Bright and early the next morning, the freshly deloused contestants dressed themselves in identical beige dresses designed in the spirit of potato sacks.

The lone oval mirror in the room was a busy spot, with several girls struggling to elbow their way to the center. Once there they did their best to spruce up their ratty hair and counteract the 'blah' of the beige, but without the glittery accessories of the bourgeoisie, the final result was abysmal.

Myrielle had no interest in the 'mirror supremacy' dog fight, so she sat on the edge of her bed and took a minute for some calming meditation.

It was a nice idea, to close her eyes and channel some Buddha before things got hyper-competitive, but it would never be more than a nice idea as long as Bella was in the room.

Bella noticed Myrielle looking peaceful, so she gestured to two of her sidekicks to set things right.

The three of them slowly approached, smiling wide but conveying something sinister.

"Am I crazy?" said Bella, "Or did you teach at the academy last year?"

Myrielle's eyes snapped open as she realized her cover had been blown. She was surprised at how quickly they'd noticed she wasn't a marriageable fifteen-year-old maiden like the rest, but how did they recognize her as a professor too? She hadn't even taught for that long, and the entire time she'd been there her students had been terrible listeners. She brushed some hair in front of her face to conceal her haggard late-teen eyes. "I think you have me confused with someone else; like some other nearly middle-aged woman who lives down the lane."

Bella shook her head. "It was definitely you; looking all old...teaching in a matronly manner..."

Bella's sidekicks Helena and Josselyn snickered, the first one small but menacing, and the other one a lanky doofus.

"It wasn't me," Myrielle insisted, keeping her eyes to the floor.

Bella bent down so they were face-to-face, the perfect position for a next-level burn. "I am so glad they closed the academy," she said. "I mean...what were they thinking teaching multiple subjects? And to girls?"

As Myrielle prepared to explode from indignation, Bella urged her sidekicks to pile on.

"I hope the academy taught you how to take a punch," said Helena, fists now ready to attack.

Myrielle took a good hard look at the grubby little street fighter; was she actually planning to hit her? And with zero provocation? It was a fascinating scene to observe, even if Myrielle's face was the one at risk.

Josselyn's strategy was a bit more docile and a lot more dumb. "Learning is for stupid people!"

Bella watched excitedly for Myrielle's reaction, waiting for her to crumble or hit back or cower. Any of the above would've been pleasing, but instead her reaction was a smile. "You're right," said Myrielle. "Learning is for stupid people, which is why they need it! And then, once they've learned, they will no longer be stupid; so everybody wins!"

Myrielle rose from the bed and sauntered past the bullies, with the sort of nonchalance that is exactly what a bully hates. She was proud to have defeated her bullies with words instead of violence, and felt the same level of superiority she'd clung to when avoiding silly friendships with girls.

Indeed...everything was great.

Until Bella unleashed her hound Helena who tackled Myrielle to the ground.

The other girls watched in fascination, forming a circle around the blur of punches and flailing limbs. There was no end in sight until the door burst open and Fredrick rushed in.

"Ladies!" he cried. He struggled to end the scuffle and took a few hits himself, but finally he separated Helena and her death-fists from Myrielle.

The final tally of damage was some torn fabric and deep scratches, but luckily no broken bones. He knelt down beside Myrielle who was cradling the side of her face. "Are you alright?" he said worriedly.

Myrielle was a little dazed, but lucid enough to remember she needed to keep Fredrick by her side. "A little shaken up, that's all." She looked over at Helena and seemed nervous. "Just keep me away from her," she whispered.

Fredrick nodded. "Of course."

Bella sneered as she watched the special treatment from Fredrick unfold, failing to realize she'd been the one to cause it in the first place.

Fredrick looked to the other girls with disappointment. "I leave you here one night and you're already fighting? How did this happen? And why did no one step in?" He pulled a fresh scroll from his pocket to take down a full report. He waited with his quill tip but no one spoke. "Well?"

Bella stepped forward. "What happened is that the contest rules were breached." She gestured to Myrielle with disdain. "She's too old to marry a prince."

Though Myrielle's face had been spared a thorough beating, her ego in that moment was a vulnerable thing. Her shaky self-esteem was a natural effect of being age-shamed in public for the first time. It only she had known that five hundred years into the future, things would change; women would be viewed as equals, they would no longer feel immense pressure to meet impossible physical standards, and they would no longer lose opportunities on account of their fading looks. (Oh wait...)

Fredrick took some notes and shook his head. "The judges are going to hear about this."

Bella grinned. "Thank you Fredrick, I was really starting to worry!"

He raised an eyebrow. "I meant the judges are going to hear about the abuse of another contestant."

Bella's grin dissolved into her perfect cheekbones. "What?"

Fredrick gestured to Myrielle. "Come; you'll ride with me."

***

The girls were off in their rickety wagon, with the anorexic horses taking them to their next destination. And, as Fredrick had promised...Myrielle was kept away from Helena, as she rode with Fredrick in his humble carriage for two.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.

"Of course," she said listlessly, gazing out the window like a zombie. She should've been using this precious time to cozy up to Fredrick for a competitive advantage, but the age-shaming had affected her spirit.

Fredrick seemed concerned by her zoned out expression. "Are you sure you're not feeling faint?" he asked.

To his surprise she shot him a glare. "Why? Because I'm sooo old that I can barely stay conscious?"

She was officially triggered, but a man of his minimal experience with women had no idea why. He cleared his throat for the second attempt. "Of course not. I just meant...because you fell...and what with the beating and all..."

She continued to glare. "What about you? You're not exactly fresh out of the oven either. I mean what are you...twenty-four years old?"

He was blushing. "Twenty-five and a half."

She gasped. "My goodness! You could fall over and die any second!" As she watched his face redden with mortification she felt a little guilty. "On the other hand...Ramesses the Great lived to be ninety, so...who knows? You could still beat the odds!" She clapped him on the shoulder encouragingly, momentarily relieved that her age was no longer in the spotlight.

"How do you know about Ramesses the Great?" he said, slowly recovering from the realness of standing at death's door.

She shrugged. "I've been reading a lot since I lost my teaching position."

He seemed surprised. "You were one of the professors?" She nodded. "Then it's true; you must be very old indeed..."

She punched him in the shoulder and they shared a laugh. It was a nice moment, but it would only last for a few seconds more, as the carriage pulled up to an open field that was empty aside from a long wooden table and a dozen chairs.

Myrielle seemed confused by the set-up. "What on earth is the first challenge?"

Fredrick followed her gaze. "Actually they didn't tell me..."

***

The anorexic horses brought the wagon of girls to the field a few minutes later, and as they took their seats a royal convoy arrived.

While the portable thrones were being arranged by the lesser servants, Fredrick rushed over to the royals and Gianni to explain the morning's abuse.

"How old are we even talking about?" said the queen in disdain.

The prince shook his head repeatedly, like a toddler who refused to eat his broccoli. "I will not marry an old maid; I will not, I will not, I will not."

Gianni reviewed his notes. "I was so distracted by her horrid dress that I assumed she was as young as the others." He shut the book and bowed his head. "Apologies for the oversight."

Fairy Godmother was the last to emerge from the royal carriage, blinded by the sun and its adverse affects on a hangover. She stumbled over to the royals. "What'd I miss?"

The queen was unimpressed. "Just a major misstep by Gianni."

Fairy Godmother took great pleasure in those words. "Looks like all those rules didn't help you keep things organized..."

Gianni pushed her out of the way. "Your majesty, the misstep will likely resolve itself once we're through with the first two challenges." He glanced over at the table and smirked.

Fredrick saw his reaction and was suddenly worried again. "Speaking of the challenges...what does the first one entail?" He was hoping for some clues he could pass to Myrielle, completely oblivious to the cheating implications.

Gianni and Fairy Godmother chuckled to themselves. "It entails a test to see who's worthy of becoming a royal," he said.

With no other explanation, two bakers arrived with a dozen cherry pies. They set them down in front of each of the girls, without the accompanying napkins and cutlery.

King Gastronso started longingly at the pies and frowned. "Couldn't they have made an extra one?"

Gianni approached the table and smiled. "Good morning girls."

"Good morning," they chanted in unison.

"It's time to start the first challenge," he explained, "and so, without further adieu...three, two, one, go!"

The girls seemed extremely confused.

"Go do what?" said Bella.

Fredrick tugged at Gianni's arm. "You haven't provided proper instructions."

Gianni swatted Fredrick's hand away in disgust. "Unhand me, servant!" He straightened his sleeve. "And believe me they have all the instruction they need."

Myrielle studied the pies across the long table. The last time she'd seen a set-up like this, it had been at the site of lemon-cake-eating contest. She could only conclude the parameters were the same, so she right dove in and devoured the cherry pie with her bare hands. Within a matter of seconds, three other girls took her lead.

As Bella watched them gorge themselves she made no move of her own; the rest of the girls followed her cue.

Once Myrielle had annihilated the pie she slapped her hand on the table. "I win!"

The royals and Gianni exchanged a condescending look, while Fairy Godmother hid behind a tree while chugging booze.

Gianni approached the girls with a smarmy expression. "Congratulations to...the girls who didn't touch their pies!" He looked to Myrielle and the other gorging girls with disappointment. "A princess would never eat without her fork, tsk tsk."

Myrielle gasped as she stared at her empty pie plate. It was only one day into the competition, but it was all but certain that she'd never be princess material...

[WRITER COMMENTARY: Ageism, bullying, and the standards of being good enough for Buckingham Palace (or a sixteenth century kingdom). This chapter was a lot of fun to write, and...if you can imagine it...things are about to get way more intense!! Thanks for reading, the next chapter will be up tomorrow :-) ]