Nearing the end of a century, grease-slicked chips and sweet-smelling caramel burning on an open flame filled the air. Steam of freshly baked hot pies shifted through the air as soothsayers rambled on about the encroaching night.

 Children skitter in and out of booths as blue and white streamers flutter behind them nicking at their heels. The cackles of old men sing jovially into craft mugs. The Kingdom of Vicon is upon the eve of its fourth centennial. The capital bursting at the seams with merriment. 

White and gold-lined garments adorn nobles whose backs bent offering good tidings to Goddess Zulla— filling the church with this year’s harvest. The continent of old, drenched in war and blood was a memory that had long passed as prosperity being the only ‘marrow promised.

         Corset madams eyed the commoner’s celebration spilling into the Clandestine Ward with fervour and no sign of stopping. It was Countess Nicolette Hess who turned her attention to her tea as she let her scowl evaporate along with the steam from her cup. Light brown hair pinned back with marble-like eyes that were beautiful yet intimidating to meet. Countess Hess took her afternoon tea in Mulberry’s Salon, her pomegranate lips hovering before taking a sip.

         “Did ya hear?” whispers filled the tea house. "Prince Gordon is plan’n on attend’n this seasons’ debutant. Or should I say, Duke Gordon” Giggles fluttered around the Countess who had no intention of joining the gossip.

         “Odd–Duke Gordon n’ver took the debutant as a priority.” A young maiden in a bright green dress could not hold back her inquisitive inquiry. “Spen’n his days in the Indies. Wonder what changed?”

         “Are ye dull?” An older female condescendingly whispered. “The Duke is finally ready to set'le down. King Richard is well in’his twilight years.” The matter-of-fact tone quieted the room by a decibel.

         “Will the King fin’ly name an heir?” The inquisitive question induced silence in the salon.

         Nicolette minded her own business throughout the crude conversation but their question earned them a fiery stare. Scowling at the periphery folk who blatantly gossip about the topic of the crown in her presence. Not knowing if they were either dull or just had a death wish. 

Discussing royal succession over tea was by far the most nonsensical thing Nicolette had come across in her years of being Countess. It was the type of conversation that would get someone hung up by their toes. The Countess was no fool to be implicated by proximity.

         Under Nicolette’s gaze, the women’s conversation ended as they shifted uncomfortably in their seats. The stagnated atmosphere choked all the patrons for a second and eternity later laughter in the tea house was thoroughly stifled. 

Nicolette’s eyes didn’t move away from the periphery folk. Eyeing the out-of-season fabric and thick uncultured accent in their speech. Nicolette categorized them as rural cretins with not an inch of nobility no matter how much expensive tea they indulge themselves with. 

The lively atmosphere died with Nicolette’s displeasure. Although oppressive for a brief moment, the light gossip resumed as if nothing had transpired.

         “A Tree crest carriage was seen exiting De Costa Manor!” After a moment of stillness, lustrous laughter of old madams whose youthful curiosity emerged. “In broad daylight!” The old madam exclaimed.

         “It’s confirmed.” An older woman with a crinkled nose spoke out, gently waving her fan. “We should dust off our best dresses ladies! It seems we will be attending a wedding during this debutant season.” Nicolette quirked her eyebrow upon hearing an unexpected piece of news. 

'Young Lady De Costa will be marrying into the Devoncourt Grand Duchy.' The Countess questioned. 

No matter how distasteful the conversation, the Countess and the rest of Viconian nobility were indeed wary of the topic of succession. The idea of Marquis De Costa sheltering his daughter from the impending succession was interesting enough for Nicolette to note the event for future reference. Placing her cup down with not a sound, Countess Hess rose from her table and walked out of the tea room. Her heels clicked against the mahogany wood demanding everyone’s eyes to follow her every move before disappearing out the door with a satisfying smile on her face.