Zero's Guardian

Chapter 3 - Duel

I'm woken from my already light sleep by what feels like a dainty hand shaking my shoulder.

"Urrgh, not yet," I mumble. "Just a few more minutes, please...?"

"Not going to happen, I'm afraid," Louise decrees indignantly. "Get up."

"Oh, for the love of—fine!"

I snap my eyes open and roll off the rug I've been sleeping on, grumbling irritably to myself. Louise has already changed into her school clothes and holds a laundry basket in her hands.

I rub the sleep from my eyes and shake my head clear.

"...What's so important?" I grumble.

Louise shoves the basket into my arms and folds her own.

"I'd like my laundry done and returned by this evening," she says. "If you haven't washed it by then I'll have to put you out into the hall tonight."

I blink at the basket of nightgowns and school uniforms several times over.

"You're kidding me, right?" I crack a small frown. "The days of servants doing laundry are long gone where I'm from."

"Oh, don't give me that," Louise sneers. "You're my familiar. I've got no time for that sort of nonsense."

I narrow my eyes, standing firm. "Look, I don't know the deal here in Tristain, but if you think I'm scrubbing your panties then you have another thing coming."

Louise's eyes widen in disbelief and shock. "You dare talk back to me like that?"

"Well, someone needs to put you in your place, Louise. If you really are that busy, why don't you do the damn laundry yourself?"

The pinkette's eye twitches. "The nobility don't wash their clothes, you idiot."

"Yeah, well, it's not the seventeenth century anymore," I scowl, pointing a finger in her face. "Get with the times."

She slaps my finger away and turns her nose up.

"If you refuse to wash the clothes, then fine," Louise hisses. "I'll take my leave, now. But you aren't coming with me to breakfast."

With a huff, the pinkette turns on her heel and stomps out the door.

I roll my eyes as she shuts the door behind her.

"Damn princess..."

I set the basket of laundry aside and follow after Louise once the door's closed.

"All right, fine," I relent with a deep exhale. "I'll wash them. But don't think I'll make it a pastime or anything."

Louise's lips curl into a satisfied smirk.

"Good," she says, pleased.

"Now, come on. Let's get something to eat. I'm starving."

"Gotcha."

As we descend the steps down to the dining hall, the smell of fresh bread and pastry wafts through the air and makes my stomach rumble.

...

Louise and I step inside the school's central dining hall. It's vast and filled with rows of tables. Plate after plate of fancy food covers each of them. We're talking about the sort of stuff my dad sent me pictures of when he worked on the cruise ships. There are cakes, tarts, croissants, and jams in huge amounts.

"No way I'd afford this kinda stuff on a YouTuber's budget," I mutter under my breath.

"Stop chattering to yourself and follow me, Michael," Louise says sternly.