I had arranged a formal meeting with the young boy for the following morning, finding a time that would work within my schedule. He thanked me profusely and with obvious relief for being willing to hear him out, then quickly scurried away like a nervous rabbit before I could change my mind.
The entire interaction was genuinely odd and unexpected. Never in my life had I thought that particular boy would develop such courage to actually propose a private meeting with me. He had always seemed so terrified, so eager to avoid my presence. Life sure was full of surprising developments and unexpected changes in people.
Now onto my next self-assigned mission: feeding my stubborn husband who apparently thought skipping meals was acceptable. As I grew nearer to the quarters where Arvid had been working, following the directions a helpful soldier had provided, the heavy door suddenly opened and higher-ranking military officers began pouring out in a steady stream. They were finally done with their marathon strategy session, it seemed.
Once they noticed my presence, they greeted me with genuine enthusiasm and warmth. These were all men I had personally gotten to know by name and hometown during our travels—soldiers who had journeyed with us through the desert and fought beside us. I made a point of greeting each one of them individually, acknowledging their service.
We engaged in brief small talk as they filed past, and I quickly realized they were all just like me—deeply worried about Arvid's wellbeing and his tendency to neglect his own health when focused on solving problems.
"His Majesty worries far too much about everything," Karum, one of the deputy generals, commented with a mixture of affection and exasperation. "Rightfully so, of course—the concerns are legitimate. Yet His Majesty really should take better care of himself. I'm just glad that Your Majesty is here now to properly take care of him."
He added the last part with obvious relief, as if my presence solved a problem they'd all been concerned about.
General Rohan was the very last person to finally leave the conference room. He greeted me just as respectfully as everyone else had, bowing deeply despite his advanced age and high rank.
"I'm so glad you're here, Your Majesty," he said with obvious gratitude practically dancing in his tired eyes. "His Majesty stubbornly refused last night's meal entirely, claiming he had no appetite whatsoever. He only ate breakfast this morning, and even then he consumed so little it barely counted as a meal—just a few bites. Then he sent back his lunch completely untouched. Please, Your Majesty, I beg of you—make His Majesty eat something substantial and convince him to take some proper rest. I'm genuinely worried about his health."
Concern was clearly lacing the old general's weathered voice as he made his plea.
I had thought this before in passing, but just now my earlier impression was completely confirmed beyond any doubt: General Rohan treated Arvid exactly like he would treat a beloved grandson, not merely as his emperor and commanding officer.
Back when I had first observed their interactions, I had thought the familiarity was somewhat odd but hadn't given it much deeper consideration. But yesterday at the elaborate wedding celebration ceremony banquet, I had learned something that explained everything. Apparently, General Rohan actually possessed Imperial blood himself—he wasn't just a common soldier who had risen through the ranks. He was technically a lesser Imperial family member, positioned near the very bottom of the complex succession line and with virtually no realistic claim to power. Nevertheless, he held the technical rank of Imperial Prince by birth.
He had three grown sons and one daughter of his own, each now with their own families and children. One of his sons had followed his father into military service and currently served as the Turga regional army general, commanding and leading sixty thousand soldiers who protected the vulnerable shore regions from pirates and foreign invasion. That son and his family had long ago permanently situated themselves in Turga, making their home there. General Rohan was the only member of his immediate family who remained here in the capital, separated from them by duty.
My private thoughts about Imperial family members in general were honestly much harsher and more cynical than I let others know or would ever express publicly. In my observation, they were mostly a lazy, entitled bunch—idling around the capital doing nothing productive, shamelessly enjoying all the privileges and benefits that came automatically with having the right blood running through their veins, and freely spending the common people's hard-earned tax money to fund their lavish, excessive lifestyles.
That negative general impression was a major reason why I respected General Rohan so very much more than most other Imperials. Though he absolutely could have chosen to lead an easy, comfortable life of leisure—his birth gave him that option—he had instead deliberately chosen to give back to his nation by picking up the sword and serving in the military. He had dedicated his entire life to protecting Selon. And he had even given his own son to the army as well, raising him in that tradition of service.
That choice might have been partly driven by the traditional noble obligation that was etched into his very bones from birth. Whatever the true case and motivation was, I could easily understand why he was so universally highly respected by soldiers and civilians alike. He had earned that respect through decades of selfless service.
"Yes, I will," I said to him with sincere reassurance, offering a warm smile meant to ease his worry. "I'll scold him properly and make him eat and rest, I promise you."
I added the last part playfully, trying to lighten the mood slightly.
After they had all bowed respectfully one final time and departed, finally leaving me alone, I walked purposefully toward the conference room where Arvid remained.
The entrance consisted of impressive double doors made of dark brown wood with distinct reddish tones running through the grain. There were elaborate intricate patterns carved into the edges of the wood, decorative work that must have taken a master craftsman considerable time. I let my eyes gloss over and appreciate those fine details for a moment, then raised my hand and knocked firmly on the door.
"Come in," a noticeably weak and tired voice answered from within.
I opened the heavy door with a careful, gentle push, deliberately trying not to make too much disruptive noise that might jar his exhausted nerves.
The conference room itself was impressively large, just as the substantial dual wooden doors had suggested it would be. The space stretched out widely, featuring plenty of tall windows set into one entire wall to provide natural light, although notably none of those windows were currently open to allow air circulation.
Except for the wall dominated by windows, each and every other wall was lined floor to ceiling with substantial cupboards and cabinets made from quality wood. These storage units were clearly designed to be securely locked to keep sensitive military documents and maps safe from unauthorized access or theft.
There was a huge, detailed map depicting the entire Arpa Empire and its territories prominently displayed on one wall, professionally framed for both protection and presentation. And dominating the center of the room was a massive conference table surrounded by numerous chairs—at least twenty seats. The table's imposing presence seemed to swallow and consume the rest of the available space with its sheer size.
The entire room smelled distinctly of old paper and aged wood—that particular combination of scents you would typically find in a well-established library or archive, speaking of years of accumulated documents and records.
I took the trays of food from my patiently waiting maids' hands and dismissed them with a grateful nod, wanting privacy for this conversation. Then I walked quietly and carefully toward the solitary man who sat slumped at the head of the enormous table. He currently had his head buried in his palms in an obvious posture of exhaustion and stress.
"Tired?" I asked softly as I finally reached him, setting the food trays down on the table without making any unnecessary sound.
He looked up quickly when he heard my voice, clearly not having heard me enter. When his weary eyes met mine, they immediately softened with affection and began to glisten with barely restrained emotion.
"I... I missed you so much," he said quietly, his voice rough. His eyes never left me, drinking in my presence. "I know you did," I replied gently, reaching my hand out to softly caress the side of his face with tender care.
He immediately leaned into my touch like an affection-starved kitten desperately seeking pets and comfort, closing his eyes briefly.
"I had the kitchen prepare some light vegetable soup for you, along with fresh flat rotties that are easy to digest," I explained as I began opening the metal covers that were keeping the earthenware pots warm. "And I brought some fragrant flower tea that should help you relax."
He visibly grimaced at the sight of the food, his face contorting as if the very thought of eating was physically repulsive to him in his current state.
"I was genuinely worried when I heard from General Rohan that you had your lunch sent back completely untouched," I told him with obvious concern coloring my voice. "My husband decided to deliberately starve himself right after we just got married. Perhaps he doesn't actually like me after all."
I added that last observation with a deliberate hint of teasing playfulness, trying to draw him out of his dark mood.
"That's not true at all," he protested immediately and with feeling. Then he looked down at the steaming food with visible internal conflict, various thoughts clearly swirling in his troubled mind.
"I just... I felt like I wasn't worthy of food or comfort," he finally admitted, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "I failed to keep my soldiers safe when that mattered most. When they needed me to have proper defenses in place. That knowledge has been gnawing at me constantly, eating away at my conscience."
He let out a heavy, defeated sigh that seemed to come from his very soul.
"My cousin deliberately made this entire place an absolute mess after I was away," he continued, frustration and anger creeping into his exhausted voice. "He systematically ruined all the careful defense routines and protocols I had painstakingly set in place, turning the system inside out for whatever selfish reasons motivated him. He promoted completely wrong people to critical positions based on loyalty to him rather than competence, and he—"
I had to interrupt his spiraling litany of problems and self-recrimination.
"You'll get everything back in proper working order," I said firmly but gently, squeezing his shoulder. "You have plenty of capable help and support. And you absolutely don't have to shoulder all this responsibility alone—that's not how this works. Please don't worry quite so much. You'll make yourself sick."
I moved to stand behind him and began massaging his obviously tense shoulders, feeling the knots of stress under my hands.
"Please eat something, Arvid," I said more softly. "I'm genuinely worried about you and your health."
After I made that simple, heartfelt plea, he finally nodded in reluctant acceptance. He reached out and picked up one of the flat rotties, breaking off a piece. He dipped it carefully into the hot soup, then brought the soaked bread to his mouth and began eating slowly, mechanically.
Satisfied that he was finally consuming food, I left my position behind him and moved toward the wall of closed windows behind where he sat. I pulled the heavy curtains to the sides, letting the warm early evening sun rays stream inside and illuminate the dim room. Then I opened the windows one by one, allowing fresh air to finally circulate.
Beyond the now-open windows, there was a beautiful large ornamental pond visible. In that peaceful water, various colorful lotus flowers bloomed in shades of pink, white, and yellow. Vibrant fish swam lazily around among the lotus stems, their scales catching the light.
The gentle evening wind immediately brought the pleasant smell of the flowers inside the stuffy room. The soft, natural fragrance tickled my nose pleasantly.
"How do you know about those magical crystals?" Arvid asked suddenly from behind me, his voice carrying genuine curiosity mixed with concern. "You identified them immediately. We wouldn't even recognize what they were."
I turned around slowly and walked back toward him, preparing myself mentally.
This was clearly going to be a very long, complicated conversation that required careful explanation.