TRETTHD 55

#55. This Isn’t a Tea Party, It’s a Battlefield

The iron gates of the imperial palace swung open, and one by one, carriages rolled to a stop along the grand road. For the sake of royal security, the carriages could go no further—everyone had to disembark here.

From the top of the steps overlooking the road, Vellia stood poised to greet them.

“Your Highness!”

“Welcome. The carriages cannot go beyond this point, so I came to escort you personally.”

Once all the invited guests had gathered, Vellia herself led them to the garden where the tea party would be held.

Her graceful, dignified bearing as she guided the nobles was striking—so well-suited to the splendid palace that it seemed as though she had always belonged here.

“Wow!”

The young noble ladies visiting the palace for the first time could not stop glancing around in awe. Those who had been before pretended to be more composed, following Vellia with practiced elegance.

And then, unlike the rest, there was one person who truly looked at ease in the palace.

“Lady, you must have been here many times before?”

“Of course.”

It was none other than Elin Canterif.

With a parasol in hand to block the sunlight, she wore an affectedly prim expression as she surveyed the faces of those around her. Most were flushed with excitement and delight.

“This way. It’s a bit of a walk, so I ask for your patience.”

Vellia smiled as she spoke at a fork in the path, and the ladies assured her they didn’t mind.

After all, they had come all the way to the palace; what was a short walk compared to that?

Elin, however, had always ridden a carriage straight to the Crown Prince’s quarters in her position as the prospective crown princess. It had been a long time since she last had to walk anywhere.

“It’s a little warm, isn’t it?” Elin murmured, fanning herself lightly.

At once, the young ladies nearby stiffened at the remark.

“Yes, it’s quite a warm day, even for autumn,” Vellia replied with a gentle smile, smoothly brushing aside what was clearly a calculated jab.

A harmless attack, hardly worth worrying about.

Before long, they arrived at the garden where the tea party would take place. Maids approached each guest to guide them to their seats, and once everyone was settled, Vellia spoke.

“Bring it out, please.”

At her command, a maid placed a small dish in front of each lady.

The guests looked puzzled, staring down at the unfamiliar treat, until Vellia explained kindly:

“This is watermelon marinated with basil, served as a sweet dessert.”

It was a dish utterly foreign to the nobles of the Empire.

“It is something often enjoyed in the Kingdom of Ronica. Served chilled, it gives the most refreshing sensation, so I thought it would suit today’s weather.”

The ladies eyed the dessert curiously. Watermelon with basil? And topped with cream and crumbled cookies, no less.

“Go on, try it—you might be surprised.”

At her urging, they each hesitantly took a bite. Elin included.

“My!”

“It’s delicious!”

“How does it taste like this?”

Eyes widened all around. What had seemed an odd pairing turned out to be cooling, smooth, and calming. The faint herbal lift of basil made it all the more unique.

“Good, isn’t it? I’m sensitive to heat, so the royal chef at Ronica created this for me.”

Hearing this, the nobles realized—it was a dessert once reserved only for Ronican royalty. That made it feel even more special, and they eagerly dug in with renewed enthusiasm.

“I thought you might be weary from the walk here, so I prepared this as a refreshment.”

The guests, touched by her thoughtfulness, brightened with delight.

“It’s truly wonderful!”

“Oh, I’m so glad you think so. It isn’t even difficult to make—if you wish, I can share the recipe.”

The royal chef’s recipe, no less.

Excited voices clamored at once for her to share it. With a serene smile, Vellia gestured to a maid.

“I anticipated that, so I prepared copies in advance.”

On the tray, neat sheets written in Vellia’s own hand lay ready for distribution.

Even in such details, her meticulous preparation for the tea party showed.

“Thank you so much!”

“The Empire’s summers are long and hot—this may prove quite useful.”

From the youngest debutantes to the more seasoned ladies, everyone felt the day was turning into something truly special.

Good. I’ve seized the initiative.

Vellia had taken precautions in case Elin tried to provoke her, but from the outset, her carefully laid plan seemed to have subdued her rival.

At Vellia’s signal, maids moved swiftly to clear away the empty dishes and serve tea.

“This garden is my favorite place in the palace. I hope you’ll all enjoy its atmosphere today.”

The tea party began in earnest. Light conversation flowed—recent news, personal updates, words of congratulations.

“Lady Elin, it’s been over a month since your engagement, hasn’t it? How are you finding it?”

All eyes turned to Elin Canterif, recently betrothed to Raul.

“His Majesty has been most kind, and Her Majesty the Empress often invites me for tea. It is nothing but an honor.”

She smiled faintly as she spoke.

“Congratulations! I’m sure Prince Raul treats you with the utmost gentleness.”

Those who had missed the engagement ceremony now offered belated congratulations.

Elin’s fingers toyed idly with the handle of her teacup as her eyes drifted to Vellia. Vellia, catching the look, smiled serenely in return.

So. Here it comes.

Elin’s lips curved ever so slightly. She seemed certain Vellia wouldn’t understand what was happening.

The nobles were silently expecting her to follow the subtle traditions of the Empire’s social circles—those unspoken rules that weren’t written in books or taught outright. Rules Vellia had once failed to recognize, earning herself ridicule at her very first tea party.

Yes, that kind of custom—the sort you only learn by living it.

But this time, Vellia’s smile deepened as she spoke calmly.

“As a gift in celebration of Lady Elin’s engagement, I shall present her with that teacup. Before the party ends, it will be wrapped and prepared for her to take home.”

Elin’s hand froze on the cup before she released it.

To an outsider, it looked like nothing more than reaching for her tea. But among the nobility, it meant: This is the gift I wish to receive.

“Oh, you needn’t go so far…” Elin replied sweetly, feigning surprise.

“How could I host such a joyous occasion and remain idle?”

They exchanged radiant smiles, saying all the right polite things.

This was the custom: when someone announced good news—engagement, marriage, a child—the host offered them the first item they had touched as a gift, usually a teacup or cutlery.

What a ridiculous practice.

Vellia swore silently, though her face betrayed only warmth. Such minor traditions—unknown to foreigners, easy to overlook—were the perfect fuel for gossip.

Indeed, it had been this very custom she failed to observe at her first tea party, the mistake that had unleashed waves of mockery behind her back.

“Princess, you seem very well-versed in our Empire’s customs.”

Someone finally voiced their astonishment.

How does she know this? their faces seemed to say. Even formal etiquette lessons rarely covered such trivial details.

“Do I? I’m still lacking in many ways. But I try to learn, step by step.”

Vellia took a sip of tea, leaving them momentarily speechless.

With a small smile, she rang a delicate bell. Its clear chime carried across the garden.

The tables were cleared again—new cups, plates, and fresh tea were brought. This time, the dishes were more substantial:

“I prepared something heartier, so it may serve as a proper refreshment.”

Sandwiches of various kinds, golden scones with jam and cream. Later, the final course would be puddings with fruit, sweet cakes, and tarts.

“Wow…”

The guests were astonished. The scale of preparation far exceeded their expectations.

“Everything is plentiful, so I’ll have the maids wrap some for each of you to take home.”

“Oh my!”

“How thoughtful…”

Vellia smiled softly. After everything she had endured, she could not afford to host anything less than flawless. She had planned down to the smallest detail so there would be no opening for criticism.

“As expected of a princess—you’ve prepared everything so magnificently.”

“That watermelon dessert was truly ingenious. I may try it for my own tea party.”

Vellia sipped her tea, listening calmly.

“By the way, I heard Your Highness is preparing a charity bazaar?”

Vellia’s face brightened at the question she had been waiting to address.

“Yes. In Ronica, I supported artists, and I intend to continue that here. I plan to gather works by talented artists for a bazaar, with all proceeds donated to those in need.”

By making clear that her purpose was not personal gain but public good, she won approving looks.

It would be ideal if someone volunteered to participate here and now.

The larger the event, the more attention it would draw—from commoners to nobles alike. Just as Vellia was about to extend the invitation herself—

“Would you perhaps be accepting sponsors or participants for this bazaar?”

A young noble lady, seated toward the middle, asked in a cautious voice.