Wreath of Lilies, Cauldron of Poison

Chapter 207

Who Remains Behind

Upon seeing the arrival of Queen Margarethe, the Knight guarding her was about to announce her arrival before being told to stand down by the Queen.

“This is a leisurely gathering. No need for that.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

The Queen glided into the garden with a dignified smile. When the young girls saw her, they quickly stood up and greeted her according to the etiquette.

“Please, be at ease,” the Queen said. “Thank you all of you young ladies, for sparing your precious time to attend this little party of mine. The purpose of this party is to allow you a chance to get to know a little bit better of those who are your age without regard to formality. We will also have a small session in which we will discuss the plans for the Spring Ball,” she paused for breath and gave a small wink. “Of course, what is a little gathering without some excitement? Our main event today will be a small Poem Recital Competition that will be judged by yours truly, and two very exciting guests. Please, come forward. Countess Fornelle and Countess Theodora.”

A middle-aged woman with a kind face who had been sitting quietly in a corner came up to the Queen. She wore a soft orange chiffon dress and a snow fox fur around her neck.

Another woman, this one in a wheelchair, was pushed by a manservant near the Queen. The fact that she owned a wheelchair alone spoke of the status she had. Creases of age and wisdom graced her visage, and a pair of faded eyes looked at them with the sharpness of a woman half her age.

She wore a brown dress, dark woolen shawl, topped with a feathered hat donated by a large bird, most probably an unfortunate local monster. The woman had the look of someone who had seen much in her lifetime and developed an impatience for anyone wasting what was left of her time on Grea.

Upon seeing the two of them, the young ladies grew excited.

“Isn’t that Countess Theodora?” the young Morrisey Lady gasped. “How wonderful!”

“Who are they?” Connie asked.

“I don’t know much about Countess Fornelle. But that old Lady in the wheelchair is Cathy’s – “

“She is one of the most respected poets in Calendia. I own all of her works!” Cathy cut her friend off excitedly.

The Queen waited until the hubbub die down before continuing. “To those who might not know these esteemed ladies, they are two of the most prestigious artists in our Kingdom. Countess Fornelle is a writer whose works had been published and enjoyed by people of all ages, including her most famous ones, ‘The Mystery of the Three Towers’ and ‘Mortimer Brown Short Stories’. And Countess Theodora’s poems has graced the libraries of not just our Kingdom, but also those of other countries.”

“The two of them will be helping me in judging the competition,” she said. “But for now, let us enjoy our little party!”

The scent of freshly brewed tea and sweets mingled with the chatters of young ladies as amiable conversations were held. One or two hidden barbs were sent from either side of the factions, but they kept themselves civil. This was a small party, after all. And these girls were still young. They have yet to grow the same talons as those of the adults.

One by one, the ladies came up to greet the Queen. When it was Connie’s turn to greet her, the Queen was pleasantly surprised.

“Your Highness.”

“My dear. How have you been?” she said with a concerned look as she held her hand, making Connie feel slightly perturbed. “I’ve heard about all those terrible things that’s been happening in your territory from Gerard. Are you doing okay?”

“They are small matters, Your Highness. Nothing I can handle.”

“That’s good. That’s good. You are a bright child. By the way, why are you not sitting at the front”

“Oh, I’m seated at the back.”

A frown appeared on the woman’s face. “No, that’s not right. There must be a mistake. How can we let you sit so far away?”

“I appreciate your concern, Your Highness. But I’m satisfied with sitting here,” she said bowing slightly. “I haven’t been in a social gathering for a long time, as I’ve been quite busy. So, I’m afraid that I might make some slight faux-pas that might offend some people due to being out of practice.”

“Ah. Very well. If you are quite alright with that,” the Queen said, as she too had heard of her adventures. What a good girl she is, she thought, that she’d attend my party even though she was tired from having to deal with so much back in her territory.

“My thanks, Your Highness,” she said. Acting as innocently as possible.

“I must find out what went wrong with the seating arrangement. Rest assured; I will reprimand them.”

Connie bowed a final time before returning to her seat. After that, what followed was the planning of the Spring Ball. It was boring and frankly, useless to her. She tuned most of that out.

As hours passed, it was finally time for the main event. A small stage was set near the pavilion. The Queen and the two guests were seated behind a long table with pastel pink cloth. Maidservants came in with a silver platter filled with quills and ink, along with a ream of scented paper.

The Queen held up a small silver bell and gave it a gentle shake. She then announced the rules of the competition

“The rules are simple. Poems written by you will be judged by a panel of myself, Countess Fornelle and Countess Theodora. You will be graded with point from one to five by each judge for a total of fifteen points. Winners of the competition will receive books signed by each of our guests.”

The prizes were of little value to those who were not invested on the arts. What the girls were chasing were the status and the fame that would come with being the winner.

“The theme of the poem should be…ah, as we are in a rose garden, why not use them? Please create a poem that uses rose as part of theme. You are free to walk around to gather inspirations if you wish. Don’t be afraid of letting your imagination soar, everyone!” the Queen gave a rousing ring of the bell and spoke.

“Now, you’ll have half an hour to create the best poem you can. Best of luck to everyone!”

The young ladies quickly moved into action. Some chose to take a walk; some chose to immediately write down what was in their head, and some were working together to create their poems.

“Are you not going to create a poem, Lady Cornelia?” Meredith asked, glancing at Cathy who was already deep in thought.

“No. I think I’ll skip this one,” Connie said. She did not wish to bully young girls with her skills. Also, she had read the rules about poem in Calendia, and found it too restrictive to her liking.

On Serin’s table, the young lady was hard at work creating a poem, when Julia whispered to her ears. “Lady Cornelia’s paper is still blank even at this juncture. I do believe that our guess is correct.”

“Great. And that Ainsworth spawn is someone who cannot write a poem to save her life. Just you watch, Julia. I will humiliate the two of them!”

“Time’s up!” The Queen rang the bell as a signal.

Once everyone was seated once more, she spoke. “To keep the spirit of spontaneity, we will not have a specific order for the poem recital. Anyone who is ready can simply take the stage.”

A bunch of girls stood up. The girls saw that one of them was the daughter of a Marques and slowly sat back down.

“Ah, Lady Blanchett. Please, take the stage.”

With a proud smile, the young lady took her place. “My poem is called, My Pretty Rose.”

Then, she proceeded to recite the poem.

Countess Theodora raised a small grunt and took a few big gulps of her tea.

After she was finished, the Queen raised a board with the number 3 on them, Countess Fornelle raised another 3. As for the old Countess, she first asked the girl.

“Lady Blanchett. Do you do anything else other than writing poems?”

“Yes!” the girl said excitedly. “I knit, and I paint, and…”

“Perhaps you should focus on those instead,” the Countess cut her off and raised a board with an angry but definitive 1 written on it. Hearing the terse and unabashed critic, the girl was so flabbergasted that all she could do was stand there. She had never heard such harshness even from her own mother.

“Can someone please help Lady Blanchett to her seat?” The Queen said before whispering to the old Countess. “Aunt Theodora, did I not ask you to not be too critical?” The Queen whispered to her.

“Why yes, isn’t that what I’m doing?”

Countess Fornelle could only shake her head in resignation. “I knew it.”

She was beginning to worry that this would not end well for the next girls. A sentiment which would prove to be correct a while later.

The second girl, unfortunately, was not as good as the first one, prompting a squint from Countess Theodora. “If there is one poem in the whole world capable of making me wish that I was deaf, that would be it.”

By the fourth girl, the atmosphere of the garden had become so tense that it was as if the nice party they had before this was a dream.

The last girl was so nervous that she dropped her notes. She tried to gather the papers and failed to do so, upon which time she simply ran off from the stage, crying.

Watching this, the Countess said softly. “Ah, wonderful. Music to my ear.”

“But she didn’t say a thing,” Countess Fornelle said.

“Exactly.”

The poems thus far were trite, uninspired regurgitation of pretty words without meaning. At best, they were trying to praise the flower’s color, elegance, or beauty, often repeating them a few times using different words.

Connie stifled a yawn and poured herself some tea, hoping that it would keep her awake in the boring event.

After four girls had braved themselves to rise up to the occasion and then ruthlessly mentally destroyed by the increasingly sour faced Countess, no more girls came up.

The Queen was desperate for anyone to stand up. She did not expect these young girls to be so mentally fragile. Was it because she had been taught by the sharp-tongued Countess when she was young that she thought they’d be able to handle her criticisms? By now she knew that she had grossly miscalculated.

It was at this time that Serin confidently came up to the stage. Queen Margarethe let out a sigh of relief inwardly.

Oh, thank Junnaveil. I might not like the girl much, but she had gust, at the very least. I just hope that she’s as good as everyone says.

“The title of my poem is ‘Innocent Rose’.”

The girl’s confidence was not unfounded, as she had tailored the poem based on the preference of all three judges. Including the strict adherence to scansion preferred by Countess Theodora.

As Connie listened to the poem, she had to admit, the girl was learned in the art. Her poem would not be remiss in a scholar gathering. Though not at the level of the famous masters.

As soon as she was finished. The girls of the Noble Faction clapped their hands in show of support. The others also clapped, albeit slowly and reluctantly.

“It is a wonderful poem, Lady Gladstone,” Countess Fornelles said, raising a board with 4 in the middle.

“I agree. It is very inspiring. To show the Nobility of Rose and tying it with innocence of youth is an excellent choice,” the Queen added, raising a board with another 4.

Countess Theodora raised a 3 with a nod of acknowledgement. “Colour me surprised. It is a nice work for a lady of such a young age.”

Receiving such a comment from the sour-faced Countess gave Serin a much-needed boost of confidence.

“Thank you for your kind comments, Your Highness, Countess Theodora and Countess Fornelle. I do believe that, we, as daughters of Nobles, should be examples to others. To be learned in the arts is to show our refinement, our class. Surely you all agree? Especially those like me, who are daughters of Dukes.”

It was no longer a veiled dig, but a straightforward provocation. To the only daughters of Dukes present. Lady Courteney Ainsworth and Lady Cornelia Asterium Steelheart.

Courteney seethed in her seat, knowing full well that it was a losing battle. She might be a great painter, but wordsmithing is not something she could do, not at her opponent’s level.

She glanced at the other girl that Serin had knowingly provoked. But all she knew about the girl was her feats at the battlefield. She might be a great warrior, but crafting poems was something entirely different.

“I bow, to your ability with words, Lady Serin,” Connie spoke, breaking the silence. “As you know, I am a warrior. I dance with death every day. Calendian poetry is something I know only the basics of.”

As she got up, Connie thought to herself. A poem; if I want to trounce her, many Masterpieces of old Masters are just a single breath away. But no, the cadence and rhymes would not fit Calendia’s established rules. She could just argue that I’m just stringing words together.

“As you can see, I did not write anything on my paper as I am ashamed of my lowly skill, so instead I’d ask for a single rose to rouse my muse.”

“It shall be yours. Take your pick,” the Queen agreed.

“My gratitude, Your Highness,” with a flick of her finger, a rose fell and glided through the air, slipping between Connie’s fingers. She gave the rose a light sniff, and let the sweetness filled her head.

I was cloaked in dust of the past

My sword grew heavy with rust

In seasons of red and grey; my soul had sight,

Of the courtyard filled with rose; of that night with stars bedight

Under their faint light, I saw her face

And through it, find strength once more

To move forward, wading through the haze,

Dragging my cloak, frosted hoar

Seasons had come and gone

And lines had been carved upon my brows

Twenty years was like a drunken dream

As if just yesterday, we spoke our vows

The tie that binds us, grew thin and weary

But finally, I see the end of Winter

As I return to the garden of my childhood

The chill of spring numbed my finger

The scent of roses is as fragrant as ever

Their thorns latching onto my hem

But where is she who remains behind?

Who plucked my rose from its stem?

As she recited the last stanza, Connie crushed the rose she was holding, voicing the words with a sorrowful tone, chewing every letter with deep anger.

There was a stunned silence, as no one expected such a poem to come from the lips of a famed boor who knew only of the blood and steel.

A slow clap, but one with gravitas and poise behind them roused everyone from their stillness.

“Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant,” it came from the dignified Countess. "What is the title?"

"I...didn't think of that. Hmmm...I suppose, I'll call it Who Remains Behind."

The Countess nodded firmly and gestured at the boards. “Shall we?”

“It is heart-wrenching, and beautiful. Even someone like me, who only knows the basics of poetry, can feel the loneliness trapped within,” she raised a 5 on the board.

“While Lady Serin used the widely accepted nobility of the Rose, Lady Steelheart’s poem approached it as a story. A story told through the eyes of a veteran, mourning a beloved’s passing. Portraying the sadness of loss, the ephemeral beauty of the rose, and resignation…, no,” the Queen paused. “…or is it…anger…suspicion?”

“It’s up to the reader how you interpret it. Whether it is regret of days gone, or anger against the one who took her from him, it’s up to the speaker and the listener. Otherwise, poetry will not be art, but mere facts written in flowery words,” Connie stated.

"Indeed, how rare to see someone as young as you with such an understanding of poetry. A warrior who are also learned in the way of arts. Marvelous. A five from me."

“I cannot accept this!” Serin said angrily. “She did not even follow the scansion rules!”

The Countess rapped on the table three times, silencing the hysterical Serin.Serin was about to retaliate with choice words of her own, but stopped, as she knew that despite her position as two steps under her father in Nobility, the old woman held the respect of many.

“A free verse poem, is not to my taste, but that does not diminish its significance. When crafting a poem, you should not pander to the audience. A poem is an expression of the heart, any less would be unacceptable. You can fool the less experienced ones, but not me,” the Countess explained, then she turned her attention to Connie. “This is a poem that changes meaning based on how it is recited. Clever, very clever. This is not just a study of the beauty of words, but the intent contained within," she paused, giving Connie a critical look. "However, if there is one critique from me is that… such sombre poem does not fit this event.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Connie replied.

“A four from me,” Countess Theodora declared, raising the board with a grin. “I've seen your standard, and I hope that you'll improve and brighten this stale world of arts. And If you have time in the future, I’d like to invite you for some tea and a discussion about the art, Lady Steelheart.”

“It would be my pleasure, Countess Theodora.”

With the unexpected slap on the face, Serin returned to her seat with a red face; to the glee of Lady Courteney.

After that show of skill, no other girls felt they were able to step up to the stage. The Queen saw this and ended the event early. The prize was then presented ceremonially by the Queen to the winner, and she left the tea party with the other adults, to allow for the young girls to mingle without her presence.

She was not quite satisfied with how it ended, but was very glad that she found out a hidden talent.

Ah, Mikael. My poor son. You’ve truly lost out.

That evening, Prince Mikael was having a meeting with the Knights regarding their plan for his first campaign when a guard knocked on his door.

“What is it?! I am in a meeting right now.”

“It’s about Lady Gladstone, My Prince.”

With a groan, Mikael beckoned for the guard to come in. The guard came up to him and whispered in his ear. A frown came onto his face and Mikael slammed the quill in his hand onto the table.

“Excuse me, Gentlemen. I will return in ten minutes. Lionel, with me.”

He and Lionel walked hurriedly to his office only to hear a loud crash and a hysterical scream.

“What is all that racket?!” he demanded as he opened the door.

The Prince saw a broken vase and Serin, standing in front of it with her shoulders hunched up in anger. He took a glance at Julia, who was standing at a corner. She curtsied with a panicked look in her eyes.

“What happened? Why are you so angry, my love?” he asked.

“It’s that whore! That damnable Steelheart whore! How dare she humiliate me in front of the Queen !!”

Upon seeing his worried face, Serin quickly put on her most pitiable face threw herself into his embrace. She then recounted the story to her fiancé, not forgetting to make herself look as aggrieved as possible.

Instead of the support that she was expecting, Prince Mikael looked at her with a stiff frown. “That’s all? You dragged me away from an important meeting just because of this womanly matter?”

“Mikael! How can you say that?! This is that bitch we are talking about!”

“Serin!” he scolded her. “I love you with all my heart, but I am going to embark on my first campaign against the forces of Vorzenny soon. I have no time for this silly little game you are playing.”

“How could you say that?! You told me that I can call you anytime I need your help.”

“I know. I know I’ve told you that, but you also need to understand what’s going on in the Kingdom right now.”

“You don’t love me anymore! Is that it?!”

Prince Mikael harrumphed. “Listen, my love. Glory and honor is waiting for me in the battlefield. This will also benefit you as my fiancée. It won’t be too late to make your move after the war is over. So please, do not make waves, Serin. I mean it,” he warned her with a threatening wave of his finger.

The angry girl tried to stop him, but Prince Mikael trudged on, refusing to relent on his decision. He slammed the door shut and shot a look at Lionel, who had been standing outside.

“Lionel. Keep watch on her, and make sure that she does not make any rash actions.”

“Yes, My Prince.”

“AARGH! That bitch!” Serin cried out. Mikael’s scolding did not do any good for her temper.

“Julia! You said that she’s not eloquent enough to be my rival, but how is it that she could make such a poem without even writing it down?! You’ve embarrassed me!”

“Forgive me, Serin. I didn’t know that she would have such a gift. But the Prince is right. We should not hurry.”

“I can’t, Julia. I can’t!” She stomped on a down pillow with her heels, causing the delicate stitching to burst. “I want her to be humiliated. Humiliated and destroyed!!”

Julia watched this with a grim scowl before finally making a decision. “I…have a plan.”

“What plan is it? Tell me.”

“Before that, I need you to tell me. How far do you want her destroyed?”

Serin stopped her tantrum and asked Julia explain.

Upon hearing the vile scheme that her friend had in mind, a hateful smile appeared on her lips. Normally, such a plan would have reviled her, but Serin was so blinded by her hate that she did not think twice and agreed to it.

“Yes…you have my full support. Start preparing as soon as possible. I want that whore to wallow in despair!!”