Chương 193: Chapter 52: The Board of the Intangible

Selena did not hesitate. She drew from her bag the letter Valerian had handed her the parchment sealed with the jester in flames and offered it to the King. Thaerón took the letter, and for an instant, a look of genuine surprise crossed his face. Yet it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by an impassive serenity. He did not smile, nor did he frown; he simply remained like a statue of contained power.

—Valerian said I was to deliver it to you, and that only you could tell me what tier follows a Conscious Resonant —Selena explained, keeping her gaze fixed upon him as if he were an unwavering focal point— That this was important enough that only the King could do it. Thaerón held the letter without even opening it, as though its symbolic weight were sufficient. —Arcane Resonant.

Initiate —the monarch declared, the words falling into the silence of the room with the solemnity of a decree— I do not need to open it to know what it signifies. Talent like Eliud's. Vision like that of the founders. That is what you possess, or at least, what Valerian and your kind see in you. He looked at her now with renewed evaluation, his eyes scanning her figure and pausing, perceptibly, on one of the rings she wore. —This merits a ceremony.

Do not worry, it is not the hollow pomp of the nobility; it is private, intimate, and solely for those who comprehend its true significance. But Cassian must be with us—my advisor and personal Resonant. And, of course, you shall meet the others. The Twelve. —He paused, letting the weight of that number the royal Resonants in service to the crown echo through the room— The ceremony can take place no sooner than a month from now. Make good use of the time, Selena. Read all you can from the first king's book.

Absorb his wisdom and his warnings. He sighed, and this time the sound was laden with ancient fatigue, almost one of disbelief. —Who would have thought... The last phrase was murmured so softly it was barely audible, like a thought escaping the weight of history. Selena then seized the moment. She drew from her bag the thick, heavy volume bound in dark brown leather and handed it to the King. Thaerón took it, assessing the title engraved in silver: Hospital Codex: The Geography of Care.

—A curious name —he murmured, running a finger over the lettering— And as co-author, the head of the Medical Path, Anselmo Wick. I suppose it is you who presents it, by virtue of your title as Protector of Erabergh's Health. He looked up, and in his eyes was a flicker of genuine astonishment, mixed with an almost admiring exasperation. —You are another surprise, Selena. One after another. You want me to approve it to put the ideas within into motion, correct? Anselmo, the old man...

at least he will be able to leave a lasting legacy thanks to this. However, I cannot approve it alone. The Court and the Royal Health Council must vote. But a title like yours carries great weight in that decision. It is almost certain to pass, even more so backed by the authority of the head of the path. —He set the book on the table beside him, a gesture indicating the matter had been logged. The King began to rise, his movement fluid and majestic— Now, if you will excuse me, I must retire.

My schedule, as you know, is tight. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. He started toward the door, but with the gesture of someone recalling something important at the last moment, he turned back. His gaze settled once again upon Selena's hand—not on the black stone ring, but on the other: the braided steel band with the small obsidian gem on her right pinky. —The steel ring you wear.

The one with the fine braided pattern resembling slithering snakes, set with the black stone. Who gave it to you? The question was direct, his tone curiously neutral. Selena answered without thinking, with the naturalness of someone naming a friend. —Meilan is a student at the university. The young goldsmith. The monarch passed a hand over his chin, then spoke. —Interesting... —This time, a genuine smile, heavy with meaning, curved his lips— A ring of the Covenant of the Waves. A traditional design of Jingdao.

Only a princess, or someone of the highest rank, may bestow it as an act of profound respect and bond to another person they deem worthy. The ring itself grants the bearer a status equivalent to the giver's within circles that recognize its symbolism. The materials speak to the reason behind the gift. The ring can be forged from various materials, yet always with the same design; the materials determine the motive for the gift and its honor.

Yours, undoubtedly by virtue of its steel and obsidian, represents humility. The King shook his head slightly, the smile lingering on his lips, while his gaze seemed to perceive far beyond the simple ring. —You always surprise me, Selena of Solendra. In the most unexpected ways. The King finally departed, leaving Selena alone in the chamber.

The smile that had touched her lips deepened, now illuminated by a sudden realization not about the ring itself, which remained an authentic and unexpected surprise, but about what it revealed regarding Meilan. Of course! Everything made sense now. The little goldsmith, with her fierce and independent pride, her absolute disdain for titles and empty hierarchies. Her exceptional skill, which had always seemed innate, almost supernatural.

If the royal tradition of Jingdao, with its renowned metalwork and complex symbolism, was part of her heritage, then it was only natural for her to be a consummate artist. It was far more than mere talent; it was legacy, an education cultivated from the cradle. That explained other things as well. Why Meilan, in a world where many fifteen-year-olds were considered adults burdened with responsibilities, continued to conduct herself with the stubbornness and open-minded curiosity of a brilliant child.

It was the luxury of a princess who, far from her homeland and its direct social pressures, could afford to evade rigid expectations. She lived under a different kind of pressure, yes, but not the burden of having to prove her worth with every breath; it was the weight of a legacy she carried in her blood and in her hands. The clearest sign of all, the one Selena now perceived with utter clarity, was that Meilan never sold her jewelry. She never traded for coins.

She exchanged favors, art, knowledge, and information. For someone to whom money held the least value among all she possessed, trading in such a manner was the purest and most elevated form of power, a power that only someone born at the pinnacle, schooled in the worth of the intangible, could wield with such effortless grace.

That was why her worldview was so distinct: she was not bound to the economy of survival or social ascension; she played upon a board where the pieces were influence, beauty, and shared truths.