Chapter 9: Drought
Emilia's debut party was scheduled to take place a month later. Empress Sophia hurriedly made preparations for the ceremony, not daring to treat it carelessly—any mistake would only invite harsh criticism from the Velarent royal clan.
Unlike her fiery demeanor when confronting the consort, Emilia became strangely quiet upon returning to Moon Palace. Her silence left Sophia unsettled, unable to guess what the girl intended, forcing her to remain wary and guarded.
"Princess… you mean we don't need to do anything at all?"
Mage Ellan and Lili exchanged bewildered glances.
Emilia lay leisurely on a sofa, a book of magic open in her hands, the very picture of calm indifference. There was none of the restless urgency Sophia had expected.
"That's right," Emilia said casually. "That old man is still far from the grave. There's no need to rush."
Returning to the palace was enough to affirm her place. For now, Emilia's influence extended only as far as the Magician Tower. Within its walls, she was acknowledged as a prodigious mage, admired enough for many to follow her. But among the nobility? Emilia's name was still little more than a faint shadow compared to Caesar's brilliance.
To her, Sophia's endless nagging about succession was nothing more than short-sighted nonsense.
The Emperor was still in his prime, a Saint Swordsman at the peak of his power. No matter how eagerly Caesar flaunted his position, he could not hope to ascend the throne anytime soon.
Emilia herself had no true desire to claim the title of Empress so hastily. All she sought was to disrupt Sophia's peace, to provoke the woman until she fumed with rage.
Her true goal was far greater—to advance to the rank of a 7th-tier mage and step into the exalted domain of the Saint Mages.
Power was what she craved.
Status and authority were nothing more than comforts along the way, useful tools to mock those obsessed with their pursuit. It was strength alone that thrilled her, for only overwhelming might could silence every dissenting voice.
Ellan and Lili silently agreed with her reasoning.
"Besides," Emilia added lightly, "affairs with the nobility can wait until after my debut."
Indeed, several noble houses had already reached out to her in secret—most of them families once aided by Liliane. While they did not dare voice their support openly, each had hinted at goodwill.
Gaining their allegiance would be a long and subtle game, one that could not be won overnight.
"…Hm? Is that Milim?"
Glancing out the window, Emilia caught sight of Milim boarding a carriage, bound for the city.
Helena, standing behind her, confirmed with a nod.
"Yes. Lately, Princess Milim often goes out to assist the temple in their relief efforts for the refugees arriving in the capital."
"Refugees?" Emilia arched her brow.
"Has something happened recently?"
"It is the drought, Your Highness," Ellan replied gravely.
"The southern provinces, once blessed with abundant rains, have seen not a single drop in the past three months."
The temple was always first to respond when disaster struck. With her reputation as a 'saintly maiden,' Milim naturally took part in such benevolent deeds.
Emilia tapped her fingers thoughtfully.
"This calamity feels… strange. I want to see it with my own eyes."
Though her gift for astrology had waned somewhat since returning to the palace, she could still sense when events veered unnaturally against the flow of the world.
Yet even Saint Mages and astrologers rarely had the power to tamper with the weather…
"No, this is not the work of humans…" she murmured to herself.
Her mind turned to ancient records, recalling entities spoken of only in hushed whispers, beings capable of twisting the natural order itself. If such a force was at work, what purpose did it serve?
Her dark eyes glimmered.
"Come. Let's go to where the refugees are gathered."
…
Ellan accompanied her to the relief station.
The line of people stretched endlessly, like a black serpent winding through the streets. Dirty, ragged, hollow-eyed, each refugee accepted their ration of food with a vacant stare before collapsing in some corner to devour it.
Priests of the temple worked tirelessly, pouring sacred light into the sick and starving. And among them, Emilia's half-sister shone brightly. Milim stood at their center, using her light-element magic to aid the priests in their healing.
From afar, Emilia observed. At Milim's side, a golden-haired girl bustled about, their movements in perfect harmony, as if they had long been friends.
Emilia tilted her head, fingers brushing her chin.
That girl's holy power… it felt strangely off. Not entirely fitting.
But time pressed heavily upon her. Emilia had no wish to waste it on the naive Milim. She turned away, already planning her next steps.
Meanwhile, within the temple's ranks—
"Ria! Just like you said! My magic is so much more effective now!"
Milim clasped the hands of the golden-haired girl, her face alight with joy at having proven her worth.
"Milim is truly gifted," Ria replied with a soft, serene smile. "I only guessed at what might help."
Her sapphire eyes sparkled with warmth, and Milim felt her heart swell with affection for her newfound friend.
"Thank you, Ria! Someday, you must visit the palace. I'll invite you for tea!"
Milim eagerly pressed a token into Ria's palm.
"Show this to the guards. They'll bring you straight to me."
"I understand, Milim."
The young priestess tucked the token carefully into her robes.
Satisfied, Milim turned and skipped away, unaware that beneath Ria's gentle blue gaze flickered a faint, almost imperceptible crimson light.
Ria hummed a strange melody under her breath as she resumed channeling holy energy into the frail bodies of the refugees.