The Queen of Pheresha, Vivian P. Zedock, softly took a seat on the hard-wood floor of her private chamber and looked up at her lanky tutor intently.  She studied for a long moment the crease in his brow, probably set forever in his olive skin by hours upon hours of scowling.  He did that quite a bit.  Scowled.

It wasn’t long before he took notice of her staring.  He looked down his prominent nose at her.  “What are you doing sitting on the floor, childe?”

“Resting.  Am I not allowed to do so?” she asked, not ceasing her staring.

Professor Ebenholz Krähe shifted in his chair, a bit uncomfortable with the staring, but he remembered his place around the young queen.  “I am not one to tell you what you should or should not be doing, your highness.  You may sit on the floor as you wish.”

“Then the floor is where I will sit,” she was soft spoken, but a thorny rose indeed as she went back to the text she was given to read, though it was a dreadful bore.  The professor always assigned her with awfully dreary texts to read.  This particular book was on something called Stream Theory.

The professor sat back in his straight-backed chair with a barely audible "hmph" and took up his own book once more.  His book was on the very interesting subject of gear rotation in contrast and comparison with astrological rotation and how both could be applied to general applications such as rotary cuffs on polyseismic geonometers.  Fascinating stuff!

“I should be going,” he said when he conferred with his pocket clock.  “You've got your chapters to read and I've got my... assignments,” he stood suddenly and snapped his book shut.

With a thud the young queen let her book hit the floor.  It was far from amusing and thus she missed half of what he had said, only catching the word 'assignments', “I don't wish anymore assignments! You bog me down as it is...I'm not an android you know! I’m flesh and blood through and through!”

He pursed his lips then said quietly, “No, your highness, assignments that you have given me.  I have assignments.”  He arched an already pointy black brow and continued, “however, if your workload is too heavy....”

“You mean you actually do as I ask? Tempting knowledge to be noted, something I will surely keep in mind,” she said, finger to the side of her tinted pink lips and smirked. She stopped at his comment though and eyed him again.

“Of course I do as you ask, your highness.  I am your humble servant,” everything the older man said seemed grim and somewhat unpleasant.

She simply looked at him, far to innocent to catch the dripping sarcasm with the cup of her mind, and thus, she took his words as a compliment laced with honey, “Indeed you do Professor Krähe. You've been a godsend to my family for years.”  She tilted her head and eyed him deeper, “How old did you say you where Professor? Late 60's if I'm correct judging by those bags beneath your eyes,” she smiled warmly as if her words held no harm.

Though he knew she was trying to gall him, his eye still twitched, “Hilarious, your highness.  Yes, since you're so interested I am quite old,” In truth, he had not yet reached his 50th birthday.

The young queen clapped her hands and giggled with much enthusiasm, “Oh! My guessing is getting better, yesterday I guessed the butler at 80 and he went red in the face with surprise that I got it right, then sped away to tell the others how good I am with guessing. Practically a seer I am!”

A bitter grin spread out under his beaklike nose, “Indeed, your highness.  Now, if you'll excuse me.”

“Alright Professor Krahe, do be careful.  I'd hate for you to hurt yourself walking down the stairwell to the lifts,” she smiled warmly and nodded her head, “Until tomorrow’s lesson.”

“Of course.  Good evening, your highness,” he turned and the smile melted off his face.  Then out the door he went.