The Princess and the Human

“Doc,” the soft voice of the alien girl addressed Githaiy. “I told you about the role alcohol – sorry, ethanol – has in human society, yes?”

“You did,” the doctor affirmed, currently writing down the results of her examination. The princess's health was steadily getting better, but full recovery was not yet in sight. That didn’t stop her from getting back to work though.

Said princess was currently sitting upright in her bed, which had been equipped to provide a makeshift workspace so she didn’t have to get up. Mentally, she was fully back on track, which showed her commendable willpower. But high willpower couldn’t repair two broken arms or make her body allow her to be awake for longer than half of the day at most. At the same time, however, even with the trial over, there was still a lot more work piled up from the incident that demanded the princess’s attention than expected. And unfortunately, it was the kind that couldn’t be postponed until she got better. Not working at all would only be an option if she would temporarily give her duties back to the king and queen. In other words, it was no option, at least not according to the princess. Githaiy herself had only met the royal pair once in person, back when she had received her title. Not many words outside of a fixed script had been spoken back there, so she only knew rumors beyond that. Still, if Her Highness was sure that trusting them with her task was a bad idea, she chose to believe her. But that didn’t change the fact that they somehow needed to make the best out of a bad situation.

That was when Nadine had an idea of how to delegate the work that normally couldn’t be delegated.

Overseen by the palace’s steward, Vassahr, three handpicked servants - all being from the palace’s administrative team - had been temporarily relieved from their duties and worked together with him and the princess under a system Nadine had called the “Four Eyes Principle”. The whole ordeal was still highly improvised and in dire need of polishing, and the servants obviously lacked the training and qualification to do anything beyond the preliminary work, but all in all, they were able to work at about eighty percent of the capacity the princess alone was able to put out when healthy.

Githaiy finalized her notes on the check-up. Nadine was sitting next to her, waiting for Her Highness to be done with her current task. While her question had come out of nowhere, the doctor could indeed remember that specific conversation quite vividly. Ethanol was considered one of the few substances that were universally deadly for all known species. And humans consumed it for fun.

“There are also people who become addicted to it,” the small alien continued. “Those are called “alcoholics”.”

That certainly was an interesting bit of information, something she would need to add to her notes later. Right off the bat, she could think of a dozen questions she wanted to ask about it, but she still didn’t get why Nadine was bringing that up out of nowhere.

“We also have a word for something similar. It has nothing to do with alcohol, but the term is derived from it: “workaholic”.”

Githaiy had to think about the word for a moment. She had never heard it before, but it had sounded Vanaery, so it was made of existing words, just like “alcoholic” just now. As she thought that, she suddenly realized that Nadine had taken the first syllable of “alcoholic” and had replaced it with “work”.

Having overheard the conversation, Silgvani looked up.

“Did you just call me a work addict?”

That certainly wasn’t the kind of witty side-jab she would’ve expected from the girl. Then again, she had slowly opened up more, and Silgvani had explicitly invited her to be more casual with her. They weren’t in public, after all, so this wasn’t a matter of losing face. So, all in all, this was fine.

The alien girl turned her head.

“Am I wrong?”

“I’m not “addicted”, this simply has to be done and I can’t delegate it.”

“Quod erat demonstrandum.”

Silgvani had no idea what the last sentence meant since it didn’t get translated, but from Nadine’s tone and her gesture towards Vassahr, she could guess.

If that is her real self, maybe she’ll handle the nobles better than I feared.

“This is an emergency solution, normally it can’t be delegated. What we are doing right now is not doable long-term, I can’t let commoners partake in governmental work.”

In an instant, Nadine’s smile was replaced by an expression Silgvani by now knew was called a “scowl”.

“I know what you want to say, and no, that’s not what I meant,” she quickly added. “I am well aware that capability does not have to come from birth, otherwise my head maid would not be a commoner. That is exactly the point, though. Mhita being my head maid is already a political statement. But there are limits to this, and governing is a hard border in that context. Sorting messages or organizing documents, sure, but no direct involvement. There are rumors that my parents let their servants do some of their work, and that is already enough to cost them footing.”

Nadine was quiet for a while before shaking her head.

“That’s so dumb.”

“With all due respect, you underestimate the gravity of the issue, Lady Nadine,” Vassahr now also broke his silence, looking up from his datapad. “Without the backing of at least the most powerful of the clans, Her Highness will have serious trouble once she becomes queen. Merely the way you speak with Her Highness, even if she condones it, could already cost her reputation were it to become public. And if her reputation suffers, so will Hohmiy in the long run. This matter is a whole other league. I agreed to this plan because there was no better option in the short run; also, should it come out, I can simply say I delegated work to the servants without Her Highness knowing about it. But if we keep it up for too long, I can’t believably take the blame anymore.”

Vassahr was right, but Silgvani still didn’t wish to simply dismiss Nadine’s remark.

“Of the things you told me about your society, many seem… strange to me. But I do agree that some of our traditions might be better forgotten. Either way, it is not within my power to change how things are done, not yet at least. And that is why I have to get back to being able to do this on my own as fast as possible.”

“Which you won’t if you don’t rest properly,” the doctor chimed in.

“The only nobles in my direct service are Vassahr, Captain Kessga, and you,” she reminded her. “Of those, only Vassahr can be of any help to me with my work, and he has other duties. As have the two of you.”

“Okay, but even if you pull through this crunch time, you were also overworking yourself when you were healthy,” Nadine guided them back to their original topic. “To the point where you didn't even notice you got poisoned! You can't keep this up! So, ignoring all the glaring problems in the last couple of statements for now: why not just hire more nobles then?”

“Because non-heirs usually don’t receive education in governing. After all, they know they won’t inherit the title and learn something else instead. Unless their promised partner is an heir, of course, but it should be obvious why I can’t hire those. Or actual heirs of, obviously.”

“Not even as practitioners?”

Silgvani once more looked up from her work.

“What do you mean by “practitioners”?

“Huh? No, I didn’t say practitioners, I said practitioners.”

Now, all three were staring at her. The small alien sighed.

“You just heard the same word twice, didn’t you?”

Silgvani nodded.

“Stupid translator. Okay, what I meant was: why not hire heirs who are just about to finish their education? Temporarily, of course. Just say that you want to offer them tutelage. Sure, you’d have to teach them at first, but they’d know at least all the theory. That way, you get assistants, they get practical experience and can brag that they received an education from the royal family, which in turn will improve your standing with their families. Win-win. If you employ them with some offset, each can even learn in the next one.”

Silgvani went quiet for a moment.

“Okay, THAT… is actually a really good idea.”

Falpiyne sat at her window and watched the sky. As a child, space had never really piqued her interest. But the recent events had changed her views. Now, every evening after her lessons, she’d always spent a bit of time just looking at the stars.

I wonder how it is to be up there.

Unfortunately, it would never happen. The only people who would go there were soldiers and ambassadors. And as the only child of her parents, she couldn’t abandon the county. Or Reiykin, for that matter.

As if on cue, a knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Sister, are you there?”

“Yes!” she called back and hurried to the door. In the frame stood Reiykin, as always accompanied by a servant. She dismissed the servant with a nod, took her adoptive brother’s hand, and carefully guided him to a chair.

“How can I help you, Duke Reiykin?”

“Hey, don’t call me that!” he responded with a cute annoyance. He always reacted like that when she called him that, and she just couldn’t stop doing it. Technically, he was indeed a duke, ever since his parents had died in a shuttle crash when they both were small children. Due to their closeness, Falpiyne’s parents had taken him in, even if the difference in rank had caused some problems. But just one more cycle, then he would be an adult and inherit the title officially.

“Sorry. Want to watch it again?”

She put her datapad on the table and started the recording of the trial that had taken place sixteen days ago. Just as she had done each evening since then. The first time, they had actually watched it for the trial. The other fifteen times… for something else.

Her eyes were glued to the screen as the short figure stood up.

“Can you describe her again?”

“She is short,” Falpiyne began. “Almost like when we were children. But thinner. Frailer. Her body looks smooth, no carapace or scales, and has a light shade of pink.”

Reiykin hadn’t been born blind, so he knew what colors were. It was the accident that had cost him his eyes.

The frame zoomed in and she could see more details. Falpiyne paused the video because she knew she would begin to speak soon.

“On top of her head is a large patch of fur, so long it flows down her shoulders, with a color like white with a golden hue. Her eyes are small, but they look like blue gems on a white pillow.”

Her first attempts at describing the alien had been quite clumsy, but after fifteen repetitions, she would say she had become good at it. After she was done, they listened to her soft voice, Reiykin even more thoroughly than her since he couldn’t see her. Once the speech was over, she put the datapad away. The rest of the video didn’t interest them, after all.

“I wonder how she is in person,” Falpiyne couldn’t help but wonder. Reiykin just nodded along quietly.

“Too bad we’ll never meet her.”

“Huh? Why not?” Her brother asked confused. “I heard your parents requested a meeting, isn’t there at least a chance?”

“No. Ambassadors are never here for long, living on another planet is too taxing. At best, she'll meet half of the biggest ducal clans. Even if some of them miss their chance, a count is too low in rank to get a turn. The request was a mere formality.”

“Oh.”

For a while, they just sat next to each other in silence.

“Do you think we can meet other humans one day?”

“Who knows? You maybe could, once you are a duke for real.”

“I’ll make sure to invite you then.”

“Probably not a good idea considering the difference in rank.”

“I’ll do it anyway.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Neither of the two knew about the distress Falpiyne’s parents were currently feeling over a message that had just reached them.