Her Majesty The Prince III-2 (Extra) (Patreon)

(You may have noticed by now that each even-numbered chapter of Her Majesty The Prince follows the chronological timeline, while each odd-numbered chapter is a flashback. Since I only figured out this pattern after about a third of Act I had been published, I plan to go back and add flashback chapters after parts II and III when it comes time to put everything into a book. So until that happens, here's a sneak peek at what the flashback right after chapter 3 might look like! —Zandra)

The servant's quarters had been set up in a large hall of the castle's undercroft, with bunk beds distributed along the walls and split up in groups via privacy screens of various makes and materials. Rows of upper windows gave the room plenty of natural light, though some of the residents found their own ways to stretch their active hours just a little bit past sundown, when most were left to their own devices.

Everyone was expected to be up at dawn—some even before, depending on their assignment—and today was no exception. A trio of maids were in the middle of their morning routine when the Head Maid brought along the person who would take up the fourth bed in their little section of the hall. The shortest among them, eyes hidden behind large round glasses, face closely framed by long golden hair, hands holding the straps of a makeshift bedroll. Already in uniform.

"This is where you'll be staying," the supervisor said, motioning to the open bunk on the bottom left. "Roll call's in about twenty minutes, right after the sunrise bell. I'll find someone to match you up with and teach you the ropes, so just settle in for now and get acquainted." And with that brief introduction, the Head Maid was off. "This one's all yours, you three," she added over her shoulder as she walked away.

The first one looked down from the top right bunk, still in an undershirt, long legs dangling off the side of the bed. "Oh." The disappointment was audible, almost drowning out the sound of the seam-ripper removing the leftover strands of colorful thread as deft hands worked to clear away the small patch on the maid uniform's collar reserved for personal identifiers. "Not even taking odds on this one. Glasses."

"Oh, you're right!" the second maid said from the bottom right bunk, finishing up her skincare routine using a small mirror propped up on the communal nightstand the three (now four) colleagues shared. She smiled sweetly as she undid the bun keeping her chestnut hair from touching her shoulders. "I would've said Glasses too. It's very fitting!"

"Whaaaat no guessing game? Ugh, that's my favorite part!" exclaimed the third maid as she peeked over the top left bunk, sneering with almost uncannily-pointy teeth. She sighed loudly as she hopped down directly to the ground, her head of jet-black frizzy curls whipping along with the motion. She brushed her hair aside with a hand, keeping it mostly in place with her uniform's hairband, and gave her new colleague a once-over. Then she sighed. "Yeah. Glasses for sure. If he picks anything else, I'll dust rugs for a month."

"You already do that all the time though," said the second maid as she adjusted the puffy, almost shimmering layer of fabric she'd added to parts of her uniform, from the shoulder to the wrist. "Hi! I'm Chiffon, by the way," she whispered to the new arrival, giving her an excited wave.

"That's because I'm good at it!" replied the third maid as she flexed her biceps, her own uniform having been modified to cover much less of the arms. "You should try it sometimes. Really lets you cut loose, you know?" She shot her colleague a grin before nodding to the new maid. "How are you doing, I'm Dusty. 'Scuse me for a sec, gotta go do my stretches." And with that, she stepped out of the little privacy screen alcove to find an open bit of space.

Although there was a standard uniform for the many disciplines of workers at the castle, a bit of leeway was granted when individuals wanted to customize theirs to their liking. The one part that absolutely could not be tampered with, however, was ironically the one that gave the wearer the most freedom: the personal identifier patch.

The small rectangle on the collar was several generations old at this point, thought to have originated as a speedy and efficient way to allow royal guard members to address each other—and be addressed—with the respect to each person's identity that etiquette required.

As with many other customs, whatever the Crown did, the City emulated, and made their own. Outside the castle, use of the dot, the two lines or the square on any piece of clothing or accessory was often both an expression of fashion as well as a statement about how the wearer wanted to be addressed. And with each generation, the practice spread further.

Not every castle tradition made it beyond the walls, however, such as the peculiar obsession with nicknames. To work in the castle meant setting part of oneself aside for the duration of the contract, as open-ended as it was. The pay was high and the benefits—such as room and board—were plenty, but it all came at a cost: life outside the job became an afterthought, a memory. Some took this chance to wipe away a past they would rather forget, while others saw it as an opportunity to reinvent themselves going forward. The result was the same: for good or ill, most people who worked in the castle became who they were seen as, although there was a bit of wiggle room to account for self-expression.

Glasses bowed in greeting, then quietly walked over to the remaining empty bed. It was a modest but comfortable affair: a frame, a mattress and some bedsheets. Conspicuously absent, however, was the pillow.

"Welcome, neighbor!" Chiffon said from her bed across from the nightstand. "Oh right! Sleeves, you should give..." She paused and looked at Glasses, spotting the little round pin that had been temporarily affixed to the small rectangular patch on her collar. "You should give her back the extra pillow."

"Aw, but it's so comfy," the first maid whined from the top bunk, partway through filling in half of the uniform's freshly-cleared collar patch with a square of contrasting thread. Sleeves peeked over the side of their bed and looked down at Glasses, their mouth slowly spreading into a sly grin. "Alright, tell you what. How about we let fortune decide?" They fished out a deck of cards from under their mattress, flicking it from one hand to the other, card by card, like an accordion. "Tell me when to WHOA!"

Sleeves's trick went awry as half of the deck exploded out of their hands, sending cards flying everywhere. One of them landed directly in the spot between Glasses's eyeglasses and her face, wedging itself against her nose and causing the smaller maid to jolt in surprise.

Sleeves inhaled sharply through clenched teeth. "Sorry," they said, quickly gathering up the cards that had landed on their bunk. "So, uh, what card did you get?"

Glasses gingerly picked the card up and flipped it over. Three knives piercing a heart, floating in the middle of a storm.

"Ooh, tough luck there!" Sleeves winced sympathetically. "Heartbreak. Sorrow. Fortune has spoken! Guess I'm keeping the pillow then."

Glasses looked up at them, then back down at the card; she nodded, putting it on the nightstand. She then turned around and hoisted the bedroll she was carrying up and onto the bed, pushing it back up against the wall where the pillow would be.

Sleeves looked on incredulously.

"Sleeves!" Chiffon said as she sat up, frowning at her bunkmate. "Give her back the pillow!"

"Obviously I was gonna give it back!" Sleeves shook their head at their new colleague. "What's up with you? You didn't fight back, not even a little. Don't just believe everything I say!"

"Don't believe anything Sleeves says," Dusty said as she returned. "Hazing the newbie again? Shame on you. Gotta appreciate the little sisters." She gave Glasses a pat on the shoulder.

"Yeah, well, we weren't all blessed with a dozen siblings." Sleeves sighed, handing over the extra pillow. "Fine, fine, here you go. The age of comfortable sleeping has sadly come to a close."

Glasses accepted the pillow, leaning it against her bedroll; giving it a little pat-pat.

"Which is all the more reason to cherish family where you can find it," Dusty said, cracking her knuckles. She paused, looking at the finished uniform in her colleague's hands. "Oh hey, today's the day, huh? Going with something new?"

"Yup! Figured it was time," Sleeves said with a grin. "See? I don't just talk a big game."

"Nice. I just heard back from dad; my youngest sibling's gonna pick theirs for the first time soon."

"Oh hey, at that age already, huh?" Sleeves said, eyebrows raised.

"Time flies! Dad figures they're gonna go with the two lines, just like him."

"Well yeah, of course your dad would say that. Would've put money on it, in fact." Sleeves made their way down to the ground, uniform in hand.

Glasses, starting to feel cramped in the limited room between the two sets of beds in front of the nightstand, climbed onto the covers and laid down on her back. She looked down; wiggled her feet, stretched her legs. Her toes didn't reach the end of the bed. Not even close.

"So I heard a little rumor a couple days ago," Sleeves said as they began to change into their uniform, "saying that Sir Frederic pulled some strings again. Got someone a job here. Any chance you'd know what that's about, Glasses?"

The new maid turned to respond, but her face immediately flushed with color at the proximity of her colleague in their undergarments. She quickly turned away, hiding in the small bit of privacy that she had. With the fabric screen on two sides, the wall behind, and the bunk above, her bed almost felt like it had a miniature canopy.

"Oh. Uh, yeah, sorry," Sleeves said, suddenly much more reserved. "Space is pretty tight here. I'll let you know when I'm done."

"Aw, don't be shy, Glasses, it's okay!" Chiffon said, getting ready to change as well.

"No, no, it's fair, I get it," Sleeves said, getting the dress part of their uniform over their head and adjusting the fit. "I get it."

Glasses kept her eyes averted while her colleagues got changed. Today was a special case considering she'd shown up already dressed, but she would have to figure out a way to deal with this starting tomorrow. Granted, that was still a day away; she could take her time.

"Why don't you just ask Sir Frederic yourself, Sleeves?" asked Dusty. "Don't you two have an agreement or something?"

"I would never waste my own leverage on gossip! But no, that was the other way around, and it was settled just the other week. I'm going to enjoy my freedom while it lasts, let me tell you. I'm in no hurry to owe anyone a favor again, especially with my aunt holding the pocketbook."

"Ahh, fair enough," Dusty said, her voice muffled by her own uniform as she put it on. "Would've been a good time to be owed a favor by Sir Frederic though, considering he just made captain of the guard and all."

Glasses stirred, but remained in her bed.

Sleeves sighed. "I mean yeah, a favor would be nice right about now. The mood is so uptight now, it's hard to get any side work done."

"I do miss the previous captain," Chiffon said as she changed on top of her bed, given the limited space.

"Wolf guy?" Dusty said as she fussed with her shoes. "I guess he was more laid back. In a, you know, wild beast kind of way."

"Hey Chiffon, can I borrow your mirror for a sec?" Sleeves asked. "Yeah the old captain was great! He didn't care how you did something, so long as you did it. That's the perfect kind of atmosphere. Sir Frederic, now, he's a stickler."

"He was really strong, too!" Chiffon said, sitting up in her bed. "The one time I got bedroom duty, the Prince—well, the Prince back in the princess days, you know—needed to get something up on top of a dresser, so he used the captain as a ladder! Just sat on his shoulder and hup! up both of them went!"

"Really?" Dusty said, failing to contain her astonishment. "Just like that?"

"Just like that! They worked together so well!" Chiffon repeated excitedly. "And now they're together, but not in a way anyone expected... It's both romantic and tragic at the same time, you know? Oh by the way Glasses, we're all done!"

The diminutive maid slowly turned back to her colleagues, trying hard to keep her face concealed; even more so than before.

"Oh wow! Sleeves, that looks great!" Chiffon said with a gasp. "Green really is your color."

The lankier maid ran their hand through their hair, admiring their handiwork. It curled up a bit here and there, hanging in the air under its own power; the underside shaded with bright highlights that faded closer to the tips. "Thank you," they said with a smile. "It was in last week's care package. Couldn't wait to try it."

"Oh! Oh! Can you ask your aunt to make some in pink?" Chiffon asked. "I'll trade you for it!"

"Wellllll... Alright. Let's talk after work." They flicked their arms to the side, letting their long sleeves roll all the way down, reaching just above the knuckles of each hand.

Glasses looked at the arms of each of her colleagues; first Sleeves, then Dusty, and then Chiffon. She looked back at Sleeves, tilting her head.

"Hm?" they said, handing Chiffon back her mirror. "Oh. I know what you're thinking; how come I'm Sleeves and both of them got something else?"

Glasses nodded.

Sleeves grinned, spreading their arms out in a grand gesture. "I was here first."