Trip to Diando

Isadora had received her coveted invitation to join the Royal Family on their trip to Diando. Excitement bubbled within her, yet she couldn't leave without a crucial meeting with Harley.

Harley, the renowned owner of a famous couture house, was a magnet for both nobles and aristocrats seeking her unique designs. The image Harley projected to the world was that of an obsessed yet diligent fashion lover. In reality, she was a lazy artist with an unwavering obsession for fashion. Born in the Emperian capital of Celestia, Harley was a Countess who had allegedly abandoned her duties, leaving them to her husband. She was also a member of the fifth Prince's faction in the succession battle for the throne. Although the fifth Prince and his eighth sibling seemed to have no chance in the power struggle, they were well-supported behind the scenes. Isadora's visit to Harley's shop was not merely for a dress; it was to establish contact with this faction.

"Welcome to our store," Harley greeted, curtsying as she heard the bell chime, signaling a new arrival.

Her eyes widened when she saw a small figure that seemed no older than six. "If I may ask, are you Isadora, the lady I'm supposed to measure for the Rubian dress?" Harley asked, still bewildered.

Isadora nodded and flashed a bright smile.

'Maybe it was a fluke. She can't be aware of the secret writing code, can she? She's too young,' Harley thought to herself.

Isadora walked with purpose to Harley's office and took a seat. "We are getting down to business, aren't we?"

Harley picked up a measuring tape but Isadora's words threw her into further confusion.

"Dear Countess, I need to report something to the fifth Prince, so I would like you to sit down," Isadora said, pointing to the empty seat behind the table.

"How do you know I'm a countess? And moreover, you can't tell me you were the one who wrote that letter," Harley exclaimed.

"But I am," Isadora answered nonchalantly.

"I would like a dress made out of Rubian silk, adorned with little sun patterns. Tell me when you would like to take my measurements. It's you that wrote it?" Harley decided to confirm her suspicion.

Isadora simply nodded. This left Harley with no choice but to sit and listen to what, why, and how.

Isadora leaned forward, her demeanor shifting from a childlike innocence to a surprising maturity. "Countess Harley, the fifth Prince's faction is in need of reliable communication channels, and I have been entrusted to establish this connection."

Harley's eyes narrowed. "You're just a child. Why should I believe any of this?"

Isadora smiled. "Appearances can be deceiving. My family underestimates me, which makes me the perfect candidate for this role. No one suspects a child."

Harley considered this. The political landscape of the Emperian court was treacherous, and the fifth Prince needed every advantage he could muster. She sighed, resigning herself to the bizarre reality. "Alright, Isadora. What do you need me to do?"

"Firstly," Isadora began, "I need a secure means of communication. Your boutique is perfect—discreet and frequented by the nobility. We can exchange messages through coded letters embedded in fabric orders."

Harley nodded. "I can arrange that. But what message do you need to send to the fifth Prince?"

Isadora produced a small, sealed envelope from her pocket. "This contains ...."

Harley took the envelope, her curiosity piqued. "Very well. Now, about your dress. When do you need it by?"

"Before the Royal Family's departure to Diando," Isadora replied. "It needs to be impeccable, as I'll be wearing it to gain further access to influential circles."

Harley began taking Isadora's measurements, her mind racing with the implications of their conversation. "You do realize the risk involved in this, don't you?"

Isadora's eyes hardened. "I'm fully aware. But the fifth Prince is our best hope for a stable future. We all have our roles to play."

As the week progressed, preparations for the Royal Family's departure were in full swing. Isadora's stepmother and half-brother, driven by jealousy, could barely contain their disdain for her good fortune. Isadora, however, remained focused on her mission.

Count Ashford had been pacing the length of his study, the incessant complaints of Cole, his son, and Diana, his mistress, echoing in his mind. The two had filled his ears with tales of Isadora's supposed insolence and unworthiness. At their insistence, he decided to visit the palace and firmly deny Isadora's permission to join the Royal Family on their trip to Diando.

The grand hallways of the palace were intimidating, but Count Ashford was determined. He stormed into Isadora's chambers without warning, his face flushed with anger.

"Isadora, I forbid you from going on this trip as your father!" the Count bellowed, his voice resonating off the marble walls.

Isadora looked up from her book, her eyes calm and calculating. "Oh dear father, this is an act of treason if you are not aware," she said, a sly smile playing on her lips. Angering him seemed to be working perfectly.

The Count's face turned a deeper shade of red. "What did you just say?" he roared, his fists clenching at his sides.

Isadora rose gracefully from her seat, her demeanor unwavering. "Count Ashford, you are challenging the authority of the Royal Family. Please, be careful," she said with a composed voice, making her way to her room.

As she reached the doorway, she paused and turned around, her gaze locking onto the Count's. "Oh, and even if you forbid me, you can't as a father because you are not my father, Count Ashford." Her words were sharp, cutting through the tension in the room like a knife. With that, she left, leaving the Count standing there, stunned and speechless.

Count Ashford stood in the middle of the room, his chest heaving with anger and confusion. The revelation of Isadora's true feelings struck him hard, and for a moment, he could do nothing but stare after her retreating figure.

Diana and Cole, who had been eavesdropping from just outside the door, exchanged worried glances. They had expected the Count to assert his authority and prevent Isadora from going on the trip, but instead, the encounter had taken a turn they hadn't anticipated.

Cole stepped forward, his face a mixture of anger and frustration. "Father, you can't let her speak to you like that. She must be punished!"

Diana nodded in agreement, her eyes flashing with malice. "Yes, my love. You must show her who is in control."

But Count Ashford was no longer listening. Isadora's words echoed in his mind, and he realized that his grip on his household—and his perceived authority—was not as firm as he had believed. Isadora's intelligence and boldness had caught him off guard, and he was left to ponder his next move carefully.

Isadora, meanwhile, walked down the hallway with a sense of triumph. She knew that standing up to the Count was risky, but it was necessary. Her plans were too important to be thwarted by the petty jealousy and manipulations of Diana and Cole. She had a mission, and nothing was going to stand in her way.

The day of departure arrived swiftly. The Royal Family's entourage, including Isadora, gathered at the harbor. Matilda, her stepmother, wore a light summer dress and a large hat, trying to outshine everyone around her. Isadora, on the other hand, was a picture of elegance in her Rubian silk dress, adorned with delicate sun patterns, crafted meticulously by Harley.

This trip marked the first time Isadora and Matilda would travel by sea. The anticipation of a grand adventure, however, quickly turned into discomfort as they both fell victim to seasickness. The gentle sway of the ship that others found soothing was a torment for them.

Isadora, pale and queasy, leaned against the ship's railing. Matilda, equally affected, sat nearby with a frown, her earlier excitement replaced by misery.

"Isadora, you look dreadful," Matilda muttered, though her own complexion was no better.

Isadora managed a weak smile. "It's just the motion of the sea. We'll get used to it."