace the night before.
Instead, the door was opened by a shapely young woman in very nicely cut and fashionable attire.
Could it really be...? “Bidisa,” I murmured, hoping my curtsy was quick enough to escape giving offense.
The Mistress of the Imperial Wardrobe beckoned me inside. “It is not wise to keep her waiting.” She pushed me bodily ahead of her, through another doorway, and shut the door behind me.
I found myself in an opulent room furnished with intricately carved shelves, chairs, and one square table. Empress Berenene herself was seated at the table, facing me, and I was alone in the room with her.
I did the only thing I could: I curtsied so low that my knee touched the marble-plated floor, and I bowed my head so that floor was the only thing I could see. Not only was she my supreme monarch, bestowing an immeasurable favor upon me – I was also, apparently, late.
“First thing in the morning.”
I begged her forgivenss, hating the way my voice squeaked – it would be just perfect to annoy her, on top of everything else. To my relief, she merely went on to say, “We have been reading reports for an hour. We are nearly done, and then Bidisa Rizuku will dress our hair.” She pointed to my left, indicating an empty space before a fireplace (which was just as intricate as everything else in the room). “You may stand there.”
Empress Berenene handed me a stack of papers, most of them encased in various leather folders, and explained that the top sheet was our agenda for the day. It seemed very long.
I wondered if she carried the pile herself, on other days. It didn't seem like a sufficiently imperial thing to do. My curiosity must have shown in my face: she gave me a flicker of what could almost have been a smile, and explained, “One of our secretaries has fallen ill. The other is very glad that you are here today.”
I had been instructed to stay behind the empress when in public, so I followed her down the palace corridors, flanked by half a dozen guards. There was little enough risk of trouble in the palace itself, so they had to be there to add to Her Imperial Majesty's consequence. This close, my eye kept being drawn to her hair, and the paler strip that showed at the roots. (Was it blond or white? I couldn't tell.) I wondered if the guards had noticed, too.
Our entourage came to a stop, and I almost walked into Her Imperial Majesty. Oops – better pay attention.
We turned to the right, entering a large, well furnished study. It was just as impressive as the room in which I'd first met Empress Berenene, but there was something no-nonsense about it, too. I instantly knew that this was where the real work was done.
The empress arranged herself at an expansive desk, facing into the room. The guards bowed, then withdrew from the room. I curtsied, and waited to be told what to do.
“You may sit there,” she said, indicating a small, hard chair to one side. Before I could move to obey, there was a knock on the door. “Enter,” she called.
An older woman let herself in, and dropped a curtsy I couldn't help but think of as perfunctory. I curtsied deeply in return: anyone the empress invited in would surely outrank me, and unless I missed my guess, this would be the great Viymese Ishabal Ladyhammer.
After a very brief moment, during which she stared into me and determined that I constituted no threat to Her Imperial Majesty, Viymese Ladyhammer paid me no attention at all. She pulled her own chair right up to Empress Berenene's desk, leaning over the polished wood surface so they could both look at the scroll she unfurled. The empress occasionally requested a folder from me, but otherwise, she ignored me, too.
I tried to pay attention to what was said, but kept losing the thread of conversation. There was a lot about improving barriers, weaving different types of magic together, and recruiting assistants for Viymese Ladyhammer. Some of the time they spoke in a language I couldn't understand, though I never seemed to noticed when they switched. I didn't want to be rude, but I couldn't help trying to listen. Once or twice Her Imperial Majesty caught my eye, and I swear, she was almost laughing.
We'd been there for some time when there was another knock on the door. Viymese Ladyhammer actually swore. “Is that two hours, already?”
“Isha, we've been going round in circles for ten minutes anyway. We don't care if you agree; try it anyway, and tell us about it tomorrow.” Empress Berenene's eyes were hard, and the viymese bowed her head, though she still looked far from pleased. I resolved to find out what language they'd been speaking, and learn it, starting tomorrow.
The viymese went out, and a stout, balding man in his middle years came in. He was followed by a young woman who stationed herself behind the empress and began to make notes on a scroll of cheap paper.
The man greeted the empress with a formal bow, and she gave him a tiny smile. “Giath Feodor.” The prime minister – he was once a merchant, just like my family, and no one knew how he came to the attention of Her Imperial Majesty. Somehow, over the years, his power had grown. Now he settled into the chair across from Empress Berenene, and they began to talk about grain stores and rainfall.
My mind wandered – this time I understood what was being said, but didn't find it interesting. And the more they discussed crops, the more my stomach rumbled. I though longingly of the pastries crumbling in my pockets, and cursed my arrogance that morning.
Eventually the giath went out, to be replaced by a finely dressed woman whose name seemed vaguely familiar. She perched tentatively on the edge of the chair, and passed the empress sheets of parchment, which she said contained menus and entertainment schedules for Her Imperial Majesty's review. She was the empress' social secretary, I realized: moderately well known, but not exactly a household name.
Next came a small, frazzled man who turned out to be the palace steward. The empress did not invite him to sit down, so he remained standing while they discussed repairs, guest quarters, and the livery of the palace staff. The young woman took notes through all of this.
“Very well, then,” Her Imperial Majesty said, just when I was sure my stomach was about to start audibly growling. “Mariya, make a note to ask Bidisa Rizuku about the liveries. Steward Vadim, we are finished for today.” After the steward bowed his way out, she turned to me. “Go with Mariya for now. We must dress for luncheon.”
“We'll eat in the kitchen while she's getting ready,” Mariya explained, as we made our way down the hall. “Then we'll attend her while she eats, and take notes on any business conducted there. After that... do you have today's agenda?”
I nodded, passing it over. Having skipped breakfast, all I could think about was food.
“Private luncheon, then hunting with the court during the afternoon, then a visit to the greenhouses. And a formal dinner this evening – oh, you'll have fun.” Mariya grinned, and I found myself grinning back. I'd heard that the empress tended to surround herself with people who were pleasant and easy to get along with, and Mariya certainly fit that profile.
The luncheon and hunting were about what I had expected: attractive, energetic, brightly dressed courtiers fluttered around Her Imperial Majesty, the young men jostling for her attention, while the women watched out of the corners of their eyes, talked to one another, and flirted with the men who weren't in the inner circle of the empress. I sat or stood with Mariya, behind Empress Berenene, while we both took notes on the proceedings. During the hunt, we even followed on horseback. So did the bodyguards – an even dozen of them, outside the palace – but no one paid them any mind.
The greenhouses are the pride and private joy of the empress, one of her early examples of flouting tradition: many people believe an imperial personage should not get her hands dirty, but Empress Berenene does, and she doesn't care who knows it.
I followed along behind her, and the guards left us at the entrance to the largest greenhouse. Mariya, like everyone else, had left us after the hunt.
Inside the air was moist, and much warmer than the autumn day outside. Plants filled every space. In contrast to the palace and the field, where courtiers and servants made a constant point of showing deferential behavior to Her Imperial Majesty, the gardeners barely paused in their work long enough to bow.
Empress Berenene, herself, seemed to take off a layer of formality. I sensed that if I wanted to make a personal connection with her, this was the place. The agenda gave us an hour here; I resolved to wait a few minutes before I began to ask probing questions.
“Well, then.” She turned to me, not three minutes after the door had closed behind us. “What do you think of it all? What are you going to put in the Review?”
“Your Imperial Majesty,” I said, dropping another curtsy to give myself a moment. “I remain honored by the chance to shadow you today. I shall publish nothing but what is both true and flattering – which won't be hard,” I added quickly, “because the truth is always flattering, where you're concerned.”
She laughed. “Now you're trying to flatter us. We recognize that, due to long experience.” Her eyes crinkled, inviting me to share the joke.
“It happens because you deserve it, Your Imperial Majesty.” I thought that might be overdoing the flattery, so then I asked, “What do you want me to put in the Review?”
“The truth, of course,” she reassured me. “We'd like all of Namorn to know that the events of the summer have not had any lasting effect on the Empire, or on us. Viymese Ladyhammer remains our loyal, extremely capable, Imperial Mage. Bidisa Rizuku remains devoted and dedicated to her duties. And our court remains safe, pleasant, and entertaining. Wouldn't you agree, Ravvikki?”
I curtsied again. “I agree completely, Your Imperial Majesty.”
The rest of our time in the greenhouse was spent examining the various plants. I took notes on it all, but in truth, I have nothing to add to the volumes already published about Empress Berenene's collections. Nor is there much to say about the formal dinner that evening – the Namorn Review has previously published numerous articles about the social goings-on at the palace, and this one was unexceptional.
I leave you, therefore, with this: Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Berenene dor Ocmore, is as far from being a woman of leisure as one could possibly get. And given the work that goes into running an empire, this is good fortune for all of Namorn.