A four-wheeled carriage, drawn by a matched pair of hazel stallions, rolled smoothly over the cobblestones toward the heart of Floland. Its lacquered body - deep black edged with maroon - caught the light with a restrained sheen, the discreetly carved coat of arms upon its panels marking unmistakable aristocratic ownership. Cream-coloured silk curtains trembled with the motion, brushing now and then against an arm resting by the window.

  William Ashborne, Earl of Wexleigh, sat at ease, his chin propped upon his hand. He cast an amused glance at his son, who sat opposite him, posture rigid, expression caught somewhere between resolve and unease.

  “Son. Should you wish it,” Lord Wexleigh said lightly, “I may speak on your behalf.”

  “It will not be necessary, father,” Theodore Ashborne replied, straightening. “I am capable of addressing Her Majesty myself.”

  “I rather doubted that,” his father answered, untroubled. “Your conduct thus far has done little to suggest you possess the judgement required to resolve this affair.”

  Ashborne stiffened at the familiar note of mockery. It was precisely this tone - half-indulgent, half-amused - that had made him so reluctant to involve his father in the first place. He had known, from the moment he asked for assistance, that he would be met with knowing smiles and pointed observations.

  If Jade had learned Ashborne’s perspective, she would have realised immediately that Lord Wexleigh was the type of dad who would use a megaphone to announce his son’s “adolescent rebellion” to the entire village, just to enjoy the burning blush on the boy’s face.

  But that wouldn’t happen here. Noblemen had a reputation to maintain, and they certainly wouldn’t want their family drama finding its way into the newspapers - especially not the tabloids.

  Still, Ashborne met the older man’s gaze, offering a moment of silence as a reluctant truce against his father’s friendly sarcasm. Finally, he answered evenly, “Which is precisely why this time shall be different. I have sought counsel - sound counsel, and I am confident the matter will be concluded satisfactorily.”

  “Oh?” Lord Wexleigh lifted a brow.

  “Wait and observe, father,” Ashborne said, with more confidence than he felt. He had rehearsed his words repeatedly and considered every contingency. Besides, Miss Jade had even prepared a set of backup plans for him - surely, it would be alright.

  The carriage passed through the busier quarters of the city, leaving behind administrative halls and civic buildings before arriving at the outer gate of Rosenoire House. Lord Wexleigh produced a letter bearing the appropriate seal. The guards examined it, glanced toward the carriage window, and promptly signalled their assent, saluting as the gates opened.

  A short ride later, the carriage came to a halt before the entrance to the Grand Garden.

  Ashborne knew the path well. Beyond the manicured beds of rare and carefully tended flora lay the garden drawing room - where Queen Seraphina received her guests. Where, in mere moments, he would stand before the sovereign of Floland.

  His gloved hands felt damp. He was grateful he had followed Miss Jade’s advice; choosing the darker leather had spared him a visible display of embarrassment. Not that it would matter much, he suspected. Anyone present would likely sense his nerves at once. Do not conceal it, he reminded himself, recalling Miss Jade’s instruction. Leave it as it is, and proceed.

  Standing two paces behind his father, Ashborne bowed deeply before the Queen, then inclined himself - more modestly - to her Prince Consort seated beside her.

  “Your Majesty. Your Royal Highness.”

  Queen Seraphina returned the gesture with a composed smile, while Prince Edmund indicated that they should approach and be seated.

  “Lord Wexleigh,” the Prince said warmly, “it has been some time since we last spoke. And Lord Ashborne - still looking well, I see.”

  “Indeed,” Lord Wexleigh replied with easy familiarity. “I had thought our next meeting might not occur until the Spring Ball. I confess, however, that I have found great pleasure in my quieter life by the Cyamrul Spring. A fishing rod makes a faithful companion.”

  The Earl of Wexleigh had been friends with the Queen and her Prince Consort since their youth, and they had worked closely together for many years. It was only recently that he felt he should step back and allow the younger generation of politicians to take the stage, leading to his gradual retreat to his country estate. Lord Wexleigh added with a smile, “Freshly caught fish from the stream taste remarkable compared to anything I’ve had in Velport.”

  “A fruitful river, then?” the Queen said, amusement flickering in her eyes. “A catch each day?”

  Prince Edmund noticed Lord Wexleigh’s stiff smile and laughed softly, shaking his head. “You are too generous, my dear. A fish per week seemed a more accurate estimate.”

  Lord Wexleigh cleared his throat, unperturbed. “Be that as it may, retirement agrees with me well enough - and my son, I am pleased to say, has exceeded my expectations.”

  The stiff, awkward smile was successfully transferred from his face to those of the royal couple.

  Ashborne, seated beside his father, was not surprised in the least. From a young age, he had noticed the quiet intimacy between his father and the royals - a penchant for teasing and mockery that existed only among the closet of friends. It was an understanding conducted behind closed doors, in a private world where others were never permitted to look. Perhaps only the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting were aware of it, and even they did an admirable job of keeping the matter discreet.

  Even so, many had flocked to his family, eager to flatter them for the authority and responsibility his father bore in the House of Lords. Lord Wexleigh was highly trusted by the Queen in many Orders, and Ashborne had once assumed such attention was only natural. That illusion shattered when his father gradually withdrew from public duties. Invitations dwindled. Letters ceased to arrive. It was only then Ashborne realised how many of those people had been nothing more than flies, drawn to wealth and power.

  Indeed, many of his so-called “acquaintances”, “fellows”, and “correspondents” vanished altogether after his father relocated to the country estate and no longer remained in Eldergate - the district closest to Rosenoire House and the government offices.

  He found the realisation deeply repugnant: that people befriended him not for who he was, but for what he represented. His father - far shrewder than he - was surely aware of this truth as well. Perhaps that was why Lord Wexleigh never displayed this closeness with the Queen and the Prince Consort outside the palace walls. Ashborne had never asked, yet somehow he knew this was the answer.

  The three elders exchanged a few quiet words before turning to the true purpose of the meeting - Theodore William Ashborne himself, who had requested the audience.

  Under the attentive gaze of the elders he trusted most, Ashborne retrieved the folder he had been carrying and placed it upon the table.

  “Your Majesty,” he said, steadying his breath, “I have a story to tell - about a matter both ridiculous and, regrettably, rather farcical, which has surrounded me of late.”

  Queen Seraphina lifted a brow. At once, her Lady-in-Waiting, Lady Somerset, rose from her seat a few steps behind the Queen’s chair, approached the table, and collected the folder. She skimmed the documents swiftly.

  Lady Somerset cast Ashborne a brief glance, one brow faintly raised, before presenting the first document to the Queen. It contained a concise estimation of perfumery usage in Velport: market size, projected profit, the workers and occupations involved, and other details.

  As he waited for the Queen to scan the document, Ashborne recalled Jade’s advice on how to handle this presentation.

  [“Based on your description, I imagine the Queen’s like a friendly auntie to you,” she’d said, rolling her eyes. “Stop looking at me like that, alright? I’m just a peasant, and that’s the best example I’ve got. Look, all you gotta do is act like a newly hired office boy complaining to his aunt about stupid coworkers and annoying customers over a weekend family lunch. Vent about how incompetent they are. You aren’t entirely wrong; you’re just ‘inexperienced’. And your auntie - who just happens to run the massive corporation you work for and can fire a few assholes on a whim - will probably be very interested in hearing exactly how stupid they are.”]

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Ashborne drew a slow breath and began.

  He spoke of how he had first noticed an acquaintance - a ragged school teacher - struggling with hazards of daily life. Intrigued by her concerns, and curious about her ideas, he had asked his laboratory to investigate perfumery goods. His sister used them, after all, and it seemed the most relevant place to begin.

  “Your Majesty,” he said carefully, “I must admit that my inexperience and ignorance led to my reputation being tarnished by commentators and reporters - many of whom were, I believe, supported by interests within the perfumery trades itself.” He met the Queen’s gaze earnestly. “However, the moment I realised that my sister - my Eleanor - was using products that could harm her, I could no longer restrain my anger, nor my conviction. I felt compelled to reveal the truth, and to urge the public to cease their use.”

  As Ashborne spoke, Lady Somerset withdrew another document from the folder. It was the original animal testing report, complete with detailed drawings and photographs. The version submitted to scientific journals had been carefully refined; this one, preserved in the records, was raw - its margins filled with notes, unfinished thoughts, and observations left unpolished. Of course, it was also far more unsettling than the published report.

  The Queen did not recoil from the images. Instead, she examined them with measured attention, her Prince Consort leaning in beside her, both of them studying the evidence with grave focus.

  Ashborne waited for her to finish reading. As he did, Jade’s words echoed once more in his mind.

  [The ragged school teacher had waved her chalk-dusted hand dismissively as she spoke. “You know, I’m pretty sure the Queen already knew you’re being targeted in the news. Seriously, this isn’t some tiny article - it’s been the headline for days. Everyone knows about it. Oh, except people like me, who don’t read or care about the latest news.” She paused, then added, more firmly, “Still, even if she knows, you have to report it from the beginning. It’s about the attitude, you know? Show her your sincerity. Show her you’ve got nothing to hide. Get it?”]

  Queen Seraphina glanced up at Ashborne once she finished reading. He caught the signal at once and continued.

  “Following Miss Jade’s reminder,” he said, “I conducted a preliminary investigation into the perfumeries market, which is outlined in the first document Your Majesty has just reviewed.”

  The Queen inclined her head slightly. “I am aware of the profit. It was never going to be simple to confront them all at once, Theodore.”

  Ashborne shook his head immediately. “No, Your Majesty. This is not about profit.”

  Queen Seraphina asked, “Then what is it about?”

  “The number of people using these products, Your Majesty,” Ashborne replied slowly. Even now, the figure still unsettled him.

  Just as it had unsettled Jade.

  [“Just as I told you, this isn’t something you can handle on your own,” she said, frowning as she knocked the chalk against the blackboard. “This is a national health crisis. It’s something the government has to care about, Sir. It’s not just your problem - it’s everyone’s. You need to say that to the Queen. Alarmed her as much as you possibly can… And yeah, data would help. It doesn’t need to be perfect, the sample size can be small, but it has to prove your point. Take a few days. Talk to people. Get something solid. Alright??”]

  “The mothers who use these products,” Ashborne said, drawing a steady breath, his tone initially tentative, “are unknowingly exposing their children to them as well. And evidence suggests that certain perfumeries can cause damage to the brain. My laboratory director suspects they may even affect the reproductive system.” He hesitated, then pressed on. “In the long run, Your Majesty, this threatens our next generation - their intelligence, their health, and by extension, the very future of the kingdom… Children are our future, Your Majesty. And that future is in danger.”

  His voice softened with every word as he became aware of the Queen’s gaze - sharp, blazing, fixed upon him.

  The drawing room fell into silence. The air grew taut beneath the stern expressions of the monarchs and the Earl still in power.

  “Continue, Lord Ashborne,” The Queen commanded. “You have more to say.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Ashborne bowed his head slightly. He was no longer speaking to the “friendly aunt” Jade had described. He was now addressing the sovereign of a powerful kingdom.

  “Not only perfumeries,” he continued, “but certain household products as well - along with medicines specially formulated for the children. I discovered this while investigating perfumery trade networks. It is another immensely profitable sector, and yet the infant mortality rate has not declined alongside the increased use of these medicines.” He paused. “I do not yet possess a complete report. The idea occurred to me only recently, and my findings are based on interviews conducted through ragged school students. The conclusion is preliminary - rushed, even. But it is nonetheless horrifying, Your Majesty.”

  Queen Seraphina stared at him.

  She was not angry - not at the young man who had brought such a dreadful truth before her. She was shaken. Her hands trembled as she thought of her precious princes and princesses, and of her beloved husband, all of whom had been prescribed similar medicines by the royal physicians.

  Her deceased children.

  Why - in the name of all that was holy - had no one in the Royal Medical Institute thought to conduct animal testing before deeming these drugs safe? Brain damage. Nerve damage. And addiction. The word leapt out at her from the report, marked in red ink, accompanied by a note stating that further observation was required. If it was written in red amidst a sea of black, it was anything but trivial. An unknown condition. A danger akin to death itself.

  At last, Queen Seraphina spoke, her voice carefully modulated into official composure. “Lord Ashborne, we received your warning with great gratitude. Your diligence in these matters does great credit to your house. This report shall be placed before our ministers, that the issue may be examined with the gravity it deserves.”

  “It is my honour to serve the Crown of our kingdom, Your Majesty.” Ashborne knew the Queen was likely in no mood for further discussion, yet he pressed on. “There is another document in the folder, outlining several suggestions I believe may help reverse the situation.”

  As the Lady-in-Waiting presented the document, the Queen turned its pages while listening..

  “These are preliminary proposals,” Ashborne continued, “intended to be refined under Your Majesty’s guidance by the appropriate departments. The changes required will be substantial, and obstacles will arise without cease. The damage done to my reputation is merely the prologue to a long struggle. Still, I would consider it an honour to serve as the spark for a safer future in public health.”

  Queen Seraphina felt her hand gently clasped. She lifted her gaze and met her husband - steady, caring, reassuring. The tension that had coiled within her since Ashborne’s revelation eased slightly, not only because of Prince Edmund’s presence, but also because the young man before her had offered proposals that were brief yet practical - particularly those concerning regulation of food and drugs.

  “We must reward you, Lord Ashborne,” Queen Seraphina said, her gaze softening. “You have brought us a most important warning. Is there something you desire? Or shall we confer with your father regarding what would best serve your interests?”

  Ashborne lifted his head, his heart pounding.

  Finally. This is it.

  Jade’s voice echoed in his mind once more.

  [“So, the Queen’s definitely gonna reward you. Maybe a gift, maybe she’ll solve your problem directly, which is exactly what you need, but I have no idea how she’ll do it. A royal announcement? Throwing people in prison? Summoning them to court and scaring them into silence? Totally out of my imagination.” She had paused, then fixed him with a serious look. “If I were you, I wouldn’t let her decide. Ask for something specific. Something that serves your goals without being too much of an annoyance to her.”

  “What kind of reward?” he had asked.

  Her expression had turned stern. “Ask her to–”]

  “Your Majesty,” Ashborne said aloud, his tone as earnest as he could make it, “I ask that the perfumery recipes attached to the folder be publicly released through all official channels, so that citizens across the kingdom may know the safe, basic ingredients they can use instead of the products currently on the market.”

  The three elders in the drawing room were momentarily taken aback by his request.

  Prince Edmund studied the young man with evident interest. “You do understand that this will offend every party invested in those trades, do you not?”

  “Yes, Your Royal Highness,” Ashborne nodded, unwavering. “I am fully aware. However, this is the swiftest and most effective means of clearing my name. It will make it clear that I am not - nor have I ever intended to be - involved in the perfumery trade. I was targeted. I am a victim. I disclose these truths out of a genuine concern for public safety, and they shall not distort my intentions. I want to make certain that none of them ever dare to malign me again.”

  For a brief moment, the monarchs appeared stunned. Then Prince Edmund laughed, the sound breaking the tension that had gathered in the room.

  “My,” he said, giving Ashborne a thorough look, “a tiger cub, William. Had you mentioned this earlier, Theodore might have found a place at court.”

  Lord Wexleigh shook his head. “Before today, he showed no sign of such sharpness - an entirely average mind.” He sighed. “Believe me, Your Royal Highness, his political instincts were weaker than my daughter’s. My sole hope was that he might live a peaceful, happy life.”

  “Father, I’m not that ignorant!” Ashborne protested.

  “Oh?” Lord Wexleigh narrowed his eyes. “Shall I remind you how this entire media scandal began?”

  Ashborne fell silent at once.

  Queen Seraphina glanced at him, her olive-green eyes warm with understanding. “I presume Miss Jade Lysmere - the young woman in your account - offered you considerable guidance.”

  “Yes, indeed, Your Majesty,” Ashborne nodded. “She broadened my perspective in many ways. I value her counsel greatly.”

  “Very well,” the Queen said at last. She exhaled softly, setting aside the turmoil stirred by the revelations of hidden poisons in her realm. “We shall grant your request, along with an additional token of recognition, to be kept as a reminder of this service…”