The cold winter stepped back, letting the summer ahead. Everyone enjoyed the warm weather at first, but soon the hot air started to feel like another kind of hardship. Farmers' eyes were drawn to the sky. Alas, the blue vastness above their heads was clear and ruthlessly sunny. The level of the reservoir started to drop. While people questioned whether it would be the blessing of the rain or irrigation aid from the North-West that would save their crops, official instructions were issued to reduce the use of water to the bare minimum.

The atmosphere in the palace became darker with each passing day. It was almost inevitable that part of the harvest would be lost in borderline areas. The arid soil felt like dust during dry years. What concerned the officials, though, was the possibility of losing the harvest even in central and eastern lands. According to old agreements, the North-West provided water to the West through the irrigation system during difficult times such as these. For the past two terms Castro has received help four times. However, now the sluices are closed, and the canals remain dry.

Cornelia missed the first discussion on the water crisis. It "conveniently" happened three hours earlier than the announced time. The second time, she made sure to not fall for this trick. César wasn't present. The Crown Prince left to pay a visit to Kushane's humanitarian mission, to express gratitude and help with distribution. Among their neighbors, Kushane were the first to send much-needed aid. Their capabilities were limited, but the resources they shared helped relieve the situation in at least the southern areas. The relief mission was one of the few tasks César wholeheartedly enjoyed. He killed three birds with one stone: improved his reputation, moved away from the king's control, and fooled around with girls. 'But his wife is expecting. He should have insisted on staying by her side.'

'It's still 4 years and 4 months till the new Draw. And it's not the last drought we will face during this term.' Last year was bearable; the harvest wasn't plentiful, but enough to store some grain. Everyone present had the same thoughts - the storages wouldn't cover the needs of the whole country and the next year's sowing. The more crops survived the heat, the more farmers could gather in autumn, the better chance to withstand the third term with minimal losses.

The council listened to the reports, hoping for some good news. Alas. When the room fell silent for a moment, the only sound was the tapping of the king's finger on the stone table. Despite her will, Cornelia's gaze was drawn to her father's hand. The ring he wore clinked against the polished surface of the stone when he changed habit and tapped the table with his thumb.

"Why is the sluice still closed?" asked the Minister of Agriculture. He tried not to look at the king, but instead stared at the papers in front of him.

"Dame Brennan says that the North-West is suffering from the same heat as us," replied the head of the diplomatic corps. "So they can't share their water."

"But they should still have more than us. The snow from the mountains feeds the northern rivers enough."

"They had almost no snow last winter."

"But still!..."

The argument started again.

"Anatolians must fulfill their part of the agreement! We have sent enough pesticides and dynamite, and they need to share their water."

"What about the Tower? What does Her Holiness say?"

The Navigation Tower played a mediating role during conflicts from the time it was established. It was a third party that could be fair and not involve itself in any disputes. The master of the Tower could also call for the unification and punishment of any country that dared to break the taboo. Border wars were passable, unless any of the sides decided to play smart and use guns. Cornelia remembered such cases from history books. It never ended well for such tricksters. The problem with Tower's mediation was that it was incredibly slow, not only because of the courier's letter system, which relied on horse's speed, but also because the decision-making process could take weeks within the bureaucratic system. This time was no exception.

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"We will send a delegation to speed up negotiations," the king finally stated his decision. "We'll discuss its powers and range of concessions after we select the participants."

"Can I volunteer?" One simple question made everyone's tension rise again. Cornelia felt all eyes on her, but she looked only at her father.

"That could work," the head of diplomatic corps cautiously said. "The presence of a royal family member would give the mission significant weight."

His opinion started a new round of debate. But the final decision was up to the king to make.

She left Isis in the care of Dr. Winda. The maids could look after her pet, but Cornelia still felt anxious, imagining how easy it would be to poison the cat and make it look like the animal had just eaten something it shouldn't have. Knowing that Isis was in safe hands lifted her worries and allowed her to focus on important mission.

The palace was interested in her quick departure and overall success. So, every official that the princess interacted with helped in any way possible. The preparations, which usually take a few weeks, were done in just a few days. In order to speed up the trip and make it easier during the hot weather, they set off before sunrise. The square in front of the palace was lit with the torches. Sleepy grooms were saddling and harnessing horses to carriages. Cornelia noticed familiar faces as soon as she stepped out of the palace. Sieg, accompanied by his superior, was attaching his bag to his saddle.

"How is everyone doing?"

"They are fine, thank you for asking, Your Highness. Timo was as noisy as ever when I left."

The small exchange of pleasantries now felt like a routine. Cornelia was watching over the final preparations for the cargo. A significant amount of goods was given to fasten negotiations. Water was now a much more valuable resource.

Dietrich approached them to report. He stared at Jack, who was silently polishing a pair of glasses. When the man felt an intense gaze, he raised his face and smiled.

"I still don't understand why His Majesty decided to send him," the knight nodded towards Sieg's side. "And not someone of a higher status."

"He can be very handy in matters regarding water."

Dietrich snorted at Jack's remark.

"What, is he a plumber or something?" the look on the princess’ face made him frown. "Fine. Can we skip the part where we're all friends now and just go?"

As soon as the knight towards his stallion, Jack bid farewell to the delegates and left the square. Servants and a few officials lined up in front of the palace, seeing off the group.

"Asshole."

A barely hearable word, yet Cornelia turned around.

"I beg your pardon?"

Sieg lifted his face and, when he realized that the princess was still there, it turned pale.

"I'm so very sorry. Please, Your Highness, pretend that I didn't say anything."

"Well, it's not like I'm not aware of the existence of such words. I'm just not used to hearing them on the palace grounds."

The groom, leading a dapple-grey mare, handed the reins to the girl. Cornelia mounted the horse, to Dietrich's instant protest, "Your Highness, etiquette states that you need to travel in a coach with the royal coat of arms."

"It states that I need to enter another country in the coach. Not to ride it all the time. I can use this opportunity to warm up a bit."