How To Train Royalty

Five

“Clean up, make yourself scarce, keep your hands off my stuff, and don’t make any trouble.” Those were the only ground rules that Erin had set once she had accepted her new reality. Simple and concise. “Do you have any money on you?” she asked as she removed her shoes and turned on the air-conditioner.

“Money?” Alaric repeated.

“I guess not,” Erin muttered as she walked to the fridge. She was getting a glass of cold water when she realized that Alaric hadn’t moved. He stood by the door, as if he was waiting on her.

“What are you doing standing there? You can sit down, you know,” she said. “And you can also take off that costume. Geez, it’s like a hundred degrees out.”

Alaric obediently nodded and was about to put down his helmet, only he didn’t know where. After all, she did say that he should keep his hands off her stuff, but the entire apartment was full of it. Seeing the troubled look on his face, Erin pointed at a drawer beside the TV.

“You can put your stuff on it,” she said, sitting on the countertop.

“Thank you,” Alaric said as he walked towards the drawer and carefully placed his helmet on top. Erin watched as he meticulously took off the rest of his armor, surprised at how many pieces he had to remove until he was finally left with a red long-sleeved tunic, pants, and his leather boots.

“That’s a lot of armor,” Erin commented, almost sounding impressed.

“It is the standard if one is to protect himself from enemies,” Alaric replied, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “It's quite warm in this land. What season is it?”

Erin poured another glass of water and held it out for him, saying, “There’s no other season here except sunny and rainy,” wondering if he had come from another country that was cold, or if it was part of the act.

“Thank you,” Alaric said, taking the glass and finishing it in barely 3 seconds. “So what you are saying is that you live every day in this heat?” he asked.

“That’s what the AC is for,” Erin shrugged, hopping down from the counter to place the glasses inside the dishwasher.

Alaric curiously watched her, not knowing what she was doing and what she was talking about. “AC?” he echoed.

“Oh, come on!” Erin exclaimed in disbelief, then crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Don’t tell me you also don’t know what an AC is?” she asked, but the blank look on Alaric's face confirmed it. “That one, over there?” Erin pointed at it—a remote-controlled air-conditioner above the TV. Alaric shook his head, making her sigh.

“It's an air-conditioner, it cools up the room,” she said in defeat, thinking if this man was acting stupid or he really was.

“Oh,” Alaric nodded as he went closer to it and felt the cold air touch his skin. “Fascinating,” he whispered in awe. “We do not have machines like this back home.”

“Right,” Erin muttered. “Because you’re from the land of Oreo.”

“Aurea,” he corrected her. “It's a kingdom in the Western sphere. It’s cold there, so we do not have a use for this so-called AC.”

He had said it all so seriously that Erin didn’t even bother to argue. Instead, she joined him to stand in front of the cool breeze and watched as he tried to look inside the split-type air-conditioner. Under proper lighting, his gray hair looked even lighter, almost like silver, and his eyes reminded her of a royal purple clematis flower.

“Are you not going to take those contacts off?” she asked.

Alaric turned to her, confused. “Contacts?”

“Lenses. The ones in your eyes.”

He frowned and walked up to the small hanging mirror above the drawer to closely look at his eyes. “Do I have anything in mine?” he asked. “I don’t see anything.”

Erin rolled her eyes. “Seriously,” she sarcastically said, turning him towards her and pulling his upper body to lean down by grabbing the front of his shirt, so she could take a closer look. “You don’t expect me to believe that your—” she stopped, suddenly at a loss for words as she saw that there really weren’t any lenses over his irises.

“Why? Is there something wrong with my eyes?” Alaric asked, feeling a little self-conscious especially at how near Erin was and how intently she was looking.

“They’re beautiful—I mean, purple,” she muttered in awe as she continued to stare. “Actually purple. And your hair, is it really gray? Do you have a genetic disorder?”

“Having these eyes and this hair runs strong in the royal bloodline, but I shouldn’t think it is related to any form of illness. I assume by your fascination that it is quite uncommon in this land?”

“Yes. Yes it is,” Erin said with fascination, unable to take her eyes off the curious-looking pigmentation of black and dark purple.

“Um, Erin,” Alaric awkwardly whispered, “would you mind if I stand up straight now? My back is a bit strained from today's events.”

Erin blinked and, suddenly realizing how close she had leaned in while fingers were still clutching onto the man's clothes, quickly let go and took a step back so he could stand upright. “Right, sorry,” she said, feeling embarrassed.

“No apologies necessary. I’ve been meaning to ask, is it standard for houses here to have 4 different entrances outside? One for each room? I assume this is your chamber because of the bed, but why do you also have dishware in one corner?” Alaric gestured towards the kitchen. “And where do your handmaids stay?”

And suddenly, all of the embarrassment Erin had felt melted away as she remembered who she was talking to. “So, you’re really going to keep at this, huh? The princely act you’ve got going on?” she asked with a chuckle.

“I am telling you, this is—”

“Not am act, got it,” she said, although it was clear that she didn’t believe him. “Anyway, this is it. This studio unit is where I sleep, bathe and eat. That corner over there with the sink and dishware and fridge—you know, the machine that keeps food cold so it won’t spoil,” she sarcastically explained, “that’s the kitchen.” She noticed Alaric listening so seriously that he even muttered the word “fridge" like he was mentally taking notes. Since that was how he was going to play it, Erin decided to humor him and continue. “The door next to the kitchen is the bathroom. I assume you know that unless your people bathe in the river or something,” she teased.

“We have bathrooms,” Alaric replied, unamused.

“Touchy, but anyway, that’s it. You’ve got the kitchen, the bathroom, this bedroom s***h living room with the bed, sofa, and the TV.”

“This… room. This is where you live?” he asked, looking around with a strained expression as if he was trying not to offend but failing not to sound too judgmental. “And the other doors outside?”

“Those are for other tenants since this is an apartment building. The unit next to this is rented by some weird couple you should stay away from. Joshua lives directly below me, and the landlady, Martha, is in the other ground floor unit,” Erin explained, feeling like she was telling a child how the world works.

“Oh,” Alaric muttered, looking slightly horrified. “So, the handmaids and cooks?”

“Only for rich kids with old money,” Erin replied.

Alaric seemed even more bewildered. “How do you prepare you meals, then? I saw no livestock outside or any markets nearby.”

“Ah, speaking of that, have you eaten or not?” Erin asked, to which Alaric shook his head to answer. “Alright, then you’re going to witness firsthand how people without cooks prepare food,” she said as she walked to the fridge.

Alaric followed her, standing beside the couch, which was barely five steps away from what Erin had referred to as a kitchen. He watched as she pulled a rectangular container, poked holes on the top with a fork, shoved it into another machine that lit up and whirred after she closed it and clicked a few buttons. Erin leaned her back on the sink and smiled at Alaric as she waited. After a minute or so, the machine beeped. She opened it, retrieved the container and peeled off the plastic on top and placed it on the countertop with a fork.

“Voila,” Erin dramatically gestured towards it, as if she had just prepared a home-cooked meal. Alaric could recognize the smell of chicken, making his stomach grumble as he walked up to it.

“What…” he trailed off, unsure what to ask in his confusion.

“That’s roasted chicken with penne pasta, made by the renowned chefs of convenience stores.”

Alaric looked down at what he could only describe as a poor excuse for a meal. He looked at Erin, wondering if she was being serious or being sarcastic once again.

“Enjoy your dinner, your Highness,” Erin said with a smile.