CHAPTER 12
ROOT OF THE MATTER
Grabbing another stack of files and books from the floor, a leather-bound journal topples out. Unlike the other plain books in mother's study, it has emblems of poppies emblazoned on the cover. Curiously, I pick it up and begin flipping through.
This is…
On this fine aureate afternoon, I happened to see the most peculiar man. He had all manners of cats trailing behind him as if he were the pied-piper of felines! As he tried to enter the reading room where I happened to be situated, the guards barred him entrance and tried to kick him out… He protested with such pathetic excuses - “But they’re not even my cats! They're just following me around!”- that I almost burst out laughing!
This was my mother's diary…! But… Cats following a human…? I laugh at the image.
It's odd. Although, I have never heard this story, I could envision the scene so vividly. An enveloping comfort wraps around me.
Mother's writing, her words. I can almost hear her voice narrating the lines…
I blink a few times before I follow the trail of crummy thoughts any further.
My goodness! Thankfully I managed to keep my composure, for I had company this day. Duke Rétee Letif had the good sense to consult me on matters concerning bird-watching.
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Ever since a young age, I was enamored with such things after all. Memorizing the various types and mannerisms of the little birdies in the area was my intrinsic passion.
Letif looked upon the young man with canny eyes; as a fox would look upon a family of hares, cleverly devising a plan to separate them from one another. It looked like something clicked in his mind, for his gaze set and he swiftly settled the matter with the strange man and the guards. Filled with gratitude, the young man introduced himself as Arcanis Newlyn.
An audible gasp leaves my throat. What? That no-nonsense and upright father used to have cats following him around? I suddenly can’t envision such a picture…
He was a scholar, recently summoned by the first prince Marsen He excitedly babbled about the sheer amount of books in this library. I giggled and told him this was only a small reading room within the palace. It was quite adorable how his juniper-green eyes widened and sparkled in awe.
But in that same moment, I realized his misfortune. Poor thing… Letif seemed to have found him interesting as well. I silently wished him good luck and wondered how he would be messed with, fufu.
Furrowing my brows, I try to imagine my know-it-all father ever being 'adorable’ or star-stricken. Also, did my mother always have that sort of personality…? I feel my brows at its maximum capacity for furrowing.
And First Prince Marsen… Could it be referring to the current King Freyjr?
When a Gardein Prince or Princess undergoes coronation, they take an oath to only serve the country and its citizens. The whole thing closely resembles a baptism as they shed their old identity and take the title of King Freyjr or Queen Freyja.
On a side note, I recently read about different religions and its practices scattered throughout Eastern civilizations. I can conclude that the whole royal coronation process held similar attributes to a few minor religions.
In other words, it seems quite cultish to me. But of course, I would never tell anyone I think this, lest I be labelled as having committed lèse-majesté.
Now then… I have probably been procrastinating long enough. Tightly, I grip onto the journal.