The Empress's Tea Gathering

Two weeks after Cain's wedding, the letter arrived.

The seal wax pressed into the orchid-colored envelope bore the design of a dragon entwined with roses—the mark of Her Imperial Majesty, the Empress Consort.

There had been a celebration within the royal family after Cain's wedding.

Your Highness, the firstborn daughter of the Crown Prince and Crown Princess, has been born.

They had not expected a letter from the imperial court at this time, not even the household of Emmental.

Of course, the entire nation celebrated, and gifts were offered from the House of Emmental as well, yet it seemed unlikely that a reply would come from Her Majesty the Empress.

The lady, trembling as she opened the letter, exhaled with relief.

Nothing of the sort.

An invitation to an exceedingly private tea gathering.

As she continued reading, the lady’s expression grew clouded.

The letter read as follows:

‘I would so dearly wish to enjoy tea alongside the flower called a miracle,’ it read…

In this context, ‘the flower’ referred to a young woman of marriageable age. And to call her a miracle now—there was no one else but Stella.

The thought of being summoned by name brought not pride, but unease.

Spica, renowned as a paragon of perfect ladyhood, might bear such a summons without hesitation. But Stella—only recently risen from a modest life among commoners—had barely grown accustomed to sharing tea with her family.

Though a debutante by birth, she had come earlier than expected, largely due to the necessity of not delaying the celebration of the next head of house any longer.

And the date set for the gathering coincided poorly with the visit of her mother-in-law, Francesca, who was scheduled to arrive.

If summoned by the royal court, she would need to prepare proper attire, and she would be expected to host her mother-in-law as well.

She wished Spica were at home now, but lately she has been breaking promises, seldom returning home, spending her days in the dormitory instead—this was infuriating. At the wedding ceremony not long ago, she had expected her to return the night before, but she did not arrive until the morning of the event.

To think that her mother, burdened as she is, receives no support from someone so near… she could not help but grumble to herself.

Suddenly, the lady thought: if Stella still lacks proper manners, then the appearance of her education must be refined.

The mother-in-law had once served as an educator to the imperial family during the reign of the previous emperor. Then, it occurred to her: she would entrust Stella’s education to her during this journey to the capital.

With that thought, she began writing two letters.

One was to Her Majesty the Empress, regarding attendance at the tea gathering.

The other was to Francesca, concerning Stella’s education.

The replies to both letters came swiftly.

Her Majesty the Empress expressed delight at the attendance, and Francesca’s reply came with conditional approval.

Then, summoning Stella, she contacted the owner of the imperial tailor’s shop, as if to say she herself looked forward to it.

A few days later, at the imperial capital’s Emmental estate, the former Countess Emmental—once a familiar resident now unknown—descended slowly from the carriage steps. Her bearing was the very model of a noblewoman.

“Mother-in-law, I have been waiting for you. I apologize for having moved the schedule forward.”

“It is of no consequence. Spring has come to my estate, after all… As for my husband, who must attend to his duties, it is no great matter for me to visit my friends in the capital for a few days.”

By "spring" in this case, she meant the newlywed couple of Cain and his wife. Four days prior, Cain had departed the capital to spend their honeymoon in the countryside, just as Franchiska had left, their journeys crossing paths.

“Where, pray, is my dear pupil, mentioned in your letter?”

Franchiska tilted her head slightly, surveying the room.

“Stella remains in her chambers, I regret to say. It is her first meeting with her mother-in-law, and so perhaps we might speak more comfortably over tea later…”

“There is no time for that. Bring her at once!”

Without showing any sign of weariness from her journey, Franchiska began Stella’s instruction.

At first, Stella resisted, her reluctance clear. But then, something changed—she began to seize the lessons with sudden earnestness.

And within several days, she had grown to the point where she could be permitted to attend the royal tea gathering, if only at the barest minimum of propriety.

—Day of the Tea Gathering—

At the appointed hour, the Emmental family's carriage bearing the family crest arrived before the courtyard of the Imperial Palace's innermost section, known as the 'Inner.'

From the carriage descended three noblewomen and a lady-in-waiting.

One, restless, darting her eyes about, was sharply rebuked by the noblewoman who appeared to be her mother.

The lady in a dress of yellow as its primary hue, delicate and graceful, seemed younger than her years due to her visible unease.

The noblewoman beside her, dressed in a composed olive-colored gown of fine cut, watched her daughter with a quiet, patient gaze.

The final woman stood slightly behind the others, observing from a distance. She wore a deep red dress, a beige shawl over her shoulders, and carried herself with quiet composure.

Guided by a court lady, they advanced through the palace until they were led to a pavilion in the central courtyard.

Five seats and light refreshments had already been prepared there.

Though the round table implied no distinction of seniority in seating, here in the Imperial Palace, with the Empress Herself as host, it felt improper to take one’s seat first.

Yet such hesitation passed in an instant as two noblewomen emerged from within the palace.

The three bowed in courtesy and waited for them to arrive. The woman in yellow showed a faint tremor in her posture.

To the Empress, she seemed a nervous, inexperienced girl—endearing in her innocence.

“Welcome, members of the Emmental family. Please raise your faces.”

The Empress spoke.

After a brief pause, the eldest among them lifted her face, and with her words, “We greet the radiant moon of the Empire, the Empress and the Empress Consort,” the three raised their gazes. Even the girl in yellow, whose timing was slightly off, seemed like a fledgling chick—adorable all the same.

"Indeed, I am surprised. I had heard you would be arriving with three, but I never expected to meet Lady Francesca in person."

"I truly believed you would be accompanied by Miss Spica."

Francesca, draped in a crimson dress, speaks on behalf of the others.

"An auspicious occasion has recently befallen the imperial family, and so I have journeyed far from Emmental, only to pay my respects. Your Majesty, Your Imperial Highness, it has been some time. The last time I saw you was at the garden party two years past... Forgive me, I have grown less able to make the journey to the Imperial Palace as the years have passed."

Bowing deeply, Francesca lowers her head.

"It is well, Lady of Emmental, I too have grown older with the years. From now on, as one who bears grandchildren as well, I ask that you guide me as a mentor. And speaking of celebrations, the House of Emmental recently saw its heir marry, did it not? I could not help but be present on that occasion."

The Empress's gaze turned to Viore.

"Your words are the highest honor, Your Majesty."

"Is that Mimoza the girl in question?"

"Yes, she is our true daughter returned home. May I present her to Your Majesty?"

The Empress lowered her eyes slightly. A sign of approval.

Gently, Viore urged her daughter forward.

"Stella von Emmental. Thank you for having me today!"

Francesca winced at the excessive vigor in the introduction, but the Empress only smiled wider.

"Ah, I'm glad to see you're in good health. Today, I've prepared a special tea just for you. Please enjoy yourself thoroughly."

She was then gently invited to take her seat.

Once seated, the conversation turned to the newborn princess, then to Cain's wedding, and finally to the talk of the hour—the play, *The Miracle Heiress*.

"We went to see it in secret, just the two of us. It was truly magnificent."

"I asked Her Majesty to let me see it twice already, on my own request."

"Ah, how kind of you. I shall be sure to tell both of you that our younger son was the one who oversaw the production."

"Still, your hair is so short now… It must have been difficult, even if it was for your foster father's sake?"

Stella tilted her head slightly.

"Your… what, Father? I don't understand such words, Mother. There are still so many I do not know."

The atmosphere within the summer pavilion grew quiet and still.

"Your foster father, Stella—your adoptive father, that is."

Stella blinked slightly, her eyes widening just a fraction as she nodded in understanding. Then, as if dispelling a lingering weight, she spoke.

"It was not difficult at all. I had no choice but to do as I did, to eat. And I do like short hair. It tangles less than long hair, and it dries faster after washing. It is much easier to care for, truly."

"How curious you are," the Empress said, a gentle smile touching her lips.

At the moment the Empress's demeanor softened, a maid arrived with a different set of tea utensils than before.

"This is tea I had specially brought for you. I hope it suits your taste."

The Empress offered the new tea with a quiet grace.

“A scent like flowers,” the Empress murmurs, and the others follow suit, repeating the same words.

“Delicious! I didn’t know we could drink such fine tea in the castle!” Stella exclaims.

Her dress’s hem is quietly tugged by Viore, yet Stella pays it no mind, praising the tea with quiet delight.

“I’m glad it suits you. This is the tea from your homeland, Farclam. Have you tasted it before, across the border?”

“No, we don’t have the custom of drinking tea there… I’d never had it until I drank it in the church… But here in Emmental, I drink it every day!”

The Empress continued her questions, and though Stella’s answers made the others tense with worry, the Empress did not take offense—indeed, she seemed to relish the conversation, her voice light with amusement.

“Today I’ve heard something truly delightful for the first time in ages. I believe I’ve grown quite fond of you, Miss Stella… Would it be an imposition if I invited you to another tea gathering?”

Stella shook her head vigorously, the ribbon at her neck trembling with the motion, her voice bright and composed. “Not at all, Your Majesty. It would be an honor.”

She beamed with delight as she was handed the tea leaves and confections as a gift, her joy as innocent as that of a child.

“The tea you gave me earlier was truly delicious—I’m so happy! And the sweets were so exquisite that my cheeks nearly fell off. To receive such a gift is more than I could have hoped for—it truly makes my heart sing.”

The Empress smiled, her voice warm. “Well then, I’m glad. I do hope you enjoy them at home as well.” She lingered a moment, as if reluctant to part.

Whether it was the way Stella spoke, the quiet grace of her manners, or some deeper resonance, it was clear she had touched the Empress’s favor.

That truth would spread swiftly, without delay.

The miracle maiden, now spoken of in high circles as one favored by the Empress, would soon become the talk of the court. With her debutante season concluded, she would likely be invited to more evening assemblies…

Still caught between joy and unease, Viola rose from her seat when the Empress called her back.

“Madam Emmental, when does Miss Stella plan to enter the academy?”

“Yes… well… we are considering enrollment in the autumn.”

“Hasn’t her etiquette training been sufficient by now? Might she not benefit from joining peers of her own age sooner rather than later?”

It is too early… she thinks, yet she cannot speak those words to the Empress. For to do so would be an act of disrespect, a denial of her Majesty’s words.

“As Her Imperial Highness wishes, but to consider entrance at this time…”

"Should a visiting scholar come from a foreign realm, irregular entry at unforeseen times is not uncommon. There is no need for concern. I shall convey your Majesty’s wishes directly."

Before the words could be fully spoken, they were met with further speech, sealing off any reply. There was nothing left but to nod in acceptance.

Though a most astonishing bombshell had been dropped at the end, the tea gathering concluded largely without incident.

Yet strangely, few knew that Francesca—feared by many as a tyrant of etiquette—had remained silent throughout, saying nothing, simply present.