12

To Lady Victoria;

A singing bird draws its attention in the morning dawn or evening dusk. A wanting man draws his attention in entertaining a society, or flaunting his wealthy gains. And what do the bird and the man have in common? Drawing attention! You need not look far to see what I want in this script! However, be known to you, my lady, I am no bird, and I am not wanting. I am simply an anonymous, shamelessly seeking reading attention!

Knight penned the words down, with his little anonymous signature crowned on the fold, visible part of the paper. He ought to have written his name, but he thought differently, hoping this anonymity would spike an interest and curiosity within Lady Victoria. He hoped, at least, that she would not discard the small note! Just a hope for a lad like him

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After the previous thoughts of 'all book lovers love a good writing', Knight hardly did anything other than think of where to find a quill pen; probably a goose-feathered would be much better for him. He moreover, scanned his hard scalp, wondering where he'd find aligning ink, in addition to purchasing pieces of paper; not easily detectable, and those which perfectly denoted words effectively, without much difficulty in penning.

Not to forget, London was still an unknown land for Knight. He needed one, one helper, who knew the best publishing offices, and the most discreet of these publishers.

At that thought, he stood from his bed, and steadily, a step at a time, reached out to the door when he denoted he had not removed his precious formal attires. He thus, stood at the door, in conflict within himself, as to whether to change to much simpler attires, or remain as he were. He found the latter rather thoughtful, resonating, he needed the guard he shall approach to aid him in buying, to at least respect him and not look down at him, or worse laugh at him. In addition, the publishing offices greatly looked down and aided people according to ranks.

With the thought in hand, he slightly, in one right click opened the golden door knob, and out he walked closing the door back.

After, his eyes distantly looked to the left side of the lawn, and evenly to the right. None was insight! He so, started walking left towards the staircase silently in thought of the guard he shall approach.

Before long, still in his thought, the last room door to the staircase opened, and he was one petrified of one acknowledging him, and two more shocked, in realization that it was his fellow nightshift guard. However, he was in a more unwilling state, he was profusely sweating, and breathing heavy; no injury seeming within him, hence this meant, it was not a beating in the room. Knight knew the acts, -dangerous sexual pleasures to be known- he expressed no facial expression whatsoever.

"My Lord!" In attention, the guard called out, still catching his breath, as Knight still overlooked his condition, head to toe. His brown hair was shaggily standing, as if another, if not he, had overly run his fingers across and through it. His brown linen shirt was in drenched shape, and some of its buttons were opened, revealing his brown hairy chest. Knight remembered the man dictating he had a lovely wife, and two handsome boys. However, it was no business of his to judge him!

"It's me." Knight deep-voiced started, as he reorganized his thoughts on the next word to use, "Knight!" He finished, his gaze bored on the guard's profusely sweating face.

"You are!" The guard started, making a little headshake, and staring hard onto Knight's face, especially his eyes, "you are to be a_" paused again, contemplating on respectful words to use. "a lord?" He finished, eyes widely opened, as he disgustingly, using his palm wiped off his sweating face.

Knight did not reply to that, but checked his trouser pockets and on his left, pulled a neatly knotted handkerchief. In one act, extended his hand forward for the guard to accept his offer.

"I need you to take me a place." Knight instructed, with the guard, hurriedly wiping his sweaty face, and parts of his body, especially the upper part; his neck and collarbone in detail; With Knight's offered handkerchief.

"Where to?" The guard questioned, now buttoning his linen shirt and tucking the bottom of its sleeves in the black trousers he wore.

"Let's meet on the outside of the Lancaster back door gate. Go first, bathe instinctively. Then meet me, on the left." Knight added, his eyes still bored on the guard, who was smelling little of himself after Knight's words, and nodded to them after.

The time on Knight's watch struck two past midday, and thirty minutes had passed since conversing with his co-guard. He despitefully, patiently waited on the outside gate, as the standing sun of London kissed his black hat.

After a minute and a few seconds, the guard showed up in his nighttime guardship clothes, except for a balaclava. This made Knight overly interrogate his look but brushed the thought. He needed the papers hastily, and at the moment, he knew not how far away the publication office would be. Suddenly, as the guard was approaching Knight, the two-door huge gate was opened, and a lone brown horse was walked out by one of the guards. A masculine, well-built horse with fine hides and a nice black nose.

The guard gave Knight's coworker the horse and in one stand shouted, still holding it, "hop in, Knight!"

Knight did not expect a horse. In addition, he wanted not the Lancaster house to notice they had a royal lad in the working space. However, he knew he needed the horse.

"I need you to take me to London's market. Help me buy some dip pens, ink, and a bundle of papers if need be." Knight instructed, eyes on the guard, as he caressed the horse. It trusted him immediately, with the little sniff it gave him.

"Alright," The guard distantly added, as Knight hopped on the horse and the guard slightly touched its sleeves, showing the way.

"Hop in!" Knight called out, knowing if they were to walk like this, they sure would waste lots of time. They still needed to arrive back in time to prepare for the guard job.

The guard, thus, in one or two conflicts, hopped right in front of Knight, and rode the horse to the right, out of the Lancaster mansion, to its front gate where still different carriages stood. Knight still wondered how persistent the lads were.

After ten minutes of passing different colorful gates and different designed mansions, they arrived at the busy London front base market where the high-class lads shopped. There were different rooms, showcasing different tailored waistcoats and suits, formal trousers, showcasing different chandeliers, painted pictures of animals, houses; there was a lot of showcase in the market place.

The guard stopped the horse at the dip pens standpoint of a young brown lad, wearing a caravan hat and brown trousers and scarf.

"Can I get a goose quill pen?" Knight shouted from the horse's back.

"Goose still on check, swan available in five gold pennies, sir!" The lad stated, eyeing Knight upward. He was still a young boy, notably sixteen or less, of age.

"Does it ink down well?" Knight questioned, eyeing the quill pens the boy was holding out for him.

"They sure are best. You can also, best..." he paused, in check of the language he wanted to use and then, "it goes well with this ink." He finished. Knight denoted his English was rather broken. Probably was a foreigner.

"Give me both, the ink and the quill." Knight commanded, as his co-guard alighted fast from the horse, still holding its sleeves, and took the writing materials Knight had bought, as Knight gave the boy six pennies instead of the five he asked.

"Gave me six, sir. I am told it should be five." He corrected Knight, holding out the one gold penny for Knight to take.

"Go buy another caravan hat." Knight replied, smiling as the boy smiled back, his rotten brown front teeth detected.

The guard jumped onto the horse, as Knight adjusted his seating, still eyeing the boy with the caravan hat, who was busy hiding the gold coins in his little black leather bag on his waist.

"Forced to grow up early, he!" The guard stated, as he called out the horse to continue its move.

"We, sometimes are lucky bastards!" Knight added, his eyes now focused on the front, imagining the publishing office that would be their next stand.

From there, they passed between brown stands of cabbages and lettuces all being sold in the day. In addition, there were tomatoes, carrots, name them, till the end of the vegetables selling point, when they turned left and in distance, Knight watched distinct brown and black colored stone-built houses approaching.

One was London's Times, well placed, with a large dish on its top depicting its name in large capital letters. Next to it was Paper Times, a smaller publishing to that of New York! And Knight fell into liking it.

He himself jumped out of the horse after the co-guard put it into a stop, and he, in quick strides, entered the room of that times. Inside, there were different men and women working tirelessly, either typing sheets, counting sheets, and others carrying large sheets. It was his first time seeing a woman work, and it all looked extraordinarily extravagant.

"I seek fifty sheets or a book of least." Knight called out to one of the standing men at the typewriter black, a little dusty desk.

"You wish a book or sheets?" He rudely questioned.

"Sheets!" Knight retorted back, realizing the acid in the man's voice. Just a customer he was, he needed not speak such bad.

"Twenty pennies." The man added, his eyes on the sheet he seemed busy in.

"A sheet counts what much?" Knight questioned, as the man eyes red, angrily looked at him.

"If your wish is to buy at others, the New York Times sells cheaper!" He added, as Knight quietly thought 'bad day in office'.

"Twenty it is." Knight finished, as he counted his pennies from his pocket bag. After reaching twenty, he shoved the rest onto the bag and gave the man in one place, onto his table, leading to some falling down. "My apologies." Knight honestly apologized, realizing the mess, as the man clicked, chasing under the table the moving pennies.

After having them all in order, he stood ending towards a distant left-side door room, opened the door and stayed for lengthy five minutes. Knight had become overly bored, leading him to read some of the works the man was typing.

'A King's feast' 'The king of England has called upon all his five queens, divorced or not to a...'

Before he could finish, the lad had arrived and shoved the paper away from his read.

"The King of England what?" Knight questioned, as his adrenaline rushed through his body, and his body nervously questioned.

"Here are your papers, sir!" The man placed well-brown folded pieces on the little dusty black desk, as he went back to his typing machine and forgot the whole existence of Knight.Knight seamlessly tried to remember the words but could not quite grasp the rest of the statement, leading him to leave in frustration outside, and fast towards his guard who was now lying next to the brown horse, which was lightly plucking out the grown grass outside the Times compound.

"Let's leave!" Knight instructed, slightly kicking the bottom of the guard's shoes.

"Alright!" The guard replied, fast doing a front flip, despite his aging self, as Knight heard the little breaking of his back bones. He pitied him little but spoke not, as they jumped onto the horse, after a little rubbing its neck to ease its nerves, from being mad for being interrupted on its eating time.

With that, they both hasted out of the city market to the Lancaster house, with Knight's thoughts on the little document still in mind. Or was it just a document? Anyway, his ambition being to pen down the words..., well...