Chapter 1.5

Just as Jemima was about to open her mouth to ask what a Noble was and what it had to do with the King, the wooden door to the room swung open with a loud bang. Three heavily armoured men filed into the room, their presence intimidating and commanding, swords swinging back and forth.

Quietly, under his breath, Oscar growled, "Knights."

Jemima had no idea what he meant by that, but there was no time to ask. She fell still, watching the three men as the largest eyed her suspiciously.

He stalked forward, and in a steely voice, announced, "Noble Greyleaf, I trust that you are in good health after your quite unfortunate accident. The King requires you to return to training."

He paused, and threw a disgusted look at Oscar, who was sitting with his head bowed, silent, his silvery-blond hair falling over his face, the book trembling slightly in his large, pale hands.

"As for you, Commoner Darkland," the man spat 'Commoner' like it was an insult, eyes dark with hate, "You may be dismissed."

Jemima watched as Oscar closed the book and placed it lightly on the chair, straightened, clenched his fists and walked out the door, his whole body rigid with tension. The door clicked closed softly behind him, and Jemima felt a pang of pity for him.

The Knight turned back to Jemima, sitting in the bed with her eyes bright and curious, and continued speaking like nothing had happened.

"If I am honest, Noble, I do not know what you see in that Commoner. He is nothing but a worthless orphan, left on the streets to fade away. Nothing more, nothing less. But you treat him like an equal- you let him treat you like you two are equal-"

Jemima raised a hand. This man got on her nerves, with all his talk about being equal, and she was determined to tell him that. Jemima had never been one to hide her opinions, and from what she had seen, Oscar was nothing but a loyal, and devoted friend. Even though she knew nothing about the hierarchy of this strange world, she assumed that Nobles were above Knights.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth to speak. Jemima didn't know where she got the words from, but they flowed swiftly out of her when she barely understood what they meant herself.

"Knight, that is enough. I am allowed to befriend whomever I like, whether it is a fellow Noble, or a 'lowly Commoner' as you call them. Are you questioning your higher up's choices? Because this is how I see it." Jemima flashed a glare at the Knight, who had gone quite still.

"Noble I- I meant no disrespect, forgive me!" The Knight bowed deeply, fear obvious in his stiff stance.

"It does not matter what you meant. Do you have anything else to tell me or was the only thing you came to say was to judge who I make friends with?" Jemima inquired in a icy cold voice, eyeing him.

The man straightened quickly and fumbled with a piece of paper, and opened it with a small tearing sound.

"Ahem. The King and Council require your presence at the meeting today, late afternoon, once you have finished training, for a meeting of the King's Council."

Jemima nodded her acknowledgement. "Alright. If that is all, you may be dismissed."

The three men bowed and turned to exit. As they opened the door, Jemima's voice sounded out again.

"Knight. One more thing."

"Yes, Noble?" The leader asked, turning back around to face her respectfully.

"If you see Commoner Darkland, send him back to my room." She commanded.

"Understood."

The moment the men left the room, Jemima let out a long breath. That didn't go as bad as she had feared. Alone in the room, she looked around and took in her surroundings again.

It was quite plain, four grey walls covered in draping and tapestries. The door was on the left side of the bed, and windows framed in floor length, blood red curtains to the right. Against the left wall, near the door, was a plush red and gold sofa, and in the right corner of the wall opposite the bed was an intricately designed door that Jemima thought probably led to the toilet and bathroom. A gold framed mirror hung above a desk on the same wall, next to a crackling, cheerful fire, with wood to top it up sitting on a small rack next to the desk.

Quietly, carefully, Jemima slipped out of the bed and placed her bare feet on the plush white carpet. Not used to the extra weight her new male body had, she stumbled slightly, feet tripping over each other, then quickly regained her balance. The carpet's warm threads, warmed by the fire, swallowed her feet with each step as she padded slowly over to the mirror. Jemima inspected the reflection in the mirror staring back at her.

A handsome male face stared back at her, with bright green, sparkling, playful eyes, short, sandy brown hair and light olive toned skin, a small earring hanging from his left ear, clothed in a loose white shirt and nothing more. Jemima stared for another moment, then reached a finger out and up to touch the mirror ever so lightly.

"So it's real...I'm not dreaming-" she murmured, half to herself. Hearing her voice sound softly through the room, made it all seem more real.

"Of course it's real." A cocky voice broke through Jemima's reverie, and she spun around towards the door, surprised. "Did you really think you imagined it all?"

There stood Oscar, leaning against the door with his arms crossed, all the fear and timidity from before gone, his eyes burning silver. A smile as wide as the devil's lit his face up at he met her gaze.

"C'mon, there's no reason to looked so surprised. Let me take you on a tour of the castle!" Oscar laughed.