The arrest of Lord Valerius sent tremors through the foundations of the imperial court. In the days that followed, the palace became a cauldron of whispers and furtive glances. The rise of a mere "sixteen-year-old cook" to the post of Senior Culinary Advisor, with direct and unquestioned access to the Emperor, was a scandal to some—and a promise to others. Liana felt eyes upon her: some filled with fear, others with disdain, and a rare few with hopeful curiosity.
Theron, energized by the truth unveiled and the newfound purpose Liana had stirred in him, moved with unprecedented swiftness. His voice, once apathetic, now rang with a rediscovered authority."We cannot heal an empire while the people starve and the land rots," he declared in an imperial council—startling the nobles used to his indifference.
Reforms began modestly, but their impact was immediate. Guided quietly by Liana, Theron ordered a full audit of the imperial granaries, uncovering decades of grain diversion and corruption. A plan was launched to distribute improved seeds, based on Liana's recollections of basic agricultural techniques and the handful of agronomy books Kael had unearthed from the library. She even sketched simple diagrams for crop rotation and composting, which Kael transcribed for the farm overseers.
But Liana wasn't content with theory alone. Haunted by Elara's memories of hunger and the misery endured by her people—and by the pain she now saw among the capital's poor—she became personally involved. Disguised as an apothecary apprentice or a young noblewoman visiting distant relatives, and always accompanied by the discreet Kael, Liana made frequent incursions into the poorest districts of the capital and nearby villages.
There, she witnessed the unvarnished reality: children with swollen bellies, adults with hollow eyes, and the food... ah, the food was even more dismal than she'd imagined. Bread as hard as stone, thin soups flavored with potato peels. There was no joy in the flavors—only bitter necessity.
It was in one of these visits, to a village just beyond the capital, that Liana saw a mother trying to feed her sick child with a tasteless porridge made from flour. The desperate look in the woman's eyes struck Liana to her core. In that moment, the guilt of having "studied only cooking" transformed into a conviction: my hands are here for a reason.
Back in the imperial kitchens, Liana turned her anguish into action. She developed a series of "recipes for the people"—dishes that were nutritious, affordable, and surprisingly delicious, crafted from the humblest ingredients in the empire. A robust stew made with wild vegetables and organ meats, slow-cooked to bring out natural umami; breads baked with lesser grains but fermented to be softer and more flavorful; and even a revitalizing porridge for children, made from sweet potatoes and a touch of wild spices she had foraged herself.
Theron was hesitant at first to approve such "common" dishes for public distribution. But Liana convinced him to taste them.His eyes widened."This... this tastes like home," he murmured, his voice soft with wonder."It reminds me of my childhood—before I was Emperor. There's nothing lavish in it... but there's soul."
He ordered the imperial chefs—under the reluctant supervision of Grimald—to learn these recipes and begin distributing them at strategic locations across the capital and the poorest provinces.
The people's response was immediate—and deeply moving. Crowds gathered for the imperial dishes, their faces lighting up with a mix of disbelief and gratitude with each bite. Small moments—like the smile of a child tasting the revitalizing porridge—filled Liana's heart with a satisfaction no fame or Michelin stars in her former world had ever given her.
However, the reforms—and Liana and Theron's growing popularity—were not without consequence. The faction of corrupt nobles, though decapitated by Lord Valerius's arrest, was far from dead. They worked in the shadows, led by less prominent—but equally powerful—figures. Merchants who had grown rich from scarcity, landowners who siphoned grain, and bureaucrats fattened by bribes now saw both their wealth and influence under threat.
The resistance manifested in insidious ways. Granaries recently audited began to catch fire in "accidents." Caravans transporting improved seeds were attacked by mysterious "bandits." And Liana's recipes began arriving spoiled, their ingredients tampered with—swapped for low-quality or even tainted substitutes before reaching distribution kitchens.
"Your Majesty," one of Theron's newly appointed loyal advisors reported gravely,"the bandits didn't steal the grain. They burned it. It's a message."
For the first time as Emperor, Theron felt the weight of true opposition. His former apathy had shielded him—now, by acting, he had become a target. Seeing his growing frustration, Liana prepared a calming tea for him—infused with herbs from her secret garden that eased tension. She added a touch of pure honey.
"This honey," she explained gently,"comes from hives that were attacked by predators. And yet, the bees rebuilt. The sweetness remains—made all the more precious for the struggle."
Theron looked at her, his expression tight."You're right. We cannot give up. They may burn the grain, but they cannot burn the hope you've reignited."
Their partnership deepened—not only in governance, but on a personal level. Mutual respect, trust, and admiration blossomed into something more. Theron sought Liana's company not only for counsel, but for conversation—for sharing his fears and quiet victories. And Liana, in turn, saw in Theron not just a sovereign, but a man with potential—a leader worthy of her dedication. The warmth in their exchanged glances, the subtle smiles they shared, were the seeds of a romance blooming amid political turmoil.
Yet the shadow of the Shadow Merchant loomed over all. Though faceless, Liana sensed a calculating mind orchestrating the attacks. The resistance was not random—it was organized, methodical. The empire stood at a crossroads. The reforms she and Theron championed offered the promise of a new dawn. But the old order—the parasites who thrived on the people's misery—would not surrender without a bloody fight.
And Liana knew: sooner or later, she would have to face the shadowy architect behind the empire's poisoned roots.