The girls sat comfortably around a low table positioned on a spacious veranda—an open architectural space where you could clearly see and smell the lush garden in full, unobstructed view. I had noticed this particular preference before in various Southern buildings, but this lunch gathering just confirmed the observation: Southerners absolutely loved to eat in open spaces where they could properly enjoy nature while having their meals. They themselves might not even be consciously aware of it, but they clearly loved the pleasant, casual picnic kind of atmosphere and vibe that open-air spaces naturally gave them.
In the North, such outdoor dining was completely unthinkable for most of the year. Because for the better part of twelve months there was heavy snow and bone-chilling coldness outside, we Northerners loved to be inside our warm homes, preferably positioned right next to a roaring hearth or blazing fireplace. Most of our formal dining rooms were deliberately situated next to or very near the warmest place in our homes for exactly this reason. The bitter, bone-biting cold was definitely not something we loved or enjoyed—it was just something unavoidable that we had to endure and adapt to.
As soon as I stepped onto the pleasant veranda with the enthusiastic young girl still latched affectionately onto my arm, I could immediately hear the cheerful conversation that flowed naturally among the gathered girls, punctuated frequently with bright giggles and laughter.
"That one over there is my twin sister, as you probably already figured out," my energetic companion explained, gesturing toward one of the other girls. "She's named Ruthi, and I'm Aathi. And that younger one sitting there is our baby sister. She's just ten years old. Her name is Shanthi. But don't underestimate her just because she's young—she's absolutely a force to be reckoned with despite her age."
She said all this with obvious pride and a warm smile.
That particular revelation immediately reminded me of another remarkably precocious ten-year-old I knew quite well: Sagar, the Duke of Gorei's incredibly intelligent son. He was definitely a force to be reckoned with despite his young age as well—sharp, observant, and far more mature than most adults.
We had actually been regularly exchanging correspondence ever since I left Gorei. The thoughtful child wrote on behalf of everyone back in that city who cared about me. At first, Sagar had been worried absolutely to death about my wellbeing and safety, his letters filled with anxious questions. After I had sent him a detailed letter letting him know that I was perfectly fine and safe, he had still continued faithfully sending me letters each month—first I received while staying in Kami, and then continuing after we arrived here.
The latest of his thoughtful letters had actually arrived just a few days ago here at Arpa. I had yet to write him a proper response, which I felt guilty about. Perhaps I should write to him about meeting Shanthi and draw comparisons. After getting to know her better first, of course.
The three sisters were unfailingly polite and respectful toward me throughout the meal, but also genuinely warm. They had all immediately started calling me "Sister" with what seemed like the bottom of their hearts—not out of obligation, but real affection. Our conversation flowed naturally and easily alongside the serving of delicious food, and the atmosphere was filled with infectious enthusiasm and laughter.
Being with them made me feel surprisingly young and genuinely carefree in a way I hadn't experienced in years. Despite me being quite young in actual age—only in my early twenties—I had been forced to mature far too early because of the tremendous responsibilities and heavy burdens I'd had to carry at such a young age as the ruling Queen of Draga.
When I had been crowned, the spoiled, carefree young girl I might have been died permanently, never to return. That innocent version of myself had been sacrificed to duty and necessity. So this lunch was a refreshing and welcome change in pace—and also provided valuable insight into the complex workings of upper society here in Arpa. These girls knew an astonishing amount of information and gossip.
"...Right?" one of the twins was saying animatedly. "Madame Nadia gave birth to a healthy son last month, but absolutely no one really knows who the father actually is! It definitely wasn't her official husband, that's certain—he's still stationed far away in Turga with the military. That scandalous situation is the talk of the entire town these days."
They didn't relay this information in a condescending or cruel tone, I noticed. Rather, they spoke in the neutral tone of someone simply reporting factual events they'd observed.
"And the Gunasera family is doing considerably more harm than good these days," the other twin added thoughtfully. "When their grandfather was alive, they were a genuinely prestigious family, highly respected. It's not even a full year passed since his death, and already they're causing all kinds of havoc and problems. Well, I suppose you ultimately can't betray your origins as commoners from beyond the second wall, no matter how much education and money you acquire."
Wait. When they said Gunasera, did they mean...? That name was extremely familiar to me.
"Are you talking about Tarhan Gunasera?" I asked when my curiosity got the absolute best of me and I couldn't contain the question.
"Oh, does sister already know of him?" Aathi—I could now recognize her specifically because of the distinctive small mole positioned under her left eye—responded with some surprise. "Well, it's really no wonder you've heard the name. He's basically featured in every single non-fiction book ever written in the South. The man lived for an incredible hundred and twenty-five years—but during that extraordinarily long life, he personally wrote two hundred and one complete books on various subjects, and co-authored many, many more with other scholars. He is genuinely the backbone of the entire education system in Arpa and the broader South. You absolutely can't escape encountering his name and his work when you're learning anything. To the point where you'd get completely sick of seeing 'Gunasera' cited everywhere."
She paused to take a sip of her drink. "Almost all of the current civil servants and government administrators came from graduating from his famous institute, Gunasera Academy. It's the most prestigious school in the empire."
"He was the single most well-respected man of all time, second in public esteem only to the emperor himself," Ruthi added with obvious admiration. "And he has absolutely the most impressive rags-to-riches story to date—it's genuinely inspiring. He was born merely as the son of a poor farmer living beyond the second wall of Arpa, in the agricultural district. He was destined by birth and circumstance to become a farmer himself, following in his father's footsteps. But he adamantly didn't want to follow that predetermined path. So instead, he carved out an entirely new path for himself through pure determination, intelligence, and relentless hard work. Very much inspiring indeed."
"So he passed away recently?" I asked them, genuinely curious about this remarkable man.
"Yes, just last year," Aathi confirmed sadly. "It happened just before our cousin Arvid departed north to meet you, actually. His death caused the emperor to declare an official national day of mourning. He was that respected and beloved. But here's the thing—he was the only truly remarkable one in that entire family. The others—his various sons, daughters, granddaughters, and grandsons—are just spoiled, entitled people who intensely hate us nobles and imperials simply for having high social status by birth. No matter what prestigious positions they manage to acquire or how much wealth they accumulate, at the end of the day, they're fundamentally just commoners. That resentment colors everything they do."
"Even though they hate us and our class," Ruthi said more fairly, "I will acknowledge they do take good care of the common people and champion their causes. That charitable work would be admirable and fine on its own. But I heard recently that the Gunasera granddaughter Maradi had a merchant publicly whipped just for accidentally damaging her expensive imported silk from Chang'an. That's going too far."
Wait. That description sounded disturbingly like something I knew about. What was it exactly?
"That merchant was an elderly old man!" Aathi said again with obvious indignation. "She has absolutely no respect for her elders whatsoever, despite all her grandfather's teachings about virtue! And that poor man had traveled all the difficult way from distant Gorei just to deliver goods here. Because of the brutal whipping she ordered, he fell seriously ill afterward. It's completely shameful behavior."
No. No way. That had to be the same kind old merchant man who had helped me infiltrate into Arpa by hiding me among his goods. I remembered very clearly now—he had been transporting expensive silk fabric. Oh gods, no. He had gone through such a much worse fate just because he had helped us, and we'd had absolutely no idea he'd suffered for it.
"What is her full name again?" I asked the twins with forced calm, though there must have been something dangerous in my tone.
They both visibly flinched as they looked at me, clearly picking up on the shift in my demeanor. Even young Shanthi, who had stated earlier that she had no particular interest in gossip and had chosen to read a book quietly after finishing lunch, suddenly flinched. She looked up cautiously from her book, her eyes wide.
"It's Maradi. Maradi Gunasera," Aathi repeated carefully, watching my reaction.
The name burned itself into my memory. I would remember it.