I was woken before dawn by the gentle yet insistent knock of Haisley at my door. The room was draped in the dim gray light of early morning, and a cool, dewy chill filled the hallway.
Even in sleep, my mind raced with uneasy premonitions—had the sudden visitors come to halt the coronation and force upon me the mantle of Empress? My heart pounded as I sat up, wrapped in soft linens still damp with sleep's residue.
Still half-awake, I called out, "Haisley, who were the visitors?" while hastily dressing amid the muted sounds of my servants beginning their day.
Outside, the whispers of an awakening estate and the chirp of distant birds contrasted starkly with the storm of questions in my head.
Haisley's voice, calm yet edged with urgency, answered, "Yes, Your Grace—It is the Count Palatine of Lotharingia, the Duke of Saxony, and the Marquis of Brandenburg." Her tone was formal, yet I detected a trace of worry beneath her measured inflection.
