Frances nodded. With Haein’s explanation, she had a vague understanding of the general political situation of Loyra. Well, it worked out either way.

“Well, in short. I think within a month, there might be two, maybe three different factions. The Sultanate will collapse,” Haein said.

“The Second Prince, and the Head Priest. Who’s the third?”

“Most probably another prince. See, the Sultan himself hasn’t designated an heir. So there’ll probably be a succession crisis.”

“Right, and the Head Priest is against us, but the imperial family wants peace.”

“Indeed. So here’s what we’ll be doing. Frances, Katalina. You two return home and deal with whatever Friaren’s planning. Hye-Sung, you stay here with me. Iris, and uh, Sir Noah? What do you two want to do?”

“Well actually, I would quite like to accompany your party.” Noah bowed his head slightly. “I wish to retrace the steps I took with my original party.”

“I will follow Noah, temporarily. There is something that I would like to do, which happens to be on his way as well,” Iris said.

“Brilliant. Then we’re all split up nicely, aren’t we? Noah, I trust that you’ll ensure our safe passage down?”

“Of course.”

And, upon their return to the capital of Loyra, they met chaos. Priests that tried to stir up hatred, and princes campaigning for support. Much of the populus fell somewhere in between. Some chose their faith, and others chose their imperial ruler.

A man stood atop a wooden box in the middle of the city. Speaking a fiery speech in their native language, he raised his fist up. Tanned, and his fingers callused, he was probably of the middle or lower class. Certainly not a part of the aristocracy, they would rather die than do any manual labour.

“I think they might have a communist revolution on their hands,” Frances mentioned.

“Does that mean we’re Germany?” Hye-Sung laughed.

“Rather not think about that.”

The carriage stopped. The four passengers got off, and landed on the cobblestone floor. With a swift transfer of coins, the carriage driver tipped his hat and left.

“Hoo. My ass hurts.” Frances rubbed her behind as she spoke.

“You’re telling me that Iris carried you all the way there? Without taking a rest?” Hye-Sung asked.

“Yeap. That’s our Hercules. How long did it take you?”

“At least a day and a half.”

“I didn’t realise she ran that quickly.”

“Well I’m sure that by her standards, it was barely a jog.”

Haein waved Hye-Sung over, and the two returned to the imperial palace. Hye-Sung waved goodbye, while the Empress blew a kiss. Meanwhile, Frances regrouped with Katalina.

They stayed in an inn for a night. Separate rooms, as dictated by the knight. Though separate, they were close enough for quick access.

Time passed without much thought. The days became weeks. And the rocky desert gradually regained a lost lushness. By the one month mark, they had returned.

Haein’s prediction was wrong. It did not take a month, as she expected, but two and a half months instead. And Frances neglected his familial issues for the work piled up at the palace. Signing papers, passing laws, listening to debates, passing judgement on weird cases that a jury could not decide on. And only when the stacks upon stacks cleared enough that she could see the door, only then did she take a break. As it turned out, being away for a war meant that work often piled up.

“Ahh~”

She took a much needed stretch. On the other table, the personal one within their shared room, a separate stack remained. Marked with official wax seals of family crests, the letters tried to stand out. But in a sea of hundreds, none were unique. Invitations to tea parties, banquets, and worst of all, consort requests. But what irked her wasn’t the fact that men were clamouring to her, it was the fact that most of those men were parents putting their children up. Oftentimes, the child in question was quite literally still a child. The youngest was 10. She didn’t need to think about what their intentions were.

“Once Hye-Sung gets back, I’ll get her to burn them.”

“Not the nobles, right?”

“The letters.”

They got into another carriage again. Katalina always accompanied her, no matter what. Of course, being far more skilled and experienced with being a woman, she provided as much help as she could. Magic was powerful, Frances found out. Powerful enough to alter a person’s physical appearance, and even biology. But not their DNA, apparently.

“How’s your progress, you two? Close to getting back?” Frances asked.

“We’re making our way. Maybe a week or two, tops,” reported Hye-Sung.

“Got it. Come back safely.”

Compared to the arduous journey to a foreign land, going back to the Rayleigh manor was a vacation. It was partly true. Frances looked out of the carriage as they travelled. The slow, horse-drawn vehicle moved through the city and into the countryside.

Estelle waited for them by the gates. She was the one responsible for passing information on. Worthless details went into letters, while valuable intel was sent through the ‘Messenger of the Mystics’ of course. As such, Frances already had a vague idea of what was going on within the Rayleigh household.

She waved as the carriage slowed down. From the outside, she pried the door open, and helped the empress down. Despite the time, she did not seem a day older.

“You’re back.”

“I am. You’ve been well?”

“Of course, save for the pest. Lady Katalina, I hope you’ve been keeping up with your training?”

“A knight needs to be in the best shape to protect her friend.”

“Haha, is that so? Come on, let's head in.”

The maids and butler welcomed them in. The manor seemed ever so foreign. Different, and yet still the same nonetheless. Were they treating her as empress? Or as a Rayleigh?

Estelle took a seat in the main room. There were quite a few new faces in the house. Old maids that she knew were gone, and fresh faced teens replaced them. Perhaps that contributed to the alienation. A maid, probably far younger than herself, served two cups of warm tea. She bowed as she walked away.

“Reshuffling?”

“Less that, and more like the rest retired.”

“Makes sense. Now, explain to me from the start.”

Estelle nodded. She took a sip from the piping hot tea, and shooed the maids away. Once the doors closed, she sighed and rubbed her forehead. Though subtle, dark circles marred her near perfect face.

“He arrived quite some time ago. After you set off for war.”

“And he asked for your hand in marriage.”

“No, as if. He isn’t respectful, he’s so arrogant, and he thinks he’s invincible just because he’s a foreign noble. That bastard asked for— Not just me! He wants Eli and I to join his harem!”

The tea cup shook. One didn’t need eyes or ears to sense that primal anger. The empress had her own fury bubbling too. To think someone — some stranger no less — would ask something like that. Perhaps even the holiest of people would struggle to keep their calm.