The Valenford Earls' manor stood in the hills north of the capital, surrounded by impeccably manicured gardens and a low wall of pale stone that meant not to intimidate, but simply to define the property. It was not the most ostentatious residence in the kingdom—that distinction still belonged to a few of the ancient houses that had managed to survive—but it was certainly one of the most elegant. Every detail spoke of good taste and understated loyalty: banners bearing the emblem of the silver stag flew alongside those of the royal House Lionheart, and in the main hall hung a recent portrait of King Ashfon, commissioned personally by the Earl after the founding of Astra.
Count Edric of Valenford had been one of the first lesser nobles to join the rebellion. He brought neither vast armies nor legendary riches, but something far more valuable in those days: a secure territory in the north, far from the watchful eyes of the Empire, and a network of roads that facilitated the movement of supplies when they were most needed. Ashfon never forgot this. When the new kingdom stabilized, Valenford was granted the title of earl and, more importantly, the monarch's personal trust.
His wife, Countess Elara, was a woman with a soft voice and an iron will. Born into a prosperous merchant family, she had learned from childhood that influence wasn't always wielded with swords. For her, organizing a tea party was as valid a form of politics as any formal audience.
That late summer afternoon, the mansion's oriental parlors had been prepared with special care. The glass doors leading to the garden remained open, letting in a breeze that gently stirred the white linen curtains. On the main table, made of dark cherry wood, were set pieces of porcelain imported from the elven islands, trays of cream cakes and candied fruit, and three different teapots: one of strong black tea, another of jasmine infusion, and a third of a floral blend that was only cultivated in the royal gardens.
The guests began to arrive shortly after noon.
First to arrive was Baroness Myra de Lirien, a middle-aged widow whose husband had died defending a mountain pass during the rebellion. Then came the Thorne sisters—two young women from a minor knighthood who owed almost their entire social rise to the new order. Next came the Marchioness of Ashwick, a sharp-tongued woman with a perpetual smile who never said exactly what she meant. And finally, the most anticipated and, at the same time, the most closely watched guest: Lady Seraphine of Northwatch, the only daughter of Duke Alaric of Northwatch.
Duke Alaric was a peculiar figure in the recent history of Astra. During the darkest years of the Old Empire, he had been a frontier knight, tasked with defending the northern lands against raids by magical beasts and bands of deserters. He despised the emperor with a quiet, unwavering intensity. He despised even more his own inaction when purges and taxes crushed the people. While other nobles enriched themselves or went into hiding, Alaric simply closed off the north. He did not join the corruption. Nor did he join the rebellion… until Ashfon had already won the decisive battles. Then he opened the roads, offered supplies, and swore allegiance without asking for anything in return. Ashfon, who knew how to recognize the weight of guilt on men, accepted his oath and granted him the title of duke. From then on, Northwatch was one of the most stable and best-administered territories in the kingdom.
Her daughter, Seraphine, had inherited the same restraint. She was twenty-two years old, with brown hair pulled back in an impeccable bun and gray eyes that observed more than they spoke. She wore a lavender dress, elegant without being ostentatious, and upon entering the room, she curtsied first to the countess and then to the portrait of the king that hung in the room.
"Lady Seraphine," Elara greeted with a genuine smile. "It's a pleasure to have you here. Your father wrote to me that you would be in the capital these next few weeks."
"The pleasure is all mine, Countess," Seraphine replied in a clear voice. "My father believes it is good for me to meet the ladies who uphold the social fabric of the kingdom... especially in such... interesting times."
The word “interesting” hung in the air. Everyone present knew what she meant.
Once everyone was seated and the maids had served the first round of tea, the conversation began with the usual topics: the weather, the upcoming jousting tournaments, the quality of the silk arriving from the Thousand Islands. But it soon turned to the inevitable. Find the original chapter at novelping.com.
It was the Marchioness of Ashwick who took the first step, turning her cup between her fingers with apparent disinterest.
—I've heard the little princess has already been seen strolling through the royal gardens with the king. They say they look remarkably alike.
Baroness Myra nodded enthusiastically.
"Oh, yes! My niece works in the palace kitchen and says the king sometimes carries her when he gets tired. I've never seen him like that. After so many years of... seriousness, it's touching."
The Thorne sisters exchanged a quick glance. The older one leaned slightly forward.
—Some say the adoption was too hasty. A girl from another world, brought by the ritual of the Goddess Nyvalis… and suddenly she's Princess Lionheart. There are those who wonder if the king hasn't let his heart guide him.
Seraphine carefully placed her cup on the saucer. She didn't raise her voice, but when she spoke, everyone else fell silent.
“My father says that King Ashfon never makes decisions solely with his heart,” she stated. “If he adopted the girl, it’s because he found reasons that go beyond affection. And if the Goddess of Hope allowed that soul to cross the Rift, perhaps it’s not for us to question the outcome.”
Countess Elara smiled approvingly.
"Well said, Lady Seraphine. Furthermore, the king himself has shown a remarkable change since his arrival. Those with access to the palace remark that he seems… less alone. That, in a monarch who has carried so much for so many years, is no small detail." Visit novelping.com for the full chapter.
The marchioness raised an eyebrow, still smiling.
—Less alone, yes. And with a princess who shares his last name and features. How convenient. Although, of course, I'm not saying there's anything suspicious. Just… convenient.
There was a tense pause. Baroness Myra tried to ease the atmosphere by offering cakes. The Thorne sisters feigned great interest in the garden. Seraphine, however, kept her gaze fixed on the Marchioness.
“My father spent years hating himself for not acting against the Empire sooner,” she said calmly. “He learned that inaction is also a form of complicity. If the king has decided to give that girl a place in his home, perhaps he’s correcting something the rest of us don’t even see. Or perhaps he’s simply being human. After all he’s lost, doesn’t he have a right to that?”
Countess Elara took advantage of the moment to subtly change the course of the conversation.
—Indeed. And in the meantime, the kingdom needs stability. The Devils aren't waiting for us to settle our differences. The king has asked all the territorial lords to prepare contingents for when the heroes complete their training. My husband has already begun organizing those in Valenford.
The others nodded, some more enthusiastically than others. The threat of the Devils was real and imminent. Talking about it brought the conversation back to safer ground, where everyone could agree.
However, as the tea cooled and the maids brought the second round, Seraphine of Northwatch glanced for a moment at the king's portrait. There was something more complex in her expression than simple loyalty: a mixture of respect, curiosity, and perhaps a slight unease.
Because if the most solitary monarch on the continent had suddenly found a sister…
Then the political chessboard of Astra had just gained a piece whose true nature no one, yet, fully understood.
And in the stately halls, that kind of uncertainty was never left unchecked.