After her playful interaction with Arvid concluded, Princess Harusha grasped both of his hands firmly in hers as well, including him fully in this moment of blessing and connection.
"Please be happy and healthy together, both of you," she said, her voice warm and genuinely loving, filled with maternal affection. "May every god who belongs to the South and watches over our lands protect and bless you abundantly, my son."
Her prayers and blessings were completely honest and heartfelt, spoken with obvious sincerity. The words made me feel unexpectedly warm from deep inside, as if I had just drunk a perfectly prepared cup of warm tea on a cold day. The sensation spread through my chest and settled there comfortably. It made me feel an emotion that I had long forgotten existed, something I hadn't experienced in years.
A mother's warmth. Unconditional maternal care and concern.
The next person to formally present gifts to us was Prince Yarun, Arvid's uncle. He approached our thrones accompanied by his two adult sons, and they came with their own families trailing behind them—wives and children forming a small procession. Prince Yarun himself was a notably rigid man in both posture and demeanor, someone who appeared uncomfortable with displays of emotion. There was absolutely no smile visible on his heavily bearded face, which remained impassive and stern. He too was very well dressed, just like Princess Harusha had been, wearing expensive fabrics and jewelry that proclaimed his status. Clearly, maintaining appearances was important to the Imperial family.
They presented Arvid with an exceptional gift—imported, artisan-made swords that had been crafted in distant Chang'an, famous throughout the world for its master sword smiths. The quality of the weapons was immediately apparent even to my untrained eye, and the gift pleased Arvid greatly. His face lit up with genuine excitement and appreciation.
But the gift didn't stop with just the swords themselves. Prince Yarun also formally introduced a man from Chang'an—a skilled weapons master who, surprisingly, spoke completely fluent Arthia without any trace of accent. This man was to serve as Arvid's personal sword instructor, teaching him the unique techniques required for these foreign weapons.
The Chang'an swords were fundamentally different from the traditional heavy, wide-bladed swords that Arvid normally carried and had trained with his entire life. These new blades were remarkably thin and refined, and each sword weighed almost nothing when lifted—the balance was extraordinary. Most striking of all, they possessed a distinctive curve along the blade's length, a design feature that was completely unheard of in Southern weapon smithing and even unknown in the Northern kingdoms I came from.
Arvid's curiosity was immediately and intensely piqued by these exotic weapons. Right there on the spot, without even thinking about scheduling conflicts, he enthusiastically arranged to begin taking classes with the Chang'an master as soon as possible. He wanted to learn everything about this new fighting style.
That spontaneous reaction made me realize with sudden clarity just how well Prince Yarun actually knew his nephew, how deeply he understood Arvid's character and interests. This wasn't a generic expensive gift—it was something carefully chosen specifically for Arvid's personality.
As Prince Yarun stood there watching his nephew practically brimming with excitement, his eyes shining like a child who had received the perfect present, I noticed something subtle. The severe corners of the older man's mouth curved upward ever so slightly in what might have been satisfaction or affection. But if you hadn't been watching his face very closely and paying careful attention, you would definitely miss that micro-change in his otherwise stoic expression. Prince Yarun clearly cared for Arvid, even if he wasn't comfortable showing it openly.
The prince's family had also brought a gift specifically for me rather than just for Arvid. They presented me with another kind of traditional Southern clothing—it was somewhat similar to a saree in overall aesthetic, but there was a significant practical difference in construction. Where a saree was essentially one extremely long piece of fabric that had to be wrapped and pleated in complex ways, plus a separate top, this traditional outfit consisted of three distinct pieces: an elaborately decorated top, a long flowing skirt, and a shawl designed to be draped elegantly like the pallu of a saree.
This outfit was called a lehenga, they explained. It looked significantly much easier to wear than a traditional saree, and honestly much more comfortable for daily activities. I could put it on without assistance and wouldn't have to worry about pleats coming undone.
I genuinely loved the visual grandiosity and elegance of sarees—they were undeniably beautiful garments. But the reality was they were far too complicated to wear in everyday settings when you had things to accomplish. Not to mention extremely time-consuming to put on properly. This lehenga seemed like a much more practical, well-thought-out gift that showed real consideration for my needs and comfort.
Additionally, Prince Yarun presented me with something unexpected—an older, experienced maid named Ruka Ma. Unlike some servants who might be reluctantly reassigned, this woman had apparently come completely willingly, volunteering to help me specifically.
"I had noticed that most of your current personal maids are quite young," Prince Yarun explained in his characteristically stoic, unchanging voice. "And as much as I genuinely appreciate the energy and vigor that young servants bring to their duties, you also need the wisdom that only comes with age and long experience to successfully navigate life in the South. The young ones mean well, but they don't know all the unwritten rules and subtle customs yet."
He gestured to the older woman standing respectfully behind him. "Ruka Ma is one of the most senior and trusted maids who has faithfully served my household for many decades. She knows everything about running an Imperial household and Southern customs. I sincerely hope she will be of great help to you in your new role, Your Majesty."
I thanked him warmly and sincerely for his thoughtful gifts, both the practical clothing and the invaluable experienced servant.
Then came Princess Arunthika's turn, approaching with her enormous family trailing behind her. They presented us with standard, somewhat generic gifts—gold coins and jewelry, along with some exotic imported fruits that were expensive but not particularly personal or thoughtful.
"It's such a pity that Sathish and Darush are not here with us to celebrate," she said suddenly, completely out of nowhere. The comment was so unexpected and contextually inappropriate that I actually physically flinched at her words. Why on earth was she deliberately mentioning those executed traitors on this happy, auspicious day? What could she possibly gain from bringing them up?
I quickly glanced at Arvid, and noticed that even his carefully maintained polite smile had now completely vanished from his face—replaced instead with something much darker and more sinister, a dangerous expression I rarely saw him wear.
"Why is that, Second Aunt?" he asked carefully, making a visible effort to keep his voice from sounding as terrifyingly cold as the look in his eyes suggested he felt. "Why do you think their absence is regrettable?"
"Oh, I simply meant that they unfortunately missed all these wonderful festivities because of their own foolish misdeeds, of course," she said, waving her hand dismissively as if discussing something trivial. "But you have to admit, they were quite a lively bunch when they were alive. While you were away traveling and dealing with the Northern kingdoms, there were elaborate celebrations almost every evening in these halls—not a single day went by uneventfully. The parties, the music, the entertainment! Those silly little fools certainly knew how to have a good time."
She actually placed her hand on her cheek in an exaggerated gesture, as if fondly reminiscing about wonderful old times and beloved family members, rather than discussing treasonous conspirators who had nearly plunged the empire into civil war.
Arvid's hands gripped the wooden edge of his throne seat so hard that his knuckles turned completely white from the pressure. I could see him physically restraining himself from a more violent reaction.
"That certainly explains why the Imperial Treasury was found to be almost completely empty when I returned," Arvid replied in a deceptively plain, flat voice that somehow conveyed more threat than shouting would have.
"Still, they were your family, weren't they? Your own blood?" Princess Arunthika pressed, her voice taking on a false sweetness. "You could have shown at least a little mercy upon them, given them exile or imprisonment instead. I'm just saying this as your concerned aunt, of course—but perhaps such compassion is simply impossible for someone like you to demonstrate? After all, before your coronation ceremony you personally beheaded your own second uncle without hesitation, didn't you? Your own father's half brother!"
Her voice remained superficially sweet but absolutely dripped with deadly venom underneath. And she showed absolutely no remorse or self-awareness about the inappropriateness of her words. She seemed to genuinely believe she had the right to criticize Arvid's necessary actions.
"If that uncle hadn't actively tried to assassinate me—twice—he would still be alive today, Second Aunt," Arvid said coldly. "And don't you think you are taking the traitors' side just a bit too enthusiastically? That's quite interesting and worth noting."
His expression shifted, becoming calculatingly pleasant in a way that was far more frightening than anger. "That reminds me of something—how would you like to become the new governor and lord of the Hanau plains? That remote region seems like an absolutely ideal place for you to live and exercise authority, dear Aunt. I will give you complete power over the entire plains territory. What do you say to that generous offer?"
Arvid smiled warmly as he made this "offer," but the threat was abundantly and crystal clear to everyone present. His expression clearly communicated: 'Try me. Test me further and see what happens.'
That direct threat finally made the woman shut her mouth abruptly. The Hanau plains were a harsh, undesirable region where the other traitors' families had been exiled—being sent there was effectively a punishment, not an honor. She had understood the message perfectly.
Princess Arunthika clumsily and hastily offered her poorly prepared gifts to us with shaking hands, then bid us farewell with transparent false sweetness. "I am just an old woman with no ambitions," she said, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to backtrack. "What would an old woman like me possibly do with such vast lands to govern, Your Majesty? They would simply go to waste under my inadequate management."
She made herself appear physically frail and harmless, hunching her shoulders and adopting a weak voice. After delivering this unconvincing performance, she quickly left with her entire large family trailing behind her, clearly eager to escape before Arvid changed his mind and actually sent her to Hanau.
After all the lesser Imperial family members—those with more distant bloodline connections—had also presented their various gifts to us in turn, the formal gift-giving portion concluded. Then the entertainment performances began, shifting the atmosphere from ceremonial to celebratory.
A musical troupe took their positions, and their skilled musicians began playing traditional instruments. A woman wearing brilliantly colorful, flowing clothing stepped into the center of the hall and began performing. This was a traditional Southern dance style called Runa, they had explained earlier.
The Runa dancing style involved an impressive amount of spinning and athletic jumping, requiring significant stamina and training. The performers were clearly highly skilled and well-rehearsed, and their perfectly synchronized movements were indeed genuinely eye-pleasing and mesmerizing to watch. I found myself completely engrossed in the performance, captivated by the whirling colors and rhythmic movements.
That is, until Aiona's voice suddenly cut through my fascination, sharp and urgent.
"Something is wrong," she said directly into my mind, immediately commanding my full attention. Her tone carried unmistakable concern. "Pay attention. Something here is not right."