The Oblivious Saint Can't Contain Her Power: Forget My Sister! Turns Out I Was the Real Saint All Along! Volume 1 [Complete] by Almond

Author:Almond
Language: eng
Format: epub

To my dearest daughter, Carolina Sanchez,

I trust this letter finds you adapting well to life within the Empire’s walls. How are you, my child? Both in spirit and in health? Since your departure, not a day goes by that I don’t find myself thinking of you. I often wonder: Is she eating well? Is there anything that troubles her? Are the unfamiliar faces surrounding her unduly wearing on her happiness? When the demands of your new life permit, it would bring me great solace to receive word of your well-being.

While I’d like nothing more than to paint for you a picture of Celestian peace and tranquility in your absence, I must confess that we’ve encountered a great deal of trouble as of late. A part of me hesitated to include any mention of this in this missive, but in the end, I decided it was better you hear it directly from me rather than through whispers of rumor.

Our first challenge as of late has been a troubling decline in crop yields...

◇◆◇◆

In the sun-kissed office of Celestia’s royal castle, King Nathan Phillips and I were lost in deep deliberation. His office, a familiar haunt of mine, was gilded in the gentle glow of the afternoon sun. The walls around us, adorned with resplendent wallpaper of silver and gold, shimmered softly in the light. A fragrant spring breeze, carrying whispers of the blooming gardens below, found its way in through the open windows, its delicate touch adding a sense of serenity to the space. Yet amidst all this splendor, the chamber felt more like a gilt cage at that moment, the beauty of our surroundings serving merely as a distraction from the grave matters that preoccupied our minds.

The lord of the castle, his head in his hands, heaved a deep sigh. “Just what is happening to our crops?” he groaned, his voice tinged with worry and frustration. “How could the output of our fields be declining this drastically? And crops withering or outright dying to boot? Is that even possible? Hasn’t the Saint-to-be blessed us with bountiful harvests until now?”

Lifting my gaze from the dire report sent by regional farmers, I cleared my throat. “Yes. Until now,” I said, attempting to sound as professional as possible. “Crop growth has slowed, particularly in the case of varieties which are not native to our soil and climate. That is a fact, Your Majesty, and bemoaning it won’t breathe life back into our land. As for the withering, it appears to affect more delicate sorts of produce, such as tomatoes and lettuce, plants which demand extra care.”

At this, the king’s posture sagged even further, his despair deepening at the news.

The sudden and inexplicable decline in crop growth had all signs pointing to one unsettling possibility: a waning in my daughter Flora’s powers as the Saint-to-be. This naturally raised a troubling question: why? The only notable change in our lives was Carolina’s departure from our household, but it seemed far-fetched to attribute such a significant impact to this event.

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