During dinner, Strelitzia babbled joyfully, vying with one another to recount exactly what caught her fancy most within her new room. The family listened closely to the little one. Marcus and Elena shifted various treats onto her plate time and again with a smile, while Azalea observed the girl with a soft interest.

Strelitzia gesticulated animatedly with her small hands and explained textually in a rush that during the day she had dreamed regarding that very same little polar bear from her mother’s lullaby. The very same one whom her mother, in the song, commanded to fall asleep as soon as possible, yet he stubbornly refused to shut his little eyes and admired the night sky instead.

The servants, soundlessly serving the change of courses upon the table and carrying away the used tableware, observed this spectacle with an explicit, though carefully concealed surprise. Within the noble houses of Aden, and especially in the capital, rigid rules of etiquette held sway: children of such a tender age almost never sat at the same table with adults, dining separately within the nursery rooms under the surveillance of strict governesses. And on those rare occasions when the little ones were nonetheless admitted to the family meal, they typically sat quietly, so as not to hinder anyone.

Here, however, everything was different. And though such familial simplicity was an uncustomary novelty to the servants, the little Lady Strelitzia conquered their universal love literally at first sight. Her immense eyes of a pale, pure hazel shade appeared as if sparkling with genuine curiosity, and the girl herself was so open and unchildishly clever that even the veteran Benedict could not withstand her charm.

“And the little bear said he would fly on a cloudlet right into the garden!” Strelitzia completed her account triumphantly, scooping up sweet berry mousse with her spoon. “Uncle Magnus said that by morning the biggest flowers will grow there, and we shall play hide-and-seek!”

Marcus laughed quietly, exchanging a glance with Azalea.

“Well, if Uncle Magnus promised, then it means he has no escape,” he noted with a touch of irony. “He will be compelled to effect a miracle, otherwise our small mistress will force him to labor as the bear himself.”

Strelitzia broke into a merry, sincere laugh, from the sound of which the hearts of all those present in the room textually melted. For a moment, even the strict countenances of the footmen by the doors lightened.

“Sister!” having finished laughing, Strelitzia suddenly fidgeted upon her chair and fixed a hope-filled gaze onto Azalea. “Why, you said you would present me with a little polar bear! When shall I receive him?”

The girl batted her immense little eyes so charmingly that Azalea could not contain herself and dissolved into a truly warm and wide smile.

“I promised you he would await you in your room as soon as we relocated into our new house,” Azalea responded softly. “And just so. He is already there. Immediately following dinner, you shall receive your gift.”

She touched the tip of the girl’s nose tenderly with her index finger, causing the little one to contentedly clench her eyes again and funny wrinkle her nose.

“Does it appear to me, or have we definitively spoiled her?” Elena shook her head jokingly, though she herself observed the movements of this small, equally stubborn and fastidious copy of her own self with unconcealed endearment.

“Azalea is exclusively to be blamed for this,” Marcus spoke quietly, so that his daughter would not overhear, sipping his wine and looking at his wife with a smile.

“And her knight,” Elena added even lower, smiling conspiratorially at her husband in response.

The familial idyll was interrupted by Benedict. The steward entered the dining room soundlessly, but his taut, flawless bearing instantaneously betrayed the importance of the moment. In his hands, he held a silver tray upon which reposed a dense missive bound with a costly burgundy-and-gold ribbon - the colors of the royal house of Aden.

Azalea shifted her gaze slowly to the tray, and her eyes narrowed. She had no need to witness the heraldic seal to comprehend immediately exactly from where this dispatch had been transmitted.

“Milady, an official letter from the king’s palace has only just arrived,” Benedict presented the tray forward neatly, inclining his head.

Azalea extended her hand and took the dense envelope. The servants, frozen against the walls, seemed to have stopped breathing altogether, watching in awe. Even little Strelitzia quieted down. Sensing how sharply the mood of the adults had altered, she shifted her gaze in surprise from her parents to her elder sister.

Within the absolute silence of the dining room, the dry crunch of breaking sealing wax was heard. Azalea unfolded the dense paper and cursorily passed her eyes over the even, chiseled lines written by the hand of the royal scribe.

“‘The major-domo of King Gerhard reports that His Majesty King Gerhard desires to witness the head of the House of... Rosenthal tomorrow at the morning reception of the nobility,’” she read the very essence of the dispatch aloud calmly and evenly, as though it were a matter of a mundane occurrence.

Elena and Marcus exchanged glances, and an identical grim foreboding was reflected upon their faces.

“Tomorrow morning?” Elena frowned with displeasure, setting her glass aside. “We have scarcely managed to cross the threshold of our new house, the crates in the gallery are not even unpacked yet, and the king already demands you to his presence. From where does such haste stem? Why, we have not even managed to execute anything to attract attention.”

“By all appearances, the mere fact of our relocation was sufficient for the ruler,” Marcus voiced his thoughts. His hand lay involuntarily upon the table, and his fingers began to tap lightly across the tablecloth. “The king will not summon landless barons from the provinces to his presence on the very first day simply for the sake of politeness.”

Azalea turned the letter slowly in her hands, gazing at the sharp royal imprint.

“Is it not better this way?” a barely perceptible smile appeared upon her lips. “We planned to commence with advertisements in the salons, but the king himself has resolved to assist us and personally render us the chief topic of Werner. So let's take advantage of it.”