The First Snow and the Missing Jewel
The insurance I held was woefully inadequate compared to what Henrik possessed. A ring imbued with the Black Dragon's magic was not enough. That was, after all, a magic I had never known of, never experienced for myself.
And relying on someone other than Henrik? That, too, seemed like a foolish notion.
I knew the truth. Only I could protect myself. My approach to Henrik, whom I barely knew, had itself been the result of my own magic.
At the very least, the mirror my mother had left me would never feed me false information. That much faith was unshakable.
Still, I believed I was judging Henrik correctly, based on his conduct so far.
He honored his bargains, possessed a common understanding of a spouse's obligations, and did not swing his sword about out of self-satisfied arrogance.
His fearsome reputation on the battlefield might well have sprung from a cold and cruel temperament, but that was something I had no way of knowing now. Nor was it what mattered at the moment.
"Your Highness. What I proposed to you at the beginning has not changed."
"I know, my lady. Let us rest for now. You've worked hard today. I find myself curious how they will conduct themselves tomorrow."
"As am I."
Henrik gave me a small, easy nod, then remained in his seat without stirring, continuing to read through his documents. Watching him for a while, I climbed into bed and lay down.
The Francia delegation would remain in this country through the following day, scheduled to meet with other members of the royal family. I weighed two matters in my mind.
First — if the Francia delegation, under the pretext of peace, let slip before Leszyca or Warsza any information about forming ties with another northern nation, there would be a fair amount of intelligence for me to gather secondhand.
Second — Herson, the delegation's head, and the son of the Sun God would, upon returning to their homeland, carry back all manner of reports. The fact that I was eating and living exceedingly well, for instance, or the subtle current flowing between Henrik and Prince Leszyca.
And if Antoni and Selena heard such things, how would they react?
I truly wanted to know.
"My lady, look outside. The first snow is falling."
As I sat at my vanity, Poznan spoke to me in her calm voice. I lifted my gaze to the scenery framed in the pristine window, reflected in the mirror before me.
"How beautiful."
I did not say it idly. It reminded me of when I had first arrived here. In those days, the palace grounds had been ablaze with autumn foliage.
From the wedding anniversary banquet to the delegation's visit — so much time had flown by as I adjusted to this place in one way and another, that the season of snow had already come.
Beyond the window, the world was steeped in quiet white and black. The aged black ramparts and the softly drifting snow lent the scene an elegance and stillness that needed no lavish ornament.
Without warning, I recalled the lonely seasons I had endured in Francia. Back then, confined to that small, shabby room, even enjoying a view like this had been a luxury.
"Your complexion has brightened considerably as well, my lady."
Poznan went on in her even tone, without so much as a trace of flattery.
"At the next banquet, I'm sure even better things will be said of you."
I surveyed my reflection in the mirror with a detached eye.
Whether it was thanks to Poznan, who looked after me attentively without ever claiming credit, or simply because the food here suited my palate and I had been eating well, I had certainly put on a little weight.
The impression that my face was pale, or that my wrists and legs were gaunt, no longer struck me. My hair, once dry and coarse, had taken on a fair sheen as well.
"Then, Poznan — would visiting the temple be helpful as well?"
There had to be more ways to build my reputation here than simply attending banquets as the prince's consort. Showing my face in other settings would surely work in my favor.
It happened that I had business of my own there as well. Poznan had said my appearance had improved, so I asked whether a visit to the temple might also raise my standing.
"Of course. Serving the temple is the one duty the royal house of Bwendowska has valued above all else for generations. The priests of Bwendia hold the same conviction. As it happens, the temple is holding an event soon. Since the royal family is hosting it, you would be expected to attend, my lady."
I nodded. I intended to learn as much as I could before that event. I had picked up a few scraps of information about the religion here, but no study was as effective as asking someone who actually lived here.
"If the royal family prizes it so highly, does that mean the temple holds considerable political power?"
"More than that, it's the sincerity and faithfulness of one's devotion to Bwendia that matters. The priests all stand on equal footing. They serve mainly those with no ties to the royal house or the great noble families."
When I let out a curious hum of thought, Poznan promptly fetched a newspaper and handed it to me.
"My lady, this will make it all the clearer."
Since becoming my personal maid, Poznan had diligently brought me the paper and the key tidings of high society every morning. I took the newspaper naturally and scanned the front page at once.
It carried a report that Prince Leszyca had recently donated a vast sum of gold and provisions to the temple, along with an illustration depicting him.
Beneath it was printed a priest's remark that, thanks to the offering, the hungry commoners could be relieved without shortfall through this bitter season — and how glad that made them.
"That much I understand. Similar stories used to circulate in Francia."
"Yes, and here all the more so. Though the Temple of Bwendia never outright endorses political rumors or openly champions anyone. Still, no one can deny that the temple is of use to power."
True — those in power could hardly afford to neglect the image they cast before their people. The methods of succession might differ from nation to nation, but that much never changed.
No matter how mighty a ruler was, he could not disregard public sentiment or his country's religion. And this kingdom held the myth of the Black Dragon Bwendia in the highest regard, which made it all the truer here.
Henrik had said that since returning from the battlefield, he was focused on consolidating his foundations here. I wondered what he would make of this newspaper, with Prince Leszyca splashed so boldly across it.
Perhaps he intended something at the coming temple event. Making a donation equal to Leszyca's would be one way to do it.
My curiosity was answered soon enough.
That evening, dinner with Henrik was terribly quiet.
It was never a table crowded with many guests to begin with, but this time it was only Henrik and me, along with Sir Krakow and Poznan. The moment I stepped into the dining hall, where a heavy silence had settled, something stirred in my instincts.
"Do you have something to say, Your Highness?"
When I ventured the question midway through a tidy salad, Henrik set his silverware down with deliberate grace.
"A jewel my sister cherishes has gone missing. The royal house employs no small number of servants — tell me, what would you do?"
His voice and expression were as composed as ever. As though nothing at all had happened.
I did not ask how important — or how delicate — the matter he had raised might be.
Instead, I read into why he would dismiss every other servant from questioning and put the question to me alone. Testing me again, no doubt.
"If we speak only of those who could enter that chamber, then it would be Princess Warsza's servants and maids and no others, Your Highness. May I ask why you have not simply interrogated them all?"
As far as I knew, the lash wielded by the powerful was the most efficient tool for driving subordinates.
I had never seen Henrik or Warsza treat their servants so, but masters the world over did such things behind closed doors. Everything I had endured said as much.
"If many servants came and went, it would take some time, I grant."
"These are people my sister chose herself."
I gave a slight nod. So that was why Henrik had refrained from interfering too deeply with Warsza's household until now.
Having rapidly organized my thoughts, I answered with proper deference.
"Your Highness, I will propose two courses of action."