60 - Summons
The invitation arrived beneath a sky that had only just begun to clear.
It bore the imperial seal—deep purple wax pressed with unmistakable authority. No one in the Grand Ducal estate needed to open it to understand what it meant.
Still, it was delivered directly into the hands of Grand Duke Maximus. He broke the seal in silence.
His eyes scanned the contents once. Then again. And slowly, the air around him grew heavier. “The 1027th Anniversary of the Empire...” he murmured.
The words sounded simple. But nothing about the current state of Clematis was simple.
Across from him, Grand Duchess Darelene watched carefully. “An imperial summons?”
Maximus exhaled slowly, folding the letter. “Not just a summons...” His gaze darkened slightly. “… an obligation.”
A pause.
“And Mariana?” Darelene asked softly.
Maximus didn’t answer immediately. Because that was the problem. Mariana had only just returned.
Barely recovered. Barely rested. Barely reoriented after everything that had happened—her disappearance, her sudden reappearance, the unnatural composure she now carried.
And now, “She must attend.” Maximus said finally.
His voice was firm. But there was no satisfaction in it. Only concern.
Preparations began immediately. There was no time to hesitate. No room to refuse. The empire’s anniversary was not merely a celebration—it was a statement.
Power. Stability. Control. And every major noble house was expected to be present.
By the next day, arrangements had been made. Grand Duchess Darelene stood at the center of the courtyard, issuing orders with calm efficiency.
“We leave for Luxor at once,” she said. “Mariana, Eirwen—you will come with me.”
Grand Prince Eirwen nodded without hesitation. “Understood.”
Mariana stood beside him, still adjusting the sleeves of her dress. She looked… normal. Too normal. If not for the faint, almost imperceptible hum of mana that lingered around her, no one would have guessed what she had become.
“… yes, Mother.” she replied quietly.
Maximus stepped forward. His gaze lingered on her longer than usual. “Be cautious.” he said.
Mariana blinked slightly, then gave a small nod. “I will.”
He turned to Darelene. “… I’ll remain here.”
She already knew. “… to fortify Forebros.”
“Yes.” The Grand Duke’s expression hardened. “Aguerico and Alistair will stay with me. We’ll secure the territory before following.”
Darelene gave a single nod. No argument. No hesitation. Because both of them understood—Forebros was no longer safe. Not completely.
The journey to Luxor was swift. Too swift for Mariana’s liking. Because the closer they got to the capital, the more… overwhelming everything felt. The scale. The wealth. The sheer magnitude of it all.
By the time they arrived at their villa in Luxor, Mariana was already feeling it. “… this is…” she trailed off, staring at the estate before her. It was massive. Elegant. Pristine.
“… normal.” Eirwen finished for her.
Mariana turned to him slowly. “Normal?”
He nodded. “You used to come here often.”
“I did?” she asked, genuinely surprised.
Eirwen blinked once. “Almost every week.”
Mariana froze slightly..“Why...?”
Eirwen hesitated. Then, “… to see the Crown Prince.”
Silence.
Mariana’s expression twitched. Just slightly. But enough. “… oh,” she said.
Flat. Very flat. And then, a faint shudder ran down her spine. “… yeah, no...” she muttered under her breath.
Eirwen raised a brow. “Something wrong?”
Mariana forced a smile. “… nothing.”
But internally? Absolutely not.
Later that afternoon, Grand Duchess Darelene had already begun preparations. “… we will need appropriate attire.”
Which was how Mariana found herself seated inside one of the most famous boutiques in Luxor. Luce Boutique. And standing before her, a woman with sharp eyes and flawless poise. Xila Virion.
“The Grand Princess.” Xila said smoothly, offering a slight bow. “It is an honor.”
Mariana blinked. “Uh... thank you?”
Darelene gestured lightly. “We require a gown suitable for the imperial banquet.”
Xila smiled faintly. “Of course.” She snapped her fingers once.
Assistants moved instantly, bringing forth a catalogue. Mariana stared at it. Then opened it. Then froze. “… these are… dresses...?”
“They are.” Eirwen confirmed.
“These are expensive...”
“They are.”
“This one alone could feed a small village...”
Eirwen paused. “Probably.”
Mariana slowly closed the catalogue. “… I’m going to faint.”
Kael would have laughed.
Eirwen, however, simply sighed. “You used to pick these without hesitation.”
Mariana stared at him. “… I was a different person.”
“Clearly.”
Hours passed. Darelene discussed fabrics. Designs. Colors. While Mariana sat there, still processing the fact that she was apparently… this rich. In this life now.
“… I need air.” She muttered eventually.
Eirwen stood immediately. “Come on.”
They stepped outside. The streets of Luxor were alive. Vibrant. Crowded.
Mariana blinked at everything. “This is a lot...”
Eirwen nodded. “It is.” A pause. Then, “… wait here.” He said.
Mariana blinked. “… what?”
But he was already gone.
---
He returned hours later. Then finally, Eirwen reappeared. Slightly disheveled. Holding a small paper bag. “Here.”
Mariana stared at him. “What is that...?”
“Open it.”
She did. Inside—chocolate scones. Fresh. Warm. “You queued... for this?” she asked.
Eirwen shrugged slightly. “Apparently it’s popular.”
Mariana blinked. “How long...?”
“Two hours.”
Silence.
“You’re insane...”
“Probably.”
Mariana stared at the scones. Then at him. Then, “… thank you.” She took one. Took a bite. And for a moment, everything slowed. “Okay,” she said quietly. “… this is worth it.”
Eirwen smirked faintly. “I know.”
---
Far away, inside the imperial palace—Empress' Palace, the atmosphere was far less relaxed.
“… you summoned me.” Crown Prince Zafiel stood before the throne. Calm. Composed. Unshaken.
Before him, Empress Lilith sat, her gaze sharp and unwavering. “… I did.” A pause. “The anniversary banquet.”
Zafiel nodded slightly. “I’ve received the notice.”
Lilith studied him carefully. “You will organize it.” No hesitation.
“Understood.”
“And oversee the security.” A beat. “Every entrance. Every corridor. Every shadow.”
Zafiel’s eyes flickered faintly.
"As expected.” Lilith leaned slightly forward. “The rebellion is spreading slowly, but deliberately.”
Zafiel didn’t deny it. “Yes.”
A pause.
“… can you handle both?” Her gaze was sharp. Testing. Measuring.
Zafiel lifted his teacup calmly. Took a sip. “Of course.”
Silence. Heavy. Because there was no arrogance in his tone. Only certainty.
Lilith watched him closely. “You’re unusually calm.”
A faint pause. Then—
“… I expected this.” Zafiel set the cup down, softly. “Every move they’ve made so far…” His eyes glinted faintly. “… follows a pattern.”
Lilith’s gaze sharpened. “And the next move?”
Zafiel’s lips curved slightly. “… they’ll come to Luxor.” Silence. Then, “… during the banquet.”
The air stilled. Even Lilith didn’t speak for a moment.
Because if that was true, then this was no longer just a celebration. It was a battlefield. Zafiel leaned back slightly. Calm. Composed. Anticipating.
“… let them come.”