Dinner had begun under a tense, almost stifling silence, courtesy of Rehena's sudden problem. The conversation had yet to start properly when Ana, the ever-diligent chef of the Northern Kingdom, had already served the dishes, flanked by her attendants who moved with brisk efficiency. Once the plates were laid before each guest, the servants retreated with a courteous bow, leaving the group to finally attend to their meal.
"So, Lady Rehena," the King inquired, delicately cutting into his chicken with knife and fork, a curious glint in his eyes. "What seems to be troubling you?"
Rehena hesitated, fingers lightly trembling over her plate. She drew a deep breath, steeling herself. She did not wish to appear demanding before the gathered nobles, yet the duty entrusted to her by Celistine weighed heavily, and she had no choice but to speak.
"Your Majesty… regarding medicine," she began, voice low and slightly uncertain, "we are sorely lacking in instructors for the students—those who can teach the preparation of herbs and the treatment of wounds, especially for the injured. I have studied herbs and medicine myself, yet I am still… insufficient."
She attempted to slice a piece of bread neatly, her hands betraying the tension in her body. Despite the quiet tremor in her tone, she trusted that none would judge her harshly. Celistine's gaze, however, grew sharp and contemplative, thinking hard about what solutions might be possible. The North possessed a strong army, yes, but its weakness was glaring: a shortage of apothecaries, doctors, and nurses.
"What if we trained more skilled people?" Mandawe suggested, tilting his head slightly as he sipped his wine, attempting a casual tone that did little to disguise the concern in his eyes.
Rehena shook her head slowly, worry creasing her brow. "Even if we were to train many people, if our scholars lack knowledge, how can we possibly instruct them effectively? I fear, Your Majesty, and you too, Your Highness Celistine, that should war break out, our single greatest weakness will be precisely this: a scarcity of individuals skilled in medicine."
Carlo's eyes darkened with concern. He had never imagined that Rehena would burden herself with such weighty matters. And yet, it was evident to him and to all present that she possessed a capability few could hope to imagine when it came to handling the affairs of state.
"Lord Leon," Celistine said, her gaze sharp, "is there something on your mind?"
Leon gave a small shrug, cutting into his meat with calm precision. "Well… we Blackthreads already have enough skilled herbalists to support us during war. But would it not deplete your own forces, Your Highness? We are, after all, a different people. Misunderstandings are inevitable if outsiders perceive us as enemies."
Celistine considered his words carefully. Even Leon, ever willing to support her, could only provide so much. Offering talented herbalists from the Blackthreads was helpful, certainly, but it would not suffice for the North's needs.
"Lord Leon has a point," Rehena interjected, curling her fingers thoughtfully beneath her chin. "But I believe I might have an idea."
"Do tell," Celistine prompted, leaning forward slightly.
"When it comes to the production of medicine and skilled doctors, that expertise lies largely with the Eastern Empire," Rehena said quietly, her eyes meeting Celistine's, "and since we have no direct connection to them… am I right, Your Highness?" Celistine frowned, mulling over the implication. This was precisely the problem they had to solve before war erupted.
Leon's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "Then, if the Eastern Empire possesses such exceptional talent, why not gather the people the North might use?"
The King raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting we enlist individuals opposed to the Eastern Empire, my lord?"
Celistine's eyes brightened suddenly, a spark of inspiration lighting her expression.
"Exactly," Leon replied with a sly grin. "Every kingdom has its… holes."
"And if we leave that hole unaddressed," Celistine added, voice firm and unwavering as she fixed her gaze on him, "it will remain our very weakness."
Rehena straightened in her seat, determination radiating from her posture. "Then, Your Majesty… let me go to the Eastern Empire. I shall be the one to bring fortune and aid to the Northern Kingdom." Her hands curled tightly in her lap, resolve shining in her eyes. She wished to help Celistine in any way she could, rather than merely voice the problem without action.
"Are you certain, Rehena?" Carlo asked, his worry clear in the sharp concern etched across his features.
"Yes," she replied steadily, a quiet fire in her voice. "I know of something that could be to our advantage."
The King straightened, settling into his chair with measured composure. "It seems we require a discussion on this matter immediately," he said, tone firm yet calm. The negotiation of new strategies for the North had begun, the weight of the kingdom's future pressing upon them all.
After dinner, while the family continued discussing their new plans, Celistine decided to take a walk onto the grand balcony of the Northern Mansion. From there, one could see the Northern Kingdom sprawled out below, dotted with the soft glow of countless lights. The moon hung high, shining brightly in the crisp night sky. A cool breeze drifted over the balcony, carrying a hint of the coming winter. Celistine's thoughts wandered to the practicalities of the season: the kingdom would need ample supplies, more food to support the common folk, and careful preparation for the months ahead. Standing there in her elegant dress, she let herself breathe deeply, enjoying the rare moment of calm.
"Enjoying the view, my lady?" a familiar voice interrupted the quiet. Celistine knew immediately who it was before she even turned—Leon had followed her onto the balcony, stepping lightly over the stone floor.
"Are you… following me, my lord?" Celistine asked, raising one eyebrow, a hint of amusement mixed with reproach.
Leon leaned casually against the balustrade, one elbow resting on its edge, palm supporting his chin as he gazed out over the kingdom. "Well… I decided not to sleep yet.," he said with a faint shrug, "let's just call it a coincidence that we both had the same idea about coming here for the view."
"You really consider that we think alike, my lord?" Celistine asked, her tone teasing, though her hands were crossed and tucked close to her arms to ward off the cold.
Leon glanced at her briefly, a playful sparkle in his golden eyes. "What do you mean by that?"
"I mean… do you really think we are the same? In the way we consider politics, strategies, and, of course, war," she said, tracing the edges of her sleeves with her fingers.
Noticing her shiver slightly from the chill, Leon quickly moved behind her, draping his black cloak over her shoulders. Celistine startled, blinking in surprise, but she could not refuse the gesture of kindness.
"Thank you," she murmured softly, her voice barely above the whisper of the wind.
"Well, to answer your question, My Lady," Leon said, turning back to lean lightly against the railing again, "perhaps we are similar, in one sense. We serve our thrones—that is our common path." He gave a faint, contemplative smile, eyes still fixed on the majestic view, while Celistine studied him quietly from the side.
"Do you ever get bored of your work?" Celistine asked, curiosity creeping into her voice.
Leon tilted his head thoughtfully. "And you, Your Highness… do you not get tired of yours?" The question caught Celistine off guard, forcing her to pause and reflect on her own life. Years spent preserving the throne, managing state affairs, helping the needy, devising political strategies… all while loving Harold, who never returned her affection. Sometimes, she had longed for companionship, or perhaps just someone she could lean on without pretense.
Meeting Leon's steady gaze, she sensed sincerity in his every word. Even though she had yet to fully trust him, there was a comfort in his presence, a rare ease in the way he carried himself.
"Sometimes… I do feel a little weary, my lord," she admitted, her brow furrowed and shoulders easing slightly under his cloak.
Leon raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. "I find it hard to believe that the eldest daughter of the Northern Kingdom, so brilliant and sharp in matters of strategy, can ever feel bored."
Celistine's cheeks flared, and she turned sharply away, pride and irritation mingling on her features. "You speak nonsense," she snapped, voice slightly muffled by the wind.
"Ahaha… alright, fair enough," Leon chuckled, massaging the back of his neck. He let the smile fade into something softer, tinged with melancholy. "I do feel the burden sometimes, you know."
"You do?" Celistine asked, turning back to him, curiosity now laced with concern.
"Yes," he admitted quietly. "After my eldest sister died, the King relies on me heavily. There are times when I feel… exhausted."
Celistine smirked, teasing gently. "Especially when going to war just for a mistress, I imagine."
Leon shook his head with a wry smile. "The Western Empire made me ill, but the North… the North is different." He met her purple eyes, their hair dancing slightly in the breeze, and Celistine felt a shiver—not from the cold, but from the intensity in his gaze.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice small.
Leon straightened, moving deliberately closer, his expression fierce yet controlled. Celistine instinctively took a small step back, heart racing, unsure of his intentions. Yet he stopped just short of her, and she closed her eyes briefly, bracing herself.
"Because," he whispered close to her ear, voice low but teasing, "the eldest daughter of the North can be… a little assuming sometimes. AHAHAHA!"
Celistine's face flamed crimson, both anger and embarrassment mixing in a storm of colour.
"You fool!" she exclaimed, shoving him gently, stepping back with a huff. Leon only grinned, amusement dancing in his golden eyes, utterly entertained by her flustered reaction.
In the Office of State Affairs, Rehena rifled through stacks of documents, searching for any clue—any hint of where they might find a talented apothecary, someone with unmatched knowledge of herbs and medicine. Today's task was crucial: soon, she would depart for the Eastern Empire, accompanied by Barron and Grace. Carlo, however, would remain behind; as Crown Prince, his duty was to safeguard the North while Celistine attended her important meeting. The king, weary with age, could not accompany his Eldest daughter to a Journey, and so Celistine insisted on taking Criston and Jacob along for the journey.
Rehena's eyes fell upon an old newspaper clipping. It spoke of events 844 years past: the Eastern Kingdom had married a queen from a family famed for its talents in medicine. But the marriage had dissolved 850 years ago, the queen accused of harboring a lover. Rumor whispered that the current second prince of the Eastern Empire might be the illegitimate son of that queen—though no one could confirm it.
"I wonder… where is the former queen now in the Eastern Empire? Does she bear grudges against the king? Could we perhaps recruit her?" Rehena muttered to herself, her fingers tracing the edge of the paper.
"My lady… do you have any idea?" she asked, turning to Cilist the youngest daughter of the king and the twin sister of Carlo, who lay sprawled across the table, her head resting on folded arms. Boredom and fatigue were etched into every line of her face.
"I have no idea… my head aches," Cilist grunted. The princess had skipped the evening's dinner celebration; politics bored her, and even the king had recognized her nonchalance.
Rehena stepped closer, patting Cilist back gently—a small gesture of camaraderie they had grown comfortable with. "Ahahaha… you can be quite stubborn sometimes, my lady," Rehena teased softly, her delicate, angelic eyes fixed on Cilist's pale face.
"I just hope my brother does not hurt you. Be careful…" Cilist murmured, her dark purple eyes lifting briefly, sharp with warning, while her hands remained folded, her posture relaxed yet unnervingly serious.
"Come on, silly… your brother is not what you think, my lady," Rehena reassured, earning only a cold stare. Cilist always stared coldly at those around her; it was a habit, and one Rehena had long grown used to.
"When the time for the royal exchange comes… be vigilant, Rehena," Cilist said, her dark purple eyes serious and unwavering. Her hair was slightly dishevelled, and her plain white dress hung loosely about her frame, yet Rehena did not let Cilist's words unsettle her. Perhaps Cilist was simply distracted or hadn't eaten properly—such moods were not uncommon for her. Even Carlo had once remarked to Rehena that Cilist often spoke of things in her own peculiar way, sometimes saying this or that without much rhyme or reason.
"Thank you, my lady… I promise I will be careful," Rehena said, offering a reassuring smile.
"Just… do not go to the boulevard when the war begins, okay?" Cilist added, her tone sharp, almost mysterious.
"Why?" Rehena asked, curiosity tinged with unease, sensing the strangeness in her warning.
"Just… don't go," Cilist replied, rising abruptly from her seat. Before Rehena could ask further, Cilit swept from the office, drawn by the scent of food from the kitchens, her movement almost ethereal, like a shadow gliding through the halls.
Rehena remained seated, her mind racing. Something about Cilist words, the way her eyes had darkened, left a chill lingering in the office air. The warning was cryptic, but she could not ignore it—there was more at play than she had realized, and the Eastern Empire awaited with secrets that could change everything.