In stories like this, my son and I should have more screen time…"
"…Rejoice! Rejoice! There's no such thing!"
Ett's thoughts lingered on Guren, his height, his bearing. Who looked older? The role-playing was impeccable. Him, the elder brother, whispering "My son…" as if that would ever happen.
Today was banquet day. For the first time, Guren would reveal the lower part of his face. In battle, his helmet always concealed his features, leaving the people to wonder. No wonder the nobles were so jubilant over the little Emperor.
"Now…how should I do this?" Ett pondered. Should she follow the script? Would it unfold the same way now that she was Ett?
"Are you attending the Emperor's first banquet, Your Ladyship?"
Ett glanced at Akan, who nursed a glass of grape juice.
"You'll keep me company first."
"Of course, Your Ladyship."
"Need the Emperor know?"
"No need." Akan smiled.
It was always like with Her Ladyship. She cared little for such trivialities. Matter of mother and child were complex; bound by blood yet destined not to meet unless fate willed it. Her Ladyship always maneuvered in the shadows, for the Empire's sake.
"Let's hide."
"Hm?" Akan blinked, catching only fragments of her words. "I beg your pardon?"
Ett stood, looking down at the still-clueless servant. "I said, let's go."
"To where, Your Ladyship?" Hide? Such a blunt word. Could she soften it?
"Lead me somewhere inconspicious, where I can see the banquet."
Akan nodded helplessly. "Then allow me to guide you.
To ensure she went unseen, Akan draped a cloak over Ett and led her to the highest tier of the royal hall, the servants' passage just below the ceiling, where decorations were lifted and cleaned.
"You can stay here." Ett commanded.
"But Your Ladyship, I could crouch and---"
"No."
Dissappointed, Akan stepped back obediently.
Ett watched the festirivities unfold. Guren remained seated, his face impassive despite the admiring glances.
"These people....they are truly eager to approach him."
The crowed was a mixture of peers and scheming adults. In the Adiand Empire, banquets could occur with or without the Emperor's personal presence. When Ett had beenborn, celebrations ceased entirely. Later, when Guren was born, the previous Emperor marked the occasion by announcing that his grandson would inherit the throne.
Guren became Emperor at nine, follwoing the pervious Emperor's death, a time of uprorar, near-rebellion, and political upheaval. By then, Ett had always observed from the sidelines, noting the fragile balance of power.
Thirteen now, Guren was admirable, steady as a mountain, shaped by circumstances no ordinary child could endure. Ett lightly slapped her cheek. "Wake up."
She watched the crowd, noting the similarities to historical dramas and manhwas she adored. "Though, this theme I like." Adiand favored dark hues, a legacy of the Empire's founding.
The first Emperor had unified the landsunder a full moon, darkness as the only witness. Hence, the moon and dark attire beame symbols of authority. Aidand nobles' pale, almost lifeless complexions complemented this aesthetic, makring them apart from the rest of the world.
"Either this empire is strange, or they've all cuaght the ruler's indifference," Ett murmured.
Even the nobles, usually energetic in presence, deffered to the Emperor with subtle respect, or careful calculation.
Ett's gaze caught a familiar figure: Cashim. He moved among the ladies with effortless charm, dressed impeccably, a young master rathen than a reckless playboy. Her suspcions eased; these were nobles, pure of lineage, with power and pedigree carefully displayed.
If she's not mistaken, in all empires they are the only ones who have most or almost pure noble lineage from old times. No commoners were able to rise as nobles.
Ett stiffened, lips curling into a small smile. His peers blushed merely at his presence. Yet the Duke of Ostenian Duchy, the 3rd Prince of Larak, and his second in command approached Guren. Ett dusted off her clothes, returning to Akan.
"Alright, I've seen enough."
Her plan was set.
"Then let me escort you back."
"You leave first."
Akan frowned. "Your Ladyship, you know this servant cannot..."
"Just this once."
Ah, part of the scheme. Akan realized her intent.
"Does that mean you'll still let me assist with Duke Ostelian's matter?"
Ett only nodded.
Akan smiled belatedly, conern lingering. Her Ladyhip's help was both rare and vital, fragile in appearance but formidable in action.
"Don't even think about it," Ett warned.
"...Then I shall take my leave. Please walk carefully."
"Mhmmm."
Ett descended the small, unlit staircase used by maids, the floorboards creaking beneath her. Darkness enveloped her, smooth bannisters guiding her hands. This was the staircase mentioned in the storyline, though the book had skimmed the shadows. After this, Ett had never attended another palae celebration.
"Darkness..." she whipered, sensing metaphor and forebonding both.
"But why...do I feel such weird vibes?"