A Provisional Victory

“Have you clarified things?” Watching Antolia slowly walk away from the windowsill, Rhys approached her. Anto tilted her head, offering a faint, knowing smile.

“Perhaps it’s a provisional victory,” she mused. “There’s no such thing as ‘succeeding’ or ‘failing’ in discussions like these. We can only thoroughly explain our current situation to the King; the rest… that’s not for us to decide.”

“…Your explanation was certainly well-reasoned and eloquent,” Bishop Rhys remarked. Sister Anto, meanwhile, took a wine glass from a nearby attendant.

“A sigh escaped her lips. “Just let me compose myself for a moment.” Rhys was about to interject, but Anto spoke softly, and it was then that he noticed her hand trembling ever so slightly.

“The sheer pressure… of a true monarch,” the Sister murmured slowly, before taking a sip from the stemmed glass. She then drew a deep breath, schooling her features into composure.

Indeed, despite her outward calm, when confronted by him—the seasoned King of Draynes, with his leonine majesty—Anto, for all her composure, was still merely a thirteen or fourteen-year-old child from a remote border village. While she could project an air of maturity, she was not devoid of the fear that any child would possess.

“Such is the nature of nobility; the true sovereign who commands a nation,” Rhys observed from his side. “Do not be overly afraid; you performed admirably. At least with me, he seemed perpetually on the verge of devouring me—quite literally.”

“…Heh,” Anto suddenly let out a soft laugh. The golden-haired Sister looked at Rhys and then spoke.

“So, he was merciful to me, then?”

“After all, he understands you are but a child,” Rhys replied. “I had hoped he might show a touch of compassion because of it, and not reveal that particular side of himself… But he is, after all, the King of Draynes. This nation once faced utter devastation in war, with human powers at one point ready to abandon the kingdom entirely. Yet, he chose to remain, confronting the most formidable enemies, prioritizing his land and his people. The harsh environment of this border kingdom has forged the most resolute and courageous souls. It is because of individuals like him that we did not fall in that war.”

“…Therefore, he will make the right choice, and he will compromise,” Antolia stated abruptly. Rhys watched her, noting the composed smile that graced the young Sister’s face.

“He cares about the King’s majesty, the King’s authority… but he also loves this land and cares deeply for his subjects. A king’s dignity is never found in empty posturing or mere commands. It stems from the affection his people hold for him and their loyalty to the kingdom. He understands this. He would never make a decision that puts the cart before the horse.” At that very moment, before Rhys could even consider how to praise Anto’s wisdom, Pierre approached from the other side, looking utterly incredulous.

“What… what exactly did you do? Wow, damn it, you actually pulled it off.”

“Pulled off what?” Rhys feigned an expression of complete ignorance. Pierre glared at him fiercely. “Keep pretending, and I’ll confiscate your supplies right here and now! The King actually relented… truly relented… it’s unbelievable. Sister, this is a miracle. Oh, by the way, it’s a bit presumptuous of me not to have introduced myself yet… I am Pierre Cardin, a humble government official at this nation’s city hall. Just call me Pierre. Bishop Rhys and I have been old friends for many years. If anything ever comes up, feel free to mention it to me at city hall; I might be able to lend a hand.”

“A humble government official at city hall? That’s far too modest, almost disingenuous, Your Excellency the Foreign Minister,” Rhys chuckled, remarking. “He is Draynes’s Minister of Foreign Affairs. As you know, within the official hierarchy, all ministers are ostensibly of the same rank, but the Foreign Minister’s duties, his position, capabilities, and influence are the most significant. The Foreign Minister.”

“It’s simply because our small kingdom doesn’t yet require a Prime Minister to share the King’s burdens,” Pierre said with a smile.

“So, Sister Antolia, I can only conclude that you moved my King with your personal charm. This suggests you truly might be an angel sent from heaven for him, as Rhys suggested. The King has agreed to open up supplies for you, and the monastery can resume its operations. In return, you will be responsible for what was previously discussed: welfare homes for the common residents and aid teams for monks and nuns in the border regions. Of course, don’t even think about making exorbitant demands; every proposal will require the kingdom’s financial approval. However… reasonable requests always find a way through.”

“And aren’t we often able to arrive at what’s considered ‘reasonable’ through discussion?” Rhys asked, raising his cup. Pierre looked at him, shaking his head with a wry smile. “It’s only in matters like these that you reveal the ugly truth beneath your pious facade. Now, enjoy your moment of triumph. The border crisis is far from over… your church truly needs to become operational quickly.”

“It will always be possible. As long as the diocese can function, the Holy Light wielders—Sisters, Fathers, and Priests—who can be contacted will always be gathered,” Rhys affirmed. “Our responsibilities are about to multiply.”

“And also, Miss Antolia,” Pierre said, addressing the young woman before him, then looking to the side. “Your presence has truly graced this entire gathering. In the future, many nobles and royals will undoubtedly extend numerous invitations to you. When that time comes, remember to discern carefully and avoid stepping into unnecessary predicaments. The kingdom’s social circles are not always purely benevolent; sometimes they can be… well, perhaps it’s useless to say all this now. Those with ulterior motives will always find a way. For now, let’s focus on what’s important, Miss Antolia: this is a social ball. The banquet has just concluded, and the King will soon commence the dancing. Have you already chosen an excellent partner for your first dance?”

“Ah, about that…” Anto looked towards Rhys, who was also momentarily taken aback. “There’s this part too? My apologies, I seem to have overlooked it.”

“Of course there is,” Pierre stated matter-of-factly. “It’s just that Rhys’s dancing is so dreadful that he’s never allowed anyone to dance a single tune with him. Today, Rhys, you can simply sit on the sidelines and observe. But Miss Anto, look over there; many people are already eager to extend an invitation to you.”

“But…” Anto immediately responded, “I’m not very good at social dancing either.”

“That’s not an issue,” Pierre assured her. “For them, your inability to dance is far more appealing than if you were skilled.” As he spoke, he quickly turned and pointed to someone in the crowd. “On a side note, that young man in the center is my foolish son. If you find choosing a partner too troublesome, you might consider him. Rest assured, my son…”

“You’ve gone too far, Pierre,” Rhys interjected directly. “Do not force her into such a situation, and certainly don’t try to pull strings in matters like this! You old scoundrel.”