I brought along one of the manor's attendants to accompany us. She was a young woman who had just turned twenty-eight.
Not long after our carriage passed through the main gate, the view beyond the compartment window caught my attention.
A carriage approaching from the opposite direction had just gone by. The aristocratic crest engraved upon its door felt distinctly familiar.
It was the crest of the Welser family.
Just as I had suspected, word of my Aunt's arrival had evidently reached the ears of Countess Welser. The passenger within that ornate carriage was almost certainly the Countess herself.
My Aunt had once described Count Welser as a man rigid in manner, yet possessed of good character.
Their relationship amounted to little more than social courtesy; the Count showed her respect chiefly because she was his wife's close friend. That was precisely why I was certain the figure behind that carriage's curtain was not him.
What was more, the carriage's cabin had been built lower than usual. Such a design was customary for informal travel and was generally reserved for noblewomen going about their daily affairs.
Dorothea pointed toward the window, following the carriage as it grew steadily more distant.
"That is Aunt Emilia's carriage."
"You recognised it?"
"Of course, Sister. I have ridden in it a few times with Aunt Emilia."
Emilia Welser.
From the easy familiarity in the little girl's address, it was simple enough to guess that the two of them shared a close bond.
"Are you very close with the Countess, Dorothea?"
"Not especially, Sister. We rarely meet. It is only that Aunt Emilia has always been so warm toward me whenever she visits."
"Do you not miss her?"
"Of course I miss her."
"What if we brought her a gift later?"
"A gift?"
"Yes. You could bring her a small token. She would surely be pleased."
"You are right, Sister. But what sort of gift? I have no idea at all."
"Mm..."
A gift suited for a Countess need not be extravagant. The bond that had formed so naturally between her and Dorothea meant something simple would do, so long as the sincerity behind it came through.
Yet that was precisely where the difficulty lay. Finding something modest that still suited a noblewoman of such standing was no easy task. Something too ordinary risked being taken as an insult.
My knowledge of the tastes favoured by the capital's aristocracy was rather limited, especially where personal preferences were concerned, things such as food, jewellery, or particular fancies.
My gaze shifted to the attendant seated with us.
She might well have some idea.
After all, she had served at the estate for a considerable time.
"Amy."
"Yes, Miss Charlotte."
"What do you think? What sort of gift would suit Countess Welser?"
"One moment, Miss. Allow me to recall."
I gave a nod.
Of the three of us, Amy was the most likely to know the answer. Whether through conversations among the servants, the rumours that circulated, or her own observations while preparing for the Countess's visits. The odds were not high, but they were still better than guessing blindly.
Dorothea had indeed spent time with the Countess before, but she was still too young to take much notice of such details.
A child tends to remember the gift they received rather than the preferences of the one who gave it.
Dorothea had grown up surrounded by affection. She was not a little girl starved for attention, forced to curry favour with anyone.
Her way of thinking had never been shaped around pleasing others through material considerations.
Her closeness to someone like Countess Welser had grown entirely on its own; it was simply the sincerity of a child who held genuine affection for the adults around her.
"Countess Welser is a great admirer of art, particularly landscape paintings with a poetic and dramatic quality, by the renowned artist Alistair."
Alistair.
I had heard that name often enough.
Father had praised the man's brushwork more than once as an extraordinary achievement.
Unfortunately, a painting was hardly a fitting gift for a little girl to present.
What was more, time was far too short.
Where could I possibly obtain an original work by Alistair on such short notice? Unless I was reckless enough to seek out a forgery in the black market.
"Is there another option, Amy? A work of art sounds elegant enough, but it is not the right gift if Dorothea is the one giving it."
"Ah, you are right, Miss Charlotte. My apologies."
"There is no need to apologise. You have done nothing wrong. Besides, this knowledge will surely prove useful one day."
Indeed. Perhaps not today, but even the smallest piece of knowledge could prove valuable in time, for both myself and Dorothea.
"Try to recall further. Is there anything else? Sweet treats, perhaps, or a kind of tea the Countess favours whenever she visits the estate?"
"Food... tea..."
Beside me, Dorothea watched the attendant with an eagerness she made no effort to hide.
The little girl seemed unable to wait for the answer. Fortunately, our wait did not last long.
Amy's face brightened all at once.
"I remember now, Miss Charlotte!"
"Truly, Amy?"
"Yes, Miss."
"Tell us."
Amy appeared eager to share what she recalled. Watching her, I felt a quiet sense of relief.
Unlike most attendants who maintained a manner stiff as statuary, Amy had managed to ease herself after just one gentle reminder from me.
I understood that such formality was part of the etiquette they were expected to uphold.
But in the end, I was no noblewoman myself.
For that reason, I had never cared much for rigid decorum.
Amy's gaze moved gently between Dorothea and myself.
"Countess Welser is exceedingly fond of sweet dishes. She delights in Queen Cakes, glacé cherry confections, and Rose Petals. The Mistress of the house often instructs the head attendant to send myself and my cousin to purchase all three."
"Queen Cakes, Amy?"
"That is correct, Miss Dorothea."
"Does Dorothea know of these?"
"I remember, Sister! Aunt Emilia mentioned them once while we were relaxing together."
"Is that so. Very well, Dorothea. It seems we shall be buying a good deal more sweets today than originally planned."
"My, that is entirely Sister's own doing!"
"Clever girl."
I reached out and smoothed the strands of her blue-tinged hair that had come slightly loose from the journey.
My gaze returned to Amy, seated on the bench across from us.
"Thank you for your help, Amy."
"It is an honour, Miss Charlotte. I am glad to have been of use."
The corner of my mouth lifted in a sincere smile, answering her devotion in kind.
That light exchange eased the mood within the carriage.
Before we knew it, time had slipped by quickly enough that the carriage began to slow, signalling our arrival at last.
The carriage wheels finally came to a stop before an elegant building standing at the corner of the street.
Unlike the confectionery shop I had once visited in Gluthera, this place was far grander. Clear, curved glass windows displayed rows of cakes and sweets arranged with precision behind the storefront.
Marble & Meringue.
So read the sign above the entrance.
Amy descended first to open the carriage door.
She then approached the coachman and relayed my instructions for him to continue waiting a while longer.
The shop appeared to be crowded with young lords and ladies from the capital's elite circles.
Several children of noble houses could be seen passing in and out through the main door in steady succession.
I helped Dorothea down from the cabin.
She had no real difficulty managing on her own, but I did not want her gown to hinder her steps.
"Let us go in."
Without privilege, setting foot in a confectionery shop of this calibre was nearly impossible, even for those weighed down with gold.
Discrimination based on social standing had taken deep root throughout the Empire. Wealth alone was never sufficient to place a person on equal footing with the nobility.
A male attendant opened the wooden door for us.
The moment we stepped inside, every eye among the patrons turned at once in our direction.
Quiet murmurs began to rise, most of them concerning my appearance and Dorothea's.
I could not deny that my hair colour, paired with the gown I wore, was too conspicuous to overlook. Though the gown itself was not bright in colour, its cut and refinement radiated an elegance impossible to dispute.
Father possessed considerable wealth, and I made certain that prosperity was reflected in every garment I wore, so as to match the standard set by the high nobility.
The privilege he afforded me had always smoothed my path toward whatever I sought. Without his support, commissioning a gown of this calibre, let alone without a recognised social standing, would have remained nothing more than a fantasy.
Upon reaching the lobby, a formally dressed woman approached us at once. She appeared to be a new manager.
Perhaps she had noticed the stir among the patrons and felt compelled to step in, or perhaps this was simply the establishment's new procedure. This was not my first visit, and rules could change at any time.
"Miss, how may I be of service?"
Her smile was courteous, though still wrapped in the formality characteristic of the aristocratic world.
I had no wish to draw out an unnecessary exchange.
I reached into my pocket and held out a card to her.
The woman accepted it with great deference, studied it for a moment, then hurriedly returned it.
Her eyes widened.
The Gold VIP Card.
A gift from Father.
He understood there would come a time when a mere purse of gold was no longer enough to open every door.
The murmurs around us grew suddenly louder.
"That is the Gold VIP Card, reserved only for select patrons..."
"How could that girl possibly have one?"
"Is it not obvious? She must be of noble descent."
"Noble? I have never seen her face among the capital's social circles."
"Perhaps she comes from beyond the capital."
"Perhaps. But for nobility outside the capital, gaining access to a Gold VIP Card is nearly impossible."
"Impossible?"
"Unless she belongs to one of the five great houses, or one of the two noble families guarding the borders."
"Those are exceptions, naturally. Apart from the capital's nobility, that card is generally held only by descendants of Count Dmitry's house, the two Marquis families, and the four Imperial Dukes."
"Then who is she? Her hair is so striking, and her features extraordinary. She ought to have already become a favourite within noble society. Unless this is truly her first visit to the capital."
"You are mistaken, Ron. This is not the first time she has caused a stir here. Her identity remains a mystery that only deepens the curiosity."
Their speculation continued to unfold until attention shifted toward Dorothea.
"I recognise the little girl beside her."
"That pale blue hair..."
"Indeed. Is that not the child often seen with Countess Welser?"
"That little girl is the daughter of the Countess's close friend."
"How do you know that?"
"A secret."
"Then what is her connection to the girl with the striking hair?"
"I could not say. Perhaps a close friend, a representative of a subordinate house, or a distant relation."
I chose to ignore it.
The very people who had cast scornful glances only moments ago now showed every sign of wishing to draw closer and forge a connection.
I understood this pattern of thinking all too well.
The Empire's aristocracy moved according to lineage and political gain.
The mere appearance of the Gold VIP Card had instantly raised my standing in their eyes.
Truthfully, I could not care less. If anything, I found the rigid, pretence-laden atmosphere of high society stifling. Karina would likely have relished being in my position right now.
The female manager's manner shifted at once.
Her smile grew warmer, while her words carried an even greater degree of deference.
I held nothing against her for it; it was simply part of the protocol she was bound to uphold.
So long as she did nothing presumptuous now that she had seen the card, I had no reason to take issue with her.
This establishment was the second finest confectionery house in the capital. The first belonged to a shop reserved exclusively for the Imperial family, a place impossible to enter unless one held a noble title outright, rather than simply noble blood.
We placed a fairly substantial order.
The matter of cost was not something I needed to consider.
"One box each of Queen Cakes, glacé cherry confections, and Rose Petals. Please wrap them neatly in silk paper."
"Certainly, Miss. We shall have your order prepared as carefully as possible."
While we waited for the order to be readied, Dorothea, Amy, and I wandered the shop selecting other sweets.
The eyes quietly trailing our every step left a faint unease in their wake.
I turned to the little girl beside me.
"Dorothea, choose whatever sweets you like."
I gestured toward the glass display lined with cakes made from natural ingredients, quite unlike the previous three orders that had been dominated by refined sugar.
Dorothea fell silent for a moment, tapping her small chin with one finger before pointing to several cakes at once.
"This one... and that one... May I, Sister?" she asked, full of hope.
"Of course."
I granted her request without the slightest hesitation.
For as long as she remained in the capital, I wished to spoil her as much as I was able.
My attention shifted to Amy.
"Amy, you may also choose whatever you please. There is no need to hold back."
The young woman looked startled.
"But, Miss Charlotte... I..."
I cut her off calmly.
"I will not accept a refusal."
"Very well... I shall do as you wish."
"Good."
After some time, our shopping had at last come to an end.
The volume of items we had purchased was far too great to carry ourselves, and so several of the shop's attendants helped load it all into the carriage.
Thankfully, not a single item from my Aunt's request had been forgotten.
We made our way out without any real difficulty, paying no mind to the gazes that continued to follow us from behind.
But just as I was about to step into the carriage, a voice I least wished to hear brought my steps to a halt.
"We meet again, Miss Charlotte."
My body went rigid at once.
Fabian.
Dorothea looked at me, puzzled.
"What is it, Sister?"
I guided Dorothea toward the carriage door at once, directing her in first alongside Amy.
As the little girl still seemed hesitant, I cast a firm glance toward Amy.
The attendant understood my meaning instantly the moment she realised who stood behind us.
"I understand."
She took Dorothea's hand gently.
"Come, Miss. Let us wait for Miss Charlotte inside."
With no chance to voice any protest, Dorothea had no choice but to follow Amy into the cabin.
I exhaled a long breath, attempting to recover the composure that had just been disturbed.
This man...