Chapter 9: Best Friend

Ah... She’s always like this...

“Look, Esmeralda, you don’t have to take this so seriously. It’s fine...”

The sight of Mia standing in front of her with a hesitant smile brought back a memory...

Esmeralda’s mind returned to a scene from five years ago. She was hosting a tea party at the Greenmoon residence, and she was a little nervous. For good reason too, because Princess Mia Luna Tearmoon was scheduled to attend. It would be the first time the princess had attended any such gathering. Ever since it had been decided that Esmeralda was going to be the host of Mia’s tea party debut, she’d been making meticulous preparations under the guidance of her father. Thanks to her diligence, the party proceeded perfectly smoothly. Visibly delighted by the luscious cake she’d been served, Mia all but beamed at the maid who brought an additional slice.

“My, thank you, uh...Nina, was it? Once I’m done with this, could you please bring me one more slice?” Mia asked, addressing the girl by name and evidently pleased with herself for managing to do so. Apparently, she’d memorized it after overhearing the maids conversing.

Esmeralda couldn’t help but smile wryly at the proud grin on Mia’s face, figuring the princess must be too young to know the impropriety of her behavior. She decided that as the older one, it was her duty as the big sister to enlighten the princess about the manners of polite society.

“Miss Mia, the highborn do not go around memorizing the names of the commoners. You really shouldn’t address the maids by name.”

“My? Why is that?” Mia asked with a puzzled tilt of her head. “How come we can’t say their names?”

“Well, because...” Esmeralda paused for a moment’s consideration. “Because people like you and I are of noble blood. We rule the masses, so we must be higher than them. Superior to them. That’s the tradition of nobility.”

What she described was something she took for granted. It underpinned her entire worldview...

“That’s stupid.”

...Only for the young princess to immediately dismiss it.

“It’s so much easier to just remember people’s names. Why do we have to make things harder for ourselves?”

Mia’s words hit Esmeralda with the force of a thunder clap. She’d never thought of it that way. So deafening was its impact that...

“I mean, that maid isn’t much older than us, right? She looks like the kind of person who’d just keep bringing me cake as long as I keep asking for it. It’s obviously easier if I can just call her by name every time.”

...She completely missed the latter part of the princess’s reasoning.

When it came to her own gratification, Mia had always been a bit...conniving. Even at the tender age of eight, she was already displaying a perceptiveness about human nature and aptitude for calculation, offering a glimpse of the Great Sage of the Empire she would eventually become.

Or, maybe just a glimpse of someone with a Machiavellian sweet tooth.

In any case, whether they bespoke a budding genius or a nascent glutton, (the first half of) Mia’s words resonated with Esmeralda. She found herself deeply moved, for they echoed the very sentiments that she herself sometimes grappled with. Remembering the names of her maids, becoming close friends with one of them and appointing her as her personal attendant, sharing pastimes and trading bedside whispers, reciprocating for favors and apologizing for affronts... These were the kinds of interactions she yearned for. They seemed easier and far more enjoyable then her current set up. So why wasn’t she allowed to do so? The first time the question occurred to her, she’d gone to her father. His response had begun with a hesitant smile.

“Because we are nobles, Esmeralda. And that’s how nobles are.”

It was hardly a satisfactory answer, but she stomached it. There was no need to understand. It was how things were. That was all.

That answer stayed with her, and as time went on, it formed into an invisible chain that bound her mind and soul from within. The customs of nobility both molded her identity and shackled her thoughts. That was why she admired the young princess, Mia Luna Tearmoon, who was free from such bonds. But it was a distant admiration, born of a subtle yearning for something she knew was far out of her reach.

“Listen, Esmeralda...”

Even the exalted words of the founding ancestor of their empire—words that, by their very nature, should be weighty and binding—failed to change Mia’s attitude. She cast them off, refusing to be chained, and urged Esmeralda to do the same. To not take them so seriously. Faced with authority so overwhelming that Esmeralda couldn’t muster the will to resist if she tried, Mia was entirely unmoved.

It was always like that. Every time, unchanging.

Mia, the one who soared above the binds of noble custom as if she had the very wings of freedom, and Esmeralda, the one who gazed up, criticizing her high-flying friend for her eccentric, unprincessly ways that were an affront to the traditions and authority of the imperial lineage. But behind the criticism, there was a yearning...a desire long suppressed, but never entirely withered...

That’s right... I remember now... I’ve always looked up to her.

The memory returned to her. Her admiration for Mia had been the source of her long-standing wish to be her best friend. But deep down, she knew the truth. Knew it all too well. She wanted to be, had always longed to be, but never could. She...wasn’t Mia’s best friend. How could she be, when Mia was up there, and she was down here? What she felt on her back wasn’t the fluttering wings of freedom but the cold weight of chains far thicker and sturdier than she’d ever realized, and she understood with a painful clarity that she didn’t have the courage to cut them off.

She wasn’t worthy of being Mia’s friend. The thought reared its head again, bringing with it the suffocating resignation that was so familiar to a heart accustomed to despair. And yet...

“Rather than the first emperor, how about you follow my lead instead? Free yourself from the chains that bind you to an ancient oath of fealty to him...and forge a stronger bond of fellowship with me, your best friend.”

It meant nothing to Mia. She waded in, brushed away Esmeralda’s dark thoughts with nonchalance, and flipped her world on its head. She offered that coveted position of best friend so readily. She welcomed Esmeralda to her side...to choose not loyalty to the first emperor but friendship with her. Implied in her gesture were the unspoken words, “You can do it too.” And she did it all with an impish smile, as if this were nothing more than a bit of mischief they’d share. Even so...

“I...can’t.”

The answer that escaped her lips was no. Was it because of the noble customs that bound her? Or had she capitulated to the first emperor’s supreme authority? No, it was neither of those. Those concerns had already melted away before the warmth of Mia’s welcome. But there was one thing that lingered. It was a small thorn in her heart, and its sting kept her from taking Mia’s hand. She’d had a dream in which she told a haggard Mia she’d host a tea party to cheer her up, only to break her promise. It was just a dream, but the regret lingered with a strange intensity. She knew neither when, where, nor how, but at some point, she felt like she’d betrayed Mia.

It couldn’t be real, of course. None of it was, except for the pain it left in her heart. So long as that ache remained, she could not claim to be Mia’s friend.

“I... I let you down, Miss Mia.”

Her grief moved her to confession.

“You did?” Mia scratched her head. “Really? When?”

“I...told you I’d host a tea party for you...but I never did. I broke my promise...”

Some small part of Esmeralda’s mind still clear enough for coherent thought was dismayed at her own rambling. What was she going on about? It was nonsense. Mia didn’t know about her dream. This would only confuse her. But to her surprise...

“I see... Well, in that case...”

Mia wasn’t confused. She didn’t laugh. Instead, her expression was serious, and she seemed to be deep in thought. Eventually, she said, “I want cake.”

“Huh?”

Esmeralda blinked.

“Yes, cake sounds good. Extra sweet ones, preferably. I’d like to indulge in some sugar. So once we get off this island, I’d love it if you could invite me to one of your tea parties.”

Esmeralda continued blinking. Only after Mia’s next comment did she gasp as the true meaning of her words dawned on her.

“There, we’ll swear our loyalty to the empire together.” She looked Esmeralda in the eye. “Not to the ancient one trying to destroy the continent. To a new one. A better one, that aspires to a life of peace and stability for all its people and will work tirelessly toward this goal.”

A watery drop landed on Esmeralda’s hand. Confused, she looked up. The ceiling was dry. Only then did she feel the tears streaming down her own cheeks.

Tears? I’m...crying? But why? I have no reason to cry...

She felt that faint sting in her heart again, a constant reminder of a promise she’d made in some faraway time and place. It was a tragic promise, for it remained unfulfilled, destined to fade away with the dream that had birthed it.

That was just a dream. There’s no way Mia could know about it. But...

She returned Mia’s gaze. For some reason, she felt like she was looking at the Mia of her dream, as if that Mia had stepped past the boundary between fact and fiction to offer her a chance to make good on her broken promise. At last, she reached out...

“Okay...I will, Miss Mia. I’ll find the best cake makers and have them prepare the most delicious cakes. And then...I’ll invite you to my tea party.”

...And took the hand of a friend that meant more to her than anything.

The hand of her best friend.

To offer a bit of context, night had fallen when this whole scene was playing out, meaning Mia’s missed-meal-counter had ticked up to three. Skipping breakfast, lunch, and dinner had left her very, very hungry. Just so we’re clear.