Cenric no longer has the time to worry about Nicola, Daniil, nor his dream from last night. At this precise moment, he is walking down the middle of the throne hall, a beautifully wrapped box in his hands. On the throne, the Queen awaits with a smile on her face, though Cenric and almost everyone in the room know it is fake. Just a moment ago she was utterly displeased with her last gift and threw it away. The giver of the last gift, a Lord's wife, wept for more than ten minutes before getting kicked out from the hall for being a party pooper, serving as a warning of how scary the Queen’s temper is. Even so, Cenric proceeds confidently and presents his gift in front of the Queen. 

The Queen immediately opens the box, revealing an intricate perfume bottle Cenric has never seen. The corners of her mouth turn up in a genuine smile at the sight of the magenta liquid, which is rarely found in Valria. Cenric proceeds to explain about the gift he himself has never thought of, or even known to exist. By the end of his short explanation, Cenric sees the Queen still smiling from ear to ear, tilting the bottle back and forth cheerfully.  Within the crowd, envious wives start whispering to their husbands, who sense a sudden trouble. 

Cenric makes his way back to the crowd, satisfied and relieved. Looks like he is safe this time too. Before he begins to scan the hall, searching for a particular figure who is supposedly not hard to find, a tall red-haired man has already slipped through the crowd, appearing behind him with two glasses of wine.

“It seems like another safe day for us,” says the man, tapping on Cenric’s shoulder. Then, both of them head towards the back of the crowd, where they engage in their own private conversation after taking the first sip of  their wine. 

“Ivor family's gift is good. She loves it,” compliments Cenric as his eyes point to the huge savanna painting, a landscape which never exists in the everlasting snowy Valria. The painting is already hung  in the throne room, suggesting the Queen’s penchant for exotic things, given that she always stays in the castle. At this point, it seems like a tradition to give the Queen something from overseas. 

“It was my father's idea. He insisted on giving something from the South while he was visiting there.  It was such a miracle that it managed to arrive safely in time. You don’t know how anxious my mother was when the ship got delayed. Just in case, we even prepared another gift beforehand, which made father mad when he found out about it.”

Cenric giggles before replying, “It must be your idea, Atreus.”

“Whose else? I was just too afraid it had to be me walking towards the Queen empty-handed.”

Atreus Ivor never fails to cast a wide smile on Cenric’s face. Atreus is known for being friendly and easygoing, allowing him to build more connections than he needs to. Talkative, earnest and honest — Atreus, his best friend for more than fifteen years, has become an irreplaceable person in his life. On top of that, Atreus is actually his cousin. Everyone in the Ivor family is a member of the royal family, even Cenric is an Ivor himself. However, only the Ivor who becomes the King, along with his wife and family, gets to live in the castle. 

“It’d be bad, I tell you,” says Cenric, taking another sip. He shifts his gaze to the growing pile of presents next to the Queen. Boxes of exquisite jewelleries, mantles and gloves made of the finest materials, all sorts of luxurious gifts are stacked one after another. Everyone can tell that so much fortune and effort have been spent to procure those items, yet they barely hold any value to the Queen who briefly evaluates them at first glance, only keeping the ones that she really loves. She does accept half of her gifts just for diplomatic reasons as long as they are decent enough, but later throws them away if they do not suit her liking. In the end, around three out of four will be discarded by next week, which is a great pity.  People, including Cenric, are aware of this fact, yet they can’t truly hate her as she is the King’s beloved wife.  

“I’d be dead meat for sure, if that happened,” Atreus chuckles in agreement. Same as Cenric, he turns his focus to the ongoing celebration. 

“It is surely festive this year. Oh, look, someone dares to give her a hairpin,” points Atreus. However, Cenric does not hear him, lost in his own thoughts.

‘Really, what is it that made father so enamoured of her? A mad woman who yells at the slightest displeasure, and squeals like crazy when happy. On her bad days, she goes on a rampage during the night, screaming and breaking things.’  

“Eh, she accepted it? I thought she said she doesn’t want hairpins anymore last year. Was that just being impulsive?”

Again, Cenric does not respond, staring blankly into space. Just as he is about to take the last sip of his wine, he realizes something.

‘The nights when the Queen goes on a rampage…  These only happen around mid-year, seventh month, as if there is a pattern. Now, what happens in the seventh month?’

“Cenric?”

‘Valria’s independence day. Also, the General’s death. But, why?’

“Hello? Eigria to Cenric?”

A light poke on his shoulder surprises Cenric, cutting his train of thoughts. He turns his head toward Atreus who gives him a questioning look. 

“You okay?”

Cenric nods, replying, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

There is no way Atreus is convinced by his answer. Cenric is not the type of person who will admit that he is worried about something. Nonetheless, Atreus does not pursue the matter further, asking, “Are you free after this?”

A teasing smirk spreads across Cenric’s face. 

“You know there is only one answer, right?”