Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 192810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 964(@200wpm)___ 771(@250wpm)___ 643(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 192810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 964(@200wpm)___ 771(@250wpm)___ 643(@300wpm)
I learned this as I sat alone in a room (alone save Madam Garwah) at the middle of five desks arranged in front of a step, up on which a female who appeared a well-cared-for age of two hundred and seventy-five paced the “stage” slamming her intricately carved cane down with every other step so hard, it seemed she used it to punctuate the importance of her words.
She had silvery hair pulled back into a bun at her nape. She was wearing a dress that was very stylish…in the Year of the Dragon 2002. Her eyes were beady. Her nose hawk-like. She was excruciatingly thin and very tall. She had not bothered to visit any clinics to deal with the wrinkles that lined her face and hands. And Catla had shared the rumor that she had troll blood in her ancestry.
A lot of people claimed they had troll blood, but I’d never seen anyone who actually looked like a troll.
Including Madam Garwah.
No, she was a shifter. I couldn’t get a lock on her beast, but if I had to guess, I’d say it was a snake.
So far in our session, I’d learned there were different curtsies.
During formal occasions, a very deep one for the king and queen, with your arm thrown out to the side and your head bowed (when she made me practice (over and over) I found the arm thing was good, because it helped you balance).
A less deep, but still deep one (no arm), for the princes and princess, and during less formal occasions, the same for the king and queen.
But for everyone else, you could just sort of…bob.
You had to wait for the king or queen to tell you to rise. But all the rest, you just did your thing and got straight again.
I’d also learned the manners of address.
His (or her) Royal Majesty for the king and queen. Your majesty would suffice.
His (or her) Royal Highness for the princes and princess. Your highness would suffice.
Your grace, for dukes, duchesses, marquesses and marchionesses.
My lord or lady for anyone else, except knights and dames. They were sir or dame.
“But those last are old school,” Madam Garwah had barked, but then, she barked everything. Her manner of address had been alarming at first, until I realized that was simply how she talked. “If there’s a count or baron who expects you to refer to him as ‘milord,’ rest assured, he’s a pompous poppycock. Simply refer this matter to the prince, and he’ll see to putting the male in his place straightaway.”
I was kind of hoping some pompous poppycock made me call him “milord” just so I could see how Aleksei handled it.
We’d moved on to how you entered a room or sat at a table (entering a room: in order of succession, but she informed me I didn’t really need to worry about this, for I’d be on Aleksei’s arm; sitting a table: once the king, queen and True Heir were seated, it was free for all).
You didn’t eat or drink until the king imbibed (or the queen if the king wasn’t around). And you were finished when they were if you were taking a meal with them (“But never you mind, both King Fillion and Queen Calisa have made an art of lingering over meals so their guests can get their fill.”)
It was all ridiculous, of course, but still fascinating.
“So, it’s like a constant reminder that you’re in the presence of your leader,” I stated. “Something, way back when, they had to do, because if someone questioned the leader, things got real, as in assassination attempts, coups and wars breaking out. All of this was an effort to control even the subconscious, so in every way, from entering a room to how you addressed them to when you had to stop eating, you knew who the boss was.”
Madam Garwah stopped pacing and banging her cane and whirled toward me.
Once she did, her piercing eyes took their time examining me, and I couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like she was a good deal more interested than she had been for the last forty-five minutes.
“Precisely,” she decreed.
“And now it serves what purpose?” I queried.
She squinted her eyes. “I beg your pardon?”
I tossed up a hand. “Well, we vote for our representatives at Central. And in our parishes. Every realm has a monarchy, but we’re all democracies. The vast majority of people will never meet a royal, or even an aristocrat.”
She rocked back, situated her cane dead center in front of her and placed both hands one on top of the other on the carved dragon head at the pinnacle. “Ah, the world is more civilized, so we no longer need to adhere to the civilities.”
“Is it a civility to expect someone to bow to you?”
“Is it not true that Night’s Fall and Sky’s Edge were locked in brutal war for four centuries?” she retorted. “And even during the period of Great Peace, those of the Edge picked at our borders constantly, to the point they eventually broke that Great Peace.”