Volume 3 Chapter 4 Subordinate And Flag
After meeting with the sorcery masters, Empress Eleonora skimmed the reports until her eyes landed on a parchment bearing the words "an urgent matter" — written in Narrow's familiar hand.
"Is this the formal declaration? The Lowland Hill Kingdom, Rune Delant, and the Arlis-Otroot Grand Dukedom—are they joining the Empire?"
Rune Delant lay in the northwest of the Naroppa subcontinent, where the Gilbe and Dalaon Kingdoms toiled with cultivating wetlands. The land was poor for wheat, but trade and fishing flourished. Arlis-Otroot, nestled at the foot of the Suapuru mountain range, thrived through mining exports.
With these three regions allied, the Holy Maro Empire would control the western Naroppa and hold half of central Naroppa.
"Send emissaries to Gilbe and Dalaon—Charles will oversee them. Assign Arlis-Otroot to Vladislav."
"Yes, Your Majesty. Regarding the imperial flag..."
"Use my father's crest. The double-headed crow. I want it large, hung behind the throne in the audience hall."
Normally, Narrow would bow and leave. But this time, he stood still, silent. Sensing something off, Eleonora looked up.
"Your Majesty, forgive the breach of decorum, but I must speak plainly. This Empire, which charts the grandest maps in Naroppa's history—its flag should reflect that dignity. Simply reusing your father's—"
"You're criticizing my family?" Eleonora's eyes narrowed. "I trusted you. Have you grown bold, Narrow?"
"If the world learns you rose from mercenary blood, the only shield will be your lineage. And there will be fools eager to stir trouble."
"Should I throw away my family's name for the sake of fools? Is that what you're saying?"
"Please don't misunderstand. But to surpass your father—surely that would bring joy to you both."
The room froze, a chill thickening the air. Eleonora's quiet fury crackled like hidden lightning, yet Narrow didn't flinch.
"Did you not choose to become the Empire's pillar?" he asked softly.
A moment of silence followed. Then, for just an instant, an overwhelming wave of killing intent flared—before vanishing just as swiftly.
"Truth is never welcome," Eleonora murmured. "Issue the decree. The designer of the new imperial flag shall be rewarded."
Narrow saluted silently and left. Eleonora exhaled, her breath long and heavy.
"If I cling to the old flag... Amerigo will seize the chance to act."
* * *
In Caesaria City, near the palace, the first and second districts bustled with life. In the fourth district near the wall, the poor gathered.
"What's this proclamation say?"
"No idea. I can't read that writing."
As murmurs spread through the crowd like ripples in water, a weary official finally spoke.
"From Her Majesty the Empress — a call to all citizens of the Holy Maro Empire. A contest to design the new imperial flag."
"Flag? You think they want ideas from us?"
"Stupid, obviously it's for some big-shot noble artist."
As the crowd thinned, one girl remained. She stared silently at the signboard.
"Something wrong?" the official asked, annoyed at being delayed. The girl didn't answer at first.
"Does it really not matter who you are?"
"Her Majesty declared it open to all citizens, noble or common," he replied.
But the look in his eyes told another story. It wasn't for her, they said.
The girl turned away, picked up a rough stone, and began grinding it against the ground until it sharpened. She pulled a discarded wooden board from a scrap pile and scratched it lightly with the stone.
"I'll do my best," she whispered.
The sound of stone carving wood echoed through the back alley until sunset.
* * *
A month later, submissions began to flood into the palace — painted flags, embroidered banners, and more. Some artists were genuine. Others were hopeful amateurs or opportunists.
"I was once supported by Marquis Anréol, Your Majesty! Surely, someone of noble backing fits an Empress!"
"Her Majesty has asked that the judging be fair."
"Let's not make trouble. Take this gold and slip my piece into the finalists, will you?"
"Bribes mean dismissal. I heard nothing—just wait for the results."
The reception hall was chaos. Everyone wanted fame or fortune. Receiving the Empress's approval would multiply an artist's value a hundredfold. It meant more commissions, easier patronage, a real livelihood. For many, painting alone couldn't pay the bills.
Then, with a solid thud, a heavy wooden board was dropped on the desk.
"This one."
The officials blinked. It wasn't a canvas, nor was it fabric. It was a wood carving.
"...It's accepted," the clerk muttered, more out of duty than understanding. He mentally labeled it an oddity and sent it off with the rest.
The girl—Helga—hummed as she walked home. She opened the door with a cheerful shout.
"I'm back!"
"Helga! Where have you been?" her mother snapped, around thirty, scolding with the weariness of the poor.
Helga calmly washed her hands.
"I went to the castle."
"The castle?! That castle?! You can't just go there, we're—"
"You can go, but you have to bring a painting," Helga replied.
Her mother let out a deep sigh.
"We don't have time for silly dreams! Whether your father can keep getting work through public projects is already up to luck. You should be helping — collect firewood and sell it at the market!"
"No way."
* * *
Two weeks later, Helga returned from selling firewood, only to find a crowd gathered near her home. At the center, her parents knelt before a grand carriage.
"Ah—th-that's our daughter," her mother stammered.
An elf knight from the Magelun Tribe stepped forward, pointing at Helga.
"Take her to the Imperial Palace."
Soldiers — humans, elves, and dwarves — moved to load Helga and her parents into the carriage.
"Please, only the child! We've done nothing wrong!" her mother cried.
"The Empress requests both the girl and her guardians. Get in," the soldier said flatly.
"Lift your arms. I'll help you," another added.
"Mm," Helga nodded.
A dwarf soldier lifted her gently into the carriage, where long, leather-upholstered benches lined the interior. Her parents were nudged in less delicately.
"Move it! We've got work to do," a guard grumbled, slamming the door and ordering departure.
The palace they arrived at bustled with officials, clerks, and non-humans moving between corridors. Their carriage stopped before a hall flanked by armored guards.
"Her Majesty, the Empress of the Holy Maro Empire," the guards announced.
Helga's parents dropped to their knees. Helga lowered her head a moment later.
"Raise your heads," came a soft voice. "There's no need for stiff formalities."
The three looked up in confusion, especially since the soldiers around them remained tense and upright.
"Is the person who submitted this artwork here?" Eleonora asked.
Helga stepped forward, bowing slightly.
"Come closer."
Helga approached, her small figure barely reaching Eleonora's waist even as she sat.
"How old are you?"
"Eight," Helga replied.
"I see. So are those your guardians?" Eleonora gestured toward her parents. "Come here."
Helga stopped just short of the Empress's lap. Her parents looked on, pale with worry.
"Let me ask a few things. Which should I begin with..."
Suddenly, Eleonora lifted Helga onto her right knee. Her mother gave a small gasp and fainted silently.
"Do you like drawing?" Eleonora asked gently.
"Yes. But Mama gets mad when I do it."
"I imagine she does. That's my failure. Children should be free to create."
She stroked Helga's head. An attendant brought over the carved wooden board.
"You made this?"
Helga nodded.
The carving depicted a three-headed, three-tailed dragon, every scale etched with care.
"I don't know much about engraving, but this... at your age? Who taught you?"
"No one. It glows sometimes, and then I just draw along the light."
She laughed as she spoke, but her words were strange—abstract. Few would understand.
"I see. That's a problem. I don't know what color it's supposed to be. A flag needs color."
"It's golden! It sparkles!"
Helga waved her hands in the air. Eleonora chuckled softly.
"A golden three-headed dragon... That sounds like something the Monster King would defeat. How about silver?"
"Silver's beautiful too!"
"Then a silver dragon it is."
She turned to an attendant, who handed over a leather pouch.
"This is your first reward. Open it."
Gold coins spilled into Helga's hands. They shimmered brightly.
"Wow! It's sparkling!"
Her father stared in disbelief. As a day laborer, copper coins were his norm. Gold was a dream.
"By imperial law," Eleonora said, "commoners use copper, landowners use silver, and nobles use gold."
Helga looked puzzled. Eleonora smiled, stroking her head.
"You are now an imperial knight. For life."
"Y-yes! I'll serve with all I have!"
Helga's father threw himself to the floor in gratitude.
"You misunderstand," Eleonora said. "The title is hers. She applied. She won. Without any help from you."
Like his wife, he fainted on the spot.
"From now on, you'll live here in the palace—with your family. You shall be known as von Amadeus."
Notes:
• Narrow - Male. A former Viscount's son who severed ties with his family to serve Eleonora. Wears an iron mask due to past leprosy, now cured. Skilled in military strategy, governance, theology, and heraldry. Speaks formally and is determined to prove his worth. Has a distant relationship with his family. His combat style is unknown, but he is entrusted with leading a platoon of 300 men.
• Arlis-Otroot - A semi-independent region with strong influence from the East Clanf Kingdom.
• Rune Delant - The northernmost region of the Cross Kingdom. A rural but civilized area, considered a safer alternative route for Eleonora and her companions.
• Dalaon - Another kingdom in the wetlands of the Naroppa subcontinent. Shares similar challenges and economic activities with Gilbe and Rune Delant.
• Gilbe - A kingdom in the wetlands of the Naroppa subcontinent. Like Rune Delant, it struggles with farming but thrives on commerce and fishing.
• Vladislav - The ruler of the Bearer Kingdom. His appearance is regal, with a long beard that he often ties. He is a strategic thinker, pondering the benefits and risks of alliances.
• Charles - Male. King of the West Clanf Kingdom. He has brown skin and a regal appearance, often seen in royal attire. His speech is accented due to his southern roots. He is melancholic and pragmatic, prioritizing economic stability over territorial expansion. He has a newborn son, Arsène, and a sister, Elodia. His relationship with his lords is strained due to his passive governance.
• Caesaria - The imperial capital of the Holy Maro Empire. It is a vibrant city with a mix of humans, elves, and dwarves. The city is lively and well-maintained, with sturdy carriages and a new, simply decorated palace. It is the planned location for five new schools.
• Anréol - A royal relative of Emperor Raimont. There's a risk he might join Duke Juán in rebellion.
• Magelun - A dangerous and barbaric land, but a potential refuge from the East Clanf Kingdom.
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