Chapter 2 #2
“The problem,” King Petyrr continued, “is you.” He scratched his beard as he studied Arvel.
“I believe His Majesty means to say that it is you, Crown Prince Arvel, who most uses my services as I frequently accompany you during social events and some governmental meetings,” Rollo volunteered.
“Didn’t I say that?” King Petyrr twisted around in his chair again to peer at the translator.
“It was not eminently obvious, no,” Rollo said with good humor.
“Ah, well, Rollo is right.” King Petyrr shrugged. “Since you can’t speak a lick of Elvish, you still need a translator.”
“I’ve gotten better at the hand gestures,” Arvel objected.
Before the times of Tari and Arion, humans and elves were able to exchange pleasantries—or perhaps the idea of pleasantries—through a sort of sign language.
It was easier to learn—for while most elves were like Gwendafyn and had a difficult time sounding guttural enough for Calnoric, humans had an equally difficult time mastering the lilt that prevailed in the elven language as well as their horrible grammar system.
King Petyrr snorted.“Bosh! You’ve only practiced the gestures because you know Benjimir doesn’t know them overly well, and you like pulling his goat and talking to Fyn without him understanding what you’re saying.”
“Yes,” Arvel agreed.
“Regardless, you hang around with darling Gwendafyn and Benjimir enough in social situations that you don’t need a translator quite as skilled as Rollo.” King Petyrr eyed him. “Particularly because you could study Elvish a bit more.”
“It seems my new translator is only working part time?” Arvel guessed.
“No, you are too vital in government for that,” King Petyrr grunted. “You need to start having a translator on hand at all times given that you are the crown prince. That need will only grow as you continue to take on more royal responsibilities and roles.”
“You will be given an apprentice translator to accompany you throughout your day,” Rollo jumped in.
“Ordinarily we would never put an apprentice in such a position by themselves, but we are so tight on translators we don’t have much of a choice.
It is hoped that between the apprentice translator, Benjimir, and Gwendafyn, you will be able to make it. ”
Arvel adjusted the cuffs of his long-sleeved jacket, surprise tugging at his thoughts.
He hadn’t ever thought Rollo would step down as Arvel’s and Benjimir’s shared translator, but it made sense given how much better at Elvish Benjimir had become over the past few years.
His wife could translate the rare word or phrase Benjimir didn’t understand, or interpret any writing that was necessary.
But this change presented an unexpected opportunity.
Arvel was often told by his parents what he was going to do, but this was a rare instance in which Petyrr needed a friend of Arvel’s…so what could he bargain for?
“All right.” Arvel flashed Rollo and King Petyrr a grin. “It makes sense to me.”
King Petyrr relaxed minutely. “Thank you for understanding,” he gruffly said. “Padrach has been with Celrin and me for ages. It’s a tough thing to see him go, but the elven crown princess needs help.” He grunted. “And Padrach is beside himself with joy at the prospect of a lengthy visit to Lessa.”
“It is a lovely country,” Rollo testified. “I’ve enjoyed every visit I have accompanied His Highness Prince Benjimir and Her Highness Princess Gwendafyn on.”
“Yeah…I’ll miss you, Rollo,” Arvel sighed. “But I imagine you’ll have fun with Father and King Celrin.”
Rollo bowed his head. “I, of course, shall miss you, Your Royal Highness.”
“Rollo will drop by with your new translator in the next few days,” King Petyrr continued.
“Do you have someone picked out?” Arvel asked, hopefully sounding casual.
Rollo opened his mouth to respond, but it was King Petyrr who spoke first. “Rollo just accepted the position this morning, so there hasn’t been much time. Why do you ask?”
Perfect!
Arvel kept his expression mild. “If that’s the case, can we make this into a bargain?”
Rollo furrowed his eyebrows so deeply his eyes nearly disappeared. “…A bargain?”
King Petyrr’s eyes gleamed, and he chuckled. “What do you want, my boy?”
Arvel casually shrugged. “You’re taking my friend, so I was thinking I should get a say in who is assigned to me.”
“Your Highness, you think of me as a friend? I’m touched!” Rollo dabbed at his eyes.
King Petyrr snorted. “Laying it on a bit thick, are you, Arvel? Very well, who do you have in mind?”
“I don’t know her name,” Arvel admitted. “But she’s an apprentice—an elf, with hair such a pale blond it’s almost silver. She looks like she’s about my age—in her early to mid-twenties or so.”
Rollo opened his mouth again, but clicked it shut when King Petyrr grabbed him by the arm.
The two exchanged a flurry of expressions that flickered so quickly Arvel couldn’t make any of them out, until a smile so large it threatened to crack the king’s face stuck in place.
“ She’s an apprentice?” the king asked.
Rollo ignored the king’s wriggling eyebrows and instead appeared to dramatically ponder the thought as he tapped his chin.
“Oh! I know who you’re referring to—Mythlan!
She’s not on the social track—she’s being schooled to be a trade translator.
” He gestured widely with his hand and then bowed over his arm.
“But I can make a few inquiries and see what can be done. I don’t think the trade translators would mind lending her out for a few seasons. ”
The Translators’ Circle provided translators for three different occasions: social, trade, and governmental purposes.
Often times translators who served for social events also served in governmental meetings, so those two divisions of the Circle smudged together.
Trade, however, stood entirely separate as it required a different set of skills.
Even before the new understanding between humans and elves, trade had been an important part of the relationship between Calnor and Lessa. The translators who devoted themselves to it dealt much more with numbers, logs, and records than the other translators.
Arvel wasn’t too surprised his library friend had chosen what many would interpret as the more daunting route. Given the vast amounts of studying she logged in the library, he had suspected trade was to be her specialization.
“Mythlan, you say?” King Petyrr almost chortled as he rubbed his hands. “It seems like she’s caught your eye, Arvel. How very opportunistic of you to use this chance to get closer to her. Good job!” He leaned across the table to give Arvel a slap on the back that made Arvel’s shoulder ache.
“It’s not what you’re thinking, Father,” Arvel was quick to say. “I see her here in the library fairly frequently. I figured if it was her, she wouldn’t mind all the time I spend here and in my office.”
That wasn’t quite right, but even for his own sake Arvel didn’t want to think too deeply about the issue. He ignored it when his father deflated and sighed forlornly and instead fixed his attention on Rollo. “I’m glad you know of her. Do you know all the apprentice translators?”
“Of course!” Rollo blinked at Arvel, as if he was hurt anyone could think otherwise. “We translators know all the apprentices in our Circle. They’re so precious and sweet…and needed. ” He paused, then admitted, “And there aren’t many females, and even fewer female elf apprentices.”
King Petyrr coughed and made a loud harrumph, having, apparently, recovered from the disappointment of Arvel’s lack of ardor. “You really think the trade translators will part with her, Rollo? Even temporarily?”
“All of the Translators’ Circle is barely scraping along right now. But I believe the trade branch of the Circle has a working number of apprentices at the moment.”
The king and the translator exchanged smiles that were faintly reminiscent of cats that had just cornered a mouse.
Arvel looked back and forth between the pair and hoped he hadn’t made a mistake. “Thank you for making the request.”
“Of course! You can consider this my send-off present, since I’ll still see you plenty during socials and what have you.” Rollo winked.
King Petyrr narrowed his eyes. “You’re certain you’re not interested in her?”
Arvel kept his expression as mild as he could muster. “What do you mean?”
The Calnorian King heaved a mighty sigh and muttered to himself under his breath. “Most unromantic sons in the whole realm! Should be awake to the delights of romance by now, but no. Not even a possible daughter-in-law candidate!”
He shook his head a little, then rocked to his feet. “I believe that covers everything we needed to speak to you about, didn’t it?” He peered back at Rollo, who bowed.
“It did indeed, Your Majesty.”
King Petyrr swiped his crown off the table and plopped it back on his head, still managing to have a royal bearing despite his casual actions.
“Good, good. Oh—except, Arvel, I’d recommend hiding in your office tomorrow.
Your mother mentioned introducing you to more marriage candidates tomorrow morning. ”
Arvel grimaced. “Thanks for the warning. Although I’m surprised you chose to share your information. Given your penchant for daughters-in-law I would have thought you’d be on Mother’s side.”
Although his mother pushed every eligible lady she thought she could use at Arvel, King Petyrr had taken the opposite stance and rarely mentioned Arvel’s status as a single man, except to bemoan his lack of an additional daughter-in-law.
And even that seemed to be only when King Petyrr used it as a cover of sorts.
“Yes…well…” King Petyrr made a gruff noise at the back of his throat. “We’ll be taking our leave. I look forward to meeting this little apprentice friend of yours—if Rollo can wrangle her for you.” He winked, and was off, marching through the library shelves with familiarity. “Come along, Rollo!”
Rollo bowed. “Your Royal Highness.” He flashed his familiar and mischievous grin. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Arvel waved, though neither of them looked back, and settled deeper into his chair. I don’t like throwing my title around, but if it means I end up with a friendly translator…I hope she doesn’t mind.