“Your Highness.” Her voice was oddly high-pitched and bouncy. “If you wouldn’t mind, could we open them here?”
“It may be improper,” Owen added quickly, his tone equally eager. “But I just can’t wait!”
They both stared at me with wide, hopeful eyes, their expressions so acquisitive that they reminded me of puppies waiting for a treat. The sight was so unexpected, so utterly foreign, that I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. “Of course,” I replied warmly. “If that is what you wish.”
“Thank you, Your Highness!” they exclaimed with a synchronized bow, and then they were off to unwrapping. I watched with a flutter of nerves in my chest as they removed the lids from their boxes. From Marisa’s emerged a hand-knitted scarf, and from Owen’s, an embroidered handkerchief. Each stitch, each thread, had been woven with painstaking care over long, deliberate hours. In a way, these gifts were the physical embodiments of my feelings towards them. I could only hope they felt that same warmth in return—I wasn’t sure my heart could bear it if they didn’t.
For a brief moment, the image of their disappointed faces flickered through my mind, but I pushed it away, focusing instead on the reality of unmistakable wonder radiating from each of them.
“This is...beautiful,” Marisa whispered in awe. Her eyes shone with admiration as she ran her fingers over the soft, ocean-blue yarn. “So much so that I would hesitate to believe it was hand-knit. I’m envious. This care, this...meticulousness—it’s beyond anything I could have ever managed. I will treasure this, Your Highness. It will become a cherished family heirloom. I’ll hold on to it with the utmost care.”
She hugged the scarf tightly to her chest, her smile so sweet and sincere that, for a moment, I wondered if this could be the same cool, composed handmaiden I had always known.
“A family heirloom? Why, you flatter me,” I replied, feeling a soft warmth spread through me at her words. “I’m just glad you like it. But please, Marisa, I’d much rather you wear it than keep it locked away in some dusty attic.”
“I’ll see if I can’t try,” she said, though her words were evasive as she glanced away awkwardly.
I suppose she was serious about keeping it a family heirloom, I thought, surprised but content. After all, it was her scarf now, and I had no right to dictate how she chose to use it.
Reassuring her that she could do with the scarf as she wished, I turned my attention to Owen, who was beaming as he unfolded the handkerchief in front of him.
“So this is what the finished product looks like!” he exclaimed in boyish glee. “It’s beautiful! If I saw this in the windowsill of a shop I wouldn’t bat an eye!”
He traced the lilac embroidery over and over again with his fingers, clearly overjoyed. The handkerchief was more than just a gift to him—it was a symbol of his growth, his journey to become a fully-fledged knight. The events of the Founder’s Day Fete felt like a distant memory now, and I knew that Owen, more than anyone, had felt the weight of that progress.
“I am grateful beyond words, Your Highness!” he cried. “I shall carry this with me into battle! It shall be my good-luck charm until the end of my days!” He squeezed the handkerchief tightly with both hands, then swung his head low in a bow.
Marisa’s bow followed right on Owen’s heels. “Thank you, Your Highness, for this most wonderful gift.”
Goodness, I thought, a warmth blossoming in my chest, if I had known my gifts would bring them this much happiness, I would have done this much sooner.
“There is no need for thanks,” I replied softly, my smile gentle. “The joy on your faces is the only reward I could ever ask for.”
I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of fulfillment as I had watched them unwrap their gifts, their hands so careful with the ribbons, neatly undoing them rather than tearing them apart in haste. Their reactions were everything I could have hoped for and more. It was as if every painstaking moment I had spent on these gifts had been worth it a thousandfold. Gratitude and contentment swirled within me, and I couldn’t help but think, I’m so glad I put in the effort, as I basked in the happiness of the moment.
Soon enough, we were off. Marisa and Owen had arranged to have their gifts safely transported back to their homes, and as we made our way towards my rendezvous point with my husband and the vice commander, I overheard them discussing the necessity of purchasing new safes or strongboxes to safeguard their presents—a discussion which concerned me, but one that I chose to ignore. It didn’t take long until we had met up with Ed and Teodore, and after a brief final meeting before our departure, we filed into the parade carriages.
Just as similar carriage rides in Celestia and Noir had been, our victory lap through the capital was immensely successful and met with exuberant warmth. As we neared the square, muffled shouts of “All praises to the Saint!” could be heard even through the thick walls of the carriage. When the door finally swung open, I took a deep breath, ensuring that my smile remained as natural as possible, and accepted Ed’s hand as we descended onto the pavement.
Oh my. The sheer scale of the crowd took my breath away. Though I had glimpsed the throngs through the carriage window, stepping outside and facing them directly made the crush of people feel all the more staggering. The turnout here in Malcosias easily dwarfed the crowd that had gathered for me in Celestia—though given the empire’s far larger population, I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was. Surrounded by a seemingly endless sea of faces stretching in every direction, I did my best to greet their cheers and applause with grace. With my smile fixed firmly in place, I waited as Ed carefully lit the ceremonial torch.
“Be careful, Lina. That’s a live flame,” Ed cautioned.
“I will, thank you,” I replied, giving my worrywart husband a nod. With steady hands, I grasped the torch, its crimson flame flickering and dancing in the wind. My gaze drifted towards the ornate brazier that awaited me—a grand structure inlaid with rubies of the purest red, a stunning tribute to the empire’s grandeur. My eyes widened ever so slightly at the sheer extent of the opulence before me, but I didn’t allow myself to dwell on it. With a final glance towards Ed, I began my slow and deliberate trek towards the brazier.
The eyes of the crowd were on me like so many hawks, tracking my every movement, heads turning in unison as I proceeded down the path with measured and graceful steps. The plain, regal smile never wavered from my lips, a practiced expression that maintained the virtuous image of the Saint—calm, composed, and unwavering.
After what felt like somewhere between five seconds and five hours, I arrived in front of the grand brazier. This time, I allowed myself a moment to peer over the edge of the egg-shaped structure, expecting a hollow space for the flame. But to my surprise, it was far more than a mere vessel. The interior was adorned with delicate carvings, holy scripture etched meticulously into every inch of the surface, swirling around the inner rim. Even these unseen parts of this ritual object had been crafted with painstaking care—a testament to the devotion of the artisans who had poured their hearts into this masterpiece.
As I was reminded once again of what this ceremony meant to everyone, the small smile on my face blossomed into something warmer and more human. With deep emotion blooming in my chest, I cast the torch into the brazier. Then, I spun around and stretched my arms out wide. “Blessings upon the Empire of Malcosias!” I declared, my voice ringing out louder than ever before—louder than in Celestia, louder than in Noir, louder for each additional soul gathered here today. My vocal cords stung from the force of my cry, but I cared little. The people had to hear, and oh, did they ever hear me.
“Blessings upon the empire!” The crowd roared back in unison, their voices a wave of energy crashing against me. Then, the pillar of flame erupted behind me, and flower petals, seemingly conjured from nowhere, began to rain down across the plaza in a miraculous display. Not a moment later, fireworks funded by the imperial family exploded into the sky, painting it with brilliant blossoms of color and light, igniting the fervor of the crowd to a fever pitch.
I had known there would be a touch of flair added to the Malcosian ceremony, but I hadn’t expected anything this spectacular. Ed’s towering pillar of flame, Teodore’s magical rain of petals, and the imperial fireworks combined into a display so magnificent, so breathtaking, that I found myself momentarily dumbstruck by it all.
A grin naturally spread across my face as I stood amid the dazzling pageantry, savoring the sense of accomplishment that bloomed within me. My first chapter as Saint had drawn to a triumphant close, and the realization filled me with a bittersweet joy. A smidgen of loss crept into my heart, which seemed natural, considering that these past few weeks had been so incredibly rewarding. I could only hope that in the year to come, I would have the opportunity to bring this same joy, these same smiles, to everyone’s faces once again.
As I made my way back towards my escort, the jubilant cheers of the citizenry echoed all around me:
“All praises to the Saint! I’ll come to see you again next year!”
“The lighting of the sacred flame simply must be the Saint’s duty from now on. I’ll have it no other way!”
“The flame, the petals, the fireworks! What fun!”
“You’ve made this Noel an unforgettable memory, Lady Saint! God bless you!”
Try as I might to maintain my composed demeanor, I couldn’t help but let a genuine grin break through my maidenly facade. Oh, how I longed to linger, to bask in the pure happiness of the moment just a little longer. But, as always, duty called. With a soft sigh and a reluctant heart, I climbed into the waiting carriage, still feeling the echoes of the people’s cheers wrap around me in a warm, comforting embrace.
Even as the carriage rolled closer to the imperial castle, the vestiges of those cheers still clung to the air, ringing in my ears.
“What a turnout,” Teodore sighed, his gaze wistful as he stared out the carriage window. “At this rate, I fear they’ll be making portraits and picture books of the Saint in very short order.”
It seemed that even he hadn’t anticipated how much my popularity would grow in the few short weeks since my triumph at the trials.
“Portraits and picture books of Lina?” Ed chimed in. “Now that’s something I’d be very interested in.”
“Please, no...” The words tumbled out before I could stop them, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.