Never forget your wallet in the castle! #2

Chapter 2

"In a marvellous magic kingdom, Montyland, there lived a glorious and beloved king – Willy the one hundred and twenty-third - who had just married a charming princess from a faraway kingdom, Albaland, Angelia the first.

There, in Montyland, all people had no surnames, but names which were passed from fathers to sons and from mothers to daughters. To avoid chaos, the numbers were added to their names. As you have already perceived, the king Willy was the one hundred and twenty-third in line of male ancestors, and his first male heir would be Willy the one hundred and twenty-fourth. However, the queen Angelia the first came from Albaland, the kingdom which lied behind a deep sea and high mountains; therefore, she became the first in line and all female descendants would be called Angelia the second, Angelia the third, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera…

Willy and Angelia, young and beautiful, were deeply in love with each other. They liked to do everything together – going for long walks to a magic forest nearby, playing cards till late evening or hunting in the mornings before the dew on the grass dried. Willy, as any royal, had been spoilt a little by his late parents, and, as any man, was disorganised, childish and forgetful a little. He was happy and lucky to have Angelia as a wife who was smart, mindful and extremely patient.

“Honey, where have I put my keys?” called Willy in a slightly annoyed and impatient tone of voice.

“My love, where is my crown?! The ambassadors are waiting in the parlour!”

“Baby, where is my wallet? We are late!”

Patiently with a lovely understandable smile, without unnecessary words or comments, she always found and brought him whatever he needed. Then, she gave him a long passionate kiss and pressed her pink velvet cheek to his broad strong chest."

“You are quite an early bird!” the king whispered loudly in François's ear emerging from behind what made François jump and drop his writing tools.

François liked working alone. He enjoyed the mesmerised silence of the small hours. He admired the beauty of the still-dreaming world which was not touched by all the noise and bustle of the day.

“Do you fancy having breakfast with us?” winked the king cheerfully.

“With us?” François’s face became egg-shaped.

“My Queen and me, you know…”

“With pleasure, Your Majesty!” replied François hurriedly packing his things.

“No need to rush. Take your time. We are waiting for you in our summer garden.”

“No rush? No rush?” chuckled François quietly. “I am going to meet the queen Angelia the first! At last!”

Chapter 3

The summer garden was full of fruit trees, and blossoming bushes, and beds of brightly coloured exotic flowers, and other plants which François was unable to identify.

In the middle of this verdure there was a high-ceiling commodious wooden gazebo that was able to welcome a great number of guests – at least twenty. The king was already sitting at the head of the table, unfolding a freshly white serviette, placing it on his lap, and examining what it is for breakfast with an air of a true Royal.

The smell of food was appealing, so François picked up the pace – suddenly he realised how hungry he was.

The queen wasn’t there. It was very disappointing. “Where is she?” But suddenly, the birds interrupted their singing, the trees stopped rustling, the flowers bowed their heads down as if worshipping the sun itself stepping down the earth. The king jumped out of his garden throne losing his freshly white serviette and knocking down his fancy glass with his long sleeve (which was skilfully caught by a servant) and rushed forward to welcome his queen.

“Utterly dumbfounded… Completely petrified… Inversely enchanted…” François was struggling to find the right word to describe what he was feeling at the moment.

It took François some time to come to his senses. The queen, wearing a white sensual dress which was gently embracing her slender body, seemed to be floating over the ground. Her hair was a golden river, sparking and glittering in the sun. It seemed the wind itself was ashamed a little to touch her velvet skin.

She was not alone…

Angelia was followed by five more miniature “queens”. All in white. All floating.

“Her Majesty Angelia the first… And their Majesties Angelia the second, Angelia the third, Angelia the fourth, Angelia the fifth, and Angelia the sixth,” announced the servant grandiosely.

François hardly remembered what was for breakfast or what they were talking about. The queen’s voice was enchanting, and her laugh was spellbinding. Her movements were graceful and delicate. Her smell was sensational and breathtaking.

For the whole afternoon François was day-dreaming under the oldest oak where he was found by a servant and invited inside as guests started arriving for a late dinner party and an evening ball.