“Isn’t it obvious?” the soon-to-be Empress asked with a ferocious smile.
“Something wicked.”
“Grah, my head is killin’ me…” Wein moaned as he collapsed onto a sofa. It was shortly after the War for Succession, and he was still in Nalthia.
“You’ve obviously had too much to drink,” Ninym chided him.
“It’s not my fault,” he protested weakly. “I’ve got an endless line of well-wishers.”
Indeed, high-society members from every corner of the Empire had all decided to pay Wein a visit. Needless to say, this wasn’t solely because he was the prince of an allied nation; he was also a close acquaintance of the Imperial Princess, who’d emerged victorious from the battle. Unfortunately, Wein couldn’t snub such distinguished individuals. Thus, his alcohol intake surged during these get-togethers, resulting in constant headaches.
“I appreciate the nobility’s enthusiasm…but if I’m this busy, Lowa must be losing her mind.”
“I’m sure she’s saying ‘I’m going to die’ every three seconds.”
Wein dabbled in politics as well, so he could imagine how swamped Lowellmina was feeling.
“How is the post-war cleanup coming along?”
“Everything seems to be going well so far. Prince Bardloche and Prince Manfred have been taken alive, and there’s been minimal resistance. However, the two princes’ factions must be dissolved and absorbed under Lowellmina’s rule, and the preparations for her coronation are still underway. It might take time for her to assume authority.”
Only the average soldier could go home after a loss. For any leader, the end of the war was just the beginning.
“Well, that’s Lowa’s business. Let’s stick to long-distance support.”
“Yes, we have our own to-do list,” Ninym agreed.
A knock at the door prompted Wein to sit up. An official entered not a moment after.
“Your Highness, a guest has arrived.”
“Show him in.”
The man gave an obedient nod and ushered the guest inside.
“It is a pleasure to meet you. I am the crown prince of Natra, Wein Salema Arbalest,” Wein greeted him. “Thank you for coming, Sir Ernesto.”
Ernesto, the Leader of Eastern Levetia, smiled evenly.
Once it was evident the initial introductions between Wein and Ernesto had gone well, Ninym silently took her leave to prepare to host the religious leader. This could have been accomplished without Ninym’s help if they were back in Natra. Regrettably, this was the Empire. With the current Natran delegation acting as the only available staff, Ninym needed to take charge on multiple fronts.
“How is the flavor, Lady Ninym?”
“…A bit rich. Disciples of Eastern Levetia have simple palates, so less is more.”
“The room furnishings are Imperial. Is that all right?”
“Yes, but use the silverware we brought from Natra.”
“Captain Raklum wishes to confirm our defensive measures.”
“I’ll be right there. Please tell a representative of His Grace’s guards they also have permission to attend the meeting.”
While Ninym continued to issue orders with practiced efficiency…
“Lady Ninym, I have just returned from Natra.”
Ninym stopped for a moment to receive the messenger’s report. “Good work. How is the situation in Natra? Has anything changed?”
Falanya and her vassals were watching the homestead, but it was difficult to predict what might happen in these turbulent times. The people of Natra were surely concerned about Wein and the others as they meddled in the Empire’s business. Therefore, a messenger periodically traveled between Natra and the delegation to secretly report on the state of affairs.
“No. The vassals, led by Princess Falanya, have come together to run the government in an efficient manner.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Ninym replied, although internally, she was a mess of conflict.
Natra was doing okay without Wein; this was welcome news for any ordinary citizen, but the prince’s vassals were surely worried that such a development could undercut their master. The likelihood of them using this opportunity to keep Wein settled down at home was equally alarming.
“Anything else to report?”
“No, nothing in particular. All is well,” the subordinate answered.
Ninym nodded with relief. At any rate, Natra was safe. That was all that mattered. She could focus on showing Eastern Levetia the utmost hospitality.
Just as this thought crossed her mind, the messenger continued sheepishly, “…However, there is one more topic of concern.”
Ninym frowned. “Nothing is too trivial. Speak.” Foreboding built in the Flahm girl’s gut. Whatever this was, she couldn’t look the other way.
“This is difficult for me to say…” the messenger admitted sheepishly. “There has been some kind of reported activity among the Flahm.”
“What?”
Ninym’s expression instantly grew dark.
“So Prince Bardloche has failed.”
“Yes… Forgive me, Lady Caldmellia.”
In the old capital of Lushan, Ibis kneeled in a room of the Agency of the Holy King within Levetia’s headquarters. Caldmellia, the director of Levetia’s Gospel Bureau and Ibis’s master, sat before her.
“I’d assumed his obvious dealings with the West would sow more chaos across the continent once he became Emperor. What a pity.”
“I provided his faction with supplies, but it was to no avail. My deepest apologies,” Ibis said with a humble bow.
In truth, Caldmellia wasn’t terribly upset by the results. To her, the deal with Bardloche was little more than a bonus.
“Fret not, Ibis. The matter with Prince Bardloche is unfortunate, but we are still on our way to fulfilling our primary mission. Isn’t that right, Owl?”
Caldmellia turned to the one-armed man beside Ibis. His name was Owl, and like Ibis, he served the director.
“Yes. I have made contact with the Flahm in Natra and successfully disseminated the information as per your instructions.”
“Marvelous,” she said with a satisfied bob of her head. “It was well worth supporting Prince Bardloche and prolonging the bedlam in the East. To outwit Prince Wein, we had to keep him busy abroad.”
“Does that mean everything is going according to plan, Lady Caldmellia?”
“Yes. Let us give our all, observe the situation ever so closely, and sow chaos.”
Caldmellia smiled. “A drowning man will grasp at anything, even a piece of straw. But suppose that straw had a mind of its own. Would it brush away the hand? Drown together? I’m quite looking forward to it.”
Several men gathered in secret in the Natran capital of Codebell. Each had white hair and red eyes. They were Flahm.
“Did you hear? About you-know-what,” one said warily.
“I did. Is it true?”
The area was deserted, but everyone kept glancing around them. They knew this discussion couldn’t be made public.
“I heard there’s definite proof, but…”
“No one’s actually seen it.”
“Maybe one of the elders will know?”
The rumors circulating among Natra’s Flahm seemed baseless at first, but it wasn’t long before a distinct outline came into focus.
“But what if, just maybe…it’s somehow true…?”
“There is no question it will be an immense opportunity and blessing for our people.”
“In that case, we’ll need to learn more.”
Passion colored the men’s voices.
“The crown prince’s aide, Ninym Ralei…”
“If she really is a direct descendent of the Founder…”
“The Flahm Kingdom might rise once again…”
The hearsay born from a phantom of hope would soon transform into truth and spread like a disease among the Flahm.
“…”
After hearing the messenger’s report, Ninym finished her preparations to receive Ernesto and sank into contemplation.
There was worrisome activity among Natra’s Flahm.
The news instantly rattled Ninym’s heart, and the lack of information only heightened her unease.
Natra was a diverse nation, but history had taught the Flahm to keep to themselves. The man who’d reported to Ninym wasn’t a Flahm, so he couldn’t mine for more details.
Master Levan is the Flahm leader of Natra, so everything should be fine. Still…
Ninym was only human and had no idea what was happening in distant Natra. And as Wein’s aide, she couldn’t simply abandon her duties and rush back home.
I hope the situation doesn’t go beyond political activism…
Ninym didn’t think fighting for one’s rights was wrong, but others would protest and grow increasingly hostile if the Flahm took things too far. She wanted to make her people understand this, but sure enough…
I’m a Flahm and our next leader…but more importantly, I’m Wein’s aide.
Her priorities were Wein and Natra’s well-being above all else. If the Flahm rioted, severe punishment would be necessary if there was to be any hope of preserving their people’s future position. Besides, there was no point in joining the Flahm against Wein or Natra.