The Woman Known as Grindiana
For Arnold Grisson, Grindiana Helnecharles was truly a bothersome presence. She was graced with an unusual degree of intellect and true affection for her subjects, that much could not be denied. But she was also a despot, with a decisiveness that made her a cold-blooded devil to her enemies.
If she decided that something was a threat to her country, she would dispose of it without mercy... Even her own flesh and blood. And naturally, that meant the aristocracy, who treasured nothing more than the sanctity of noble blood, greatly despised her.
No, not so much despise. They dreaded her. Most of the nobles feared Grindiana Helnecharles’ intellect and cold, steely decisiveness. On the other hand, this bought her the ardent support of most of her subjects in the Kingdom of Helnesgoula.
Taxation was greatly diminished compared to the former king’s rule. She had organized a force of knights called the Military Police. They answered directly to the crown, and acted to greatly inhibit the nobility’s tyranny. This meant that the people had no need to live in fear of their wives or daughters being snatched away and made into a noble’s plaything.
The country’s economic conditions were favorable, and refugees were uncommon. With the country’s internal affairs being so stable and secure, the commoners took no issue with how Grindiana held absolute authority over the country.
How can she be so wise and talented, and yet so...
Turning his gaze to Grindiana, Grissom heaved a deep sigh. Before his eyes, there was a large, circular table. There was nothing wrong with the table itself. The problem at hand was the mountain of pastries piled upon it. Grindiana had brought the castle’s cook from the capital at Dreisen, who had put a lot of effort into making this veritable mound of sweets.
By now, nearly half of that pile was sitting at the bottom of Grindiana’s stomach.
“Your Majesty...” Grisson parted his lips hesitantly.
Had they been on the battlefield, perhaps it would have been his place to stop her. But when it came to her everyday meals, he had no right to criticize his liege for her choices. All the same, Grisson felt driven to admonish her.
He did this despite knowing that this was one of Grindiana’s few ways of venting the stress of ruling over her kingdom. Alas, his admonition failed to reach his beloved queen’s heart.
“Arnold!” She said, thrusting her empty ceramic teacup at Grisson’s face.
Seeing the anger glinting in her eyes, Grisson heaved another heavy sigh. Placing the teacup on the table, he reached for the nearby teapot. Gulping down the fresh cup of tea he served her, Grindiana vigorously reached for the nearest cakes.
When the fork in her hands finally stopped moving, Grisson once again tried speaking to her.
“Your Majesty... Isn’t it about time you...”
She’d scarfed down at least ten cakes made with seasonal fruits and an uncounted number of chocolate cakes, baked with cocoa brought in from the southern continent, that should have been enough to relieve her stress.
“Phew... I may have overeaten somewhat...” Grindiana heaved a large sigh, patting her stomach and casting a reproachful gaze in Grisson’s direction. “You should have stopped me, Arnold.”
Her composure seemed to return, now that she was sated. All of a sudden, what could be described as her feminine instincts made her oddly conscious about her weight. Grisson simply regarded her words with an exasperated shrug of his shoulders.
“Surely you jest... I’ve tried to stop you three times just today, Your Majesty. The one who insisted that these be made, and made the decision to eat them all, was none other than yourself.”
Grisson did indeed try to stop her when she demanded that the castle cook make her those pastries. And he was not wrong to do so.. But the sad truth of the world was that sometimes the right answer wasn’t necessarily the correct one.
The only effect Grisson’s words had on Grindiana was cause her to pout like a spoiled child. Very few people would ever be allowed to see Grindiana make such an expression, and Grisson knew this meant she was annoyed with him.
Hm... I may have said a bit too much.
Grisson knew the reason behind her anger, and didn’t want to pursue that topic too deeply.
She cannot afford to stay in Memphis forever...
It had now been nearly a year since Grindiana had come to this city. Over the course of that year, the Kingdom of Xarooda had sent over countless messengers. And each time they did, Grindiana insisted on having one of these stomach-churning feasts.
Well, I imagine the next time will also be the last time...
Helnesgoula’s spies had already reported that the O’ltormea Empire had drawn powerful units from across its borders and sent them to the Ushas Basin. It was clear, given the situation, that Xarooda would send a messenger to beg Helnesgoula for help once again.
I hope they can send someone capable of handling negotiations wisely for once...
Grisson could only pray that they did. At the very least, so his beloved mistress could maintain her health and figure...
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