Meeting and the Caballier

Six months until the Debutante ceremony.

Today I have come to the castle to attend the explanation for the Debutante rites.

Though called a castle, this is not the seat of government nor the residence of the imperial family, but rather a small villa known as a summer palace. Small it may be, but it is spacious enough for an intimate evening gathering. It is open to noble families as well, and one may host tea parties or gatherings here with prior reservation. I have visited this place before on several occasions, invited by Mother to attend tea gatherings, so I recognize it well.

Upon entering, I found several people already engaged in conversation. At the far right table sat three young ladies; just ahead to the left, two young gentlemen.

The imbalance in numbers made the young gentlemen seem, for some reason, slightly uneasy.

I moved toward the table where the three young ladies had already arrived.

All three were familiar faces.

"Please forgive the delay. I am Spica, daughter of the Count of Emmental. It is a pleasure to see you all again after so long."

"How delightful, Spica-sama is joining us! I am so pleased," said Patricia of the Marchioness of Mitzberg, offering me a seat. She is one year my senior and the highest-ranking lady at the table. Though her narrow, upturned eyes and golden hair with blue eyes often lend her an air of haughtiness, she is in truth fond of delicate things and possesses a gentle, thoughtful nature.

"To be seated beside the renowned Spica-sama—how nervous I feel, truly," murmured Sharlya of the Marquisate of Mareth, her voice soft and hesitant. I believe she, too, is set to enter the academy next year. Her family’s lineage is older than ours, and she holds a vast domain. Her ash-blond hair, straight and uncurled, sways with each slight movement—so fragile, so fleeting.

"Spica-sama, it has been some time. It is comforting to have you here with us." The voice was drawn out, belonging to Lady Yūnaria of the younger branch of the Kanarusan Earldom. A young woman of mature figure and gentle demeanor, she possessed a delicate charm akin to that of a small creature.

After a bow, she took her seat at the vacant place. A palace maid brought tea shortly thereafter.

"Who else is to arrive?" Lady Patricia appeared equally unaware.

The answer came swiftly.

The door opened, and a single lady entered.

"Ah, everyone is already gathered."

We all rose from our seats and performed a curtsey upon her arrival.

"Your Highness, Princess Altara of the Imperial Kingdom, we offer our respects." The greeting was delivered by Lady Patricia, whose family rank was the highest among us. No—here, the highest rank was no longer hers, but belonged to Princess Altara, the one to whom the greeting was offered.

"Raise your face. Today is a meeting of faces; show me your countenances clearly."

At the Princess's words, we lifted our eyes after a brief pause. Princess Altara was a woman of striking beauty, her hair threaded with silver, her eyes a deep vermillion. She was neither woman nor girl, but possessed the fragile, unfinished grace of one just entering adulthood—a quality that, paradoxically, gave her an air of complete, almost mystical beauty. And she carried, as all royals do, a natural charisma that made both nature and people alike seem to bow to her presence.

The two young lords, overwhelmed by her divine radiance, stood at a respectful distance, their ears crimson with embarrassment. Though their faces gave nothing away, a noblewoman of her grandmother’s discernment might have marked it as a passing grade. I believe they were the sons of Baron Rossiini and Count Tottuna.

Princess His Highness walked straight toward our table, not sparing even a glance at the young lords.

When she reached the table, she asked, “May I join you?” There was no refusal possible. In noble households, the request of a royal is as binding as a command—this truth has been drilled into us until our ears are calloused.

“We are honored,” I said, gesturing toward the seat with a bow and expression that revealed the close bond between Lady Altera and Lady Patricia. They are childhood friends, it seems.

After that, a brief conversation followed.

The atmosphere remained calm and unhurried, as all present were already acquainted from previous gatherings attended by guardians.

The conversation drifted through neutral topics—seasonal observations and recollections of recent tea gatherings.

As the table settled into easy conversation, the princess spoke.

“I look forward to welcoming the debutantes alongside all of you. Consider me Ana, and call me by that name as a token of closeness. From now on, I shall be burdened with the rigorous study of court etiquette, so I ask that you treat me as a comrade, a fellow debutante, and be kind to me in these trials.”

“Then I shall be Stella,” said Lady Patricia, her voice bright with a hint of playful mischief. “And how shall I address you all?”

“Such a thing… I am deeply honored, yet it feels most humbling. Please, call me Shalirya.” Shalirya speaks, her voice tinged with gentle confusion.

“Please, call me Yoonaria. May I address you all as elder sister? I have no siblings of my own, and I have long admired elder sisters greatly!” Yoonaria pleads, her cheeks flushed like a dreamer’s, her eyes alight with longing. All of them smile gently and nod in agreement.

I hesitate slightly, then reply.

“My name is short, so please call me Spica as is. My family calls me Spica as well….” My name is too brief for a nickname. That is why I have no affectionate name, unlike you all.

“Oh… how dull that is! I believe Spica is the name of a first-magnitude star in Virgo, is it not?”

Ana places a hand to her lips, her expression thoughtful and serious.

After a pause of two breaths, her eyes widen as if struck by sudden inspiration.

“Shall we, just among ourselves, call Spica ‘Pearl’? Her other name is the Star of Pearl, and the family jewel of House Emmental is a pearl as well. Does it not suit the Jewel Princess of Emmental perfectly?”

I do not know what ‘Jewel Princess’ means, but the idea is clever and playful. I find myself nodding, heart quickening with the thrill of being called by a special name—only by those closest to me.

“Then it’s settled! Sia, Chasha, Yuna, and Pearl! Let us encourage one another toward success at the Debutante.”

“That is the spirit, Your Highness.”

The voice came from a small, aged woman. Her wrinkles were deeper than those of grandmother or her maids, her hair a stark white, dull and lifeless, tightly bound at the crown of her head.

We rise from our seats and turn our attention to the source of the voice.

"Esteemed guests, thank you for gathering here today. I am Nefertiti, Head Lady-in-Waiting, in charge of this year’s Debutante. For the next half-year, we shall meet often, so please address me as Nefertiti. And let it be understood that my words here carry the same weight as those of His Imperial Majesty. Before we proceed—this gathering is held within the confines of this villa only. Is that acceptable?"

Lady Nefertiti sweeps her gaze across the hall.

I press a hand to my chest and incline my body slightly. If her words are to be held as equal to those of the Emperor, then I must respond as I would in his presence. Without thought, I perform the bow of assent—the gesture reserved for one who agrees with the Emperor’s will.

"Of course, Lady Nephel. Are there any other matters of note?"

Ana addresses Lady Nephel.

Though her expression remains unseen—her face still lowered—she does not conceal the weight of a deep sigh, the quiet resignation of one who has long since accepted what cannot be changed.

"Princess Altela, Your Highness, please take a moment to observe your surroundings."

Ana appears bewildered, glancing about. The soft rustle of fabric fills the silence.

"From this day forward, you will be treated within the hall as befits a Grand Duke’s daughter. We said the same when Your Elder Brothers made their debut. This is an opportunity to learn the proper bearing of a subject, not of royalty. Endeavor with diligence."

Ana seems truly at a loss, her expression caught between confusion and uncertainty.

"Lady Nephel, I humbly request permission to speak." I could no longer bear the weight of silence, and so I sought leave to speak. Lady Nephel gave a brief nod. "You may speak." I released my bow, straightened my posture.

"I shall speak. I believe it is difficult to adjust swiftly to a sudden change in station. If it pleases you, I would advise that Lady Emmental be instructed in the matters you require."

"Lady Emmental appears to be well-versed in her studies. Your grandmother was Lady Francesca, was she not… a most accomplished woman."

A quiet, distant gaze was cast upon me.

The purpose in having you respond without guidance was to test the extent of your understanding and level of proficiency. I offer my apologies for the offense. Yet among you all, only Miss Emmental met the passing threshold. In the days to come, I shall provide individual instruction on what was lacking and what conduct is expected. Especially to Your Highness, there may be trials ahead—I ask you to endure them with strength.

Lady Nephel’s expression remains unchanged, but Miss Ana’s gaze wanders as though she were a lost puppy. She must be uneasy.

Afterward, we were each led to a private chamber and instructed to change. Not a visiting dress, but a practice gown for dancing. Then, each of us was left alone in our respective rooms.

They must be conducting interviews and instruction. While I wait, I sip the tea and leaf through the offered poetry collection.

By the time I had read about a third of the poetry collection, a maid summoned me and guided me to a private chamber. The room with the northern window was dim, barely enough for me to make out the face of the person seated at the desk.

I offered a greeting befitting one of royal blood and waited for Lady Nepherti’s response.

“Once more, I offer my respects to Lady Nepherti, Keeper of the Stars of the Empire.”

I bowed lower than any lady’s courtesy, my head lowered, my posture rigid—more severe than it appeared. I could not straighten until she spoke.

“Please rise, Miss Emmental. Is your etiquette taught by your Mother?”

“Of course, by my mother, and also by my grandmother, within our estate.”

I adjusted my posture and answered. Lady Nepherti seemed to look not at me, but at someone else entirely.

“Yes… as I mentioned earlier in the hall, there is nothing specific to note about Miss Emmental. But may I ask why you performed a bow to His Imperial Majesty?”

I chose my words carefully before replying.

“Lady Nepherti said her words were those of His Imperial Majesty. Therefore, I interpreted her not as a representative, but as His Majesty himself. Thus, I observed the customary rites taught for an audience with the Emperor.”

“Precisely. That interpretation is correct. Few at your age could make such a judgment.”

“Such insight is due entirely to the guidance of those who have taught me.”

“Lady Francesca was an outstanding pupil and a fellow colleague. I feel her presence strongly in you. Of course, I have heard of your lineage—but perhaps it is age that makes me sense there is more to you than mere blood.”

Grandmother and Lady Nephel appear to be long acquainted, and it seems I am being compared to Grandmother in some way.

"Now, regarding today's proceedings, after the remaining interviews, the introduction of the Kabarier will take place in the hall we just left. Refusing the match simply because one dislikes the other's son is not permitted. Please understand this is an act in defiance of the Emperor's decree. However, should we determine in the future that compatibility is unsuitable, we may propose a change in Kabarier. Are there any questions at this time?"

"Yes, has the Kabarier ever been changed before?" I asked, out of curiosity. Surely such a question is not improper.

"Indeed. Reasons include extreme disparities in height, prolonged illness making continuation difficult, or when families become political rivals and danger is anticipated. Other grounds include instances where inappropriate, unsuitable relationships—those unbecoming of gentlemen or ladies—were imposed."

I could not stop my face from flushing. "Inappropriate relationships" referred to acts forbidden before marriage, permitted only between adults after the union. I lowered my head, shrinking in place, my face burning.

"Ah, ah," she laughed. "You still have the innocence of your years." How must I appear to her?

After the interview, I was led through a small door to the hall we had passed earlier.

The table had been pushed to the side, and a silhouette faced the wall. Ana and Stella, both dressed in identical gowns. It seemed the interviews were conducted in order of family rank.

From their silhouettes, the two appeared to have slumped shoulders, weariness evident in their posture.

“What has happened to you both?”

Upon speaking, both turned with eyes glistening.

“‘It’s the perfection of Pearl that’s the problem…’”

They wept in unison. Stammering reassurances, I listened as they recounted the mountain of etiquette assignments they had been given. Glancing at the books before them, I recognized the familiar etiquette manuals—five copies each, stacked neatly before them.

As I listened to their complaints, presented as lamentations, a familiar face appeared moments later—Shasha, likewise bearing five textbooks. Her expression mirrored theirs.

Later, after a pause, Lady Yuna, the son of the Viscount Tottuna, and the son of Baron Rossiini entered, each carrying their own set of manuals, each wearing the same weary expression. What could possibly have occurred during these interviews…?

Yet they all seem to have managed to face the same direction. For some reason, the conversation has veered toward a tale of overthrowing the head lady-in-waiting! Aim for me!—such was the drift.

Just as the talk threatened to settle in that direction, the great front doors swung open.

Lady Nephel leads four men and two ladies into the chamber.

Two of the men are familiar. The Second Prince and the Third Prince. The ladies are young noblewomen I have shared tea with before. I recall both debuted last year.

I hastily bow, and everyone beside me bows in unison.

Lady Nephel appears pleased.

“Apologies for the wait. I shall now introduce your Kabarrie. Step forward when your name is called.”

A wave of tension ripples through the gathering—this announcement, lasting for half a year, or even beyond, may well determine the course of our futures.