Chapter 119: Their Respective Paths 8

Regarding the Empress’s unforeseen invitation, the emissary elaborated further for Estelle’s benefit:

“In the coming days, a grand celebration shall take place within Dragonia’s ancient capital Sofia – a fête commemorating the nuptials of His Highness Prince Catan, grandson to Her Sublime Majesty herself. If amenable, the Empress has requested your esteemed presence there as an extension of our longstanding bilateral relations.”

“Her…Her Majesty wishes to receive me personally…?”

Estelle could scarcely process Rozveta’s desire to convene face-to-face, taken utterly aback by the audacious overture.

Certainly, the risks of traveling into Dragonia’s heartlands as a foreign sovereign could not be dismissed out of hand no matter their tentative partnership.

Unforeseen perils like ambushes or even potential imprisonment remained distressing possibilities.

And yet, Estelle found compelling counterpoints assuaging her trepidation over the imperial summons.

‘While not entirely inconceivable, such duplicity would undermine any conceivable benefits for them…’

Though lacking any formalized treaty, Repsodis and Dragonia had cultivated cordial diplomatic ties over successive generations – their mercantile and cultural interchanges accepted practice rather than clandestine subterfuge.

Indeed, Repsodian ambassadors had often attended Dragonian celebratory functions as a matter of customary international protocol.

Distinct from their newly-contracted military alliance, Estelle’s presence at such a high-profile ceremonial event would scarcely raise undue scrutiny from prying outside eyes.

In some respects, her conspicuous absence could potentially prove the greater affront and source of unwanted speculation.

Moreover, should Dragonia harbored any nefarious intentions to undermine their accords through treachery against her person, such wanton violations of sacred guest rites would inflict catastrophic reputational ruination upon themselves.

For even in these war-torn times, upholding the sacrosanct tenets of international propriety and honor remained vital metrics by which nations were ultimately judged – regardless of temporal military supremacy.

Queen Andreas’s suspected abduction already skirted perilously close to such unforgivable transgressions, regardless of whoever proved truly culpable for that outrage.

Yet overtly luring and then betraying Estelle as an officially-received diplomatic visitor constituted an existential line too far – one Rozveta could never conceivably cross without utterly destroying Dragonia’s credibility on the world stage.

In other words, Estelle recognized this latest overture represented no substantive menace to her personal safety or political autonomy whatsoever.

If anything, the calculating duchess understood outright refusal would squander a prime opportunity to cultivate closer rapprochement with their new partners of strategic necessity.

‘Putting aside all else, this represents a summons from the Empress herself. Even if she harbors ulterior motives beyond my present understanding, I must seize this chance to confer in-person.’

While unable to divine Rozveta’s precise intentions behind this audience, Estelle could surmise plausible connections to their newly-forged partnership – no doubt seeking to hash out granular details and implementations face-to-face.

Of course, only by accepting could she eventually unearth whatever else lay concealed between the lines of this audacious invitation.

With her decision made, Estelle graced the emissary with a refined smile as she assented:

“If Her Sublime Majesty has deigned to extend such an honorific invitation, propriety dictates I attend this auspicious celebration as a gesture of our realms’ amicable rapport. I shall gladly accept and await further particulars.”

“You honor us with your presence, Your Grace. I shall convey the precise venue and scheduling at my earliest convenience.”

As the man withdrew to complete his duties, Estelle felt a swell of apprehensive yet exhilarated anticipation over the revelations to come.

‘The esteemed Empress Rozveta herself… I wonder what manner of personage could command such an unparalleled empire from the distaff side alone…?’

While an autocrat of a foreign sovereign, the Dragonian matriarch’s staggering accomplishments forging an entire nation through sheer personal force of will nonetheless engendered Estelle’s profound admiration.

For as a reigning duchess herself, Rozveta represented an inspirational paradigm of feminine empowerment on a truly cosmic scale – a living embodiment of the boundless potential awaiting any woman of unswerving resolve and capability.

The chance to interface with such an iconic figurehead amounted to a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity Estelle could scarcely fathom forsaking lightly.

“You intend to depart so soon? Surely you can tarry a while longer given the journey here…”

“I’m afraid not. While appreciative of your hospitality, more pressing matters in Bohemia demand my undivided attention beyond resolving Lady Queen’s plight.”

Having finalized Dragonia’s commitment with their envoy’s departure, I prepared to take my leave of Estelle in turn.

Though Queen’s waylaying remained an open quandary, the Alliance’s force accretion took unambiguous priority at this pivotal juncture.

Beyond this latest crisis, countless pivotal contingencies loomed on the horizon demanding my full preparations and oversight.

Time tragically remained a luxury I could ill afford squandering on protracted social niceties no matter how welcomed.

As I readied my carriage, Estelle’s palpable reluctance echoed through her doleful entreaties urging me to postpone my exit.

A poignant display leaving me with little doubt regarding the true wellspring fueling her earnest ardor toward my person specifically.

‘While unable to properly acknowledge her affections presently, I cannot simply disregard them indefinitely either…’

For all my profound reservations and entanglements, I ultimately lacked any justification to perpetually rebuff Estelle’s unconcealed yearnings through callous indifference alone.

As my carriage departed Repsodis’s domain, I found my mind repeatedly circling back to dissecting her motivations even as I shunted those fraught contemplations aside for more immediate priorities.

‘So not only did Queen’s plight remain unresolved, but I’ve now acquired additional quandaries pertaining to both Dragonia’s enigmatic empress and Estelle’s own complicated feelings toward me… When did my path become so endlessly convoluted…?’

Every tentative step seemed to unearth two fresh complications for each issue ostensibly concluded.

Granted, these latest developments arguably represented net positive outcomes compared to Queen’s imperiled unknown straits.

Yet that hardly mitigated the profound unease gnawing at my mind over the swelling number of tangled threads rapidly spiraling beyond my ability to properly grasp and prioritize their significance individually.

Feeling an incipient headache blossoming, I reluctantly resigned control over to my future self once returning to Bohemia – opting to shelve these circuitous ruminations through fleeting slumber during our return voyage.

‘Come to think of it, Polena has grown remarkably reticent since arriving in Repsodis… I wonder if there was some incident prompting her sullen demeanor…’

While her normally effusive presence offered a welcome respite from compounding anxieties, some strange sense of disquiet also lingered over her uncharacteristic malaise I simply lacked the surplus mental bandwidth to properly unravel at present.

Already my mind swirled with too many concurrent quandaries overloading its processing capacities.

Until able to parse each distinct strand separately through tranquil meditation, any further undue speculation would only exacerbate my escalating disorientation.

“You…You mean to say you failed in your endeavors after all?”

“Y-Yes…I deeply regret this unforgivable shortcoming, Duchess Catleena.”

Watching Bloody prostrate herself in abject contrition filled Catleena with profound disquiet as she voiced her incredulity:

“But how is such an outcome even feasible? Surely Count Turen’s prowess could not have overcome two witches of your combined elite caliber so effortlessly?”

Turen’s reputation as Bohemia’s consummate archmage already stretched the bounds of plausibility for most challengers.

Yet to envision him overwhelming Bloody – a Rank 10 mystic grandmaster whose cosmic might dwarfed even his vaunted skills – seemed a prospect utterly divorced from reason itself.

As Catleena aired her naked skepticism, Bloody conveyed her grim rebuttal through a tone fraught with trepidation:

That the sole impediment ultimately undermining their mission lay not with Turen, but rather the unquantifiable power wielded by the entity known as ‘Santara’ himself.

“Wh-What…? You cannot be serious… You mean to assert that this Santara’s prowess eclipsed even your own transcendent abilities…?”

“I…I could scarcely muster the faintest defense against his overwhelming dominion…”

Gesturing helplessly toward the bandages still swaddling her battered features, Bloody’s appearance alone rendered any further elaborate corroboration wholly superfluous.

A sight triggering ever-deepening consternation within the duchess as her worldview rapidly unraveled before this singularly unthinkable revelation.