Chapter 115: Their Respective Paths 4

Estelle Berthina Fernandez, ruling regent of Repsodis territory, awaited the unfolding of recent events she had set into motion with bated anticipation.

Inextricably tied to her domain’s unique geographical situation distinguishing it from the Holy Empire’s other regions.

As the sole imperial frontier directly bordering the Dragonian Empire, Repsodis had cultivated intimate relations with that enigmatic eastern realm since time immemorial.

Leveraging those longstanding connections, Estelle had recently dispatched a covert missive to Dragonia’s sovereign through her personal channels.

A profoundly seditious communique risking accusations of outright rebellion against the Holy Emperor himself under any other circumstances.

An audacity she would never have dared contemplate previously for both her and her brother’s sakes.

Yet with their current allegiance to the Heretical Alliance, Repsodis no longer felt beholden to Imperial oversight or potential retribution.

They had crossed the Rubicon alongside their confederates – their sole remaining imperative being survival against the Emperor’s inevitable wrathful onslaught through whatever means proved necessary.

Toward that end, strenuous efforts were already underway cultivating tighter pacts with Lorraine and Brittany through Friedrich’s influence within the Alliance inner circle.

However, Estelle judged such contingencies alone ultimately insufficient against their formidable adversary.

King Zim I of the insular Brittanian monarchy prioritized his nation’s self-interests above all else.

With Friedrich’s exile leaving the Alliance’s leadership in disarray, the cautious maritime ruler would likely avoid overly provocative escalations for now.

As for Lorraine, their long, bitter struggle for independence ensured they possessed ample motivation to commit wholeheartedly against the Holy Empire threatening their hard-won sovereignty.

Yet their comparatively limited resources meant their potential contributions could only achieve so much unaided.

Under such dire circumstances, the Heretical Alliance desperately required further reinforcements to offset the Empire’s overwhelming might.

And in Estelle’s calculated assessment, only one faction’s intervention could realistically alter the scales – the colossal military juggernaut that even the Holy Emperor dared not directly provoke:

The Dragonian Empire itself.

‘Though pagan heretics themselves, the Dragonians have ancestrally opposed the Holy Empire for generations. By the principle that my enemy’s foes make potent allies, they possess ample justification to unite with us against our mutual adversary.’

While ostensibly taking every measure within her grasp to fortify their alliance’s cohesion, Estelle’s motivations extended well beyond mere pragmatic considerations for Repsodis or the confederated cause at large.

Her infatuation with Santara – her nominal betrothed yet increasingly the Alliance’s de facto leader – had blossomed into profound, fervent romantic yearnings she could no longer suppress.

An ardent desire to transform their ceremonial bond into something far more tangible fueled her relentless scheming to both ingratiate herself while entrapping him within its inescapable obligations.

Beyond her own brother’s well-being, Estelle committed herself to any undertaking required to secure Santara’s enduring affections and cement their union as more than a mere political formality.

Thus she diligently charted this daring gambit dedicated to that singular purpose.

Which culminated in an unexpected boon far exceeding her most feverish hopes:

“What? Lord Santara, you say?”

“Indeed. An urgent matter has arisen requiring his personal consultation. He should be arriving directly to convene with you shortly.”

“I…Is that so? Whatever pressing issue could warrant such abrupt proceedings…?”

The surprising revelation of Santara’s impending arrival left Estelle’s heart fluttering with unbridled elation she could scarcely conceal.

After the protracted silence since their formal engagement, the chance to finally reunite with the object of her deepest infatuations alone suffused her being with tremulous rapture.

More importantly, should he inform her of the ploy she had so meticulously orchestrated, his gratitude would surely cement their bonds beyond any lingering doubts.

‘I had planned on explaining everything in due time, yet for him to seek me out so urgently… Could this be fate’s hand unveiling itself at last?’

Harboring such effusive expectations, Estelle readily assented to the meeting – promptly dedicating every effort toward presenting her most immaculate visage for their long-awaited rendezvous.

For a woman’s beauty constituted a potent weapon unto itself – one she honed with a warrior’s dedication before donning a studiedly demure mask of solemnity befitting her anticipated audience.

“Lord Santara Andreas, welcome. It has indeed been far too long since we last convened.”

“Almost a full year since our betrothal ceremony, if memory serves. My sincere apologies for this unforgivable lapse – I am gladdened we can finally reunite in person.”

Greeting my contracted bride with utmost propriety, I nonetheless registered Estelle’s fastidiously glamorous appearance compared to our previous encounters.

Yet once those perfunctory formalities concluded, I swiftly shifted our discourse toward the pressing crisis precipitating this audience – an unsubtle hint not lost upon my perspicacious host.

Sipping her wine with practiced grace, Estelle smoothly dovetailed into my urgency:

“Very well, I shall dispense with further preambles. Clearly some grave matter compelled you to seek me out directly without prior counsel. Pray enlighten me as to its nature.”

Her deft transition into substantive affairs garnered a modicum of respect as I instinctively surveyed our environs.

With only Polena and Estelle’s lone attendant present, we could converse with reasonable privacy for now.

Thus, I proceeded with prudent candor regarding my underlying suspicions:

“Before addressing that, I must first ascertain something from you.”

“Oh? And what would you need confirmed, exactly?”

Her faintly bewildered tone left me torn between judging her utterly ignorant or maintaining a deceptive facade regarding recent events.

Certainly, the chain of circumstantial signs pointed toward potential culpability.

Yet I could hardly condemn her outright based on mere conjecture – necessitating blunter probing to unravel the truth with certainty.

“It concerns my sister, Queen Andreas. Tell me – do you possess any information about her present situation?”

“Lady Queen? Has some misfortune befallen her…?”

Though her furrowed brow conveyed seeming bafflement, I refused to abandon my lingering circumspection – pressing forward with grim elucidation:

“The unvarnished truth? Queen was abducted only recently under highly suspect circumstances.”

“What…?!”

Estelle’s naked astonishment appeared patently genuine as her dumbstruck features betrayed no hint of duplicity, prompting me to recount the harrowing ordeal in full:

The witching hour assault upon our castle by soul-manipulating sorceresses powerful enough to subdue even my formidable elder sister in their vile necromantic rites.

Ultimately, the nature of those forbidden magics itself implicated potential Dragonian Empire involvement behind this egregious violation.

“Of course, these remain merely circumstantial deductions at present – nothing conclusive. The possibility, however remote, exists that the Holy Emperor himself orchestrated this outrage through indirect means as well.”

I concluded by leaving that equivocating caveat as I scrutinized Estelle’s reaction with hawkish intensity.

Her evident discomfort and visible trepidation bespoke a woman acutely afflicted by inner turmoil – a sight I grimly awaited her to either explain or confirm my worst suspicions.

Until finally, visibly perspiring, she offered a stammering disclaimer:

“I…implore you not to mistake my words. Please, hear me out first…”