Deep in the bowels of the viceroy's castle, the young suo jure sat tucked away in a far off corner, residing among dozens of leather-bound books and frayed-edged manuscripts. The otherwise dark hall was lit up by candles sitting here and there, their flames flickering wildly upon their wicks with an elusive air inlet. She swept a few coils of hair from her eyes as she read, her occasional inquisitive or astounded mumbling and turning of pages being the only sound in the room.
Distantly, the sound of footsteps broke the peace but not her focus. Instead, Aalis did her best to block things out as she delved more into current astrological theories. Soon the steps ceased, followed by a couple of knocks on their coattails. There was a pause, a few beats and the viceroy didn't respond so the doors were opened with a squeal that betrayed their age.
"Your excellency?...Lady Aalias?" She was called, cautiously as the attending servant had skittish tendencies. Aalis herself had the bad habit of moving as a mouse, almost completely silent. She frightened people without meaning to. Blinking, snapping out of her task, grey-green eyes scanned the space as she took a moment to regain her spatial awareness—no longer dancing in the world of her mind palace.
"I'm in the back," she replied, mellifluous voice carrying through the vast house of books. It was almost swallowed in the expanse—just barely reaching the serf's ears. She gave things no more thought and returned to her texts. The footsteps resumed, a slightly confused rhythmic thud-thud-thud, that paused, resumed, and grew ever so louder as they navigated the maze of books.
Then they stopped. Just a few paces away.
"I had a feeling you would be in here," the younger man greeted, briefly dipping his head in a respectful greeting. "Your highness, you have a visitor."
Aalis's full brows furrowed, confusion written on her face since there hadn't been any prior correspondence from any of her acquaintances, but she rose to her feet nonetheless.
"How strange..." she mumbled, lips pursing as she smoothed the creases in her pale blue dress.
She smiled, nodding in thanks for the message, "Very well. See to it that...this guest is comfortable in my boudoir. I'll be there shortly." Complying with her wishes, the man excused himself and she began to tidy the mess of books she'd created while being sure to tuck away those she intended to return to in her "secret nook"—really just a small hole in the wall between two bookcases.
Soon enough, she, too, made her way out to the designated sitting room. The doors to the boudoir were opened for her by a couple of guards and her eyes almost immediately fell upon the figure of the surprise guest. She put on a polite smile and entered fully, form exuding poise.
"What a surprise," she greeted lightly. "To what do I owe this distinct pleasure?"
