Chapter 12 - The Letter With The Royal Emblem

Eleonora stared at the sapphire blue envelope like it was her death sentence. She was yet to unseal it and look inside. Never the pessimist, but always aware that optimism has never been in her favour, she dared not touch it yet. It could really be a death sentence, for all she knew.

After the soldier's sudden departure the previous night, Eleonora has spent hours trying to come to terms with her own recklessness.

At that moment, running to the forest had felt like the only correct choice. Willing to save a life by throwing herself in the face of danger had felt like a courageous thing to do. Bringing the soldier back to her cottage when every bit of her brain screamed of how dangerous the man was had felt like a noble task — a deed that she would look back at in the future and admire herself for being so humanitarian, so magnanimous, so benevolent.

Now sitting in that said-future in the soft glow of the oil lamp, Eleonora wished she had ignored the smell of smoke last night, snubbed the screams out of her mind, and ran in the opposite direction the first time her eyes had fallen on the injured soldier.

'Open it.' Talia leaned in, over Eleonora's shoulder to look at the letter.

There was enough space on the table and there were enough chairs for Talia, but she refused to come any closer to the sapphire envelope. Talia was brimming with excitement, very curious to know what the letter inside would hold, but Eleonora recognized she was just as scared and was using Eleonora as a human shield between herself and the envelope.

'You do it,' Eleonora looked over at her cousin, begging her for help.

Talia took a step back. 'That's not my name,' she pointed at the golden ink on the envelope.

'Why is it my name?' Eleonora cursed her stars as she stared at the smooth golden lines spelling out her name in cursive.

There were not many people who wrote to her. In fact, she couldn't think of anyone other than Talia who ever wrote to her. Although Eleonora had expected to receive letters from her mother and father in the arriving weeks, those letters were supposed to look ordinary — written on plain, cheap parchment, rolled or bound with a string.

The letter that lay on her old wooden table looked anything but ordinary. The sapphire blue envelope had a glossy look to it — the kind of quality used by the nobles or upper classes. The golden ink used to write her name was something no working class person, except one who hadn't hit their head recently somewhere, would use in their right mind. And the seal...

The seal was the worst of it all. It was made from expensive purple wax with colours, black and golden, brushed over the intricate details imprinted on it — details that she was very keen on accepting to be a forgery.

Because the Valon's royal emblem — a black wolf with a golden crown floating over its head — was not supposed to be held by peasantry hands. Neither was it supposed to be used without imperial notice nor was it advised to be broken by anyone except the person whom it was addressed to.

Eleonora had gasped seeing it when Talia had found the envelope stuck in the rusted wedge of the door handle.

Contrary to the events of last night, her day had been one of the most relaxing ones of her life. With Talia's arrival early in the morning, and then spending hours catching up with each other, experimenting and creating new dishes, eating till their heart felt full and strolling out of the cottage under the golden, warm rays of the sun, Eleonora had almost forgotten — not forgiven herself — for her recklessness. Then, all had come crashing down when Talia had gone out to pick up firewood from her backyard and returned with the wrecked envelope instead.

Eleonora took deep breaths to calm her rapid heartbeats, then nodded with new found determination. It had to be done, and waiting would only cause her more distress. 'Can you please bring me a knife from the-'

'Here,' Talia excitedly handed her the knife that she had been holding by her side for quite a while now.

Eleonora shook her head even as she took the knife and attempted to free the seal from the paper, without damaging either one of those. 'You do know that there could never be anything good in a letter sent from a house of nobility to peasants like us?'

'This looks far superior to any house of nobility. The emblem here-' Talia stopped talking when the seal breathed free of the paper.

Eleonora exhaled deep, relieved by her little success. 'I'll read it now,' she announced while her hands trembled as she picked out the folded sheet from inside the envelope like it was all made of ash and one wrong move would make it fall away like dust.

Talia leaned forward. Her chin rested on Eleonora's right shoulder as both of them read through the elegant and refined strokes of ink.

Dearest Apothecary,

I seem to have survived my injuries, no doubt made possible only by your skilled hands and sharp tongue — if not your unparalleled bravery and questionable fearlessness. Your unwavering faith in my capabilities in the forest and your incredible assessment of my intellect have touched something deep in my heart. Your potion has healed me physically, but it was your verbal assassination of my pride that restored me spiritually. It seems, for that, I owe my continuous existence to you.

Fate is a peculiar thing, don't you think? Until a few days ago, I had only a face to glance at, unaware of your astounding medicinal capabilities. Now, fate has worked its charm, and I find myself in need of your exceptional skills once again.

A dear friend of mine is ailing, with no cure at hand. If you could be so kind as to bring a selection of your best remedies tomorrow afternoon to The Velvet Pearl, in the market district of Ilyndor, I would be most grateful. Your passion to save a life has altered my view of the world, and I believe you would not be so cruel as to disregard my friend's cry for help.

Gratitude, I believe, is not enough for your benevolence, and I would like to repay my debt to you in kind — generously at that.

I strive to be in a slightly less perforated condition when we meet this time around. But if things go wrong, you could always berate me back to health.

With the utmost sincerity,

Your forever indebted patient.