Since the beginning of the year, there has been no new news of the Southern Belleflower. When she first came to the Capital two years ago, her presence had taken the aristocratic circle by storm. The common people said she had a noble character. Befriending civilians, showing kindness to beggars. She did not discriminate between class or status. A true angel in the hearts of the people.
The nobles called her crass. She did not follow proper etiquette. She denied invitations, kept unclean company, and had hands smelling of copper. The lady was scandalous and dastardly. She rode horses, participated in men's business, and conceived a child without being properly married.
The opinions of her were subject to who was speaking, However, one thing could be agreed upon by all… Lady Valerie was an odd one.
At the height of summer, preparations for the south were finally made. A battalion of a thousand soldiers met at the gates of the Imperial Palace to receive His Majesty's orders to collect grain from the south and deliver it to the northern border.
The King stood on the high platform under the blazing sun. His body was clothed in the majestic purple exclusive only to the royal family and above his head, the jeweled crown whose shine once dazzled the newborn Prince rested. To his side, stood his Queen, a gentle character who was also rarely seen as of late. The Queen's actions have been quite subdued in recent years as her origins were once a thorn to the nation's side. Yet, despite the opposition, the Queen had long forgotten her arrogance and become the gentle lady seen today.
Ulfstead observed the scene from a window in the Palace. As expected, his father didn't send orders for him, but he also never stated that he couldn't watch. Slightly disappointed he wouldn't see his birth mother up close, Ulfstead still hoped to sneak a glance of her before she returned to the southern territories.
Before the soldiers set off, a veiled woman dressed in all white emerged from the crowd. Her entire visage was covered from head to foot, but Ulfstead knew in his heart that this was his birth mother. In Besirique, it is said there are only two reasons a person would cover their face while wearing white. The first reason would be that this person was a bride from foreign lands. The second would be if a person was in mourning. The length of the mourning period will differ between people and depend on the importance of the deceased in their heart.
Most people will dress in white for an entire year to demonstrate filial piety to their parents or grandparents, half a year for a spouse, three months for a close family member or sibling, and for a child…
Never.
No one chose to comment on the Lady's choice of dress. The masses understood her to have an odd character. It should be of no surprise that she chose to wear mourning clothes when she had lost a son.
Ulfstead hadn't a clue of anything of this though. He had yet to learn all the customs and courtesies of this world. He was just hoping that the Lady would take off her veil so he could see her face.
In the days he had spent as the King's son, Ulfstead sometimes found himself thinking that it would be great if it were true. It was not that he wanted to govern a country when he grew up, but he just wished to always live in peaceful contentment as he is now with someone who would watch over and care for him. Even if the King was sometimes callous, a lewd pervert, and more than a little bit misogynistic and xenophobic, he was good toward him. His cheap dad was good to him and that was all that little orphaned boy stuck in Ulfstead's heart ever really wanted.
Yet, even if he had these desires, Ulfstead also wished to see his mother, his real mother who was said to have cried for him until she had fainted at his funeral. The mother who locked herself away for several months. Ulfstead sometimes thought about how if he could go back, he wished he would have done something before the switch. He wasn't sure what. Cry? Scream? Something that would have prevented him from ever knowing the King or the messy business of the deceased prince. Guilt sat heavy in his gut, but he didn't wish to disappoint one side to please another.
Ulfstead watched the Lady take lead in paying respects and bowing to the King. Behind her, the thousand-strong battalion followed. The Lady stepped back and headed toward the red lacquered carriage designated for her journey.
But, to Ulfstead's surprise, his mother did not step on the kneeling footman to ascend the carriage. Rather, she took the reins of a red chestnut horse from a servant boy and strode out of the Palace gates with great heroism.