Peduviel, the jewel of the East, basked under a gentle spring sun. Here, the world felt softer — as if it had been kissed by some kinder hand than the harsh gods of the North.
Winding stone paths carved through vast gardens where fruit trees bloomed in careless abundance and fountains sang their eternal songs. Vine-draped pergolas shaded marble courtyards, and laughter—soft, musical—floated on the breeze like petals.
It was a land of dreams made real, rich beyond measure, yet touched by an easy grace. Here, war was a distant memory, and power wore silk instead of steel.
In the heart of House Ambrea's estate, Lady Ioanna — Nana to those dear to her — sat beneath a pavilion overgrown with climbing roses, a letter in her hands. Her dark hair, streaked lightly with silver, was gathered loosely at her neck, and her amber eyes shone with sharp intelligence and warmth.
Across from her, her husband, Garrett, sipped a glass of crisp wine, his broad shoulders relaxed, but his attention sharp. Their daughter, young Silene, played barefoot across the grass nearby, twirling with a silken ribbon trailing from her fingers. She was all sunlight and laughter, barely into her womanhood but already betrothed — a match long agreed upon with the North.
Standing a few steps away, Master Dino — a lean, kindly man whose sternness had softened over the years — watched the scene with a quiet pride. Once Aya's steward and teacher, now a trusted advisor to House Ambrea, he still carried himself with the faint stiffness of old discipline.
Nana broke the seal of the letter and scanned its contents, her brow lifting slightly.
"Well?" Garrett asked, setting his goblet down.
Nana smiled — slow, fond, touched with a hint of mischief. "It's from Aya."
Garrett leaned closer, curious. Master Dino shifted, almost imperceptibly, to listen.
"She is to marry the Southern King," Nana said, voice warm with wonder. "Killan of House Valmird, King of Athax."
Garrett gave a low whistle. "A clever move, if the man is worthy."
"More than clever," Nana mused. She brushed her thumb over the parchment, as if touching Aya herself across the distance. "It seems the North and South will be bound tighter than anyone expected."
Silene, having caught her mother's words, paused her dance and came skipping back toward them. "Aunt is marrying?" she asked, wide-eyed. "Will there be a feast?"
Nana laughed, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind her daughter's ear. "Yes, little bloom. A grand one, I imagine."
"And Juno?" Silene's eyes twinkled.
"I suppose he'll be there," Nana answered.
Master Dino cleared his throat, speaking for the first time."It is a wise alliance," he said thoughtfully. "But not without risk. The South plays a longer game than the North."
"True," Nana agreed, folding the letter carefully. "But if anyone can walk that line, it is her."
Garrett nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
The sunlight shifted, casting the gardens into a golden glow. For a moment, all was still — as if the world itself held its breath at the news of a future changing shape far beyond these peaceful borders.
In the distance, bells began to ring for the midday prayer, their sound soft and welcoming. Life in Peduviel would go on in its endless dream — but somewhere beyond, battles of heart and crown were being quietly set into motion.
And House Ambrea, bound now tighter to Aya's fate, would soon have a role to play once more.
Nana lingered in the garden after the bells faded, the letter from Aya resting lightly on her lap. A warm breeze stirred the roses around her, and she smiled to herself, pulling a fresh parchment toward her.
She dipped her quill and began to write, her script graceful and flowing:
Dearest Aya,
I received your letter with such joy that I find it hard to sit still as I write this. News of your marriage fills our home with gladness — and no small amount of excitement. Silene, in particular, demands that we attend the celebrations whether we are invited or not.
I am proud beyond words, though not surprised. You have always been the brightest of us.If there is anything you require — allies, supplies, advice (however meddling it may be) — you have but to send word. House Ambrea stands with you, now and always.
How fares the little Prince? Juno must be near grown now; I can hardly believe it. Tell him that he is often in our thoughts, and that Silene promises not to pinch him too hard when they finally meet again.
Master Dino grumbles about the distance, but he, too, sends his fondest wishes. He claims you owe him a proper lesson in statecraft now, given how much better you've grown at it than he ever dared hope.
And yes, Garrett sends his love as well. He says that should the Southern King prove unworthy, he will ride South himself to "correct the matter."
(You know how serious he can be.)
I hope you are well, my dearest friend. I miss our long talks, our secret schemes, and those days under the fig trees where we dreamed about the future as if it were something we could mold with our hands.
May fortune favor you, as it always has.
With all my love,
Nana
When she finished, Nana leaned back in her chair, smiling wistfully.
The letter had stirred old memories — long-forgotten afternoons spent crammed into Master Dino's study, poring over scrolls and histories under his strict eye.
She remembered Aya: stubborn, sharp, always asking questions that made even their teacher pause. And herself, back then: dreamy, half-listening to the lessons while stealing glances at the young Captain Elex whenever he visited with Aya for their trade envoys.
A ridiculous girlhood infatuation — one that dissolved the instant she met Garrett. She had been twenty, and he, a knight of twenty-six, had smiled at her once in the gardens, and she had known.
Elex had been the North's proud son. Garrett was her heart's quiet answer.
Nana laughed softly at herself, tapping the letter against her chin. The past had its own sweetness, but the future was calling.
She rose and handed the sealed letter to a waiting messenger, watching as he mounted a swift horse and rode off toward the Southern road.
The gardens of Peduviel shimmered in the afternoon sun, and for a long while, Nana simply stood there, listening to the rustle of leaves, thinking of the fierce young woman she had grown up beside — now a Queen in the making.
And she whispered a prayer into the wind, for Aya's happiness.