Responsibility Ch. 10

The Steward was a married woman of average height but nice clothing. She was clearly paid well. She always had a small, metal board style abacus hanging from her belt, along with a wax tablet and a stylus kept safe in a leather case.

On this chilly morning, Rahela and her maids-in-waiting followed this Steward over to one of the gates in the castle's outermost wall. There, they watched the process of people sending resources into the custody of the Imperial Family.

Every noble within Yahsin itself was required to send some agreed upon amount of something to the Imperial Family. They were also required to attend the Imperial Court at least once every two years. As for the smaller kingdoms owned by the Yahsin Empire, those monarchs and nobles weren't required to attend the Imperial Court at all, but they could if they wanted to. Regardless, they'd pay their tributes. Rahela knew that her home country, Testoa, was going to send an amount of iron and stone to Yahsin next year.

Rahela was meant to watch the Steward count all the important goods being carried through, typically on wagons or trailers. She also had to listen whenever the Steward pointed out the importance of certain goods, and how to tell when something was counterfeit. Thankfully, nobody had sent any counterfeit good along. Some of the things Rahela examined were horses, potted plants, stone, logs, and even workers for labor. Even the people had to be examined, in a way. Or rather, their contracts had to be examined.

It was a long, exhausting lesson, especially since Rahela already understood most of the concepts.

After all that was done, Rahela and her girls were led off to one of the barracks. From that beginning point, the maidens were escorted by one of the head guards about so they could see many of the routes certain patrolling men would take. Along the way they saw where stationary men would stand. At the end of this lesson, the maidens sat down under a tree for a break, sipping water and letting their bodies cool in the gray air.

That lesson was much more useful.

Back in the keep, as the trio was escorted in a hallway, they were stopped by the Empress Dowager and her ladies and maid-in-waiting. Rahela and her maids bowed, and then the Empress Dowager nodded down to her with the tiniest smile. "Holding in your complaints must have frazzled you," she said.

"I've no complaints, Your Majesty," Rahela said.

"Is that so?" The Empress Dowager folded her hands and let one of her shoulders rise and fall. "Then I've no complaints. Carry on, Tiny Princess."

And the Empress Dowager, with her girls, walked away.

***

The air only turned chillier.

The sky was painted with a thick layer of clouds.

Raw winds blew throughout the capital.

Almost in defiance of that fact, a single maiden walked down the street without a cloak. She looked like she might be able to afford a nice cloak because her dress was black, very black, and it had a lot of material. The reason why there was so much material might be simply because the maiden was so tall. She towered above nearly everyone she passed, not that she seemed to notice most of them.

She wasn't a beauty.

The arms and torso were tight enough. If the elongated, gaunt shape of the maiden's face hadn't made it obvious, then her silhouette certainly did. That maiden was so thin. That made one wonder just how much wealth she truly had. Had she stolen the beautiful, black dress? Or perhaps she was ill, and that was why she was so thin?

Her black hair was wild and messy, but it didn't yield to the wind, neither did her skirt. Truly unbelievable. It was as if the air around her was still.

"Miss! You, the tall one!"

The man's voice rang out, and many people heard him. Some stopped to look at and listen to him, but many still watched the tall woman walk. Her shoes were dark brown.

"Wait!" That man was also pretty tall. He ran past a mildly confused looking couple and to a spot in front of the tall woman. He even held his palms up.

Her expression unchanged, actually quite empty, the thin maiden calmly halted, but she leaned to one side as if there was something ahead that she wanted to focus on. The irises in her eyes were so black that the man couldn't say how big the pupils were.

He had to hold down the urge to cringe. This woman was so terribly ugly, although not in the most traditional way.

Yes, her complexion was fair and spotless, but it was perhaps too fair, too pale. There wasn't even a hint of a blush, and who in the world didn't have blood in their veins? The rest of the features were so amazingly unnoticeable. Even when the man tried to make out her features, such as the shapes of the nose and mouth, the face itself was so unreasonably vague that he couldn't describe it well. All he could be certain of was that she was thin, pale, and had terribly fixated eyes.

And ... goodness! Her arms seemed so long! Her fingers too!

"Miss," the man said, unpinning the cord that held his cloak together, "it's so cold, and I'm the only one around with a cloak long enough for you." He shucked his cloak off his shoulders and held it out towards the uncaring woman. "Take my cloak. I have another."

The maiden didn't seem to react to his words, but she did straighten and walk around the man.

Frowning, the man spun around and said, "If you won't take my cloak, then take my coin. There's a bathhouse nearby, where you can soak and have hot food."

At the word food, the maiden's feet stilled. Then one of the heels rose so the whole body could be turned. Once the maiden was facing the man, she stared at him. He didn't think she could've been starting at anyone or anything else. A thick, unpleasant feeling dribbled down his spine.

Putting his cloak back over his body, the man said, "Follow me. I'll take you to the bathhouse." He turned and starting walking. Whenever he looked back, he saw that unusual woman in calm pursuit.

Eventually they were at the bathhouse. The man gave an employee girl a few coins and said he wanted a nice bath and filling meal for the pitiable maiden.

Suddenly, before the man could leave, the maiden spoke for the first time.

Colder than the weather, perhaps even colder than ice itself. Lacking in any known accent.

"You'll never die from hypothermia."

Once she said that, she finally moved her eyes away from the uncomfortable man.

Having difficulty communicating with such a quiet, peculiar maiden, the employee girl shrugged and went on with the work. When the tub was ready, she told the maiden to go on inside, but the maiden only stood by the tub, looking out at nothing.

Rolling her eyes a bit, the employee asked, "Do you want your food first?"

That maiden's head slightly, oh so slightly, nodded.

The employee left to get the tray of food. Then she returned to lay it across the tub. She turned around, wiped her hands on her apron, and thought to go see another customer.

But her feet stopped because of certain noises.

Slurping, clattering, growling, sniffing!

The employee turned around to see what was going on.

The food was gone. All gone. It hadn't been pushed into the bathtub. It hadn't been spilled onto the floor. There were no broken dishes. In fact, the now empty dishes were still in place, still and almost looking undisturbed. Only hints of sauce and a few crumbs gave evidence of the meal.

That odd customer in black, she was the same as before. No sign that she'd done anything. Then, never looking at anyone, she turned away from the bathtub and left the room. Her eyes wide, the employee watched her walk out of the building, then onto the street.

***

It was another morning, although it was warmer than the last.

Rahela was in a building that functioned as a special workshop. The Imperial Family had their own private Soaper. Urmas Madal. He had a wife and a few children, and he lived on the workshop's second floor in a cozy apartment. He also had a good number of apprentices to assist him. On the ground floor, which was fairly wide with many open windows, Rahela saw a few high class people pouring different colored soap, still raw and mostly liquid, into different kinds of molds.

"It's one of the most popular hobbies among the wealthy," Urmas said. "Making the soap batter is dangerous. They leave that to professionals. Still, they want to arrange the colors and choose the ingredients."

Rahela thought he looked very much like a soaper, or how she'd imagined a soaper to be. His build was average. He had leather gloves and a leather apron. There were a few old burn scars on his arms. He'd rolled his sleeves up to show them to her.

"One of the most vital ingredients for soap is lye," Urmas had said. "After the soap is made, the lye changes and becomes a perfectly safe material for the skin, but one should always respect lye. It's one of the most dangerous poisons one can make."

Rahela and her maids listened to him speak as he worked. They had to stay some distance away because he was in the process of making lye. The huge windows were there to keep everyone from inhaling too much of the fumes. And he wasn't the only one making lye. There were others, mostly apprentices and the soaper's family members.

First, he took a box of ashes from an apprentice, and he spread them over a sieve. He put that sieve over a clean pot.

"Over time, we've been preparing for His Majesty's birthday," Urmas said with a smile Rahela hadn't noticed until then. It was very wise yet also sly. "Your Highness, I suggest you order some soap from me. I have plenty extra bars in case of emergencies, but we still have time to make a loaf or something." He gently poured hot water over the ash in the sieve. "Since you're a foreigner, the Emperor won't be offended if you give him something simple, but you should at least give him something with a dye for an engaging color."

Rahela looked back at her maids-in-waiting. Both girls nodded, and Oksana said, "Soap is one of the most prized gifts."

Urmas put the sieve over a second pot. Then he put the first pot, the one with lye water, over a hot brazier. "Do you have any ideas, Your Highness?"

Putting a sleeve close to her nose, Rahela said, "I'm not certain. I need your guidance."

Beginning a pattern of rinsing the ashes over and over with hot water, Urmas said, "I don't mind."

They talked some more as Urmas went on with his work. Once the lye was strained to his liking, he left it to boil. He had someone else keep an eye on it. "It needs to be thick and cooled," he said. He looked back to Rahela. "Let's go this way." They all went to a different table where an apprentice had been looking at separate batch of lye. Urmas looked at that pot and said, "That's cool enough. Go onto my wife." He took a big jar from under the table and poured the contents into the lye. "This is olive oil," he explained. "Soap has have either fat or oil, or sometimes both."

He was putting the pot of oil and lye back onto a hot brazier when Rahela asked, "Are some oils better than others?"

Stirring the mixture, Urmas said, "It depends on what you want. Some animal fats produce a smelly soap. Some don't." His free hand made a gesture to one of his apprentices. "Work on this for me. I need to cut a loaf."

Once that boy had taken control, Rahela and company followed Urmas over to a device that looked like a stringed musical instrument. However, all Urmas did was line up a long, square log of earthy brown soap onto it. Then, he pulled a row of tight wires down, which did in fact make a nearly musical tone once the wires finished cutting through the soap. "Some soapers only work with fats, some only with plant oils. I'm fond of both."

"When will you next have a few free hours?" Rahela asked.

"Tomorrow, if you need me," Urmas said. "His Majesty has told me to keep you as a high priority."

***

As Rahela and her maids-in-waiting were escorted down another hallway, they came across Princess Tuya and her entourage. After polite greetings were given, Princess Tuya happily looked down at Rahela with her pretty golden eyes. Well, Rahela wanted to call her happy, but her face was nearly mask-like. The hint of joy came from the subtle little lines just under her eyes.

"I've been worrying over you, Your Highness," Princess Tuya said with with a few fingers under her chin. "When His Majesty leaves again, you'll be so alone. He's only worsening the problem by staying here now."

Putting her palms together, Rahela said with her normal, light voice, "I'm afraid I don't understand. Would Your Highness please explain?"

Just barely squinting, Princess Tuya said, "His Majesty might remain here until after the court meeting following his birthday, but he doesn't normally stay for that long. Even after you're married, you won't see your husband very often. He'll certainly leave for war."

As if Rahela hadn't already figured most of that out!!

Rahela didn't let this princess know she felt that her intelligence had been insulted. She didn't release her mild indignation. She only separated her hands and put one of them over her lips. "How lonesome," Rahela said. "I've so few friends in this mighty land."

"You won't have to be lonesome," Princess Tuya said as she made a little beckoning gesture. "Come. Let me boast of my pretty fabrics and sturdy looms." Apparently knowing that Rahela would follow, Princess Tuya started walking with her girls. Rahela didn't even shrug. She followed.

In Princess Tuya's specially assigned room, where all her looms were kept, Rahela watched her work for a time. Sometimes Princess Tuya weaved her threads in with a needle, but on most devices she used mechanisms with shuttles, picking sticks, and other parts for quicker work. There were even foot pedals involved. It was a loud, clacking, creaking process. The largest project in progress was a blanket made of brick red and earthy yellow threads.

"I'll be certain to make something for you," Princess Tuya said. "Would you prefer something delicate or something practical?"

"I'd rather not put a burden on you," Rahela said. "You already have so much to do."

Looking underneath the breast beam, Princess Tuya said, "I suppose you're right." She straightened back up. "Tomorrow, you should show me one of your favorite hobbies."

"I have an appointment tomorrow," Rahela said. "The next day would be much easier."

Princess Tuya nodded and agreed to that.

***

It was just before dinner when Rahela was summoned to a small room that was similar to an office. Her maids-in-waiting were told to sit on a bench nearby and listen. After all, this was technically part of their education, listening. The Emperor's squires and page were also sitting, also listening. The Emperor himself stood by a table with a map laid across its surface.

With an expectant and fearless grin, the Emperor pointed to a drawing of a little island nation. It wasn't too far away from Testoa. Then he pointed to some territories above Testoa. "The navies here," he said, are too weak for my tastes. I'd love to improve them, but for now," here, he moved down and tapped roughly the center of Testoa, "we could use Testoa."

Rahela's stomach almost curdled. Arguably, Testoa was one of one of Yahsin's many victims. Now, the victim was going to help Yahsin take over another.

She calmed herself with a breath.

"My trust is well placed in the Testoan navy," she said.

"After we see how they perform," the Emperor said as he took a step to one side, "we'll know how much assistance they might need in the future. Although, we'd bolster the forces in the other territories before we focus on Testoa."

Nodding, Rahela said, "It would be nothing less than an honor."

It was a brief meeting. No arguments. No conflicts. Nothing worth mentioning.

However, when dinner began, and Rahela was once more fueling secret criticisms with her refusal to use a fork, she didn't think about any judgmental stares. She didn't even think about the whispers that seemed to have been shared. She didn't put much thought into what anyone said to her. She merely gave the vaguest of replies.

She thought of a cycle of consumption and atrocity.

When Rahela was back in her bedchamber, having her hair combed, Oksana suddenly patted her shoulder to get her attention and grinned. "Mistress," she said, "you truly are a loyal member of the Yahsin Empire. Who wouldn't admire you?"

The effort needed for raising the corners of her lips seemed unusually difficult to find. Still, Rahela managed.

***

The first interesting thing about the next morning was how Oksana had her hair styled. It wasn't her favorite braid. It was a pair of straight lengths of hair held together by intertwined ribbons. Yana told her it was quite pretty. Rahela didn't comment on it, however.

Later that day, Rahela was supervised in her first soap project of her life. It was nerve-racking, but Urmas kindly told her, "After you have the mixture right, soap is very forgiving. Even if you ruin a design it's still a useful chunk of soap. It might even look pleasant despite it all."

She had her own special apron and gloves.

After some careful instructions, Rahela carefully poured some dark red soap into a rectangular mold that had been lined with special paper, using a wooden spoon to break the fall a bit. The mold was designed to be taken apart when needed. After that thin layer of red, she poured in some orange and pink. It was mostly orange. Pink had been lightly poured inside the orange batch but not mixed. It was a way of adding two colors at once in a swirling, almost random manner. Then she added more red. Often, she'd purposely leave a layer seemingly incomplete before applying the next. That way, she wouldn't have even rows.

Throughout the process, Rahela smelled a particular scent, a fragrance that had been added to the soap. The fragrance was temporary. It would slowly fade away over time, but that didn't matter to her. It didn't seem to matter to anyone else, either. Fragrances were just another way to personalize one's project.

It all took some time, but when she was finished, Urmas personally picked up her heavy mold of soap, crouched down, and banged the mold's bottom onto the floor. That action was mainly to get rid of air bubbles. Then, once he had the mold back on the table, he used a tool that looked similar to a pair of bellows to spray a liquid on the top of the soap. It smelled astringent.

"When this soap is cured just enough," Urmas said, "I'll chop it up for you. Then I'll let each bar cure. It should all be done before His Majesty's birthday."

Rahela thanked him, and then she promised to give him his payment once she had the completely cured bars of soap.

***

"Ah, I'm relieved, Your Highness," Princess Tuya said as she walked near Rahela down a hallway the next day. "I'd assumed we'd be poking our noses into poison."

That was clearly a joke, but Rahela knew her odd hobby had been whispered about. It would've been impossible to keep it a secret, and she'd never tried to do so.

Almost nodding, but not truly, Rahela said to her, "I'd assumed you wouldn't want a lecture about arsenic."

They were on their way to the stables.

Lightly fiddling with a hidden pin, likely one of several, keeping her headdress attached to her veil, Princess Tuya said with a thoughtful tone, "Did you know His Majesty has sent a present to the stables for you?"

Stupidly, Rahela thought of a coconut, or her idea of a coconut. Then, her logic returned to her, and she said, "Has he sent a mare?"

Automatically, Princess Tuya said, "A mule, a darling spotted mule."

"A mule mare?" Rahela layered her hands just under her ribs. "What a thoughtful gift. His Majesty is kind."

"He thinks so highly of you," Princess Tuya said with a light sigh. "You should always be grateful for such confidence."