The Distant Trail of Ciara Badvia - 1-1-3 His Majesty the King and Fragrant Tea Leaves

The Saria Magic Academy
Part 1: The Solzarand Royal Castle

HIS MAJESTY THE KING AND FRAGRANT TEA LEAVES

Standing in the center was a middle-aged man dressed in a green mantle and white formal wear, his brown hair adorned with a crown. On his right was an old man also dressed formally, with deep wrinkles and a white beard, and holding several stacks of paper in his hands. The one on the left, meanwhile, was not in formal attire; he was draped in a light-green robe, with long reddish-brown hair—a young man who looked disheveled and easygoing.

Tyril knew at a glance that the king was the middle-aged man. She never expected that there would be someone standing before her besides the king. Her body froze and her mind went blank; feeling unprecedentedly intimidated, she looked much like a hamster being stared down by a cat.

“I apologize for making you wait. I am Elmyr-Sol Hague, the reigning king of the Solzarand Kingdom. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He took a step forward and bowed respectfully. “This is Varda Luxor, the prime minister who leads our kingdom’s council. And this young man holds the position of court magician, Cerrado Nestiroy. Since they are involved in this case, they requested to be present.”

The king introduced the other two men in his company, and both gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. Tyril, however, could do nothing but make incoherent sounds like “Um…” and “Ah…” without so much as meeting their gazes. 

“I’d like to confirm once again, if you don’t mind. Are you Miss Zeeland?”

At that moment, one gear in Tyril’s head clicked into place—she hadn’t even greeted them yet! As soon as she thought about it, she realized how incredibly rude it was and swiftly jumped up from the sofa, standing upright.

“T-thank you very much for inviting me! My name is, um, Tyril Zeeland!”

“You seem quite nervous.” The king chuckled and smiled, understanding Tyril’s tongue-tied state.

“You do not need to be so tense; we are not here to test or question you. So please, relax and have a seat. Us as well.” The king calmly spoke to Tyril as he gestured for her to take a seat on the sofa. He took a seat in front of her, while Prime Minister Luxor slowly sat on his left and Court Magician Nestiroy lazily plopped down on his right. Trying to calm her trembling legs, Tyril managed to persuade herself to sit down on the sofa she’d been in a moment ago.

The maid from earlier reappeared with a tray right on time. First, she placed fragrant tea and baked sweets in front of King Elm, then the same items before Luxor and Nestiroy, deeply bowing all the while. Tyril’s tea and sweets from earlier remained untouched, and so the maid peered at her and asked, “Would you prefer something warmer instead?”

“Oh, i-it’s okay. I’m sorry!”

Tyril, who wasn’t expecting to be addressed, hurriedly squeezed out her response while frantically waving her hand. Her nervousness hadn’t yet dissipated, evident by her high-pitched voice. The maid left the room smiling. 

Tyril thought it would be rude of her to not partake, so she decided to reach for the teacup and take a sip to moisten her throat. Then, her eyes widened; a sweet aroma wafted to her nose, and she gazed at the warm fragrant tea. 

“Ah… It’s delicious,” she murmured unintentionally.

The king smiled proudly. “It’s made from my favorite leaves.”

It just dawned on Tyril that even a king could have a preference toward tea, like she and Rosa. The realization brought a bit of relief, and for the first time, she was able to return a smile to King Elm.

After he sipped the fragrant tea as well, the king’s gaze sharpened. “Let’s begin discussing the support for you, Miss Zeeland. First of all, I want to express my gratitude for your accepting my invitation.”

King Elm suddenly bowed his head, much to her embarrassment.

“No, no, no, not at all! It should be me saying thank you. I never thought I’d get into the capital’s magic academy, let alone become a magician. I didn’t even think it was possible. The fact that I’m here at Saria and can study magic is all thanks to you, King Elm.”

“This is, in fact, a plan officially decided by the Kingdom Council, including those present here,” he replied. “This does not affect you alone, Miss Zeeland. We believe that this will eventually contribute to the kingdom’s development in the future.”

“Huh…?” Tyril tilted her head in confusion.

“Allow me to explain,” Luxor interjected. He seemed to have been enjoying the fragrant tea in his hand, but now he set the cup down, stroking his rich, white beard as he spoke.

“Since the end of the Enea Continental War twenty years ago, our kingdom’s national policy has changed to advocate two things: the reduction of military forces and the promotion of cultural development. Those policies were initiated as part of our efforts to contribute positively to the international community. Are you aware of this?”

Tyril shook her head. She didn’t possess deep knowledge of politics. Even the current discussion was beyond her understanding.

“I’ll elaborate a bit, then. 

“Throughout our history, our nation has always based its national policy on the principles of self-defense and autonomy. We have also pursued diplomatic efforts promoting coexistence and mutual prosperity with neighboring countries. However, in reality, we have faced numerous invasions from other nations, particularly from the northern Barthe Empire and the eastern Grandia Kingdom, and have been compelled to respond with armed resistance on multiple occasions. 

“In the aftermath of the recent war, we have decided to break free from this undesirable cycle. We aspire to usher in an era of cultural development different from the past, where we can rely on the power of culture and civilization instead of military force, and mutually strive for greater heights. That is the new national policy that our country has established, and it is the proposal we have presented to the member countries of the Enea Alliance.”

Luxor’s tongue smoothly wove the words. However, no matter how much Tyril listened, it all sounded incomprehensible to her. She tried to pretend she understood by nodding and adding a few “uh-huhs” here and there, but it seemed she wasn’t fooling anyone. Nestiroy, who was reclining on the sofa with his hands behind his head, cut in with a bored tone. 

“Basically, it means that we should stop fighting and determine the strength and greatness of our country through academic achievements.”

Luxor glared at Nestiroy sharply. “Lord Nestiroy, please refrain from oversimplification.” 

In truth, Tyril felt that she understood the magician’s words somewhat better. But was it wrong to think of things that way?

“In any case, in accordance with the national policy, for the past twenty years after the war, we have been channeling all our efforts into cultural development, promoting education, and most importantly, advancing the progress in magical studies. During that time, there was one thing we fervently wished for—a certain power and skill we hoped could be devoted to the development of the country—but its whereabouts had been difficult to ascertain. It is—”

“—the power of Ciara Badvia.” 

The final words were from King Elm. His arms were crossed and his brows were furrowed. It hinted at some inner turmoil he could no longer repress.

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