NEC Chapter 14: Emerald Frost

In Six-Leaf Grove, travelers typically had three lodging options.

The top choice was Brave Haven Inn, the one young centaur Kaga enthusiastically endorsed.

Perched prominently on the central plaza’s highest point, it boasted an elevated position, wide views, excellent light, and ventilation. The building blended elegance with rugged charm, and its rest and dining facilities were widely praised, making it the camp’s “five-star” hotel.

Its only flaw? The price.

Next was the centaurs’ own “livestock shed.”

This was a roofed space with half-walls that let in drafts. On one side, snorting, tail-swishing animals were tethered; on the other, travelers huddled on floor mats. The stench and noise of livestock permeated the air, making sleep nearly impossible for anyone but the most thickskinned.

Its sole merit? Cheap.

The final option was camping in the wild. It saved money, but you bore all the risks.

Brave Haven had tight security, and the shed at least had centaur night patrols. But if you paid nothing, the great centaur chieftain wouldn’t protect reckless wanderers.

If you woke up with even your underwear intact, it meant the camp’s thieves were amateurs.

Or your underwear was too filthy to touch.

For the Lady of Frost from the Emerald Duchy, however, solitary camping was the safest and most comfortable choice.

A ring of tents, large and small, surrounded a central grand tent like stars around a moon. Guards from her family and hired mercenaries set up temporary watchposts. Under moonlight and torchlight, the glint of blades at their waists or in their hands was enough to deter any illintentioned lurkers.

At that moment, the esteemed Lady Frost reclined on a plush velvet chair, her cloud-like hair cascading to her waist. Her delicate face was etched with exhaustion, her eyelids drooping as she endured the “spiritual cleansing” of her chief attendant, Linda.

“Your Highness, you haven’t completed today’s lessons,” Linda intoned. “As the twenty-second heir of the Cloudmist Domain in the Emerald Duchy, maintaining strict discipline ensures you can always display our family’s refinement and uphold the domain’s honor.”

“Yes, Linda, I know,” Frost replied wearily, her lips pouting as she resignedly picked up the brick-thick Noble Etiquette.

Though Linda was nominally a maid, she had been the personal attendant to Frost’s late mother, serving two generations for over twenty years. Stern, meticulous, and precise as a wound clock, Linda had devoted herself to raising Frost after her mother’s early death and her father’s preoccupation with domain affairs and his many wives and children. Without Linda, the young lady might not have survived safely.

So, despite her reluctance, Lady Frost forced herself to focus and hefted the heavy Noble Etiquette.

“Audience Protocol, Category Twenty-One,” Linda’s voice rang out like a recitation of scripture, clear and resolute. “When meeting a lord or lady of equal or higher rank, unrelated by blood, the procedure follows a strict hierarchy, each step essential, in precise order.”

“First Tier: Proper Appearance.”

“Attire must strictly adhere to Chapter Three of the Kingdom Protocol: External Affairs. The primary color scheme should reflect family colors (Cloudmist White, Emerald Green), complemented by seasonal and occasion-appropriate patterns.”

“Crowns, sashes, and family crests—their size, material, and embellishments—must reflect equal dignity, neither overstepping nor diminishing status. All accessories must be pristine; any wrinkle or stain could be seen as an insult to the host.”

“Appearance must be solemn and dignified: hair tightly bound, ornaments secure; face clean, with light, status-appropriate makeup.”

“…”

“Second Tier: Presentation of Credentials.”

“At the start of the audience, the chief attendant or designated protocol officer must first present a formal calling card and proof of identity to the host’s protocol officer.”

“The primary credential is a letter of introduction or calling card copy, bearing the family crest and personally signed by the head of the house. Alternatively, an identity document with a clear crest or seal from a core family member may be used.”

“The credential must be presented on a tray precisely three inches and three-tenths wide, received on a cloth bearing the family crest, never passed hand-to-hand.”

“…”

The young lady clutched the book, her eyes glazing over as the words blurred into dark smudges.

Linda, without a book, recited the mind-numbingly dull text flawlessly.

And she wasn’t done. She continued, word for word.

“Third Tier: Processional Steps.”

“Entry follows rank: the lord or representative leads, with attendants in order of status trailing three steps behind, moving in unison.”

“Steps must be steady and dignified, with moderate stride length. From the main entrance to the audience position, employ the ‘Respectful Gait,’ heel touching first, then the full foot, synchronized with the protocol officer’s announcement.”

“At seven steps from the audience position or the host’s designated mark, halt and await the protocol officer’s proclamation of name and intent.”

“…”

“Fourth Tier: The Audience Rite.”

“After the proclamation, the lord or representative performs the ‘Cloudmist Domain Audience

Rite.’”

“The sequence is as follows:”

“One: Place the right palm inward over the left chest at heart level, bow slightly fifteen degrees, signifying ‘my loyalty is true’ to the lord.”

“Two: Maintain the bow. In hunting attire, clasp hands lightly at the sides; in a gown, lift the skirt with the left hand, let the right hang naturally, step back half a pace with the right foot, toe touching, left knee slightly bent, performing the ‘Half-Curtsey’ to show respect.”

“Three: Maintain a humble posture, eyes lowered to the ground three steps before the lord or lady’s seat, awaiting their command to ‘rise.’”

“…”

As the intricate etiquette lesson droned on, detailing angles, steps, movements, and symbolism, the young lady’s head bobbed like a pecking chick. The heavy Noble Etiquette teetered on her lap, threatening to fall as she nearly dozed off…

Her only thought: Stop dragging it out, or I’ll fall asleep… Suddenly, urgent, forceful footsteps sounded outside. “Your Highness! Lady Attendant, a centaur guide brought a summoner mage requesting healing! The guard captain seeks your orders!”

Frost perked up, letting out a cheer. She flicked her skirt and sprang from the chair, rushing outside eagerly.

In all her years, she’d never seen the legendary, morally ambiguous summoner mages.

Linda sighed helplessly, following with dignified steps, quietly urging, “Your Highness! Mind your posture! Posture!”

“Skirt! Steps! Slow down, Your Highness!”

Rounding a guard tent, the view opened up. Frost immediately spotted the trio at the camp’s edge: a muscular centaur warrior, a skeleton standing quietly with bones faintly glowing in the torchlight, and a nervous-looking apprentice.

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