The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Chapter 136 The Maid Lira (1) The History of The Girls

The first time I truly understood what it meant to be a royal head maid, I was seven years old. Mother had dressed me in a crisp black dress, my hair pulled back so tight it hurt, as she led me through the castle's gleaming halls. Stay connected through empire

"Stand straight, Lira," she'd say, her voice gentle but firm. "A head maid carries herself with dignity at all times." Her own black hair was perfectly styled in an elegant bun, not a strand out of place. I wanted to be just like her.

The position of head maid wasn't just any servant's role – it was a prestigious title, carrying rank almost equal to a count in the royal hierarchy. Mother had served the previous queen with unwavering dedication, and now it was my turn to learn. Every day brought new lessons: how to walk silently, how to anticipate needs before they were spoken, how to keep my face perfectly composed no matter what chaos might unfold around me.

"The key," Mother would say as she demonstrated the proper way to pour tea, "is to become like air itself. Present when needed, invisible when not, but always essential." Her movements were graceful, precise, each gesture calculated yet appearing effortless.

I practiced for hours each day. How to bow at exactly the right angle – too deep would be servile, too shallow disrespectful. How to modulate my voice to be clear but never loud, how to phrase suggestions as if they were the master's own thoughts. Even my expressions were carefully cultivated.

"A slight smile, Lira," Mother would correct me. "Serene, but not too familiar. Remember, we serve the crown, but we are not their friends."

The other servant children avoided me, whispering behind their hands about the "little princess maid." I pretended not to care, focusing instead on my studies. Etiquette, history, politics – I needed to understand it all to serve properly. Mother made sure I learned to read and write beautifully, to speak multiple languages, to understand the complex dance of court politics.

"Knowledge," she'd tell me, "is our true power. We must know everything but appear to know nothing."

But it was lonely. My days were filled with endless lessons and practice, no time for games or friendship. I watched other children playing in the courtyard from my window as I studied proper tea ceremony procedures or memorized noble family lineages.

One morning, as I practiced arranging flowers under Mother's watchful eye, she said something that changed everything.

"A special guest is arriving today," she said, adjusting a rose stem slightly. "A child, who will one day be queen. You must be ready to serve her, Lira."

I looked up, curious. "A new princess?"

Mother's expression was unreadable. "Something like that. She comes from the forest, and she will need a friend as much as a servant. Can you be both, while remembering your place?"

Elowen was destined for greatness—she was to be Queen, a role that demanded all of her time and attention. The carefree days of our childhood slowly faded away, replaced by the weight of responsibility.

When Elowen became Queen, everything changed. Her duties were unending, and while she tried to make time for us, we all understood the unspoken reality. She was no longer just Elowen, our friend from the forest; she was Her Majesty, ruler of Silvarion, and that title built walls between us that we could not cross. We still saw each other, of course, but the spontaneous adventures, the whispered secrets in the middle of the night, the laughter – those were gone.

Serelith took on the mantle of court magician, her talents now used to protect and serve the kingdom. But behind her composed exterior, I could still see glimpses of the girl who adored Elowen, who would do anything to make her smile.

Vyrelda, too, had grown into her role – now one of the kingdom's most powerful knights, a fierce protector of Silvarion. She moved with the same grace, her eyes still carrying the warmth that had once brought calm to our little group, but her life was now one of duty and vigilance.

And I, I became the head maid, just as Mother always intended. I served Elowen with all the dignity and poise I had been taught, but it was different now. I no longer stood at her side as a friend, but as a servant, one of the many who made her life run smoothly.

We were all where we were meant to be, fulfilling the roles we had been trained for. But the closeness we once shared – the nights spent talking until dawn, the carefree laughter – was gone, replaced by formality and duty.

Yet, despite the distance, the bond between us remained. I could see it in the way Elowen's eyes would soften when she looked at me, in the way she would still smile at Serelith's sly comments, in the way Vyrelda would always stand just a little closer to her than necessary, as if ready to protect her at any moment.

The friendship is no longer what it used to be, but our bond has matured into something more enduring, even if quieter.

Now, years later, I watch Elowen sit on her throne, every inch the queen she was destined to be. Serelith stands nearby, her position as court magician masking her deep personal attachment. Vyrelda... has changed a lot and became one of the most powerful knights of the kingdom, while I maintain my role as the composed, elegant maid.

We're no longer the giggling girls who shared midnight secrets and forest adventures. Our paths have diverged, our roles grown more defined. But sometimes, when Elowen's eyes meet mine across a crowded room, or when Serelith makes a subtle joke that only we understand, or when Vyrelda passes by with a secret smile, I feel it still – that unbreakable bond we share.

The friendship is no longer what it used to be, but our bond has matured into something more enduring, even if quieter.

But still.

Everything is still beautiful.

Until that man stepped in into this castle.