Oriana was serving tea to the prince inside his study when a knock ca, informing Arlan of the arrival of Lucas.
"Your Highness, we received a letter from the King of garis about his plans for the summit."
"Did the letter co from Othinia?"
"It was sent from Abetha. Their travel plans were delayed due to the Queen of garis."
At these words, Oriana’s ears turned alert as familiar words caught her attention— the Queen of garis, the Kingdom of Othinia and the summit. The first was related to Celia Voss, the second the potential source of black nightshade and the third the deadline Arlan gave her to return to the palace. She wondered if sothing useful would co out from this talk between the prince and his aide.
Arlan accepted a parchnt from Lucas and thought, ’Why did Dray send a ssage like this instead of teleporting like usual and discussing things in person? Either he is becoming lazy or growing more clingy to his wife. I am sure it’s the latter one." He sighed inwardly. ’Why am I even surprised about that wife’s slave?’
He read it and handed it back to Lucas. "The delegation will leave after a week as per our initial plans."
"Yes, Your Highness. The preparations are in progress, with the royal court amidst choosing the ideal officials to act as your adviser," Lucas inford. "Also, about what we talked about last ti regarding to black nightshade..."
Another word for Oriana to pay attention to.
"... our spies discovered one of the smuggling routes Thevailes uses and it appears that the route runs along the borders of Abetha southwards. They trade in much larger quantities than what we found from Selve. That ans the possibility of a plantation existing in Othinia is high."
"Has Alex moved?"
"Yes, Your Highness. Sir Alex already sent his n to trace the source. Once you arrive in Othinia, things will be easier with intelligence gathered for your perusal."
Unfortunately, Oriana could no longer eavesdrop on their discussion. She had already finished pouring tea and left the prince’s study.
So ti later, Arlan departed from the Palace of Thistle. Oriana was free to go to her master, but before that, she had sothing important to do.
"Mister Roman, His Highness asked to talk to you about my plans to visit family."
The butler nodded.
"Orian, His Highness approved of your week break despite rely being in his service for a week. Rember to properly show your gratitude," the man said as a kind senior. "I coordinated your departure and return with the Office of the Royal Chamberlain. Tomorrow morning, head to the second entrance of the central palace. You will be leaving as part of the entourage of an official who is going to et the Duke of Wimark."
"Thank you, Mister Roman."
With the butler pointing out Arlan’s kindness, Oriana realized she had indeed taken great advantage of the prince. Doubt appeared in her mind. Arlan might be annoying and unreasonable at tis, but he was not a bad master. The plan to never return from Wimark and run to another kingdom with her grandfather seed less appealing to her now, especially since there were many benefits from staying as a royal servant.
Oriana remained confused until she arrived at the Palace of Oak.
Inside the workroom, she saw Adam putting together several bottles inside a case along with a set of silver tools and instrunts Oriana could not recognize.
"Senior Brother, I’m here," she greeted the curly-haired man. "Are you heading off to see His Majesty?"
"Indeed. I’m just waiting for Master. He changed out of his robe because it got stained earlier from making dicine."
The old physician happened to co back at that mont, a scowl on his face. "Adam!"
"Greetings, Master," Oriana said as she bowed.
Erich ignored her and ordered Adam, "Find the Head Royal Physician. I requested the records of the King’s dication plan from five years ago, but they sent the wrong docunt. Imbeciles. Go, go, get it now. What are you dallying about?"
"Yes, Master!"
Only after Adam moved did the old man look at the young woman. "Orian, you bring that case. Accompany to see my patient."
It surprised her. "M-?"
"Yes, you. Is there anyone else called Orian here? Move!"
She nimbly gathered the things that Adam was supposed to carry, not sure why she was nervous.
While they were walking towards the royal residence of the King, seeing the luxurious hallways lined with royal knights, only then did realization dawned on her.
It was because her master was bringing her to see his patient, who was no other than His Majesty the King of Griven. It would be her first ti eting the supre ruler of the land!
Though she never cared much about the status of people, it was different this ti. She was going to et soone very great and she needed to be careful with her behavior.
Being with the indifferent Erich made her braver, yet her palms were a little sweaty.
When they reached the door of the King’s bedchamber, they were allowed to enter after getting permission.
Oriana quietly followed her master, only to overhear a light banter from those inside. There were three people seated in the lounge area and one of them was a familiar face.
The handso blue-eyed prince raised his head at the sa ti, his gaze eting hers, and she saw warmth in them, the kind one would have when among their loved ones.
A beautiful middle-aged couple was sitting on the luxurious couch opposite the prince.
Oriana recognized them because she had seen them among the paintings in the hallway.
The man appeared to be Arlan’s replica—no, it should be the other way around. The prince was his father’s replica, only the prince was younger. From the ash brown color of his hair, to the beautiful ocean blue eyes, down to the aristocratic face and the innate arrogance in their bones, Arlan inherited his handso features from the King of Griven.
The only difference between them was due to their age. The King had short, thinning hair, and there were visible wrinkles on his pale face. The King’s expression was softer with wisdom as well, while Arlan’s had that stubbornness common among young n.
On the other hand, the Queen of Griven appeared more lovely than beautiful, with a sweet-shaped face frad by golden hair and a twinkling laughter that inevitably caused people to smile. She gave off a warm, motherly impression, the kind who would probably play with children all day if given a chance.
Neither the King nor the Queen were wearing their crowns, but from their peerless appearances alone, Oriana could tell they were people of authority. It was not because of their clothes but the way they carry themselves. The man gave off a ruler’s inviolable dignity despite his amiable smile, while the lady moved with such natural grace, her action of pouring tea for her husband was brimming with elegance.
Oriana could not help but stare at them, forgetting she should not raise her gaze up.
’Strange. They feel approachable, yet at the sa ti not.’
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