Chapter 271
“His Majesty never instructed me to show this to Her Majesty the Empress. So this is entirely my own initiative.”
Temisian withdrew a neatly folded paper and handed it to Ysaris. It had been buried in the fourth drawer—not the third nor the fifth Kazhan had mentioned—so calling it “initiative” was accurate.
An item he wouldn’t have discovered under normal circumstances. But after seeing the documents the Emperor had prepared in anticipation of his own death, Temisian had no choice but to ransack the study further.
Not because of any written order, but out of sheer frustration. He’d acted on the desperate hope that something, anything, might remain.
The letter he’d found this way led his steps to the Empress. If this mess had happened because he’d intervened too late in their relationship, he wanted to fulfill at least this minimal role now.
“What is this?”
“Read it. You’ll understand naturally.”
With a mix of reluctance and unease, Ysaris set Casillia down on the adjacent sofa and took the paper. The lack of markings on the outside suggested it wasn’t an official document.
What kind of informal text would a Duke abruptly bring the Empress to the Emperor’s study to read?
Ysaris had been sensing something oddly dissonant since earlier but couldn’t pinpoint what. Unfolding the paper, she decided it was better to comply quickly, regardless of why Blake was doing this.
[Ysaa.]
The first thing that caught her eye was the address to her. The Emperor’s handwriting, reminiscent of Cain’s yet neater and more ornate, bled dark ink in faint smudges. As if each character had been pressed into the paper with deliberate force.
[You likely won’t welcome this contact. But understand—I only mean to share what you ought to know.
Not that this will ever reach you, anyway.]
It was a letter yet not a letter; a soliloquy. He addressed her directly yet assumed his words would never be delivered.
The format, too, resembled a diary entry more than correspondence. A monologue spoken into the void.
[Uzephia has stabilized greatly in your absence. I’ve replenished the noble ranks thinned by my own failures.
Don’t worry—I didn’t sell titles for coins. I followed the process you’d have preferred. Though, as you know, opportunities for merit are scarce these days, which proved troublesome.
Many graduates of Uzephia’s academies showed promise. I gave them modest authority, scattered them across the realm, then awarded baronetcies to those who demonstrated exceptional skill beyond their stations.
They’ll become Uzephia’s hands and feet. Some are sharper than the high nobles—useful in many ways.
A few old-guard factions still oppose this, but their voices have quieted. Their token resistance to the new nobles falls within expected bounds. Far tamer now…]
The letter detailed Uzephia’s recent state at length, citing his own efforts while repeatedly emphasizing how Ysaris’s past debates and ideologies had influenced him.
“……”
Ysaris’s expression twisted at Kazhan’s letter, which read like a report to her. This wasn’t an Emperor’s missive to his Empress—it resembled an administrative handover.
The tone shifted around the third page. A lengthy persuasion about how livable Uzephia had become, how much it had progressed, how meticulously tailored it now was to her preferences…
…Persuasion? Was he asking her to return because of this?
Reading on, Ysaris wavered. Was this praise-seeking? Bragging? She couldn’t tell how to interpret Kazhan’s words.
By the fifth page, the atmosphere changed again. Hesitation early on, calm fluency in the middle—now, conflict surfaced.
[Ysaa.]
The repetition of her name alone betrayed it. The strokes of the characters were uneven, as if traced over repeatedly, the ink thick and clumsy.
Even the period afterward bled. A smudged testament to how long the quill had lingered.
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