The sun was shining brightly overhead as Aulea made her way up the long, straight path to Fenestala Manor. As she walked she couldn't help but smile to herself at the beautiful and elaborate greenery that surrounded her—the gardens of Tenebrae were legendary for a reason, and none more so than those that surrounded the residence of the royal family. There were trees and flowers everywhere, creating something like a miniature forest around the path up to the castle, and so many varieties of plant Aulea couldn't hope to name all of them. Clarus would like it here, she thought. Perhaps one day he and his family would visit—when the war died down again.
As Aulea got closer and closer to the door she briefly felt a touch of apprehension; it had been some time since she'd last met Sylva, and she didn't know how the years might have changed her old friend. She still remembered her as the brilliant and shining young woman she had been back when Aulea was still touring the country with Regis—Sylva had been the light of Tenebrae back then. She'd still go around the entire country to heal people in need, still renew the light of each Haven herself, still fight against the daemons with her staff in hand. But a lot had changed since then.
It had been tragic enough when her parents had died—both before their time, in an accidental fire, leaving Sylva to take up the role of Oracle. And that would have been bad on its own, but Aulea knew that Sylva had trained her whole life to become the Oracle, and that she would find happiness in fulfilling her duty. No, the worst thing that had happened in the intervening years was the loss of her husband—so soon after the birth of their second child, and from something so mundane. One of the many bridges that made up Tenebrae's infrastructure had snapped after being weakened by a severe storm. Floris hadn't been the only one that had died that day, but Aulea knew that his death must have hit Sylva hard.
She knew that Sylva stayed more at the Manor now, and with Niflheim strengthening their assault on Lucis, that things must be difficult for her and her children. But Aulea wanted to see her again, and more than that, wanted the information she'd been so carefully collecting on Niflheim's movements. That was her true reason for being here. Back when she and Regis were touring, not only had Aulea formed a friendship with Sylva, but they'd also made a promise. Sylva disliked the overt control Niflheim was beginning to exert over the people of Tenebrae, and particularly the magitek troopers they were starting to introduce into the army, which were now a staple of the assault on Lucis. So, when she met with Aulea, a friend of the future king of Lucis, she had asked to help with their offensive against Niflheim in whatever way she could, and that had turned out to be information on the Empires movements and tactics.
That was the information that Aulea had been sent to collect, and that was why, and she rang the quaint doorbell next to the massive front door of the castle, she felt a brief chill run down her spine. It didn't take long for the door to be answered, and Aulea felt herself tense up slightly as it began to crack open—afraid of what might be waiting for her on the other side. Her fears were alleviated slightly as a familiar face greeted her at the door.
The years had clearly taken their toll on Sylva. She was no longer quite the bright, happy young woman Aulea remembered from her youth. Her face was lined with grief, and her smile, though genuine, was clearly an effort to hold on her face as she recognised Aulea.
"Why, if it isn't the Queen of Lucis come to visit me—please, come in my dear," she said, opening the door fully and ushering Aulea inside.
Before she could say anything further though, there was a slight rustling from the curtain on the left, acting as a partition between the foyer and one of the many drawing rooms in the house. Sylva frowned slightly and turned towards the rustling, before smiling and shaking her head, making her way over to the curtain.
"Come out Luna, it's perfectly safe," she said, pulling the curtain aside to reveal a small toddler with fluffy blonde hair that strongly resembled her mother's.
This must be the little Lady Lunafreya. She was only three years old, but already up on her feet and fully aware of the world around her, looking up at Aulea with a tiny frown, as though displeased by her presence. She was going to have quite the character when she was older, Aulea could tell.
"Don't want to," she said, apparently unhappy about being discovered.
"Well we can't have that can we?" asked Sylva, grinning widely at her daughter before sweeping her up in her arms, causing Luna to shriek with a combination of alarm and excitement as she was held high in the air.
"Put me down!" she screeched, laughing as Sylva pulled her close to her chest.
"An Oracle must know how to properly greet their guests—now what do we say to Queen Aulea?"
"Oh, don't be so formal with me Sylva, you know I can't stand it," said Aulea, suppressing a chuckle as Luna made a valiant effort to squirm out of her mother's arms.
"You haven't changed at all Aulea," said Sylva, glancing up at her with a smile. "But come on Luna, I shall put you down if you greet our guest."
"Fine," she huffed, having worn herself out trying to escape Sylva's grasp. "Hello, Your Majesty," she said, and gave a half-bow from where she sat in Sylva's arms.
"Excellent, you'll be a brilliant Oracle yet," said Sylva, beaming at Luna before making good on her promise and releasing her.
Luna quickly scrambled away, back into the depths of the colossal structure that was Fenestala Manor. Sylva's smile faded slightly as her daughter raced out of view, and Aulea could tell that Luna was one of the few things that brought Sylva happiness in the troubled times they were living through. Still, at least she still had something to be happy about.
"My apologies Aulea, doubtless you'd like somewhere to sit down so we can talk properly," said Sylva, turning back to her and making a sweeping gesture towards a pair of glass doors to their left, behind which appeared to be some sort of conservatory.
"Lead the way," said Aulea, and Sylva smiled and swept over to the door, though Aulea noticed the way she carefully turned the doorknob, as though afraid of making too much noise.
"We should have some privacy in here," said Sylva glancing briefly around the room before shutting the door behind them.
Aulea had been correct in her assessment that the room was a conservatory, but she hadn't quite realised the scale of it until she stepped inside. The room was huge, taking up the same space that would have made an entire floor in a normal-sized home, and it's large glass windows offered an excellent view of the expansive and famed field of sylleblossoms that had been tended by the Oracles for centuries. The most notable thing about the room though, was that, much like the garden on its exterior, it was filled to the brim with plants.
Pots were everywhere, on every surface, and in them were the most enormous variety of plants Aulea had ever seen. There were shrubs and small trees, all thriving in the pleasant heat of early summer, but by far the most popular kind of plants were the flowers. Aulea had never presumed to be any kind of plant expert, but she had never felt quite so aware of her lack of knowledge than when confronted by the uncountable number of specimens in front of her. Almost all the flowers in what she now realised was more of a greenhouse than a conservatory, were in bloom and as a result the whole room was cloaked in a light, sweet scent.
Sylva walked out ahead of her and over to the only table in the room that wasn't covered in plants. It was a small, wooden affair, painted a light cream, in fitting with the national colours of Tenebrae, and on it was a dainty ceramic tea set. Sylva pulled out a chair and gestured for Aulea to sit, before seating herself on the other side of the table and busying herself with pouring the tea. Aulea carefully took a seat, feeling slightly out of place, with her patriotic black regalia standing out against her very white surroundings. Sylva appeared to notice her discomfort and gave her an encouraging smile.
"I fear we both feel a little out of place at the moment, don't we Aulea?" she said, passing Aulea a teacup, filled to the brim with hot, black tea—just the way she liked it. "Sometimes I can scarcely remember what it was like not to be trapped here."
"You certainly live in quite the gilded cage," said Aulea, blowing softly on her tea and looking around the room once more.
"Oh, don't mistake my bitterness for my being ungrateful!" said Sylva, a touch of laughter in her eyes. "I'm well aware that my family and I enjoy privileges that too few of our subjects are also privy to. But let us dispense with these pretences—I've scarcely been allowed out of my home these past few years. Partially because I am busy with my duties as the Queen—that is an acceptable sacrifice, I think. But also because Niflheim is beginning to exert more control over Tenebrae."
"What?" asked Aulea, perturbed by this news. "How?"
"It all started when the Empire began to employ those MTs," said Sylva, looking nervously out of the windows, as though afraid there might be one lurking outside. "They said it was for 'the safety and protection of the people of Tenebrae.' Ha! I've never heard such nonsense. The Oracle is the one who protects the people of Tenebrae, and they know that."
"So what did you do?" asked Aulea, leaning over the table. "The people couldn't have been happy about it."
"They weren't my dear, they certainly weren't," said Sylva, and now she looked sad again. "I myself protested against this clear infringement of our neutrality agreement, bringing armed forces into Tenebrae can only mean one thing—that they are preparing to fully annex us, and soon. The people protested with me, and eventually Niflheim was forced to withdraw its troops—the motion was too unpopular."
"And yet I saw MTs on my way here," said Aulea, frowning.
"You did," sighed Sylva, and she appeared drained of energy somehow. "That's the awful part, yes? Soon after the MTs withdrew, people started to go missing."
"Niflheim was really so transparent?"
"Not at all, you see, I'm not strictly allowed to tell you this—the duties of the Oracle are a well-guarded secret in Tenebrae, but I fear if things continue as they are then there won't be an Oracle for much longer. There is one thing that can make people vanish without a trace, even when there appears to have been no foul play whatsoever. And if it is what I think it is then we are all in dire straights indeed."
"But, you'll forgive me Sylva, how does this relate to your duties as Oracle? Surely you can't be suggesting daemons are the ones who did this?" asked Aulea, taking another sip of her tea.
"Something like that, perhaps," said Sylva with a deep sigh. "No, I oughtn't to have mentioned it. It will only bring ruin on us all. But isn't that simply the way Niflheim works?"
"If Niflheim can control the daemons somehow, then they've become a far more dangerous foe than we anticipated," said Aulea, with a frown, thinking about the ruin they'd already wrought on Lucis.
"I hope that they can't," said Sylva, and she didn't seem particularly convinced of her own words. "But I can't ignore what I've observed, and that is that once the MTs left, more of these disappearances started happening—primarily to the people who'd protested with me—surely that cannot be a coincidence?"
"This is very troubling," said Aulea, trying not to think about what might happen to Lucis if the Empire could control the daemons.
"Indeed, and, as you can imagine, the Empire took immediate advantage of the panic this caused to send the MTs right back in with the same excuse. Of course, this didn't do anything to stop the disappearances, but the people were too afraid to protest this time, so now we're stuck with them."
"I'm sorry Sylva—all of this must be a great stress on you," said Aulea, reaching across the table to sympathetically clasp Sylva's hand.
There were more calluses there than there had been before, she noticed. Clearly Sylva hadn't been allowing the Empire to prevent her from fighting her ground—against both figurative and literal daemons. Sylva just smiled sadly, leaning back in her seat and looking up at the roof of the greenhouse, though she made no effort to remove Aulea's hand.
"I have my small comforts," she said with a sigh, leaning forward again. "This greenhouse, for example. I'm allowed to tend to my plants as I please, and continue to maintain the garden—as tradition dictates," she said, gesturing with her free hand. "I'm hoping to get Luna interested in gardening once she's old enough. I've already tried with Ravus, but he simply doesn't have an eye for it—and I'm convinced he'd much rather hide himself away with one of his books anyway."
"He's a studious child then?" asked Aulea, trying to put Sylva at ease.
"Oh yes," said Sylva, with an affectionate smile. "He loves reading the classics—I can't keep him away from Floris's old tomes, even though I'm sure some of them are hardly appropriate for his age."
"Such is the way with children I hear," said Aulea, bemused.
"Indeed, I do hope my little Luna isn't quite as boisterous as he is when she's older, but one can hardly tell with the age she's at now."
"If she's anything like her mother I wouldn't get my hopes up," said Aulea, giving a mischievous grin.
Sylva pouted slightly at this and huffily removed her hand, before leaning back in her chair and laughing. Aulea was relieved her spirits seemed to have lifted and smiled widely at her friend until she had recovered herself.
"Thank you Aulea, my soul hasn't been this light in some time," said Sylva once she regained her breath.
"I only wish I could stay longer," sighed Aulea, looking around at the myriad of flowers surrounding her. "It's such a shame our two countries cannot be closer, there are so many things I'd like to do here. I feel as though we hardly speak anymore."
"We always have letters my dear, but I know what you mean," said Sylva, with a sad look in her eyes, but then something seemed to occur to her that cheered her a little. "I'll tell you what Aulea, we needn't spend all our time speaking of the depressing topic of Niflheim while we're here together. I would hate to think that you came simply to exchange information then leave. Let's walk together in the garden and appreciate the fine weather we're having, and we can speak of more simple things. How does that sound?"
"That sounds wonderful Sylva, I would be glad to join you," said Aulea rising from her seat as Sylva led the way out into the garden of endless sylleblossoms, blowing gently in the breeze.
The rest of that afternoon would be forever enshrined in Aulea's memory as the last time she ever saw her dear friend. They did, as Sylva so rightly said, still have letters, and they wrote to each other frequently over the next few years, but never again did Aulea see Sylva's careworn face, or hear her quiet, melodic voice. Aulea had no inkling of how few her remaining years were, of how she would never watch her son grow up, or her husband grow old by her side, or how she would remain only a distant memory to all those dear to her. But that afternoon, standing side by side with one of her oldest friends, and laughing as their voices were carried away with the wind, and with them all the hopes and dreams they both had for the future, nothing else mattered. Only the flowers, swaying in the breeze, and the sun shining brightly overhead.