Epilogue
The clamor outside could be heard through the open window.
Cosimo knew it was the sound of the city under renovation. Mealtars had suffered significant property damage from the battle. But the merchants saw it as an opportunity, busy gathering construction materials instead of lamenting the state of affairs. It wouldn’t take long for the city to get back on its feet, better than ever.
“This must embody the indomitable spirit of merchants,” someone commented, sitting beside him.
It was Lowellmina, who turned her ear toward the noise outside.
“I doubt the people of Mealtars will ever lose sight of that.” Cosimo offered a smile before bowing his head. “I apologize for causing you trouble throughout this matter, Princess Lowellmina. With the summit cut short, I am more aware of my own inadequacy than ever.”
“Don’t be so critical of yourself. You could have never anticipated this turn of events.” Lowellmina smiled. “Besides, Mealtars has sided with my faction.”
This recent uproar was starting to make people think that it was time to review the powers that Mealtars had been granted. They imagined a later discussion would settle the level of Imperial interference allowed in the territory. But they knew they wouldn’t be able to buy their freedom as they had in the past.
Following Demetrio the Mastermind, Bardloche and Manfred kept their distance from the city that they had once surrounded and attacked. Therefore, they could only look to Lowellmina for protection.
She continued. “Though that’s just the official stance. I know the people have their hearts elsewhere. But this is enough for me.”
She was right. The citizens weren’t obsessed with her. When they closed their eyes, they saw the small back of a younger girl.
“…This has made me realize something: A king is not measured by strength alone.”
Cosimo said slowly, “All across the continent, there have been sparks of ingenuity—starting with the Imperial princes, Prince Wein to the north, and those in higher positions of Levetia in the West… I’ve also heard there is someone in the South who has been rising to power.”
His voice was coated in emotion. “Future generations might one day recall this upheaval gave rise to a single great king—”
“Geez… That was rough.”
In the same office as always, Wein splayed across his desk upon safely returning home.
“Good work. This was a hard one.”
Ninym would normally admonish him to get his act together.
But since collapsing from overwork, he was getting treated with more tolerance.
“No kidding. I’d figured I’d play nice with the princes, but I could have never guessed what happened…”
His head was the only thing that turned toward Ninym.
“Come to think of it, where’s our hero of the hour—Falanya?”
“Completely burned out. I imagine she’ll be that way for a while.”
Falanya also wouldn’t have guessed this turn of events for other reasons. Who could have ever imagined that the sheltered princess of a tiny nation would speak in front of over three thousand citizens on her very first diplomatic mission? Not to mention marching at the forefront of thirty thousand people?
Every cell in her body was exhausted, now that she knew her work was complete.
Wein thought it was better to leave her be until she recovered.
“Let’s go over what we got out of this: Princess Falanya is more independent. We got to meet with the princes. Mealtars owes us a favor. Am I missing anything?” Ninym asked.
When the Natra delegation prepared to head home, Cosimo came to see them off, bowing to Wein deeply.
“I shall never forget everything that you have done for our city. A merchant always balances the scales. We will repay you for your kindness.”
He had expressed a sentiment shared by many citizens. If there ever came a day, there was no doubt each and every one would rush to aid Natra.
“Except Mealtars is an Imperial territory, far away. We have no idea if we will ever have the chance to take them up on it,” she amended.
Wein laughed when Ninym shrugged.
“Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it… Oh, we gained something else of a more personal nature,” he told her.
“What might that be?”
“Gruyere. The Holy Elite.” Wein looked pleased as he raised his face. “We didn’t have much time together, but you could actually have a discussion with the guy—not like Caldmellia. No harm in having him on our side to create ties with the West.”
“I have no objections to increasing our number of allies, but…don’t forget he’s a Holy Elite.”
“It’ll be fine. I can’t be careless, but he’s in his right mind. It’s not like he has no common sense. You’ll see—once we exchange some envoys.” Wein stood by his statement.
Ninym tilted her head and wondered if things were really all right.
“You start to seek stranger things for amusement once you really set your heart on entertaining yourself,” Gruyere said as he sat surrounded by plates of food in his palace. “Eating is just a dull task. It’s not for fun. My favorite pastime is battle.”
He gulped down the chunk of mutton in his hand, bones and all. The vassals around him weren’t disturbed at this bizarre sight.
“This incident confirmed that prince is a rare beast—the only one of its kind.”
“Your Majesty, that’s…”
“Yes. He’s a better toy than that old witch.” His eyes burned with excitement.
“Just you wait, Prince Wein. I’ll sell my soul if it means eating you up—”
When one story ended, another began.
Another shadow of chaos had begun to loom over Wein.
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