Princess of Athelia: An Unfinished Fairy Tales Novella Read Online Free Page B

(MPs, as Edward tells me) gather for the last session. Second-to-last session, to be exact, as the last session, normally known as prorogation, consists merely of a summary of the year’s achievements.
    Like the palace, the Chamber is a breathtaking construction. It adheres to the red and gold theme of Athelia’s monarchy, with a magnificent golden ceiling and throne, while rows of red leather seats line up before the throne. Above the throne are huge paintings depicting famous monarchs. I recognize most of them, thanks to my industrious studying under Madame Dubois. Behind me, stained-glass windows rise to the ceiling, casting daylight into the room. As it’s rather cloudy today, the four golden chandeliers are lit to compensate for the lack of sufficient lighting.
    Because it’s so damn stifling in my Gothic costume, I start to fan myself. If the MPs notice me, then so be it.
    Edward appears in a formal black suit and trousers, carrying a scroll tied with a red ribbon. He strides to the throne and waits for the members to quiet down. His steadfast gaze and straight posture remind me that although Athelia is a constitutional monarchy, he still carries himself with this majestic, commanding air. Most of the members cease their chatter and sit in silence, their gaze fixed upon the prince. It’s kind of a double standard for me, because while I don’t hesitate to let Edward know I will never behave like a spineless subject, I find it amusing that the MPs are subdued in his presence.
    After Edward presents an opening speech, which sounds just like a boring recital, the Prime Minister goes up to the podium and gives an annual report from various departments and agencies. He is a dumpy man wearing a wig—the long, fake, white kind worn by judges in civil court. It’s a pity Edward doesn’t have to wear a wig, because I’d certainly die of laughter. Then several MPs come forth to deliver local and national presentations of papers, all of which sound extremely dry and tedious.
    Just when I’m in danger of falling asleep, the Prime Minister adjusts his glasses and reads from a scroll.
    “Now let us commence the Third Reading of the eight-hour bill. For those who wish to express an opinion, will you please raise your hand?”
    I sit up and lean forward in my chair, my heart pounding. Edward had told me that with a landslide victory in the Second Reading, plus the growing attention from the public and continued reports from investigators and novelists, it is hardly probable that the Third Reading will be rejected. Still, it doesn’t mean that all members will cheerfully pass the bill without further comment. Several MPs are invested in the cotton trade, which is considered one of the largest industries of Athelia.
    A man raises his hand and is granted permission to speak. He is quite passionate about the bill, stating that eight hours is still too much that any child can bear. He cites evidence from a medical report written by Dr. Jensen, whom I remember is Henry’s mentor.
    “I would even go further and propose that the working hours should be reduced to half a day in the morning, which leaves the afternoon free for mandatory education.”
    I could hug him, if it weren’t that I was supposed to stay out of sight.
    Another man stands up and expresses an opposing opinion. He says that with the rapid advancement of technology, Athelia has transformed into the most powerful nation in the world. The country will fall behind if the supply cannot keep up with demand. While he acknowledges that there are problems with the child workers, he is confident that as long as the children are carefully monitored and no violence is inflicted upon them, there is no reason why the factories cannot continue as before.
    Bullshit . I wonder if he has ever been inside a factory himself.
    The debate continues for a while, but much to my disappointment, it looks like the hours cannot be further reduced. Most of the members, while willing to