Chapter 26

Amidst the brightest shimmering rays of the sun that luminated the entirety of the kingdom— a magician so skeptic and unsure, was seen peeking from an enormous window.

Situated on one of the palace's halls, Clementine had an absolute clear view of a certain kiosk built within the gardens. Surrounded by healthy pure white roses and verdure, chirping birdies and tranquility; she deemed it one of the best places ever.

Though she wasn't in for the view from her location. But the sight of five heads seated inside the structure was her main concern of the moment. Four of which she knew and one whom she had never met, yet.

Her lips pressed togther, brows furrowed in thought. The lass continued on observing the chattering individuals— half itching to know their topic as of late whereas half wanting to stay a good distance away, and she chose the latter.

Arms tangled into a cross, fingers drumming in tune of calm thinking. Pools of jeweled silver piercing thoroughly towards a patch of poor roses sitting beside a person whose hair curled into waves in hues of periwinkle.

Such a unique color with hints of oddity. Although puzzling as it blended well with its owner. In fact, 'tis the first she'd witnessed an alluring hue.

Alas her fixation towards the group was taken away within a minute's notice, when all of a sudden, a maid in rush came barreling towards her. Letter in hand.

"Lady Clementine! A letter from Ellysia have arrived, addressed to you." Gasping for air, the servant held the faded envelope for her to take— sealed with an insignia of the royal family.

Clicked her tongue went, hands instantly reaching for the item. Crumpled at the edge, stains of what seems to be liquid adorning parts in dots ranging in sizes. It was, in no terms, neatly presented. . .

Whoever sent it must've felt the urge to hasten. Uncaring if the piece bore devoidance of tidiness..

"When did this arrive? Who sent it?" Questioned the magician with a frown.

"According to the messenger, it was the young princess." Said the maid fumbled with the ruffled ends of her apron. And apparently, Clementine saw the anxious act— piecing together that this servant was uncomfortable within her presence.

She saw only one way to ease up the maid; dismissal.

"I see. You may leave now." From her peripheral she watched in silence, for her main attention solely focused on the object in her clutches.

"Thank you and pardon me for disturbing your peace." A bow and off she goes. Practically sprinting away from the white-haired lass, who could only shrug at the eager departure.

The maid's probably new, hence their behavior. Either that or. . . Clementine was just a terrifying magician to face.

Now that was offending.

If there's someone absolutely horrendous and scary in this palace, then it'd be Aethan himself. The prince who gets bipolar, irritable, even surpassing a girl on their monthly, on daily basis.

Away from those, Clementine sighed— ripping the envelope open to read each curved letter, sloppily written. Alike the envelope, this too, had marks of droplet stains and inky drops.

Ah. Isabelle, what had gotten you so distressed it ruined your most prideful made letters? The answer to that would only reveal itself in the contents of the said paper.

". . . The kingdom is in shambles. . ." Mumbled the silver-eyed magician, the frown resting on her visage growing deeper and deeper as she went through the whole parchment.

". . . Ill, the king is. And people are in midst of a political rally—" and she halted, inhaling air whom she released in a thin sharp sigh. Remnants of barely readable cursive then followed forth, overall difficult for the lass to read.

This was rather alarming and sympathetic. With the king ridden in bed, all matters at hand would likely pass on the princess herself. Without any aid then the likely idea of handling a ginormous nation would be too much for a single teen much less a princess yet polished, to handle.

The kingdom's duchey and rest of nobility must've been using the momentum to strike and see the absence of a ruler to test their fortune in claiming the crown. Power thirsty and greedy.

Yet, at one point, why would the princess sought for her aid specifically? Shouldn't it be more appropriate if she approached the king of Celeste himself? After all, Ellysia and Celeste are both close neighbors and allies.

"You seem so deeply indulged thinking."

"You came right on time, Celwin."

"Do you need me, milady?" Questioned the lad, a patch of fluffy ash-blonde locks coming into view from behind. He settled near her, a foot away from her side— glancing every now and then.

"Pardon me for being too much of a bother these recent days." A huff of breath,

Clementine turned to face the said male— brows collided; troubled. "Do you know any single thing about Ellysia currently?" She asked.

Shaking his head, Celwin replied. "Unfortunately none."

"Ah."

Rendered speechless and unable to respond further. The magician could only let both themselves sunk in silence.

Birds that sung alongside the song of faint zephyr could only be heard, paired with the rustling of verdure that circled the area in various shades of green. Whereas caelum painted in calm blue and purest white adorned the above.

Such a tranquil ambiance, yes. Albeit it was her and her thoughts that were in discord, partying in her head in different ways to describe. A ruckus akin to a mob of drunken joy-filled teens in a tavern; messy, loud.

" Uhmm."

Though quiestness continuously buzzed, Celwin put the oppurtune silence into use. "Milady, I'll be quite frank wiith you. So pardon me."

"I'll be heading back. Hopefully tomorrow before the sun meets the horizon." Said Celwin. Face solemn with disappointment.

"I was quite hoping that this day wouldn't have ever come." Saddened by the reveal, she smiled slightly. Though opposed to the latter and somewhat offended (she was hoping to make him her escort to Ellysia). She could only do none to stop the lad.

It was his to decide and he had finalized his conclusion. But so be it.

"Father have been quite persistent. . . He wants me back as earlier as possible, says that I'm needed in the academy for some reason." Explained Celwin.

As if to elaborate further, he held out a white envelope. Although this time, it was neatly done than that of Isabelle's almost pigsty one. Deliberately, she took it, folding it open to read the inside.

And she was so stunned,'expecting' a whole page or two, covered back to back with blank ink. But all she saw were two sentences, a plea of somewhat and command.

'You're needed. You must come back in haste, better yet. . .tomorrow before dawn'.

'Your Father'

"This makes it look more shady," she trailed off, eyeing the letter and back to pools of teal. "Are you certain that this came from your father indeed?".

He nodded. "Affirmative. His handwriting's exactly as that. My old man must be in real urgency to have written such a dwarfish letter."

"Alright. Please do be careful."

"You're not angry? Wouldn't you lash out?"

"Why would I?" Questioned the magican, befuddled. Silver pools squinted, she gave him an incredulous stare.

Confused he responded. "Nothing. . ."

Ceasing her ministrations, she heaved out a sigh. The plumpness of her rosey lips drawn down to a frown. Her gaze averted elsewhere— now attentive towards the chattering people within the kiosk.

Laughing. She could see their heads bobbing, shoulders shaking, grins marveling their faces. They were having fun. (All except for grumpy Aethan, of course, sporting an irked forced smile.)

'How lovely. . .'

Akin to flying birds they were. Problem less, free from malice for they were 'protected' within castle walls. Evil was far from reach.

Well, inside that is. But outside? Possibilities have increased tenfold. With Florencius on the loose— a psychotic magician who would kill to precede his plans for glory— all kingdoms under the continent of Plaugvougnia (consisted of Celeste, Ellysia, Sappherine and Xereisee) or even beyond are yet to be safe.

The pressure came crashing down like a boulder. Heavy, too much for a lady. And she felt the threatening cursed liquid stinging her eyes.

She wanted to cry.

She really did.

But she wouldn't let herself.

And like she always does, she repressed them down. Bottling them all up. The pented emotions were bearable at least, for now that is.

However, she was more than aware. Aware of the fact that one day, something will trigger all of these and the cap would burst out letting the contents flow in rapid bubbles; unrelenting similar to a bottle of champagne.