NOVEL NEXT Chapter 307: That’s the Tea
The familiar sight of Bee's family home loomed in front of her like a dragon guarding a pile of gold. It was a fairly apt comparison, she knew, after seeing Daedalus up close. She walked down the paved path to the front door and raised the knocker. An instant after it fell, the family's butler, Chives, opened the door and welcomed her with a bow.
"Miss Beatrice. Your father is expecting you."
Bee nodded, somehow not surprised, as she stepped in and carefully rubbed the soles of her shoes against the mat. As she cleaned off her feet, she glanced around the entryway. It was different from how she remembered it. She couldn't quite put her finger on why. Has the decor changed? Or was it something else?
Once she was ready, Chives led her deeper into the mansion. As they walked, her gaze roved across the walls and ceiling, taking in the mostly familiar opulent furnishings. They passed the parlor where her father often entertained groups of guests.
Bee stopped in her tracks. The family portrait of her, her mother, and her father had been taken down from over the fireplace. The portrait that had been there for as long as she remembered.
It wasn't just that, either. The more she looked around, the more she realized what had seemed so off: every trace of her mother that she could recall had vanished as if they had been scrubbed from the mansion.
Bee took in a deep breath and wiped her sweating palms on her shirt. Her aunt had insisted that it would be best for her to talk to her father alone, that they may have some things they needed to work out "father to daughter." But every time Bee thought about the competition to come, her mouth went a little dry.
Licking her lips, she shook her head. No, she was Void's high priestess. She answered to a higher power now. It wasn't her father who was going to come in and order her around. She ruled the city. She ruled the country. She shouldn't be scared of one merchant, no matter who he was. Even if he was incredibly powerful and had been a larger-than-life figure throughout her formative years.
Bee took a deep breath and turned to see Chives had waited for her. Moving on, they quickly arrived in front of a door down the hall. Out of sheer habit, The door to the sitting room went and sat down in the little alcove Chives had indicated for her. It was like she had never left.
Bee drummed her fingers on her knee in thought, trying to suppress any feelings of anxiety or worry as she waited. Only five minutes later, Chives returned with yet another bow. "Your father will see you now. He'll await you in the sitting room for tea."
Bee blinked in surprise and stood up. She had spaced off, staring at the wall as she waited, but it couldn't have been more than five minutes. That was unusual. Normally, it was much longer. Her father had a policy of making anyone wait at least 15 minutes if he was pleased to see them. And if he was upset, sometimes he would be "busy" for an hour or longer.
Bee wasn't sure if he had changed his practices or wanted to get this meeting over just like her. But it, if anything, made her even more anxious, as now she didn't know what to expect.
They walked down a couple of hallways and went into the sitting room where Father always met important people. As they arrived, Bee stopped in the doorway for a beat and stared.
He hadn't changed much. Her father had maybe a little bit more gray in his short beard. But his hair was still neatly trimmed, his face craggy with frown lines and sun exposure. Despite his desk job, his shoulders still looked as wide as any two men put together, and he towered over her as he stood behind his chair. His large forearm muscles were balled up as he held his chair back, looking at her with a completely impassive face. But she thought she might be able to hear the wood creaking underneath his hands.
Quickly, she ran a Scan on him. The results made her blink. How did her father get to level 45? That was nuts. And his lowest stat was Charisma? That didn't make any sense.
"Daughter," he said with a slight incline of her head.
She returned to the incline, matching its angle precisely. "Father,"
"Would you like some tea?" He asked.
Bee nodded without saying anything. Chives pulled out her chair for her, and she sat. As her father seated himself, Chives poured some tea and then went to stand over just outside the door. Not within hearing range of their conversations, but close enough to call for.
Bee lifted the teacup and sniffed at it. Her father didn't touch his at all and just watched her. She placed it back down. It was the incredibly expensive kind, the kind that he used to show off to people. She had vague memories of her mother all but spitting the stuff out and her father explaining that it was not about the taste but the message it sent. Bee had to agree with her mother. From experience, she knew it was disgusting.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
The silence stretched on for over a minute before her father looked away from her face. He looked down at his tea and cleared his throat.
"So, Beatrice," he said, in his always measured and calm voice, "how was the Academy?"
She blinked. She wasn't sure how to respond, and it took her a solid 20 seconds before she thought of something to say. Her father kept looking down at his tea with the infinite patience he always seemed to have when he was having a conversation with someone.
"I mopped floors for two years," she eventually said. Her father looked up sharply.
"What?"
Bee repeated himself. "I mopped their floors for two years. Well, until things changed."
The teacup in Father's hands trembled slightly, but his face never changed. The little emotion in his voice vanished as he called out. "Chives, come here."
Bee barely managed to avoid flinching, but the carefully hidden wrath wasn't meant for her. Chives appeared at their table as her father wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to him. "Clear my schedule for tomorrow. I have people to talk to."
Chives bowed without saying a word, taking the piece of paper and leaving. She heard the door shut behind him. Her father breathed in deeply a couple more times before speaking.
"Why didn't you write about this?"
Bee was once again caught off guard by that question. Why would she? She hadn't written at all, and neither had he. And at the time, she truly hadn't thought he'd cared. She still wasn't entirely sure whether her aunt was simply being optimistic about her father actually wanting her to learn magic, but regardless. Should she have complained about where he sent her? Clearly, she was being sent away to learn to do something, and she wasn't doing it well. Wouldn't writing about the matter just reinforce that, show her father that she was a failure?
He spoke again. "Actually, never mind that. Why didn't you fix it? I taught you better."
Bee opened her mouth to respond, but she didn't get a chance. Her father kept on speaking with uncharacteristic speed. "You should know how to take care of yourself. You shouldn't accept cleaning floors when you're supposed to be learning magic. What excuse did you have?"
Once again, Bee felt a familiar sensation bubble up inside her. The frustration at her father's lack of understanding. It welled up, threatening to spill over, but she bit her tongue. She didn't want to say anything that she would regret. What had he expected of her? At the time, she was 11.
But then she stopped and thought a little bit. Maybe he wasn't just being a jerk for the sake of being a jerk. He clearly didn't know how to show emotions properly, but at the same time, he believed in her. He truly thought that she could have overcome any challenge. And that was that meant something. Still, it was hard to push the feeling aside.
Bee took in a deep breath and focused on the clean floors beneath her. The meditations that the followers of Void sometimes practiced ran through her mind. After calming herself, she let out a deep sigh.
"Maybe you did. You have taught me a lot," she said. "And I've certainly learned a lot more in the past year and had to grow in ways I never would have believed."
Her father picked up his cup of tea and sniffed it before putting it back down. She thought she could read a slight relaxing of his brow when she had said that.
"I heard you had some business in the capital." Her father said after a few more awkward moments.
That was perhaps the understatement of the century.
"I hear you have become somewhat important in the new government. It was so important that they sent you as part of the emissary group to consolidate its rule. I'd like to hear about this."
"Uh, what have you heard exactly?"
He waved his hand. "Rumors. Many from people I would normally believe, but these are such outlandish rumors that I couldn't count them as credible. I would have to hear it from you."
So it wasn't that he hadn't heard. He just didn't believe it. Honestly, she wasn't too surprised. She wouldn't believe it either.
"Well," Bee began slowly," my official title is High Priestess of the Church of the Cleansing Void." Bee paused to take in a deep breath, the weight of her responsibility settling on her shoulders along with the old desire to meet her father's expectations. "But I am also in charge of the day-to-day running of the Kingdom."
Her father's eyes twitched slightly.
"Beatrice," he said.
"Yes, father?"
"Did you say you were in charge of running the Kingdom?"
She nodded. "I did, father."
The man froze, going even more still than before. His words came out slowly and strangely. "What do you mean by that?"
"I mean that I'm acting regent. So... I'm the queen, I suppose."
"May I get some more detail on how this situation came to be?" he said in the same monotone voice.
Bee nodded. "Certainly, it began with a summoning gone wrong…"
She launched into the tale, summarizing much and skipping over many of the more fantastical parts but still hitting all the highlights. It took her a solid fifteen minutes or so to finish, which honestly felt like too short for such a complicated story. But afterward, they sat in silence as her father digested it.
Every couple of minutes, he would ask her a calm, well-thought-out question. Sometimes, she'd have to think to answer. Sometimes, they'd be simple points of clarification. But she didn't press him as they both sat. She even took a couple sips of the tea, though she immediately regretted it each time. Even the little bit of sugar that she had added from the pot in the center hadn't helped it at all. And now it was cold, which made things even worse.
Eventually, though, she was saved from the awkward silence as a familiar dark shape flew into the room.
"Ah!" she said with a smile. 'Master, this is my father. Father, this is Lord Void."