Across the Years (Beymani)

Chapter Eleven: Roughing It

Beyoncé's POV

"Right this way, Miss Knowles," Normani said as she led me through the inn.

I walked with her to a far-right corner near the end of the bar, to a backdoor. Normani opened it delicately, leading us into a small hallway that smelled of baked bread, likely because of its proximity to the kitchen. At the sight of a few cooks and bakers shuffling around the corner, I was proven right. Eventually, we found ourselves at another door on the right of the hallway, which Normani eventually knocked on.

"Yes?" answered a stern voice from behind it.

"Father, it is I, Normani. May I enter?"

"Of course my darling girl, please do."

As soon as Normani opened the door, I stepped into the small space right behind her. Suddenly, I was in a cramped office space, a large wooden desk cluttered with papers right in the middle of it. Behind Mr. Hamilton were long shelves of various books of various genres. Clearly, he was quite the literary fiend. The office was also decorated with a multitude of paintings. It even had a specialized sword hanging on one of its walls. Must be because of the military background, I thought to myself.

I then shifted my focus to Normani's father. He appeared to be a man in his late forties or early fifties, with greying hair and piercing brown eyes similar to those of the woman who'd stolen my heart. Upon seeing me walk in, he gave me an odd look. I wasn't surprised, given that I was wearing a military coat and hat, and that I was still wet and dripping water onto the floor.

"Father, this is Beyoncé Knowles, an American from Houston, Texas. She's been traveling around Europe for quite some time now. She somehow heard that Molly left us and is looking for work. May she stay?"

For a moment, Derrick's eyes narrowed, then he gestured for me to come towards the desk. "Come forth, please."

Knowing that my potential employer was a former military man, I did my best to stand at attention. I surmised that anything less would not impress him, and I needed to impress him.

"A most unusual manner of dress, if you don't mind me saying so..." he muttered, a tobacco pipe in his hand.

I expected that might be one of his comments.

"Yes, sir. I've been traveling for a long while, so I wear clothing that I know can handle some wear and tear. Also, dressed like this, I tend to get perturbed less. The coat, hat, and boots are my late father's. They provide me with a sense of comfort and safety."

"Hmm, I see," Mr. Hamilton remarked, taking a puff of his tobacco. "Your father served in your recent Civil War? I'm a military man myself. Retired, of course."

I of course could already tell he was once an army officer. His bearing was stern and serious, and he sat up straight, his eyes never diverting from me for one second.

"Yes, sir. My father Matthew Knowles did serve in the Civil War. He moved down south to Texas before my birth, but when the war broke out, he returned to his native state of Michigan. He signed up for the 5th Michigan Cavalry, Company E., serving from 1862 to 1865 and rising to the rank of sergeant. He fought in numerous battles, including Gettysburg."

My father's name was indeed Matthew Knowles and he was in fact born in Michigan. That much of my story was true. However, while he obviously didn't serve in the Civil War, his Great Great Grandfather did; in that very regiment, to be exact. In reality, my father was an executive at a local insurance company. A boring job for a boring old fart.

After hearing my response, Mr. Hamilton seemed impressed. He took a long pause to think before nodding his head slowly. "I see. So you are alone here, correct? You've not come with any travel companion?"