Spica's Inquiry

The letter arrived at the Emmental estate in the capital on the very day Spica had requested delivery.

Surrounding the two kelpies were two stalks of wheat. At the center of their crossed stems, a round pearl motif in sealing wax—anyone within the household would recognize it as Spica's.

It was Weaver, the head steward, who received the letter after many long years.

Since the address read "to the parents," he proceeded toward the lady's chamber that day, silver tray in hand, bearing the letter from another household alongside others.

"Madam, a letter has arrived. Today, one from the ducal family, two from the marquisate, five from the countship, five from the viscountcy, and three from the baronage.

For you, and for Miss Stella, of course. And also, a letter from Miss Spica."

“Oh dear, a letter from Spica—how long it’s been. That girl hasn’t written in ages… Is it her rebellious phase? Still, there are so many invitations for social engagements… Reading through them is quite a chore.”

The lady spoke, then took the bundle of letters.

“I shall glance through them, but I have no room to accept invitations from houses I cannot refuse. For now, prepare letters declining all below the countship. And as for today, Madame Polly has been summoned to measure Stella for her uniform. Please inform me the moment she arrives.”

The steward bowed slightly, understanding.

Brielle, meanwhile, opened the letters one by one, reading through them.

At some point, she paused mid-read.

Oh dear… This isn’t a social invitation—this is a marriage proposal… Honestly! These kinds of things will only grow more frequent from now on… Since Spica became a candidate for the prince’s bride, invitations of this sort have been almost nonexistent. It makes my heart flutter just to see one…

The lady feels a shadow fall across her thoughts as she considers her daughter, just returned home, now about to journey far once more.

She continued reading through the letters. At last, only one remained—Spica’s letter.

Something peculiar was written within.

“Haven’t I asked every servant to spread word of Stella’s enrollment? The Empress Her Majesty herself instructed us to accelerate the timing during the tea gathering.”

“Yes, my lady. I informed every servant during yesterday’s meeting. I believe the news has also reached the estates through our regular reports.”

“Then why has Spica not heard of it…? Could it be only Spica’s maid who did not receive the message?”

I recall that Lady Spica did not have a maid attending her…

That cannot be. Why, she herself said she would bring her personal maid when entering the dormitory? Could it be your memory that is mistaken?

Ah… I shall verify immediately.

Very well. More importantly, how can a royal lady manage without even a single maid? Honestly, Elizabeth, the most favored candidate among the third prince’s contenders, has been betrothed to the Eastern Kingdom, and yet this girl still lacks awareness. It is also due to her inadequate guidance that the information has not reached her—she must be firmly reminded of her responsibilities.

The lady spoke thus and picked up her brush. The weaver behind her, pale-faced, did not notice.

~To my beloved daughter, Spica~

I understand you are busy with your daily studies, but would it not be kinder if you sent a letter a little more often? Your mother would be glad.

Your family misses your messages. They feel the quiet absence of your words.

Stella’s enrollment has already been made known within our household. I find it strange that no report has come from the maid. If even one or two of them cannot be trusted to carry out their duties properly, how can they become worthy mistresses after marriage? I had believed you were receiving proper instruction in such matters—this disappoints me greatly.

Furthermore, it is the family’s pride that sustains it in times of hardship. I have placed my trust in you, Stella, to support us firmly.

Could you not come home a little more often? If we are to support you properly, we must know you better. Might it not be possible, then, to return home more regularly? I shall always be waiting.

Stella’s education status will naturally become clear upon your return, but for now, I have recorded here, on separate paper, how far her studies have progressed. Please use this as reference.

Your mother, Biore von Emmental

And with that, she pressed the seal of her own wax, encircled by violets, firmly into place.

Alyssa received the letter on the same day that Lady Emmental had taken it in hand.

Yet it was deep in the night, when dusk had fully settled.

After finishing Stella’s bath and dressing her, and then administering a massage, she finally sank back to her room, exhausted. There, upon her desk, lay the letter.

The familiar handwriting—undoubtedly that of her beloved former mistress, her friend, her childhood companion—could not be mistaken.

A letter from Spica-sama? What could it be…

She hurriedly pulled the paper knife from the drawer and opened the letter at once, beginning to read.

Alyssa’s expression had begun with hesitation, then hardened into something stern, and finally settled into one of quiet disbelief.

“How could it be… I never thought Spica-sama was unaware of the household’s affairs… I must inform her at once, or it will be disastrous.”

Though it was late, she hurriedly set pen to paper.

She wrote down, as clearly as she could recall, the names of those she had met and the social engagements that had followed the tea gathering with Her Majesty.

She added a note on Stella’s mood after the gathering. Stella preferred the admiring gaze of lower-ranking nobles to the pitying eyes of the upper aristocracy.

She detailed her preferences in food and clothing, listing every small thing. The letter grew thick with care.

At the end, she added a few words expressing her concern for Spica.

Even as she slipped beneath the covers, Alyssa thought she would not sleep much longer—still, it did not matter. She surrendered herself to the pleasant fatigue of having completed her task.

It was four days after the letter arrived that Prince Arthur finally opened it.

He had been traveling to his nearby direct holdings for his regular inspection.

Among stacks of documents and invitations to social events, the envelope caught his eye—a soft hue, sealed with a wax imprint of a wheat stalk, belonging to the woman now ranked first among potential brides.

Inside was a letter about a tea gathering, currently the talk of the court, hosted by Lady Stella, the younger sister of the woman in question, and attended by Her Majesty the Empress and the Prince’s own mother, the Empress Consort.

She had known that the Empress and the Empress Consort had gathered for a tea gathering out of curiosity to see the miraculous maiden. She had heard that a reply had been received from the Emmental family, confirming their attendance and stating that three would be coming to the palace. She had assumed it would be the girl and her mother alone, but it seemed that was not the case.

Moreover, she had not attended many women’s social gatherings, so even if asked to write about it, she could hardly offer anything meaningful.

And more so, lately she had been occupied with inspections during the spring wheat harvest, and thus had been away from the palace.

To write this honestly felt almost shameful, yet there was no other way…

After several moments of hesitation, Arthur finally composed his letter.

~To my beloved Spica~

I am sorry that I have not yet replied to your last letter.

Regarding the matter you inquired about—I fear I am of little help. It was a gathering held during my absence, and I have not learned the details.

I am useless and inadequate. I had assumed you would be attending as well.

If I can find the time, I hope we might meet again—just as you suggested—over tea at the academy after so long. The timing will likely be early next month. We can speak at length then.

Arthur

No one knows the thoughts with which Spica received each letter.