Goldwoodser's Captivating Secret
Exactly seven days before the Goldwoodser Empire's social season was set to begin—a Wednesday morning.
The imperial palace, no, the entire capital was buzzing from dawn with preparations to welcome the nobles flooding in next week.
Gorgeous red carpets had been freshly laid in every corridor, and servants dashed about nonstop, polishing silverware and replacing the magic crystals in the banquet hall chandeliers.
I walked the colonnade with Amber, taking in the hectic scene.
“Sir White, with people coming from across the Empire, won't the palace run out of room? Are there special qualifications for attending the social season?”
“The imperial social season is pretty open, basically. Anyone with a noble title, their families, or commoners who've earned the right—usually through merit—can attend.”
Amber answered indifferently, deftly dodging servants hauling massive potted plants.
“On the day itself, the whole palace opens up, with banquets in the gardens and outdoors too.”
“Oh...”
“But the ones you're asking about—the ones rigorously vetted—gather in the main hall inside the palace building.”
“So there's a list?”
“There is. The palace staff draws it up meticulously first. Anyone who's fallen out of favor, has bad conduct, or a poor reputation gets cut without mercy. Once it's made, His Majesty the Emperor and the Crown Prince review it, give final approval, and it's set.”
“So even a powerful noble might end up wandering outside if they don't make the cut?”
“They pop up every few years. It's a strong warning.”
Amber grinned and mimed slitting her throat.
“Two possibilities: either their loyalty to the imperial family is in doubt, or they've seriously messed up in behavior, conduct, or actions and pissed someone off big time.”
“...The palace social scene is no joke, huh.”
“What about in the Sterling Kingdom?”
“Ours just let in any noble. As you know, it was a tiny kingdom.”
Come to think of it, this would be my first proper social season too.
The thought of making my debut as a debutante(?) made my head throb a bit.
But for today, I pushed aside those headache-inducing social worries.
Every Wednesday without fail was the day I met the ruler of this vast empire—the Emperor.
I'm starting to feel like I could find my way here on my own now.
Guided by an inner attendant as always, I entered the palace greenhouse.
Normally, the Emperor would be seated at the central round tea table, sipping tea as he greeted me. But today, instead of sitting and brewing tea, he stood before the plants, pruning bushes here and there with large gardening shears—and even humming a light tune.
I bowed politely behind the Emperor as he tended to the greenery.
“Your Majesty, it is Ian Sterling.”
“Ah, Ian. Come in, come in.”
As I approached and bowed deeply, the Emperor paused his clipping, brushed off the wilted leaves with practiced ease, and smiled warmly.
“I'd been growing mostly roses for a while to enjoy their scent, but even a good smell gets old if you overdo it. So I'm taking this chance to bring in some new plants and redo the greenhouse's overall aesthetic and vibe.”
“The flowers look even more vibrant with Your Majesty's personal touch.”
“Haha, music to my ears. Anyway, trimming like this left a little space over here. Room for a small flowering tree... Do you like flowers, by any chance?”
At the Emperor's sudden question, I rubbed my chin thoughtfully for a moment, then smiled faintly.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I have exactly two favorites.”
“Oh? Two, eh. What's the first?”
“Goldwoodser.”
“Goldwoodser, hmm.”
The Emperor raised one eyebrow with interest.
“The tree that blooms tangerine flowers in autumn. Grows only in your southern homeland, right?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Hmm. Why do you like it?”
“Do you know any other names for goldwoodser?”
“Hmm, is there another?”
“It's also called myriad-mile fragrance. Named for how its sweet scent travels a myriad miles.”
“Ho ho. Hold on—ri? What's a ri?”
“It's... an old unit. Roughly 400 meters in modern terms. Not used much anymore.”
“Good thing. If the southern regions used another unit, that Maximilian fellow would be tearing his hair out.”
I continued as the Emperor chuckled to himself at his own joke.
“...I like it not just for the lovely scent and its modest size that feels comforting, but because I want to be someone who spreads a fragrant influence like its myriad-mile fragrance. And more than anything, I often think I'd like to live by its flower language.”
The flower language of goldwoodser is humility.
Even though the imperial family showered me with excessive favor and attention beyond my station, this was my way of saying I'd never forget my place and would stay prostrate.
“Hmm.”
The Emperor set down his shears and gazed at me intently.
A deep light flickered in his purple eyes.
Soon, he nodded deeply, looking pleased.
“...I see. Very well said. Your intent comes through crystal clear.”
It landed.
I let out a quiet sigh of relief. The Emperor smiled again and asked,
“Then, what's your second favorite?”
“Salvia, Your Majesty.”
“Salvia, huh—the vibrant red one. Why that? Do you want a burning love like its flower language?”
“W-Well... it's a bit embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing how?”
“You see, if you pluck a salvia and lightly suck the end, it tastes like honey. That's why I like it.”
“...?”
The Emperor stared at me in bewilderment, then burst into laughter moments later.
It was the freshest, most hearty laugh I'd heard from him since we met.
“Hahaha! Not some profound reason—just because sucking it gives you honey?! You serious?!”
“How could I lie to Your Majesty?”
“Hahaha, right, right... Fair enough.”
Thoroughly delighted, the Emperor finished pruning with good cheer and returned to the central table.
We sat across from each other, sharing fragrant tea in an atmosphere far warmer than usual.
After some light chit-chat about the upcoming social season, I left the greenhouse with deeply satisfied steps.
After Ian left the greenhouse first, a short while later.
“Let's go, my lord.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
As the Emperor donned his outer robe and stepped out, his chief aide, waiting like a shadow by the door, fell in behind.
After a leisurely stroll down the corridor, unable to wipe the smirk from his face, the Emperor tossed a casual question to the aide.
“Hey. Want to hear a hilarious story about that Ian who just left?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Command me.”
“He named goldwoodser as his favorite plant.”
“Goldwoodser, my lord?”
“Yeah. But do you know what its flower language is, the one he mentioned?”
“Forgive me, but I know little of plants.”
At the aide's reply, the Emperor burst out laughing again, unable to hold back.
“To captivate your heart.”
“...Pardon?”
“That's goldwoodser's flower language. He said he wants to live fragrantly like it, enchanting everyone he meets. How could I not laugh? And he's not just saying it—he's actually doing it.”
The Emperor patted his aide's shoulder cheerfully as they walked.
“My kids all have that same temperament, don't they?”
“Temperament? It's the imperial bloodline. The Arzenheim flames course through their veins—it's only natural.”
“True enough. But they're all prickly and demanding. Then this kid shows up and has them all enchanted. My two sons, two daughters—male, female, doesn't matter, they're all close to him. Isn't it amazing?”
“...At that point, isn't Prince Ian basically a sycophant?”
“If he crossed lines here and started demanding things, sure. But he's sharp. He knows exactly where the boundaries are. He accepts the favor and responds in kind, but never oversteps first. That's why I approved when Max wanted to bring him in and put him to work.”
“Your Majesty seems quite taken with him.”
“Taken? Absolutely. I think he'll stick around a while. Don't want to send him back.”
The Emperor chatted happily about Ian all the way to his office.
Once the Emperor was out of sight, the aide who had escorted him adjusted his monocle with a subtle hand.
“...Ian Sterling.”
A fox of a man, captivating the entire imperial family.
Thinking he needed to dig deeper into this guy, Imperial Chief Aide Count Gray smiled chillingly.