Permit me to recount an incident told to me by none other than the Empress of Wraisan herself. Once, while touring the outer villages, the princess became enamoured of a poor escort's heirloom, a simple band of copper set with a false ruby, worth nothing in coins, but priceless in memory. When the man refused to part with it, saying it was all that remained of his family, the princess returned home in tears, declaring she wished for it. The next day, the ring was placed in her hands as a gift from her father. The escort, I need hardly add, was soon found dead under unforeseen circumstances.
Such is the nature of the Wraisan court: when the last bearer of an heirloom perishes, the item falls into the emperor's possession, to be sold at auction or bestowed as he pleases. In this case, it pleased him to gratify his daughter.
Thus, you see, Your Highness, the princess is dangerous. To her, beauty is reason enough for blood to be spilled. Guard your possessions, guard your people, and guard yourself most of all.
On another matter, I must share troubling news. For months, the Empress of Wraisan, my dearest friend, did not answer my letters. At last, word reached me: she has been accused of treason and is confined to her quarters until evidence is found. I tell you truly, such charges are baseless. She has loved that scheming emperor all her life, and never would she raise a hand against him. I will see to it that my people in Wraisan send word. If chance favours me, I shall even see my friend freed and perhaps strike a blow against that wretched tyrant who dares condemn her.
That is all I can offer for now. May this knowledge prove useful to you. Send my warmest greetings to my daughter as well. I suspect that she has once again neglected to reply to my letters, a dreadful habit, that one. Still, I trust she is well… and that she remembers she has a father who waits far too eagerly for words that never come.
Ever in allegiance,
Lilian Marlene
Duchess of Marlene Dukedom.
Flavian set the letter aside, his brows drawn together. The words of the duchess confirmed his fears; the princess was no innocent traveller, but a spoiled viper whose whims could topple lives. And behind her sudden arrival loomed deep unrest within Wraisan's own palace. The certainty now settled in Flavian's chest like iron: the Wraisan emperor was plotting something.
That evening's dinner was a quiet battlefield. The long table gleamed with polished silver and golden dishes, yet the air was heavy with unspoken thoughts. The emperor sat at the head, Anton the butler dutifully at his side. To his right, Flavian, with Commander Elzar standing close. On the other side, the empress dined gracefully, her lady-in-waiting attending to her every need.
Every pair of eyes seemed to circle back to the same unvoiced question: Why was the Wraisan princess truly coming?
"Your Majesty, I trust you have seen the letter I sent through Anton?" Flavian's voice broke the silence at last. He lifted his spoon over the soup before him but hardly touched it. His appetite had abandoned him, as it often did of late when thoughts of Leesa filled his mind. Every reminder that she was away gnawed at him more sharply than the one before.
"Yes, I read it." The emperor's deep voice carried both authority and fatigue. He studied his son with a narrowed gaze. "But tell me, since when have you begun calling your father 'Your Majesty' in private, when no officials are here to watch? Am I your sovereign alone, or your father still?" His tone, though calm, bore the sting of reproach. Sighing at the food as it was not to his liking, oblivious to Flavian's mood swings.
Flavian bowed his head slightly, his lips pressed into a line. He had meant no slight, but his father's words pressed heavier than expected.
The empress, meanwhile, spoke lightly, dismissing the clouded air. "Perhaps you all are making too much of this. The girl may be nothing more than what she appears, a spoiled child on a sightseeing whim. Why grow so tense over a small girl?" She dabbed her lips delicately with a napkin, savouring her meal. Tonight's dishes had been prepared at her own request; light fare, diet foods she had demanded to keep her figure trim for her coming birthday celebration. Being full of ideas about Flavian's mood swings and wondering what will happen when Leesa returns.
"Mother, you don't understand." Flavian's voice sharpened, cutting through her dismissal. "She is not just a girl; she is the princess of an enemy empire. She could bring spies in her retinue, or worse, carry with her a more dangerous purpose than we yet see."
The empress's eyes gleamed knowingly as she set down her spoon. Her voice, soft but piercing, held a dangerous amusement. "Oh, I understand very well. But perhaps you forget, my dear son, that the lady who usually stands behind you is far more dangerous than any pampered princess could ever dream of being."
The words struck him harder than a blade. Flavian's chair scraped sharply against the floor as he rose, fury burning in his eyes. "I am done with this meal," he said tightly. "I beg pardon of you, Mother, Father, for my abrupt leave."
The emperor's jaw clenched at his son's storming exit, wounded more by the cold distance than the apology. The empress, on the other hand, merely allowed herself the smallest smile, savouring her food as though she had won a private game.
The heavy doors closed behind Flavian with a hollow thud, leaving the table in silence. The emperor's hand lingered around his untouched cup of wine, his gaze fixed on the rippling surface as though it could steady the storm in his chest.