Light streamed through the palace windows. It was daytime, past noon. The chirping of rukhs could be heard high above, and the wind lashed the clothes hanging in the streets below, in the city. All of Velmardia had been celebrating for several days, ever since the expedition led by the hero, Lionel, had returned from distant lands.
Although Queen Matelda had allowed the celebration, the main reason she had sent Lionel and his escort far away, to the solitary, though no longer abandoned, city of Ravidra, had not been fulfilled. Lionel had not found the ambrosia, the divine flower of Goddess Velmar. But fortunately, the journey had not been in vain: Lionel had returned with valuable prisoners, and with Velmardian agents infiltrated into the lands of King Valgott, none other than within Raven’s Order’s Academy itself.
So, the festivities were grand. They would last at least a week, more than enough time for the inhabitants of the kingdom of Velmardia to forget the gloom surrounding them and rekindle the flame of hope in their hearts.
But not every place in Velmardia was celebrating. The Velmardian army’s training grounds were crowded. Soldiers trained without rest. Those who had not been chosen to accompany Lionel on his mission felt sidelined, so they pushed themselves hard to quickly become worthy members of the next group selected by their captain, and hero.
Though it was the magical training field that had the largest attendance, even though only two people were training there, while the rest watched from a safe distance. One of the two combatants was Hutriel, the archangel sent by Goddess Velmar. He was equipped with his combat armor, helmet removed, as was his custom. He did not wield his sword, instead fighting by concentrating magical energy near his fists and releasing it in bursts of light and fire. Opposite him, dressed in a red Velmardian outfit with a cloak identical to the one used at Raven’s Order’s Academy, stood a young woman. She wielded a staff of twisted wood, with a vibrant purple gemstone set at the top. The young woman returned the archangel’s magical attacks with little effort, launching bursts of wind and water at him.
The impact of magical projectiles colliding with those of the opposing element made the air crackle, sending sparks of color everywhere. The two moved closer and farther from each other, never ceasing to cast magic, almost wildly. The archangel’s expression shifted between an amused smile when attacking and absolute focus when defending. However, the girl’s face did not change: she maintained a calm and cold expression, as if calculating her next move and every possible way her opponent might react.
After a series of exchanges, all based on magical projectiles, the archangel received a hit to the shoulder that made him stagger. The spectators gasped, some even voicing their surprise. The girl raised her staff over the fallen archangel, conjuring a magical glyph: engraved rune of motionless freeze.
But the archangel smiled. The glyph fell upon him, but Hutriel shattered it with a swipe of one of his gauntlets. The young woman tried to move aside, but the archangel grabbed her by the clasp of her cloak, immobilizing her in front of him, leaving her at his mercy. In his other hand, Hutriel conjured sparks of purple energy, which reflected in his eyes, darkening even further his already grim expression.
The girl raised her hands and let her staff fall, signaling her surrender.
—I expected no less from an archangel —she said, adjusting her outfit once Hutriel released her, not taking her eyes off the dark magic gathered in his hands.
—I expected more from Velmardia’s finest spy —said Hutriel. The magic dissipated, but his gaze did not soften or relax: it still carried the same murderous edge—. You became a warlock, Siphone. I expected more from you.
Siphone looked at him with pride, yet also resignation. Yes, she was Velmardia’s finest spy, and one of those infiltrated in Raven’s Order’s Academy. But that did not mean her weapons master could accuse her of wasting her time.
—What happened there, master, has not improved my combat skills. Though I have had to make pacts with several demons—bonds that here, in Velmardia, are of no use to me: my magic remains excellent. Unfortunately, I still cannot rival an archangel —said Siphone. She wanted to ask her master about that dark spell, but decided to let it pass for now.
—Very few can rival an archangel in magical power and skill; on that, I must agree with you —Hutriel extended his hand, signaling the duel was over. The spectators applauded enthusiastically, as the display of magic had been spectacular—. Let’s return. Now that Sol is here, it's time to overthrow the imposter posing as the Goddess Velmar. By the way, do you know where he is?
—I believe Master Sol is meditating, as he does every morning when the sun is at its highest —said Siphone.
—I asked him to go watch over the prisoners. I trust Her Majesty’s decisions, but even with your recommendations, I don’t think those two should be free in the middle plateau —said Hutriel.
Siphone did not respond. She had insisted that her two friends be prisoners with privileges, such as not wearing shackles or having their own quarters. Only time would tell if she had been wrong.
At the top of Velmardia, in the castle, a meeting had been convened. All the high-ranking members of the Velmardian army were there, from generals to heralds. The queen had summoned those she trusted most to discuss the next course of action.
But it was not with any of them that Queen Matelda was speaking. A young man with silver hair and a captivating smile was engaged in a heated conversation with the queen herself. No one dared to intervene, but not out of fear of Her Majesty’s reply, rather because of the unusual color of the young man’s eyes: gold.
—I’m afraid I must insist, Your Majesty. Releasing two prisoners is not a good idea, regardless of who suggests it —said the young man.
—What do you fear? A dying comatose man, or a cook confined to the kitchens? Your fears are unfounded —said Queen Matelda.
—Your Majesty, it is my duty to remind you that that “cook” murdered her own grandmother in cold blood to secure a pact with a demon —said the young man—. She is not a defenseless woman. She is a warlock of Sylthmir.
—I trust, to a certain extent, the recommendations of the archangels sent by Goddess Velmar, but you must remember that I am the queen, sir. I do not need anyone’s approval to make decisions —said Queen Matelda.
—Why do you doubt the word of Sir Hutriel, Your Majesty? —said the young man—. Does a messenger of Goddess Velmar herself not deserve respect and credibility?
—Your question is unfair. Is there any way to answer it that would not call into question my faith in Goddess Velmar? —said Queen Matelda.
—Obviously not. That was my intention, Your Majesty —said the young man, brushing his hair back. At the center of his forehead was a golden inlay, an eye, without pupil or eyelid.
One of the generals drew her weapon and stepped forward from the crowd.
—You are quite bold, insulting Her Majesty in front of her army —said the woman—. Retract your words or face the consequences!
The young man leapt into the air with a flip, far higher than any human could jump, especially while wearing an armor. He landed between the general and the rest of the soldiers, holding a broad, heavy sword in one hand, and another thinner yet equally threatening blade in the other.
—If you wish to face an archangel, now is your moment. I grant you the first strike —said the young man, his stance leaving no opening. The general hesitated, but delivered a horizontal slash, which was stopped by one of the archangel’s swords—. And now, it’s my turn.
The archangel struck with both swords, but more generals joined the fight, stopping the blows with shields and gauntlets. Fed up, Queen Matelda raised her hand and halted the fight as quickly as she could.
—Sir Sol, we trust the archangels, for you are envoys of Goddess Velmar, but we know that in the abandoned city of Ravidra there were ambrosia flowers. Our saints, especially the Saint of Divination, Eisha, drew it from the mind of one of the prisoners —said Queen Matelda.
—The feverish dreams of a boy should not be considered irrefutable proof to accuse an archangel of withholding the truth —said the archangel Sol, sheathing his swords—. Moreover, did not your own hero, Sir Lionel, corroborate the story?
Queen Matelda fell silent. No one dared even breathe. All members of the army had heard from Lionel himself that the mission had failed, as they had not found the flowers the queen needed. And there was no reason to doubt him.
—Let us hear again what he has to say —said the queen, looking toward the crowd.
But no one stepped forward. They all looked at each other, confused. Lionel was not among them.
—By the grace of the Goddess, where is Lionel? —said Queen Matelda.
At the outpost on the middle plateau, in the kitchens, Larinca had earned the sympathy of the entire kitchen staff. Her culinary skills were outstanding, surprising even the most seasoned cooks with her blends of flavors: she could enhance sweet foods or drinks with a pinch of spices, even salting them, creating contrasts that would never have occurred to the Velmardians.
But it wasn’t all smiles. Larinca still wore the uniform of Raven’s Order’s Academy, so no one ever forgot that she was the enemy. Unfortunately, that meant that from time to time, there were those who confronted her, beyond the looks of disdain and whispered comments.
Larinca kept her usual smile. As long as she could stay focused on cooking, she didn’t mind being watched and judged. That had been her daily life at the academy. Laughter, hatred, scorn, and contempt. For the color of her hair. For her figure. For her smile, or her hobbies, or the few friends she had. Practically no one considered her magic, culinary glyphs, a worthy form of magic. They saw them as tricks, or even techniques, but not magic. Larinca knew that it required very precise control to keep the fire at the right temperature, or to make the edges of cakes crisp while the center remained moist.
“Only Nero knows how powerful I can truly be,” Larinca thought, sighing. He was her best friend, and to some extent, also the person she loved the most, within her small and somewhat twisted heart. But now, it no longer mattered. There was no going back: Nero was gone.
She sighed. It had taken her weeks to accept it. Even when the archangel Hutriel had wrapped her friend’s lifeless body in his cloak, telling her he was with Goddess Velmar, Larinca had cried, shattered and inconsolable.
Discovering that Siphone, her only other friend, and Iris, Siphone’s sister, were both Velmardian spies had not lightened the weight of the moment. Not only had they killed her best friend, but they had dragged her, locked behind bars in a carriage, to the one place she could not escape: the kingdom of Velmardia.
—Are they treating you well? —someone said, pulling Larinca out of her thoughts.
It was the soldier who had captured her. Lionel, they called him. Larinca ignored him. She was busy cooking, slicing an apple into thin pieces, putting the finishing touches on the apple pie she was baking. Unfortunately for her, all the cooks had been summoned to the castle, and with no one else in the kitchens, she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t heard him.
—Better than expected —said Larinca, noticing the soldier sit on a stool in front of her. She gave him a quick glance. Without his armor, he was just another muscular young man. But he smelled good, not like the other soldiers she had met in Sylthmir. And if there was one thing a pastry chef’s nose appreciated, it was a pleasant scent.
—Are you making apple pie? It’s my favorite! —said Lionel, leaning back in his seat.
—Then you’ll have to wait. This is a gift for the queen —said Larinca, opening the oven. The aroma of the pie filled the kitchen. Lionel raised his eyebrows, impressed by how good it smelled—. And it’s almost ready. It just needs the apple on top roasted and caramelized.
—And then you’ll let me try it? —said Lionel, insistently.
Larinca made a displeased face and continued slicing the apple into thin pieces. The knight’s presence unsettled her in a way she couldn’t understand.
—Why are you talking to me like that? —she finally said.
—Define “like that” —said Lionel.
—As if we were friends. As if I weren’t actually a prisoner here, and you weren’t the guard limiting my movements —said Larinca, wiping the knife on her apron. She set it carefully on the counter and, using cloths, took the pie out of the oven.
—I’m good at reading people. And I know you’re one of the good ones —said Lionel.
—You know nothing about me —Larinca replied—. Didn’t Siphone give you a report on every student or teacher at the academy?
Lionel shrugged, nodding. Larinca noticed his expression darken, and wrinkled her nose in annoyance. “This is where the treatment changes,” she thought.
—There is a report, yes, but I don’t need to read it. I never do. I trust my instincts. Someone who makes apple pies with that much love cannot be a bad person —said Lionel.
Larinca didn’t know how to respond. The knight simply looked at her, solemn yet smiling. She didn’t know where his conviction came from, but she knew his words were honest. Not only that: he truly believed them.
She couldn’t answer, as Abel, the queen’s herald, burst into the kitchen, interrupting the moment.
—Lionel! I’ve been running from the stables! Her Majesty is looking for you! —said the boy, panting.
—Then you can tell her she’s already found me —said Lionel, clearly joking.
—I would never speak to Her Majesty the way you do —said Abel, horrified.
—Is it urgent? —said Lionel— You’ve caught me in the middle of a conversation.
—The generals and Archangel Sol are gathered with Her Majesty. You’re the only one missing, and they need you to testify again —said Abel—. I have a carriage ready to take you to the palace. If we hurry, we’ll get there in under fifteen minutes and won’t be punished. I have armor for you, so you don’t show up… like that.
Lionel stood up from the stool, shrugging.
—You win. Go ahead and tell the driver we’ll be carrying a delicate object, so we must proceed with great care —said Lionel.
—What’s so delicate? —Abel asked.
—An apple pie —said Lionel, pointing at Larinca with his chin.
—What? —she said, surprised.
—Wasn’t it a pie for the queen? Then I’ll give you the chance to deliver it in person. Come on, you heard the kid—we’re late —said Lionel, smiling.
Larinca wanted to object, but that boy’s smile had something… something special. Blushing, she finished preparing the pie, and without caramelizing it, the two of them left the kitchens.
They didn’t take long to arrive. The mood in the hall was rather low, as during the time it had taken them to travel from the middle plateau to the castle on the upper plateau, the generals had been giving their opinions about Velmardia’s immediate future, and apparently, things were not very promising.
Larinca entered the hall carrying the tray with the pie in her hands, just behind Lionel, finding the queen engrossed in a heated discussion from multiple sides. Abel, the queen’s herald, formally introduced them, and one by one, the voices fell silent. Soon, the only one still speaking was a young man with golden eyes. Larinca didn’t need to interact with him to know he was an archangel.
—Ah, at last, the esteemed knight arrives —said the archangel, Sol.
Lionel ignored the archangel and walked straight toward Queen Matelda. A few steps away from her, he knelt on one knee. The armor Abel had prepared for him was not the one he usually wore, but a special one, more ornate, befitting an audience with the queen and all the generals.
—Your Majesty, your knight presents himself —said Lionel, without raising his head.
—You may spare me the excuses, Lionel. I see no acceptable reason for failing to attend a meeting I have convened, least of all when you are my own protector knight —said Queen Matelda.
Larinca swallowed, tightening her grip on the tray. Hearing that Lionel was the queen’s protector knight made her cheeks flush. She quickly dismissed what her eager mind had imagined might happen between her and Lionel. She lowered her gaze to the pie, trying to regain the composure her libido had briefly made her lose.
Lionel did not respond. Protocol required him to receive the queen’s reprimand without moving a muscle, without replying, not even sighing. Discomfort had no place when addressing the queen.
—We need to hear your testimony again regarding what was found, or not found, in the abandoned castle of Ravidra —said Queen Matelda, after an appropriate pause.
—Your Majesty, my testimony is the same as the one I gave the first time you asked me: we found no sacred flower in the city of Ravidra. And I do not use the term “abandoned,” as it is inaccurate: in the city we found a colony of nomadic devils, Your Majesty. Against all expectations, they were not hostile. Not even their leader, who called himself Gilgamesh and whom they treated as king, wished to engage us in combat, the Velmardians. They allowed us to examine the city and the interior of the castle, where we found the prisoners and the prodigy spy. I’m afraid you already know the rest of the story —said Lionel, extending an arm toward Larinca, implying that the queen already knew of the prisoners and their freedom, as she herself had allowed it.
The entire room remained silent, all eyes fixed on Larinca. She knew that was not her place, but still, she withstood the pressure of the intense gazes and stepped forward, with as much dignity as she could muster, holding the tray in front of her like a shield, presenting the pie.
—Your Majesty, I bring you a gift as a token of my gratitude —said Larinca, trying not to let her voice break.
Lionel winked at her, trying to reassure her. She didn’t respond to the gesture, but she calmed down slightly.
—I thank you. I adore gifts, especially when they are pies —said Queen Matelda, making a subtle gesture with her hand.
Almost immediately, the queen’s taster, a young woman named Astema, appeared from the shadows at the side of the hall, wearing a white kimono decorated with black feathers. Two servants accompanied her, carrying a small table covered with a cloth.
The taster cut a piece of the pie, placed it on a plate atop the small table, examined it, smelled it, and finally took a tiny bite, chewing and savoring it slowly. And almost instantly, she dropped to her knees, eyes wide open.
Then, with a sharp motion, Sol knocked the pie to the ground.
—Never come near Her Majesty again with a poisoned dish —said the archangel.
Larinca couldn’t respond. Her eyes filled with tears, both from anger and helplessness. One of the things her grandmother had taught her was that food must never be wasted, for doing so was an offense to those who had worked to prepare it. She shot the archangel a look full of hatred and emotion.
But it was Lionel who stepped forward and threw a punch straight at the archangel’s face, knocking him down. Then, ignoring the stunned archangel, Lionel knelt beside the taster, forcing her to look him in the eyes.
—Astema? Are you alright? Do you need a doctor? —said Lionel. But the taster shook her head fervently and stood up, leaning on Lionel.
—How? —were Astema’s only words, before tasting the pie again— This is the most delicious food I’ve ever tasted!
—Then… it’s not poisoned? —Lionel asked.
—Not at all! Quite the opposite. If you’ll allow me, Your Majesty, you would have been amazed by the flavor of this pie —said Astema.
—I… I would never poison anyone with my food. Food is sacred! —said Larinca suddenly. Her eyes were full of tears.
—You cannot trust someone from Sylthmir! —Sol roared suddenly. His wings had spread, and a radiant halo of light floated above his head. Even his eyes emitted flashes of white light. Lionel moved to draw his sword, but he didn’t have it, as it wasn’t his armor. Without hesitation, he stepped between the archangel and Larinca, raising his fists, ready to fight.
—ENOUGH! —shouted Queen Matelda.
Everyone froze. The queen walked up to Larinca and bowed her head slightly, offering an apology.
—On behalf of all the Velmardian people, I apologize for the treatment you are receiving. I hope this will not remain in your memory as a regrettable display of our hospitality —said Queen Matelda.
—But, Your Majesty! Why do you trust this woman? She is the enemy! —said Sol, furious.
—Remember before whom you stand, Sir Sol! It is your actions that make me doubt, not her, but you! Just as I question Sir Hutriel’s word, seeing how desperately you insist on making this woman look bad before me, I cannot help but suspect your intentions —said Queen Matelda. Her face was stone-like.
The archangel dismissed his wings and calmed himself.
—My apologies, Your Majesty. That was… there is no excuse —he said, falling silent.
—Now that we have heard Lionel’s testimony again, we have returned to the starting point —said Queen Matelda— The only way to determine who is lying is to hear the testimony of the young man upon whom divination was performed.
—Nero? —said Larinca, immediately covering her mouth.
—Is that your friend’s name? —said Queen Matelda. Larinca nodded— Very well. Bring Nero before me. That way, we will settle this.
—I’m afraid young Nero is still in a coma, Your Majesty —said Lionel.
—How unfortunate. Very well, let us proceed. We have already wasted enough time. We must discuss how to strengthen Velmardia’s defenses. Abel, summon Saint Reena and prepare the magical map. We must… —the queen looked at Lionel and Larinca, puzzled— Are you still here?
—Your Majesty? —said Lionel, confused. Larinca did not dare speak. She was still shaken after the incident with the pie.
—Lionel, as my knight, I order you to escort Miss Larinca during her stay in Velmardia. I grant her free access to any area of the middle plateau, and to the palace kitchens whenever she needs —said the queen, crouching and dipping her finger into the remains of the pie. She tasted it and her expression changed instantly—. And it will be soon, for I order you, Miss Larinca, to prepare ten more pies like this one. It is, without a doubt, the most delicious dessert I have ever had the opportunity to taste. You may leave.
Lionel bowed and coughed lightly so that Larinca would do the same. They left the hall, leaving behind soldiers, archangels, queens, and tension, and walked in silence through the palace corridors.
—Thank you —said Larinca.
—My pleasure —said Lionel, looking ahead.
“I’ll make a pie for you too” Larinca thought, smiling to herself. She was starting to like that knight.
