The Spare's Empire

[lum]

While the mysterious pots remained firmly closed, her father entered.

He was already reading one of his ledgers, spectacles perched low on his nose as he turned a page without even looking where he was going.

Then, somewhat miraculously, when he reached her, he paused just long enough to lean down and kiss the top of her head.

"Good morning, little lady."

"Morning, father."

“Did you sleep well?”

“Sure…”

“Excellent.”

He turned another page. “Hmm…”

Lilium waited.

Nothing. He just kept on reading.

Her gaze shifted.

Cook continued stirring.

Her father took a seat and looked up only briefly at her. “Could you pass me the honey?”

She handed him the little pot without a word.

"Thank you."

He spooned a little into his tea without ever closing the ledger.

Silence.

Lilium waited another few heartbeats.

Still nothing?

She looked from Father...to Cook...to the tied-down pots...and back again.

Then the tiniest smile crept across her face.

Very well then.

If everyone else intended to pretend today was a day like any other…

...then she would pretend it was, too.

"Cook?" she asked in a light-hearted way.

"Mm?"

"May I help with breakfast?"

Cook nearly dropped his spoon. Yet he recovered with remarkable speed.

"... Help?"

"Mhm."

He looked at the three tightly covered pots, then at the girl, then back at the pots.

"I'm afraid...that… ehm…"

His eyes drifted upward, as though inspiration might be hiding somewhere in the rafters.

“... I’m fully staffed today.”

Lilium frowned as she looked around, seeing no one else but Cook, herself and her father.

“Oh.”

Cook nodded. “Yes. But another time, ok?”

She nodded gravely.

Before either could continue, the back door swung open.

Porter stepped inside carrying a wooden crate wrapped so thoroughly in coarse canvas that not a single corner of it remained visible. Thick twine crisscrossed the bundle several times before disappearing beneath an extravagant knot.

He froze in his tracks the moment he noticed Lilium.

“... Oh… hello little miss.”

“Morning, Porter.”

Cook looked up as well, noticing how Lilium looked from Porter to him and back.

Then her gaze dropped to the bundle.

“What is that?”

Porter looked down as though he had only just remembered he was carrying it.

“What is… oh… This?”

“Yes… That.”

He frowned thoughtfully.

"Erhm… This is… Crate."

Lilium blinked.

“I can see that? But what kind of crate?”

Porter shifted it awkwardly beneath one arm.

"The... wooden kind."

Lilium glanced over her shoulder.

Cook however suddenly became extraordinarily interested in stirring his soup. Her father seemed occupied with some math.

Lilium folded her arms. "I've seen wooden crates before. I meant, what’s inside?"

Porter scratched at his beard.

"I've only been instructed..." he hesitated a moment. "...to transport it."

"I see. To where?"

He looked around the kitchen.

Cook stared intensely into his soup, and Master Corvin was lost in the world of numbers.

Porter lowered his voice. "Now I've forgotten…"

"You've forgotten?"

"I had it written down."

"...Where?"

He patted his lower pockets. Then the upper.

His expression grew increasingly theatrical.

Lilium tilted her head. “Let me guess. You lost your note?”

"It would appear so."

Lilium looked from Porter...

...to Cook...

...back to Porter.

Then she smiled the smallest smile.

"Perhaps Father knows."

All the heads turned to Lilium’s father.

Master Corvin slowly finished the line he was reading.

He made one final note in the margin.

Only then did he look over the top of his spectacles, and only then did he notice the people looking at him.

"Hm?"

Porter cleared his throat.

"I appear to have... temporarily misplaced the destination for this crate."

"I see." Corvin regarded the bundle for a thoughtful moment. "Well that’s unfortunate."

"Quite,” Porter nodded.

Another pause.

Lilium waited.

Surely Father would solve it.

Instead, he took a sip of tea.

"Well," he said calmly, "you'd best remember, then."

Porter blinked, "...Yes, sir."

Silence settled over the kitchen once more.

Lilium looked from one man to the other.

Neither seemed remotely concerned that a mysterious crate had apparently lost its destination.

She folded her arms.

"I could read the shipping mark..." she tried.

Porter's eyes widened ever so slightly.

[lum]

Crates had always been one of Lilium’s favorite objects. The quality of the hinges, their dimensions, weight, sender and destination, and whether they were locked or not often hinted at what might be inside.

Porter glanced down at the crate," ...Unfortunately..."

Lilium crouched before he could continue.

The shipping mark had been covered by another carefully nailed plank.

Of course.

She looked up.

"... why is the label covered?"

Porter answered a little too quickly.

"To protect it from the rain. I mean... there had been a hole there. Before. We… I repaired it."

Lilium slowly rose to her feet.

“So… indoor rain huh.”

Cook made a noise that sounded suspiciously like someone swallowing a laugh.

Her father cleared his throat into his teacup.

"We're a very progressive household," Porter replied with complete seriousness.

For a heartbeat no one moved.

Then Lilium smiled. "I shall have to keep an eye on the ceilings."

Porter gave a solemn nod, tucked the crate more securely beneath his arm, and headed for the door.

Halfway there he stopped.

"Oh..."

Everyone looked at him.

"I've remembered."

"You have?" Lilium asked.

"Yes."

"The destination?"

"No."

"The note?"

"No."

"...Then… what?"

He smiled.

"I remembered not to forget where I put it next time."

With that wonderfully unhelpful observation, he disappeared into the corridor.

The kitchen remained silent for another heartbeat.

Her father quietly turned another page in his ledger. Then he looked over at her. “I’ve remembered something as well.”

Lilium brightened.

Finally.

“You did?”

“Yes. There is a small message you need to deliver. It is however of the utmost importance the seal is not broken.”

“Oh… hmm… sure… I… can do that. Who’s it for?”

Her father lifted an envelop from his ledger and handed it over to her. “For the baker.”

“Oh…”

Cook resumed stirring his pot.

Lilium looked at both of them. She waited a moment, and then gave up.

Fine…

Before she knew she was outside the kitchen and on her way to the front hall.

Halfway down the corridor, she suddenly stopped as a dreadful realization washed over her.

Her belly produced a loud, unmistakable rumble.

Her eyes widened.

...Impossible.

She turned back toward the kitchen.

The door had already closed.

She looked toward the front hall, one hand holding the letter, her other over her belly.

This was the first time in her entire life she had left the kitchen without food!

Hmm…

Duty… or breakfast…

She sighed with all the weight a teenager could summon.

"This," she muttered to herself, "must be what Father means by responsibility."

With that, she continued toward the bakery.