The Endless Solvent

The Caelisian banquets held at the castle were always a show of extravagance, but not because the Caelisians were an extravagant people. On the contrary, Caelisians held on to the belief of using everything without waste: construction material was regularly reused or manipulated such that no rubbish was left behind, Caelisian cuisine regularly used all parts of butchered animals and harvested plants, even the fabric used to make clothing had to be strictly monitored to avoid wasted bits.

“The geography of old Caelis did not allow for composting or regular farming practices like the rest of the empire,” Taurin once explained to her. “And leaving waste and rubbish out in the open where the celestial bodies can see it is considered insulting to the sun and the moon in Caelisian beliefs. So if they can’t bury their waste or reuse it, they try to avoid making waste in the first place.”

But ironically, it was also because of the celestial bodies that Caelis Castle holds luxurious meals frequently under clear evening skies. They wanted to show the sun and the moon that they were grateful for bountiful harvests and healthy game.

Nilda personally thought the celestial bodies didn’t give a shit, but a banquet usually meant she could gorge herself on mulled wine and baskets of red Nossan berries so she couldn’t complain. Furthermore, it was a night the twins were allowed to eat whatever they wanted so she didn’t have to constantly convince the little moon to finish her vegetables. The princess emphatically does not believe stories of how they boil the death out of vegetables in the Heart of Gaia and what they had here in Caelis was an extreme improvement in taste and texture.

“If you stain that dress, little moon, I will be most disappointed in you,” the elderly Trissel muttered as the princess drifted over to their table to grab a handful of Nossan berries to snack on. Trissel was the Solaris’ house stewardess and the first woman Nilda and Taurin met when they first set foot inside Caelis castle. Her gray hair grew exponentially more white over the years.

“I won’t,” the little moon said.

Trissel gave Nilda a look as if saying ‘are you going to help me?’ but Nilda just shrugged. “You can make her wash it herself if she stains it,” Nilda suggested.

“I won’t stain it,” the princess piped up again, shoving more berries in her mouth.

“We both know the sun will cross the night sky before that happens,” Trissel snorted.

“It’s not that big a deal. It’ll look like blood stains, like she won some hard earned battle.” Nilda smiled at the elderly house stewardess, who gave her a glare in return.

“Don’t encourage it.”

“I saaaaaid, I won’t stain it,” the princess rolled her eyes and grabbed more berries before dashing off back to her friends. A handful of visiting noblemen and dignitaries had children around the age range of the twins and they all chatted and socialized like miniature versions of their parents.

“You enable her too much,” Trissel said, but her tone was affectionate.

“Children should enjoy their childhoods,” Nilda said. She watched a gaggle of children play some sort of hopping game along the stone slabs of the dining hall. “Besides, if she says she won’t stain it, she won’t.”

“That stubbornness. She gets it from her father,” the stewardess tutted. “Good thing she gets along with the prince despite it all, moon knows the heirs don’t always get along.”

Nilda cast a glance across the dining room to where the Lunaris was sitting. Sister to the Solaris, she had her own spot at the head of the table, albeit off to the side with her two teenage sons. Her husband, the Luminance, was nowhere to be seen. Unlike the Solaris, she did not rise from her seat to greet guests. Steel gray eyes cast disdainful looks towards the guest tables and people avoided her.

Attendees mingled in the space in front of the head table and soon Nilda stopped having a good line of sight to Lunaris. Not that there was much to see - she spent most functions looking upset at something and spoke to no one.

The empty chair beside her scraped against the floor and Rask sank down on the seat with a sigh. He had to accompany the Solaris for most of the evening as his captain, and since the Solaris enjoyed socializing more than food, Rask hadn’t had the chance to sit and eat.

“I’m tagging you in, governess,” he muttered to her as he dipped some bread into soup to shove into his mouth. “If another nobleman asks me about my opinion on logging taxation I think I’ll throw myself off the side of the mountain.”

“Just say that the subject is beyond you,” Nilda shrugged. “Then stare blankly at them. You’re good at that.”

Rask glared at her. “People in our position should have working knowledge of these things. It’ll make the Solaris look bad if we don’t.”

“You see, that’s why I prefer not to have a position at all,” Nilda said. “No rank, no prestige, no responsibility. You should try it.”

“Hmm seems like the little moon gets her smart mouth from you,” Trissel interjected with a laugh. “And to think you spoke to barely anyone besides Taurin when you first came here.”

“Rask brings out the worst in me,” Nilda quipped. “Or the best, depending on perspective.”

Trissel chuckled and Nilda drained her mug as she felt Rask’s eyes on her. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that. The damned mulled wine always loosened her tongue.

“Well, ladies, if neither of you will put me out of my suffering, I should return,” Rask said, popping one last piece of bread into his mouth and taking a swig out of a mug to wash it down. He paused slightly, holding onto the mug, then set it down on the table in front of Nilda. Nilda kept her expression neutral as she watched him head out to the grand balcony where the Solaris and several guests were sky watching.

She and Taurin struggled with the cultural differences when they first arrived at the castle. In many ways, Taurin had it easier because she was already engaged and simply needed to learn posturing as a Caelisian royal. Nilda, unfortunately, had to suffer through embarrassing lessons on Caelisian social life: more specifically, on courting.

She didn’t think there were even elaborate courting rituals back at the Heart. At least for Taurin and her peers, they were usually set up with the man they were supposed to marry. They went on dates and wrote frilly letters to each other. Before meeting Taurin, Nilda was much more invested in staying alive than relationships. But the Great Solvent somehow led her into the lap of luxury and courting was something she had to worry about, of all things.

Within a year of two at Caelis castle, Nilda came to learn that offering one’s mug or goblet to someone held profound significance, for some Part-fucking reason.

“You should put that poor man out of his misery,” Trissel murmured. “At least say something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I refuse to believe a smart girl like you is clueless,” the stewardess said. “You can only ignore something for so long until it gets out of hand, remember that, governess.”

Get out of hand? The only thing that would happen is Rask finding a nice Caelisian woman who would actually be a good wife to him. That is what should happen. “He wants something from me,” Nilda said, tasting the bitterness of the words on her lips. “Like everyone else who wants to be with me. It’s because I have Taurin’s ear - ”

“My dear, your ‘position’ next to the Brilliance is a few steps down from his position right next to the Solaris,” Trissel said, patting her hand the way Taurin usually does. “No offense but he doesn’t need anything from you. He’s giving you his mug because he likes you.”

It had occurred to her, over and over again over the past years. Perhaps it even made her happy. “I don’t deserve him,” Nilda whispered.

“I’m not sure what’s holding you back but… I just hope you won’t regret it.” The old woman closed her eyes pensively. Nilda studied the deep lines on her face as if they would tell just what regrets the elderly house stewardess harbored.

Eight years she and Taurin lived in peace. Sure, they sought after answers about the Gate that opened at the Leton residence and perhaps life after seeing the Unseeing would, by nature, seem peaceful. Taurin’s trips close to Yscian borders held its share of dangers. Then there were Caelisians who disliked the Brilliance because of what happened to Lord Leton. Both of them worked to find a place for themselves in the north-east, in this foreign land but despite all that, Nilda thought their lives were peaceful.

Perhaps it was time to start thinking of silly things like courting. Hesitantly, Nilda reached out to the mug Rask left behind, lifted it off the table then held the brim to her lips and took a sip. It was the same mulled wine she had been drinking all night, but yet it somehow tasted sweeter.

What would it mean to accept Rask’s affections? What would it mean if they got married? She never had to consider those questions before. Back in the Heart, she had laughed at it like a joke. Was he even serious back then?

The hubbub of guests suddenly grew in volume and heads turned towards the back of the dining hall. Under the sound of chattering and music Nilda could hear rising voices, hot in tone.

“By the moon, what is happening,” Trissel groused and started the arduous process of getting up from her spot. Nilda quickly put a hand on her bony shoulder.

“I’ll take care of it,” she said.

It was an excuse to leave the mug with its countless questions and implications behind, despite already taking a drink from it.