Chapter 3

Several years later. . .

The whiteness of fine flour covering the rustic kitchen made it seem to look like a thick smoke from a hot spring, though it is no magnificent sight nor relaxing to see in the young baker's reality. A violent yelling from a familiar antagonistic voice coming close to him brought chill down his spine, without actually uttering anything he spoke to himself, "Argh. . . what an early execution of this week's failure. . ." and with an aggressive expulsion of particle mixed air from his lungs, he cleared the atmosphere using the back of his hand, waving it back and forth.

"Tristan -- Argh! You just wasted a day worth of flour again, you freak!" the master baker, still fixing his half body apron came over after exactly witnessing the mishap of his apprentice from the window on his way to work.

Dragging a pair of long handled broom and a dust shovel with him, he inclines half of his body in a very low bow of apology, "I am really sorry, I swear--"

"Uh I've heard enough of that -- T'is the last, you hear? I ain't giving you a seventh chance you --"

"Yes Sire --!" having heard of the desired words of forgiveness, the clumsy teenage baker joyfully sat on his knees. Unintentionally losing hold of the long, sturdy broom, a disastrous noise of shatters and smashing from behind him broke out and as it settles down, it was the raspy sound of his name from his master's mouth that took over next. Resonating throughout the closed space, it may be enough to fracture one's eardrum if not covered immediately.

***

". . . Really, Mister? Hahahaha! How does he consistently succeed in failing all the time? He must be a real talented human, you think?"

"Ugh, as long as it does not bring me fortune I couldn't care less. Y'know if not for his poor youngsters he'd be kicked out of my kitchen right from his first day, hahahaha!"

With an unpleasant look on his face, Tristan made his way to the counter from the kitchen. On his arms were freshly baked breads ready for display and retail trade. The same episode of his self-proclaimed 'friend' and savage master's mutual mocking on him awaits to cruelly complete his morning again. 

"Yo!" Without the need to move an eye, he instinctively recognized the voice as his loyal customer's who also happens to be his daily dose of morning headache. "The usual, Mr. Baker," eyes flattened into a thin, playful curve and an overly stretched smile that pushes her cheeks side by side -- this Princess really is different from the ones being told, in that she has no sense of elegance at all.

Dressed in a common wear of cheap muted colored fabric, with a satchel hanging across her body, and the upper half of her long, straight, brown hair being tied in a low ribbon, she totally look like a normal civilian, a perfect guise as she calls it. Nevertheless, being completely able to stroll around without being noticed is probably because majority of the people in this town has never seen the face of their Princess at all. 

Almost a decade had passed since the death of his father changed her way of living, still the waggish attitude she developed from being spoiled and free throughout childhood remains until the last two years of her teenage period. 

Her habitual visit -- more of a sneaky getaway -- to this humble village and its localities could be a questionable act from those who are aware of her title, it turns out she does not care much about it -- or maybe just too gleeful to spoil a moment of her 'freedom'. 

"Coming up. . ."

***

Time never stand still for the most physically busy town of the country. Being the main source of internal raw and processed goods, restlessness is totally evident in everyone's movement, and the streets are filled of transferring cargos and workers. 

Even so, walking past these bustling paths while doing arm stretches, Tristan feels slight relief. This marks the completion of his day's earliest schedule and most importantly, he will get to share the afternoon meal with his siblings at home. 

"Ugh, you sure are incapable of anything, Tris, must've suck to be you." It is obviously his greatest nuisance who happens to be one of his few friends, Anne, following him wherever she would be away from her royal responsibilities. 

"Says the 'future ruler' who is here hanging out with me," he sarcastically replied.

"Bold of you to ridicule a noble huh, you really are a freak."

Tristan's eyes widen upon hearing those vulgar words. "H-Hey! Where did you fetch that word from?" 

"I hear that from your boss all the time so I assume it's the best word to describe you," judging by her casual tone, Tristan sensed no humour meant although it bothers him as much.

With a sigh of dismay, he whispered, "You brat, you'd get me into prison in no time. . ."

The hectic crowd and the industrial establishments already faded in sight after another few minutes of march. With the change of surrounding to a rural one, two then took the short pavement on the lakeside, leading them to their simple dwelling. 

Even for an outsider, it is easy to identify the place as a countryside cottage in a small barn. Aside from their brother being employed in external jobs, the siblings keep livestock as well for living. 

"Big bro!" 

The sound of chains and wood from the unfastening of the fence gate seem to have brought the message of their arrival to the two children. Running and jumping joyously, they went to give their warmest 'welcome back' hug to their hardworking brother, turning his tiredness into an absolute bliss. 

The task of arranging the table is on the hands of the youngest sibling, Dorothea, or simply 'Thea'. A sweet and gentle girl who loves her oldest brother very much, being raised by him from infancy. Anne on the other hand, chose to just sit down lifelessly, internally complaining about the long walk (despite being used to it and being asked by no one to do so). Meanwhile, Tristan was out fetching some clean water from the drinking well. 

Noticing this, Johann, the younger sibling and a 13 years-old boy irritatingly asked, "I thought you'd be busier from this week on, how'd you still got to show up now? Oh, it's either you got kicked by your tutor or your intellectual capacity was a little—yes, little. So which one?"

"You—hmp! That's none of your business!"

"Sheesh! Shouting like that — you'll wake aunt!" he warned, rolling his eyes in annoyance. 

Sighing in disappointment, Anne rested her chin on the table, showing off a frown face. "What a no goodie, my aunt's surely digging halfway into this month's reports by now."

"You dare slander our aunt in this house but that's no lie. . ." Johann replied in agreement. "Sure nice to have a workaholic adult around," added he. 

"That ain't that nice though — but better than someone who does nothing at all, yes."

***

"Hahaha! He really doesn't know when to stop his spiteful mouth."

"You're just the same as him! You meanies!"

The lunch with the siblings went on as how it usually does. Johann teasing Anne who lacks the might and skill to counter, Tristan and the adorable Dorothea laughing at Anne's idiotic reactions and such. Fortunately, this time had been one of those peaceful afternoons where she spends time with them without meeting their aunt, spoiling the fun. After all, she does nothing but sarcastically ask if Anne's not being cared about by her family, letting her wander during meal times. Luckily though, she was never interested on the Princess' family itself, being completely unaware of her title. Then, if not asleep, she would go out to meet her nosy acquaintances and unnecessarily gossip about their neighbors' private lives. 

On their way to the public carriage stop to meet her personal chauffeur, it is not unusual to stumble across middle class people who also have their carriages parked in the area. This time, women of intermediate importance happens to be having quite the loud chat with their fans not serving its purpose of concealing their discussion. 

"Have you heard?" One of the ladies initiated. 

"Yes, and she's still not going to make a move? I guess what's there to be terrified about isn't her capabilities as a witch but incapability of being a ruler!" 

Clearly overhearing this, Tristan suddenly felt uncomfortable of the situation, having Anne beside her of all people. 

"What's the fuss about, Tris?" 

"Uhm, it's. . ." He knew she heard it too, but he couldn't help but hesitate into answering her question. 

"Throwing stones behind her back again?" Anne says, "Really, doing nothing but laze around all day, still got the nerve to speak ill of someone who works tirelessly for them." 

To be honest, Tristan feels the same way as more than half of the population do about the woman's temporary take over of the throne but is just concerned with the Princess, and trusts her opinion of her 'aunt' as genuine although it could only apply to her alone. They knew nothing of her except she's a 'Witch' who once defended the kingdom against the other witches. 

They find her too hard to comprehend and her actions are always as complex as her character, and rarely shows up to ordinary people. Even so, no one actually made a remarkable move to expel her due to two reasons— no one can stand against her power and most especially, her governance brought the kingdom to prosperity throughout the decade.

Although she never fail to be a subject of any conversation's talk, mostly slur comments, no one resisted her decisions and continues to talk until the results itself debunk their predictions and invalidate their motions. 

Leaving them behind, another serious matter again reached their ears. 

"Tristan, I — I'm going now. . ."