UNNAMED STORY CHAPTER 1 WIP

CHAPTER 1

“And then, the princess faced down the werewolf king and said to him ‘your cruelty will end here and now! I, Princess Milania, will slay you here and now in the name of justice!’”

                The gathered children gasped. “Then what happened, Miss Cris? Did the princess beat the mean werewolf king?” One boy piped up.

                “Of course she does!” One of the girls responded, looking offended that the boy would even ask that. “Princess Milania can do anything, right Miss Cris?” She turned her head expectantly.

                Cris smiled, sitting on the floor of the library in a circle with five of the servant’s children, a book open in her lap. She tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “Well, I don’t think she can do everything. It wouldn’t be very fun if you know she’d always win, after all!” She turned a page in the book, and gasped.

                “What is it, what happened?” the kids questioned in a chorus.

                “It was a trap! The princess fell into a pit!” Cris said dramatically, playing up the suspense. This was met with several cries of shock from the kids. She grinned, but before she could continue, there was an interruption. The interruption came in the form of a one Mrs. Pinet, a full bodied woman with an eternally rosy face, tasked with the process of raising Cris from a girl to a young woman, or so was her constant mantra.

                “Miss Christine! Figures I’d find you here, are you shirking your lessons again?” The woman was not happy, her hands on her hips and a frown on her face.

                Cris sighed, “Funs over for today, kids.”

                “Aww, but Miss Cris, it was just getting to the good part!” another girl cried.

                “Tomorrow, ok? I promise,” Cris said with a smile, and the children reluctantly ran off. She raised her gaze to the disapproving glare before her, brown eyes trying their best to seem apologetic. “I… forgot?” It was a flimsy excuse, but she figured she may as well try.

                “I won’t have any of your excuses, Miss Christine. How do you expect to become a properly dignified young lady if you won’t go to your lessons?”

                “I don’t want to! I don’t want to sit around having tea with boring noblemen and pretend to laugh at their dumb jokes!” Cris replied as she closed the book and hopped to her feet.

                Mrs. Pinet rolled her eyes. “Not this again.”

                Cris tapped the cover of her book, featuring an illustration of the warrior princess Milania, “This is what I want! To be a hero and go on adventures!”

                “How many times do I have to tell you to stop with those silly daydreams of yours? You are a lady. A lady does not go gallivanting off swinging around a sword,” she crossed her arms resolutely.

                “This one does!” Cris responded with a pout.

                “Your story books are not the same as real life, Miss Christine,” Mrs. Pinet sighed. “Regardless, I came to fetch you because your father wanted to speak with you. I had gone to find you where you should have been, at your lesson, but clearly that was too much to expect of you.”

                “Oh, daddy wanted to see me?” Cris’s expression brightened as she clutched her book to her chest.

                “Yes dear. He’s in his office, as always. Can I trust you to go see him on your own?”

                “Of course!” Cris smiled. Her father had become a bit of a recluse after her mother’s death, but he was kind and doted on her, and she loved him dearly.

                “Good girl. When he’s done with you, do run along to your room, it’ll be time to wash up for dinner; I’ll have your dress laid out on the bed.” Mrs. Pinet replied, and turned on her foot to trot off before Cris had time to object. Her father had just returned from a business trip the night earlier, changing into a different dress for dinner meant company would come over for dinner to herald his return. She frowned a little at this, but obediently trotted off in the direction of her father’s office.

 

                Adrien Trepagnier’s office was simultaneously the office of someone who had too much and too little time on their hands. The room was lined with shelves, and there was barely an inch of space on them that wasn’t occupied by some artifact, book, or piece of art. There were papers everywhere, piled on the desk, sandwiched between books, and even a few nestled in with a potted plant. Cris carefully pushed to door open, making sure not to knock the standing globe to the side of it over, and slipped inside. “You wanted to see me, daddy?” She asked as she sauntered over to sit in the chair on the near side of her father’s desk.

                He looked up from his work, glasses slightly askew. Mr. Trepagnier was a rather frazzled looking man, always looking haggard and mildly disoriented regardless of the situation. In his mid-forties, his hair, auburn like his daughter’s, was slicked back, but strand of hair were always falling in his face. But, he smiled when he saw his daughter, “I was starting to think you’d gone missing, with the time it took you to get here. I take it that you skipped out on your lessons again?”

                Cris frowned, “They’re boring, daddy. I’d much rather have fencing lessons with you. Or even learn how to do business! That way I won’t have to get married because I can run the company after you by myself.” She seemed proud of herself for coming up with this idea.

                Her father scratched his head. “The content of your schooling isn’t up for debate right now, Christine.”

                “Boo. What did you want to talk about, then?”

                “Your birthday. It’s in two weeks, yes?” He asked as he shuffled a few papers around. “I want to know what you’d like to do for it so I can make arrangements before I leave.”

                “Leave? But daddy, you just got back! And you’d only been home for a week before that trip!” Cris was less put out by her father’s frequent trips as she was concerned for the eternally tired man’s well-being. With her mother gone, it was her job to look after him, of course.

                “I know, Cris. But if the deal this trip is for goes through, I shouldn’t have to travel quite so much. When I get back, we can take a trip to visit Auntie Elaine as a late birthday present, if you’d like.”

               “… Late? Daddy, are you saying you won’t be back before my birthday? “ Cris’s shoulders slumped at the realization. As busy as her father was, he’d always made a point to be home for her birthday.