#8.

A few days later, the empress’s carriage passed through the great gorge dividing the central south from the south and entered the outskirts of Heirn.

It felt as though the climate had changed at the boundary of that mountain standing like a wall. Not almost, it had. The humid, heavy air clung damply to the skin.

Aella looked out the carriage window at the wide plain stretching before her and the tall, bare mountains rising on either side. The thought of those mountains collapsing made her chest go cold.

From the dark clouds sitting low over the stripped peaks, rain looked ready to burst at any moment.

Her heart beat fast, knowing what was coming.

A disaster that came once in twenty years, they said. In her past life, she had faced it with no preparation at all. This time would be different.

‘It’ll be all right.’

While Aella steadied her breathing, the thundering sound of hoofbeats drew close.

Tilda set down the knitting she had been fiddling with and craned her neck out the window.

“Your Majesty, we must be nearly at the autumn palace. The escorts are changing formation.”

“So it seems.”

Aella gave a short reply and pressed close to the window as well.

Just then, a brown horse shot out from behind and swept past the carriage at speed. The rider was the Minister of Defense, known as ‘Captain Owl.’

Behind him, a heavy black warhorse came into view. The deep blue cloak of the supreme commander whipped roughly behind Leonhardt’s back, dressed in Siren-style black uniform.

In the brief moment the warhorse passed, he turned his head slightly. Their eyes met and held, as though each had been waiting for it.

Leonhardt let a faint smile touch the corner of his lips, then smoothed his expression clean. He vanished from view in an instant.

“……”

Aella felt heat rise to the back of her neck and quickly drew the curtain shut.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The carriage rolled on at a steady pace and crossed a wide drawbridge. It passed through the grand, solid double walls and the procession of golden carriages came to a stop before the entrance of the great castle.

“Your Majesty the Emperor, Your Majesty the Empress. It is an honor to receive you. We will see to your every need during your stay.”

Sebastien, the steward of the autumn palace, and Mrs. Dablang offered their respectful greetings.

The emperor and empress received the bows of those lined up behind them and were each escorted to their separate quarters.

“This way, Your Majesty the Empress.”

Aella followed Mrs. Dablang up a staircase laid with red carpet. She stopped abruptly before a well-decorated landing wall.

She narrowed her eyes and studied the painting hanging at the center. It depicted the emperor as a god of victory, charging across a battlefield.

Something felt deeply out of place. Aella raised her gaze and let out a quiet sigh.

She had spotted twenty low-relief decorations crowded across the domed ceiling. They were no different from the painting, every last one of them existed to glorify the emperor’s might.

Francis on a battlefield.

What a joke. He was a man who cared not at all for the welfare of his people.

He had even halted the campaign to suppress the southern tribes, and not because he intended to take up a sword himself.

“As you may know, Your Majesty the Empress.”

Mrs. Dablang opened her mouth carefully, catching Aella’s gaze on the painting.

“That painting holds the desperate wish of the southern people, Heirn included.”

“…Is the plundering by the foreign tribes truly that severe?”

“As you would have seen on your way here, the Suidnya River runs along Heirn’s southern border. Its current is strong enough to serve as a fairly reliable barrier. Compared to the southernmost reaches of the territory, Heirn is reasonably safe.”

“And there are no raids crossing the river?”

“Of course there are. Large and small incidents occur every year. The Tugal tend to raid mainly in autumn, their own way of preparing for winter. The farms that are plundered manage to survive the winter thanks to the provisions Your Majesty sends each year.”

Aella looked steadily down at Mrs. Dablang, who bowed with quiet dignity, then answered calmly.

“…Before long, His Majesty will answer the wishes of your people.”

Of course, that ‘His Majesty’ would be the ‘Drunken Peacock’ who would take the next throne.

Aella said nothing more. What she could offer was not sweet comfort. The only thing within her power was to bring them their ‘new Majesty’ as soon as possible.

She was soon led into a spacious room carpeted in pale pink.

It was not as lavish as the empress’s quarters, but the pink-upholstered sofa and rugs blended harmoniously with the gold curtains. The elegant furniture, polished to a gleam, showed every sign of careful tending.

“Does it please you?”

“Very much. You must have worked hard to prepare it.”

She smiled warmly.

The tension seemed to drain out of Mrs. Dablang at once, and the stern lines around her eyes softened considerably.

“Please rest well, Your Majesty. If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to say so. We will serve you with all our heart.”

Mrs. Dablang bowed as though about to withdraw. But Aella gave a different order instead of dismissing her.

“I would like the farmers gathered right away, if that can be arranged.”

Mrs. Dablang studied the empress carefully.

Deep layers of exhaustion had settled at the corners of the empress’s beautiful eyes. She was smiling serenely, but the weariness of someone who had endured a long carriage journey was plain to see.

And this sight of the empress looking tired was something Mrs. Dablang had not seen in a very long time.

The autumn palace was, by nature, the most representative among the many villas owned by the imperial family. All because of its beautiful scenery.

The Heimourn Mountains flanking Heirn on both sides were blanketed in vivid autumn foliage every year. The river flowing behind them shimmered with brilliant light without pause, a truly breathtaking view.

Imperial family members and high-ranking nobles alike had competed to visit the autumn palace.

‘That was before the Empress Dowager, when she was still empress, had every tree on Heimourn Mountain cut down.’

After Heimourn became bare, it had been over a decade since anyone of such distinction had visited this autumn palace.

It was only natural, then, that Mrs. Dablang and the rest of the staff were on their sharpest behavior. Even if the empress gave an order they couldn’t quite understand, they had to carry it out.

And was this not the very first order, given without even pausing to rest? The first step was always the most important.

“Understood, Your Majesty.”

Mrs. Dablang answered with a respectful bow.

She hurried off and called for Sebastien, the palace steward and her cousin.

“Round up every single farmer in Heirn, quickly!”

“All of them?”

“Yes! Women, children, the elderly—everyone!”

“What on earth for……”

Sebastien made a bewildered face but set the servants and soldiers to carrying out the order.

When word spread that the empress would be distributing relief supplies per head of household, everyone came running with great enthusiasm.

The empress’s quarters sent thick blankets, good quality flour, large ears of corn, and fat potatoes every late autumn for the poor.

This time, they were offering enough to last a full month, so there was no reason not to come.

Before long, hundreds of farmers and their families packed the wide rear courtyard of the autumn palace.

The empress, looking down from atop the castle wall, asked,

“Will all of them fit in the servants’ hall?”

This place had been built for the imperial family to stay through an entire autumn. Given the length of the stay, it accommodated a large retinue, and its scale surpassed that of most provincial noble estates.

“Of course, Your Majesty. More than enough room to spare. At its peak, there were hundreds of servants alone.”

“I see.”

Her pride swelling, Mrs. Dablang looked up at the tall empress. The empress was studying the sky with a worried expression.

A sharp wind swept in from the distant vineyard. Fine, curling strands of golden hair danced across the empress’s brow, white as the moon.

The wind that passed over the empress was warm and sweet.

What perfume does she use, it smells wonderful, Mrs. Dablang thought, and asked.

“Your Majesty, shall I give the order to distribute the supplies now?”

“Count the people first.”