The Author's Will

57 | White Aster

　　 Summer days in the Empire of Laydel were glorious. The heat was not too intense, and the breezes were gentle - like drifting fairies would rush past and bless one's body with a wave of relief. Lush green fields and meadows were a sight to behold amid the untarnished lands, whilst the capital city sparkled like a galaxy in the heart of the Empire.

The palace gardens were in full bloom. And more especially so, for this beautiful yard belonging to Duke Einfred. The estate was large and luxurious, a true symbol of the wealth and eye for quality this duchy was renowned for. It gleamed in a way that made even Irene, Princess of House Cherliann, marvel at the sights around her.

Her slim fingers gingerly lifted an exquisite teacup to her rosy lips, which parted slightly as she took a light sip of the refreshing drink prepared for guests. Salons weren't something Irene especially enjoyed much of — but she was aware making connections with other noblewomen would prove beneficial to her future. That and, since Isabella was the one hosting, there was no way Irene could miss it.

Several other girls were gathered at the garden pavilion, and over the past year, Irene became quite well-acquainted with them. Isabella sat by her side at the table, listening in on the conversation the young ladies were having.

"Did you read Ivory Locke's latest novel? Lady Rosamunde was simply marvellous!"

"I agree! I loved how romantic the ending was between her and Count Clyde... She helped save him in so many ways!"

Ah... It's this sort of conversation again. Irene nonchalantly closed her eyes, sipping tea with utmost composure despite her inner excitement beginning to brew. The girls were talking about one of the works of a popular author, who had become a huge hit lately. Not only did the name Ivory Locke bring excitement to all groups, but they even managed to bring fiction into every day life.

No one knew who the writer was, or whether they were a man or woman. Ivory Locke was an author who kept their identity concealed, but they were dubbed a legend in Laydel. It had been two years now since they first emerged in the world, and in that time — they managed to write three books. All separate genres directed towards different audiences, earning acknowledgment from a sundry range of people.

Irene smiled faintly down at her teacup, decorated with gold applied onto fine bone china and painted with the images of white aster flowers.

Who would have thought I would become this famous?

Isabella glanced fleetingly at her as the girls continued to praise Ivory Locke for all of their work. A soft chuckle escaped the brunette's lips, because although the white-haired young lady was good at keeping up appearances, they crumbled in front of her closest friend who knew her for years. She could see right through Irene's composed facade, as the shimmer in her golden eyes glittered with pride.

"Princess Irene, have you read the book?" A young lady with luscious strawberry hair turned to face her with a vivacious smile. "It's amazing!"

I wrote the book!... was what she wanted to say, but nobody would believe a twelve-year-old girl inexperienced in romance, could write such a heart-wrenching tale. Not to mention, Irene was happy simply being able to see her work thrive — in a world where fiction was limited. It was as if she had brought something new but permanent to this world.

"Oh come now, the story is good but there were many flaws which were plain as day."

A voice from among the circle spoke out, quelling the other girls as their smiles faded slightly. Irene blinked, glancing at the ebony-haired young lady whose emerald eyes were already staring clinically at her.