Aloe hadn’t slept. And this wasn’t an exaggeration or a hyperbole, no, she hadn’t had the time to sleep. Tamara had vaguely instructed her on everything her mother had been doing, and it soon became obvious that it was a lot.
As a child, she had never been a crybaby who resented her parents for not being present. She understood since little that they had obligations, but only now the weight of those obligations was visible to her.
And it certainly didn’t help that the palace had been without a scribe of commoners and nobles for two weeks now.
There were minor scribes, they were most of the workforce in the offices, but only a scribe with the permission of the emir could authorize any paperwork.
So she spent ten straight hours doing so.
The sun had begun to hide when she started, and only when she finished it reappeared.
“Ugh...” Aloe groaned; a massive headache induced by the lack of sleep throbbing in her mind. “This is horrible.”
As the newly appointed scribe of commoners, Aloe hadn’t thought twice – not a shed of doubt in her mind – of making use of the palace servants to prepare her some coffee. But even the insane amounts of caffeine couldn’t help her concentrate for ten hours straight without sleeping. She didn’t even care that coffee was a luxury she could not afford on a daily basis, even less ten cups of it.
Well, coffee was cheap. Everyone could buy a sack of it in the bazaar, but these specific grains were almost as expensive as the cannabis she had sold to Umar by weight.
Which was bollocks, but considering food and treats weren’t discounted from her salary, Aloe didn’t hold back.
If her mother could participate in every palace feast, then she would drink all of the coffee in the emirate’s pantries. Refusing the perks of the job was moronic, especially when required her to spend ten straight hours signing papers under candlelight.
The problem with Aloe was that she was responsible, or at least more so than the average braindead person. That wasn’t an insult, she considered herself to be in that select group composed of the vast majority of the population. If she had been less responsible, she could have just signed every paper that passed through her table, but that would only led to either losing her job or getting executed depending on what she had agreed to.
Or in the worst case, a bigger headache.
It said a lot of her mental state when being beheaded sounded a way easier way to ease her migraines. At least that way her head wouldn’t hurt.
Be as it may, Aloe had read every document, treaty, offer, petition, and whatever more synonyms were to describe the parchments.
“There’s going to be an audience soon, ugh...” She mumbled as she watched the sun filtering through the scribe’s office.
Her office.
She should be happy about her promotion. She went from an apprentice of a banker to one of the five scribes of one of the most important cities of Ydaz. But she had grown sour after inheriting so many things. People would rejoice after getting a sizeable inheritance, but for that to happen, they would have had to lose other things before.
And Aloe had lost too much to be happy about her current position.
That and the headache.
“No... more... coffee... Uhk-” She held the bile threatening to pour out of her mouth.
Aloe swallowed it, her body jerking in response to the foul taste and giving her enough energy to stand upright. With her regained height, her eyes lined with a mirror in the wall. Ignoring that the piece was more expensive than some houses, Aloe stood up and had a better look at her reflection.
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“Not good, not good...” Her fingers touched the deep bags under her eyes, this time not even her dark skin could hide it. “Umm... they are not going to execute me for being unsightly, right?”
With they being the emir. But most likely the imperial scribe, considering how much of an entitled kid she was.
The scribe slapped her cheeks to wake her up. “I need to look more presentable.”
Aloe left her office and started looking for servants, preferably maids. She didn’t know the layout of the palace, she barely remembered how to get to her office from the main entrance, but it wasn’t hard to find servants pullulating on the corridors at this hour. Early morning was far busier than late afternoon, let alone midnight.
“Excuse me.” She cried for the attention of a maid.
The woman turned to her with a confused look. “I’m sorry, miss, but the audiences have yet to start.”
It took Aloe a few blinks to understand the misunderstanding.
“I’m not a petitioner, I work here.” She explained.
“Oh, ehm... I haven’t seen you before?" The lightly dressed servant stated with doubt. "Are you new? Where’s your uniform?”
“Uniform? Do scribes wear uniforms?”
“Scribes?” The maid blinked slowly.
Aloe and the maid looked at one another sharing the same visage of pure bewilderment. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one with a lack of sleep.
“Oh, you thought I was a maid.” Aloe realized, and then she looked at her clothes. “Honestly, I can understand it, I look horrendous.” She added with a sigh. “No, I am not a maid, though yes, I am new to the palace. I am the new scribe of commoners.”
“Oh!” The maid instantly paled, blood draining from her visage in horror. “I am so sorry for my transgressions, venerable Scribe!”
“No offense taken, please calm yourself.” Aloe raised her hands defensively in typical Ydazi fashion. But instead of raising both hands as it was common, she only raised her right one. The gesture held the same meaning, but it was considered more formal. “I started working little more than half a day ago, I doubt most of the people in the palace know I even exist.”
“Thanks for your understanding, venerable Scribe,” The maid bowed in true gratitude. “To what intent may you require my services, then?”
“Right, right.” Aloe scrubbed her eyes trying to fend off sleepiness. “As you may see, I’m far from presentable in my current state.” She pointed at her bags. “So I was inquiring where I could get access to a makeup artist or someone providing that kind of service. Also, a change of clothing would be appreciated, though I have even less of an idea on how to get that.”
“I am qualified to do your makeup if needed, venerable Scribe.” The maid bowed slightly. “Though I would need to get the necessary equipment first.”
“But of course.” Aloe sighed in relief, she needed to hear those positive words, no matter how minuscule they may be. Like war, victories were cumulative.
“If you want to have a fresh set of clothes, I will need to ask the head maid for that. There are attires in the palace wardrobes, but I do not have the clearance to pick them up on my own.”
“I’ll be waiting on the scribe of commoner’s office then.”
“If you excuse me, venerable Scribe.” The maid bowed again and disappeared into the corridors of the palace.
As Aloe walked back to the office, her whole body crying in protest, her stomach was way louder than any other part.
“Augh...” She groaned, “I forgot to ask her about food.”
She went right back to the corridors to ask another maid for food but also to find the restroom. No matter how rich the palace was, private restrooms were so logistically demanding that it made no sense to have them. There were segregated restrooms by hierarchical standing, of course, but that meant Aloe had to walk a bit to reach the toilet.
And she was kind of running out of time.
Fortunately, she didn’t find herself involved in any setbacks, so she could empty her bladder without any accidents. That was how low her bar was. Aloe truly expected everything to go wrong at every turn. The whole situation was unbelievable, and her paranoia was at an all-time high.
Whilst the restroom was just that, a restroom, it was worrying how the nince-damned toilet seat was made of wood more expensive than her father’s desk.
She didn’t even take more than five minutes to ask where the restroom was and come back to her office, but when she arrived, the office was already populated with a selection of plates and maids.
“We can start whenever you are ready, venerable Scribe.” The first maid Aloe had asked said with a makeup box hanging in her hands. “I can even do the makeup whilst you are eating if you are pressured out of time.”
“We should also need to look which attires do suit you.” A second maid added; this one she hadn’t seen before. “Audiences will start in less than an hour, and a good dress should never be donned in a short span.”
Other people may have claimed to be overwhelmed by the attention and the pressure, but not Aloe. She had had a hard education and apprenticeship, both ridden with difficult challenges, so she knew how to thrive under pressure. It was almost a requirement to not get swallowed by the work tide. But the attention... oh, the attention. As the maids laid her hands on her, she could never understand how those princesses in stories – not those in that section of the archives, absolutely not – could even dare to say they hated that lifestyle. I could get used to this... Aloe’s tired eyes became intoxicated with luxury.