Two days had passed since the accident, and Celistine was finally on the mend. She sat in her private office, the late morning sun spilling across polished wood and parchment-strewn desks, poring over reports about the Western Empire, the troubles plaguing its provinces, and the ever-shifting currents of politics that threatened stability. The room was heavy with silence, broken only by the faint scratching of quills and the occasional rustle of parchment. Each report she read seemed to weigh more on her mind, but today, her focus was sharper, her mind clearer after the recovery from her injuries.
A gentle knock at the door drew her attention, pulling her from a particularly troubling report regarding border disputes. Grace entered, followed by Melody from the Greenery Bake Shop, accompanied by her parents, Ana and Gilbert.
"Greetings, Your Majesty," Gilbert said, bowing low, his wife and daughter mirroring the gesture. "We have come to check on you and to express our gratitude for the aid you've given us and our child."
Celistine's lips curved in a comforting smile. "Please, rise," she commanded, gesturing to the couch. They seated themselves, and Celistine moved to sit before them, offering a warm, genuine greeting. Melody held a basket brimming with cookies and brownies, the scent of baked goods filling the room, blending with the subtle aroma of the tea already set on the table.
"This is but a token of our gratitude, Your Highness," Melody said, her smile earnest and bright. "It may not be of great expense, nor suit your taste, but we hope you will accept it."
Celistine gently patted Melody's head and signaled Grace to take the basket, arranging for the treats to be served alongside juice and freshly brewed tea. The gesture was small, yet it carried an unspoken kindness, a subtle acknowledgment of the family's care and concern.
"How do you feel, Your Highness?" Ana asked, her voice laced with worry, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile calm.
"I am much improved, thank you for visiting," Celistine replied, tasting a cookie. Its flavor startled her—it was rich and delicate, rivaling the finest confections she had ever known. A small flicker of surprise softened her face. Who would have imagined such excellence from a small bakery at the border?
They shared a quiet moment, savoring the simple pleasure of sweet treats, until Gilbert—the father—spoke with a courage that startled Celistine.
"Your Grace… I will help you."
Shock froze her for a heartbeat. Her gaze darted to Grace, whose expression remained calm, though the slightest quirk of her lips hinted at understanding. Celistine's mind raced. The message from the North—the secret she had been waiting for—might finally find its way. Someone willing to act, someone she could trust… It was a seed of hope she had not dared to nurture openly until now.
The sunlight poured over the palace gardens, gilding the leaves in a warm, golden glow. Medeya held a tea party, a ritual of opulence and influence among the noble ladies. Though born of humble origins, she had cultivated her position among the aristocracy with gifts so lavish and precise that no noblewoman could refuse, her reputation carefully balanced between charm and subtle intimidation.
The garden was alive with chatter and laughter, six ladies in total, including Medeya herself. They discussed the latest events in the Western Empire, from small scandals to shifting alliances, their voices carrying lightly over the trimmed hedges. But the harmony shattered with a sharp, deliberate voice.
"Lady Medeya, have you heard the rumors circulating the palace?"
Medeya turned, her posture perfect, her tone polite yet alert, her eyes narrowing slightly as they assessed Baroness Victoria. The words dripped with confidence, a calculated delivery meant to unsettle or provoke. Medeya allowed a polite nod, letting the Baroness continue without interruption.
"I have heard that the Lord of Renia seeks the Emperor's aid, for thieves plague his city."
A murmur ran through the gathering. Viscount Helary leaned forward, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. Medeya, however, remained silent, calculating, her mind already tracing the potential ripple effects of such information. Rumors were currency, she reminded herself, and she was a master of their trade.
"How bold," Baroness Victoria continued, her voice a mixture of admiration and judgment, "to offer the Emperor a daughter's hand in reward!"
Shock flickered across Medeya's face. Her expression darkened—not at the Emperor, for she knew his heart already leaned toward her—but at the audacity of the City of Renia. How dare they presume to influence the imperial court with such a transparent bargaining chip?
"And what did the Emperor reply? I trust you are not weaving tales that would shame your family, Baroness," Medeya said, her smile thin, her eyes sharp as steel. Baroness Victoria swallowed, acutely aware of the weight behind Medeya's gaze.
"The Emperor declined the offer. I speak only truth, Your Grace," Baroness Victoria replied, trembling slightly under the scrutiny.
A hush fell over the garden. Countess Diana's voice broke it with quiet authority. "The Lord of Renia's daughter is present."
All eyes turned to the edge of the gathering. There stood Rehena Alisia of Renia, chestnut hair gleaming in the sunlight, her posture rigid but resolute. She had requested an audience with Medeya before arriving, yet even now she sensed the subtle disdain in the noblewomen's whispers. In her heart, the city of Renia was full of generous, skilled farmers, and the threat of thieves loomed like a shadow over all she held dear.
"Lady of Renia, what brings you here?" Medeya asked, her smile sharp, almost mocking, her gaze flicking over the young woman with an appraising intensity.
Rehena bowed, concealing the tremor of unease in her hands. "Greetings, Your Grace. I am Rehena of Renia, here to offer this tea, a delicacy from our city," she said, her voice steady despite the anxiety tightening in her chest.
Medeya accepted the gift with deliberate grace, then pressed it lightly back into Rehena's hands—an action that startled the young lady.
"You think a trinket will persuade me?" Medeya's smile curled into a sneer, thin and cruel.
"That is but a cheap offering," Baroness Victoria added, her words dripping with derision. The nobles laughed lightly, the sound cutting sharply into Rehena's heart. Anger and humiliation burned within her, but she endured it. For her city, for her people, there was no choice but compliance.
Kneeling reluctantly, Rehena faced Medeya. "Your Grace… please, we need your help," she whispered, voice tinged with desperation.
Medeya stepped closer, her presence suffocating, her whisper icy. "If you wish for my aid, kneel fully and swear to serve me for the rest of your life."
Shock painted Rehena's face. Rumors had described Medeya as angelic, delicate, and kind. But here she saw the truth: a cunning, merciless siren cloaked in human form. Pride warred with duty, yet for Renia's people, she bent. Slowly, carefully, she knelt. Medeya's eyes gleamed with triumph, savoring the submission, the palpable control of the moment.
But then, all the ladies rose, bowing their heads in unison.
"Greetings, Your Empress," they intoned. Celistine's gaze fell on Medeya and the chestnut-haired visitor, Rehena, noting the latter's intent to kneel. The Empress's cold glare met Medeya's annoyance, a silent battle of authority and ego.
"Lady Medeya, will you not greet me?" Celistine's voice was sharp, yet her smile remained, controlled and graceful.
Medeya forced a bow. "Greetings, Your Majesty," she said, reluctant, the tension in her jaw betraying her irritation.
Celistine's eyes narrowed. "And what of this young lady? Is she to kneel before you?"
Medeya feigned ignorance. "No, Your Empress. Lady Rehena simply reached for something on the ground."
Celistine's gaze shifted to Rehena, trembling, hands clutching her dress, eyes downcast. Sensing her hesitation, Celistine gently took her arm.
"I see she is stunned to speak. I shall question her myself," the Empress declared, turning to lead Rehena away.
Medeya interjected, her tone mocking, sharp. "Your Majesty, is it proper to seize a visitor's arm merely for attention?"
Celistine's smile was a blade. "And is it improper to let one's visitors kneel before them? Perhaps you should learn more from your tutors, Medeya."
With that, Celistine departed, Rehena at her side, leaving Medeya fuming among the noble ladies, her arrogance stung, her schemes interrupted.
---
A hush settled between Lady Rehena and Empress Celistine as they walked through the quiet hallways. Lady Rehena's mind was a whirl of strategy—she had come to seek the favor of the Emperor's mistress, hoping to persuade the Emperor himself, knowing that the Emperor's attentions often leaned toward his mistress rather than his Empress.
They strolled through the palace gardens, sunlight flickering through the leaves. Celistine offered a seat to Lady Rehena, who hesitated, shyness and uncertainty written across her face. Grace approached, pouring tea with careful hands, while Celistine's thoughts lingered on a small measure of comfort for the girl she had rescued from Medeya's schemes. Yet the Empress had no inkling of the true intent behind the chestnut-haired visitor—what did this girl truly want, and why had she first sought out Medeya rather than the Empress?
"Are you all right?" Celistine asked gently, breaking the silence.
Startled, Lady Rehena rose and bent low in a sudden bow. She had forgotten the proper greeting in her nervousness, caught between the tension of standing before the Emperor's favorite mistress and the Emperor's Empress. Her mind raced: whom should she follow? Whose favor was more vital—the mistress or the Empress?
"Greetings, Your Majesty, Empress of the Western Empire," she stammered, regaining some composure. "Forgive me for neglecting to greet you properly at Lady Medeya's tea party. I am Lady Rehena of Renia City."
"Enough with formalities. Please, make yourself comfortable," Celistine replied, smiling as she sipped her tea. They settled into a quiet peace, sharing cookies from the Greenery Shop. Celistine's thoughts, however, were far from calm. Why had Lady Rehena come? Was she here seeking the Western Empire's aid—or something else entirely? Why approach Medeya before the Empress herself?
"So… what brings you here, Lady Rehena?" Celistine asked, curiosity threading her voice.
Lady Rehena swallowed nervously, crumbs of cookie sticking to her lips, before speaking. "I… I am here to request aid, Your Majesty."
Celistine's brow furrowed, a small crease of concentration forming as she considered the meaning behind the girl's words. What aid did Rehena require, and why?
"For what?" the Empress pressed gently.
Lady Rehena hesitated, the weight of her duty heavy upon her. "The city of Renia has been peaceful these past few years, but thieves grow bolder each day. I fear they will lay siege to my city unless the Western Empire intervenes."
Celistine listened, her expression turning serious. She weighed the implications carefully—whether to offer help, how it might affect the city, and what advantage could be gained. Grace leaned close, whispering in her ear: "Your Majesty… this is your chance."
Celistine's eyes widened as the plan crystallized. The troubles of Renia could serve as the perfect conduit for her message to the Northern Kingdom. Destiny had aligned in their favor.
"I will help you,"
Celistine declared, her voice firm, unwavering. The resolution in her gaze left no doubt—her plan would unfold without delay.