The Midsummer Night's Ball
Epilogue. Olga's Story
Olga was reading a letter written by Felicidad de Fedorias. It said: Princess Carnelia’s Midsummer Night’s Ball was a success by all accounts and by all standards. There were no accidents this time, but there was one mysterious event that all Glantrians have been talking about weeks on end. Glantrians have come to call this event “La Baile de los Amantes.”
“Of course, the little witch would write something like that!” Olga said to herself. She ripped the letter in two and threw it on the floor, already littered with pieces of paper.
“Strudel!!! Where’s my strudel!?!” Olga cried. (She had discovered long time ago as a child that you can’t hurt a magen’s feelings by shouting at it.)
Olga looked around for a piece of parchment she had read earlier, written by a Flaemish aristocrat about the ball. She remembered it had a very contradictory report, and wanted to review its accuracy.
The report read: It was nothing but an elaborate phantasm arranged by the elven Princess or her supporters to impress Glantrian high society and to give credence to her off-season ball.
Olga checked the name of the Flaem. She mentally reviewed the guest list (which she had memorized).
“Stupid Flaem! He wasn’t even there!” Olga grumbled. “Doesn’t he know Krondaharans can spot an illusion a mile away? Besides, it’s not Carnelia’s style...”
The magen had brought Olga two pieces of apple strudel, which pleased her immensely. She paused to gobble down a piece, and stuffed the second one in her mouth. While one grubby hand feeding the strudel into the ravenous orifice, the cleaner one leafed through the scattered papers, until she found an official-looking scroll. The scroll was sent to her by an informant at Parliament. She reviewed the notes.
The scroll said: Political analysts have speculated on the meaning of such an omen. Could this be a sign of a future (political) marriage between the heirless Prince Urmahid Krinagar and the widowed Princess Carnelia de…
At this point, Olga nearly laughed, but ended up choking on the half-chewed strudel. She alternately tried breathing through her nose and coughing up the strudel, but ended up sneezing bits of crumbs and apples onto the scroll.
The magen stood calmly beside her, all the while, waiting for a command.
“AAAAAWWWWRRRRGGGHHH!!!!” Olga moaned, clearing her windpipe. “Get me some beer, you worthless magen! And another strudel! This one has snot on it!”
The magen turned around and left the room. It didn’t see Olga lick the remaining strudel, decide it was still edible, and gobble it down, snot and all.
Olga brushed off a bit of snot and strudel from the scroll and continued to read the report: ...or perhaps a political alliance between Clan Alhambra and the other Ethengar Principality, Krondahar.
“Hahaha! It seems someone knows about Ralindi’s little romance with Ysabel!” Olga cheered in glee, this time taking care not to laugh out loud.
She continued: ...but most people agree, that this visitation by the Immortals have blessed Princess Carnelia and her Principality, and all her future actions will meet with providence and divine...
“What in Rad’s butt is this Immortal-clerical-blessing mumbo-jumbo about? I thought this was an official report?”
Disgusted, Olga crushed the scroll in her hands and mashed it into a ball, which she threw on the floor.
The magen arrived with a stein of beer and an apple strudel, and Olga set aside thoughts on the Midsummer Night’s ball to enjoy her food.
The End
