The Cold Wing

Grand Arbiter Dorian Veymar was a man held in high regard by everyone they passed, respected with bowed heads and closed eyes.

Viella noticed that as they walked by, no one dared to open their eyes until he was several steps away.

Even behind her, Marie was observing this strange behavior, staring curiously.

They followed the Grand Arbiter for several minutes through a long and beautiful hallway until they reached a large set of polished double doors engraved with gold.

The Arbiter straightened his back upon arrival as if preparing himself, before knocking.

Only three times did he knock before a maidservant opened the door. Upon seeing him, she stepped back and held it open.

The Arbiter glanced over his shoulder to ensure Viella and Marie were still present, then gestured for them to follow and behave.

The maidservant waiting behind the door kept her gaze lowered.

Her uniform was distinctively different from the others, adorned with the colors blue, white, and black, and complemented by a rose pin rimmed with gold.

This one, however, dared to look up and met Viella's gaze as they passed.

Inside, the large room felt colder.

The carpets were so thick that walking on them was a pleasure, something even Marie seemed to enjoy.

Unlike the other palace areas, this room was lavishly furnished with ornate furniture, large vases, paintings, and heavy curtains.

The windows, as tall as the high ceilings, offered a breathtaking view of the capital.

It was only then that Viella realized the palace was built at the peak of the city's highest level.

She gazed out until they turned a corner and were greeted by the sight of a woman training her small lapdog—one Viella and Marie had never seen before.

"Greetings to the High Lady of the Empire. Your loyal follower and humble servant, Grand Arbiter Dorian Veymar, seeks your audience," he said with grace and gentleness absent moments ago.

Viella and Marie moved to stand slightly behind him on one side.

"Arbiter, what brings you here?" the High Lady asked, finally looking away from her dog.

She was a strikingly beautiful woman with raven-black hair and piercing emerald-green eyes.

She did not spare Viella or Marie a glance before being introduced, as if they were invisible.

"I have received an urgent letter from High General Aaron on the battlefield of Illion. While I do not know the specifics, the High General has requested that these ladies, Viella and Marie Ivelle, meet with you at once," he replied. His voice was melodious yet formal.

Whoever this woman was, she wielded immense power to command such deference.

Not even her father back home was treated with this level of respect.

The overly formal atmosphere made Viella uneasy, as it contrasted sharply with the informality she was accustomed to.

The High Lady's eyes finally rested on Viella, entirely ignoring Marie, who shrank behind her.

Viella instinctively lowered her gaze—a habit born of years of being under the Queen's disdainful eyes.

But unlike the Queen, whose gaze was filled with dislike, the High Lady's was cold and cruel.

Beside them, the Arbiter moved gracefully, offering the letter to the High Lady while half-kneeling.

She accepted it, her slender and elegant hands deftly opening the parchment. Her expression betrayed nothing as she read the contents.

Before she finished, however, she raised a hand.

Viella, watching from beneath her thick lashes, saw the Arbiter bow deeply before leaving without a backward glance.

After another moment, the High Lady finally looked up, her cold mask softening into one of faint hope. Her eyes rested heavily on Viella as she lifted the letter.

"My brother has described what could only be a miracle—pulling him back from the gates of death with just a few sips of your magical medicine. Tell me, what else can you do?" she asked, her steady voice betraying a trace of emotion.

Viella hesitated before responding, "To the High Lady of the Empire, before I answer, I wish to apologize for any lack of decorum on my part. I was not raised to know the proper customs." Her words earned a slight, understanding nod from the High Lady.

Gathering her thoughts, Viella continued, "I do not know the full extent of my medicine's abilities. The High General's wounds were fresh, and I believe it is most effective for those on the brink of death." She lied, offering her best interpretation of what the potion could achieve.

The High Lady abruptly lowered her hand, her expression turning blank as she sank into deep thought.

After a pause, she said, "I have a son who is gravely ill. He cannot hold himself upright for more than an hour. Years ago, as a child, he saved a friend from a demonic attack, but his blood was poisoned as a result. Ever since no treatment has been able to restore his health." She stood and walked over to the window, opening the ledge to let in the cold air.

Viella could see the High Lady holding back tears from where she stood.

Her lips and shoulders were stiff as she stared at the magnificent view. Viella lowered her head.

"He's very brave. Unfortunately, he had to pay such a steep price to save his friend. However, I don't know if my medicine can help unless I try it, and I don't know what side effects it may have on poisoned blood," Viella explained.

She feared that if she was not careful, the boy could die.

"What are the side effects?" the High Lady asked without looking back.

"I fear he could die..." Viella answered.

"A fate better than this," the High Lady said, finally turning around. A cold fierceness in her eyes surprised both Viella and Marie. Hearing the word "death," Viella had originally thought she could get herself out of the situation without trying at all.

Living with the General was a good enough bargain. She could eat, sleep, and, in the meantime, go out to find her missing fiancé.

"Pardon me?" Viella asked though a moment had passed.

"You heard me. Now tell me, what is your price?" the High Lady demanded, her sharp eyes narrowing as if to challenge her.

Certain there was no price she couldn't pay.

Seeing how little the High Lady seemed to care about her son's survival, Viella knew she would not be allowed to walk away.

"I would like..." Viella looked around, quickly thinking.

She didn't even know the currency, what was much, and what she could get for it.

So instead, she blurted out, "Education. I would like to be given a proper education. At school."

"Done," the High Lady said without blinking an eye.

With nothing more to say between them, the High Lady stood and beckoned for her to follow.

Unsure whether Marie could come or not, Viella asked Marie to stay and be good, which the other girl answered with a determined nod.

Viella followed the High Lady through another long hallway, leading them to another wing of the massive palace.

Here, the stones of the palace walls were older, with fewer decorations and furnishings.

Only a simple blue carpet lined the halls, and palace knights stood guard every so often, their stoic presence adding to the austere atmosphere.

"Wait here. I will greet my son and let him know of the news," the High Lady said before finally turning a corner, revealing yet another set of double doors.

Unlike the grand ones elsewhere in the palace, these were unadorned, scratched, and aged—just like everything else in this part of the palace.

It was clear the place was kept to the absolute minimum.

Viella waited for a long while until finally, the High Lady stepped out, her eyes red and cheeks slightly wet.

Even so, she remained expressionless. "He wishes to see you in person. You will stay here and heal him. Return to my quarters as soon as you are finished. Do you understand?"

"Yes, High Lady of Empire," Viella answered. She lowered her head as the High Lady walked past her without a second glance.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Viella knocked lightly. A gentle voice answered, inviting her to enter.

Inside, she found a comfortable bedroom with wide windows overlooking the quieter side of the city.

Beyond the walls lay green forests on distant hills, their tranquillity contrasting with the palace's tension.

Beside the window stood a silhouette of a young man, likely a year or two older than her. His hair, the color of pale sand, was swept back.

Even from where she stood, Viella could see he was slender, his frame lacking the muscle of a soldier.

Frail and delicate.

Unsure whether to step closer or stay where she was, Viella hesitated until the young man turned to face her.

Her breath caught. His beauty was startling.

His sharp, angled eyes mirrored his mother's, framed by long eyebrows, and his nose and lips were elegantly shaped.

Bathed in lines of sunlight streaming through the window, he looked almost unreal, like a dream.

"Greetings to you," Viella said, blinking as she forgot all decorum.

"I am Prince Caspian Viargo, of the Ethirian Empire and the Dreadspire Dominion. And it seems... I will owe you my life," he said.

His voice was deep yet laced with a matter-of-fact tone as if resigned to his circumstances.