The thought settled over her like a quiet truth. Her last visit had been so long ago—when she was still a child, holding her father's hand as he moved with quiet authority through the palace halls. Back then, everything had seemed impossibly large and grand. And now… she was here, not as a guest, but as someone with a role to play.
A gentle smile touched her lips.
'Maybe I should take a look around. It would help to learn the layout quickly before I start working.'
Shaking off the remnants of her fatigue, she stepped lightly out of the room and back into the corridor. Outside, the crisp winter air welcomed her once more. Before her stretched the royal kitchen compound—broad, functional buildings trimmed with dark wood and ivory plaster, the paths between them cleared of snow by the diligent efforts of the palace staff.
Snow still clung thickly to the edges where no feet had passed, glinting faintly in the morning sun. Servants moved briskly through the area, carrying baskets, shouting polite greetings, disappearing into warm kitchens that exhaled the comforting scent of broth, roasted barley, and woodsmoke.
'Everyone's so busy…'
Not wanting to intrude or draw attention, Enna quietly turned away, her steps soft against the stone path. The sounds of chatter and movement behind her slowly faded as she wandered in the opposite direction, guided by neither purpose nor destination.
The morning air was crisp, and the gentle rustle of the trees accompanied her as she followed a narrow, cleared trail. Her breath came in little puffs, visible in the chill. She didn't know where she was headed—only that she needed a moment of quiet.
Then, just beyond a curve in the path, a colossal palace gate loomed into view. Its towering frame cast a long shadow over the ground, and from behind it, loud, commanding voices echoed with fierce intensity.
"One!"
"Two!"
Enna flinched at the sheer force in their voices. Her eyes traveled up the grand gate, ornate and imposing—too intimidating to push open. Something about it warned her she didn't belong there.
But to the side, tucked almost discreetly beside the massive structure, was a smaller gate left slightly ajar.
Drawn by curiosity and a quiet flutter in her chest, Enna stepped closer.
Peeking through the gap, her eyes widened.
A vast military training ground stretched before her, bathed in the pale gold of morning light. Row after row of warriors filled the field, each one moving with precision. They swung their swords in perfect unison—sharp arcs slicing through the air, each strike timed to the same breath.
It was like watching a living machine, powerful and graceful.
Enna's lips parted in awe. She had never seen such harmony in motion—so many bodies, yet one pulse.
"Not a single movement must lose focus. Next, prepare—"
The voice that rang out over the ground was deep and commanding, laced with confidence and quiet charisma.
Her breath caught.
'That voice…'
She followed the sound with her eyes and found him.
Standing atop a stone platform overlooking the soldiers was a man in a sleek black military robe, cinched at the waist with a golden belt. A long sword rested in one hand as if it belonged there.
Minister Jade.
His presence was unmistakable. Under the rising sun, his features were sharply defined—his jawline firm, his expression unreadably focused, his deep-set eyes surveying the field with calm authority.
Enna felt her heart stutter.
He hadn't changed. No, perhaps he had grown even more resolute.
And there was something about seeing him like this—strong, composed, unshaken—that made warmth bloom in her chest.
'I'm glad… to see you again, Minister.'
She stayed behind the gate, hidden from view, unable to look away.
Jade stood tall and composed on the raised platform, a commanding figure before the sea of warriors assembled in the vast training ground. His dark military robe rippled slightly in the morning breeze, and the golden belt cinched at his waist gleamed beneath the rising sun.
"This concludes this morning's group training," he declared, his deep voice resonating across the grounds with crisp authority. "Today as well—do your best in guarding the royal family, defending the borders, and maintaining order among the people."
His words cut through the cold air like a blade.
The warriors, in perfect synchrony, brought their fists to their chests and bellowed in unison, "We shall keep that in mind!"
The sound reverberated off the stone walls surrounding the training ground. And then, with practiced discipline, the soldiers broke formation and filed out through the rear gate, boots striking the ground in a rhythm that echoed long after they were gone.
From the shadows near the side gate, Enna stood still, hidden behind a post, her breath caught somewhere between wonder and disbelief. She had been watching Jade the entire time—watching the way he moved, the way his voice held weight without effort, the way sunlight glinted off the long sword at his side.
He was no longer just the quiet, sharp-eyed man from their fleeting past encounter in the provinces. He stood now like someone carved from stone and iron—refined, noble, and untouchable.
Enna blinked, finally pulling herself from her daze as the last echoes of marching boots faded into silence.
'This isn't the time to be standing around like this,' she reminded herself, her cheeks warming from more than just the cold.
She turned abruptly and walked away from the training field, eager to shake off the sudden thrum in her chest.
Across from the military grounds, a line of government buildings stretched out in orderly precision. Each one had its own distinct character: the Foreign Affairs Office stood stark white and pristine, exuding cold efficiency; while beside it, the Administration Bureau, with its aged brickwork and old-world charm, seemed quieter, almost nostalgic—like it belonged to an older era of the kingdom.
Enna took her time wandering between them, taking note of landmarks, archways, and corners she might later need to recall.
'The palace is just as massive as I remember,' she thought, her eyes sweeping over the sprawl of stone and wood and glittering roof tiles. 'If I don't learn your way quickly here, it'd be all too easy to lose myself in it.'
Despite her curiosity, fatigue began to settle in her limbs—a creeping, familiar weight. Her journey from the distant Westen Village to the heart of the capital had stretched through the night with barely a pause. The excitement of arriving had kept her going through the morning, but now, her legs ached and her mind begged for rest.
'I should go lie down for a bit in my quarters,' she told herself, a hand absently brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 'Then I can come back out again once I've regained some strength.'
Turning away from the government offices, she retraced her steps in the direction of the royal kitchen and her assigned lodging—her pace slower now, but her eyes still quietly tracing the path behind her, as if one last glance might anchor the memory of the man she had just seen again.
Meanwhile, the air inside the Foreign Affairs Council Hall had grown taut, heavy with the unspoken gravity of the topic at hand. Though the midsummer sun filtered softly through the latticed windows, its warmth did little to ease the tension blanketing the chamber.
A long table stretched down the center of the hall, lined with advisors, ministers, and diplomats. No one dared to speak—until at last, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, seated at the far left, cleared his throat gently. His voice, though respectful, held a cautious edge.
"What are Your Majesty's thoughts on the matter?" he asked, his gaze fixed upon the woman seated at the head of the table.
Queen Genie, adorned in a royal robe of indigo and gold, raised her eyes slowly from the parchment before her. Her expression was calm, but the resolve in her voice carried unmistakable weight.
"The annual cultural envoy has long been our tradition," she began, each word measured and deliberate. "However, the Ash Kingdom has yet to offer any proper apology, nor have they proposed any reparations for the treacherous attack they launched upon us last year. In such a state of unresolved hostility, I do not believe it is right—nor wise—for us to send a cultural envoy as if nothing has happened."
A murmur of silent agreement swept through part of the table. Beside the Minister of Foreign Affairs, the royal official Moonsen inclined his head.
"I share Your Majesty's view," he said solemnly. "Even the former members of past envoys have expressed hesitation. Many feel that crossing the border now, under these unstable conditions, would be nothing short of reckless."
The Minister of Foreign Affairs, however, looked troubled. He hesitated for a moment, as though weighing his next words with great care, then spoke with quiet urgency.
"Your Majesty… if I may speak freely." He met the Queen's gaze, his voice tinged with a note of apprehension. "Throughout the previous king's reign, not once was the annual envoy omitted. If we fail to send one this year, the Ash Kingdom may interpret it as a deliberate provocation. And if they retaliate with force… the damage to our people could far exceed that of the last assault."
His words hung in the air, and for a moment, a flicker of concern crossed Genie's features. But she quickly regained her composure, her back straightening slightly as she addressed the hall with quiet dignity.