Compared to the boisterous streets and constantly boiling tension of Tianxing City with the majority of its population originating that of the younger generations, the city of Brest was quiet and tranquil in its magnanimity.
The city had taken heed to its natural attachments, with ample space provided between each major construction to allow a sufficient patch of grass, trees, or shrubbery to flourish. Streets were accompanied with a gentle strip of trees and grass on either sides, and the ports were a breathtaking spectacle to be witnessed.
Medieval castles and fortresses stood at the ends of each portion of land that jutted into the Atlantic Ocean, their antiquated walls of stone and primitive concrete thundering with an age-old, imposing demeanor that radiated their vicissitudes and splendor.
On certain regions, the small figures of metallic construction equipment and stacks of heavy materials could be spotted near the base of the towering walls.
Having received the confirmation from the European Union to begin renovation and patchwork repairs of damaged structures, France had given its focus onto the castles of the medieval eras.
Employment had flourished and skyrocketed as the behemoths of construction began to hire en masse, their headquarters issuing for the constant transfer of equipment and utility tools each day.
Workers streamed in and out of the major port cities as they rushed to fulfil their dreams of securing a profitable source of employment, allowing the cities to prosper in a symbiotic but temporary cycle.
As the renovation and repairing of the castle walls took place, the workers ensured not to disturb the locals daily living as a means of respect and dignity, which in return earned a significant amount of praise towards their ethics. Hence, what should have caused an uproar over the heavy drain in the nation's economy, was passed off as a silent grunt of begrudging acknowledgement.
The workers obtained their employments, the construction behemoths obtained their subsidiary contracts from the government and the European Union, and the French aristocratic society whose castles were being repaired no longer required themselves to fret over the increasing amount of erosion on their historical legacies.
To the nation known as France, to the European Union, and the world itself, the matter was merely a daily dent into the passage of time – nothing of significance save for an increase in taxes for some.
But for the Arenberg Family, a few changes were about to occur…
-
"Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle, please do wake up immediately!"
The cleaning maidservant clenched her teeth as she knocked onto the wooden door with her right hand, her left hand anxiously curled around the raw and unforgiving shaft of a broom. The servant pounced on her heels as she awaited for a response of any sort, only to be disappointed by a deafening silence.
"Oh, Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle, you mustn't be like this!" she cried, her anxiety causing the frills on her dress to crumple.
"Oh, what is to be done – the Madame will surely be disappointed if the Mademoiselle refuses to awake and head downstairs!"
The maidservant hurled the broom towards the corner of the wall, the smooth heels of her shoes making clear taps as she rubbed at her hairpiece in frustration. The servant's heart heaved at the lack of a response in combination with the imposing aura leaking from the castle walls, prompting her to nearly drive herself into a crazed fit.
"Mademoiselle Lise, you must wa-"
Bang!
The wooden door was crudely shoved open as a young maiden around the age of eighteen peeked her head from the interior of the room, her eyes narrowed towards the maidservant in an angered glare.
Lise Millet suppressed yawn after yawn as she rubbed at her eyes with her fingers, her tongue harshly interrogating the trembling maidservant.
"Merot, just why are you yapping so loudly in the morning?"
"M-morning!?"
The maidservant screeched in defiance of protocol, though her collapsing heart could no longer pay attention to etiquette. Merot barely suppressed herself from reaching towards the broom leaning against the wall in her exasperation, wishing to discipline the young maiden before her as she had done to her children.
"Mademoiselle Lise, it is thirty minutes away from noon, how can this be a mere 'morning'!?" the maidservant sighed.
"Hurry, the Madame is waiting, as well as an important guest!"
The young maiden paused at the unexpected reply of the maidservant, a lock of her hair curling down her right shoulder in its wake. Lise Millet's eyebrows frowned for a brief moment, her finger pressing above her lips in thought.
"Mother should be aware that I dislike eating the breakfast provided by the castle's chefs – they're far too greasy for my health. However… what's with this unexpected guest?"
"Why, of course it is the Esteemed Gentleman of the Rothschild Family, the one they call Vincent!"
The young maiden had only been musing to herself, but Merot couldn't suppress the urge to provide a helpful remark. Considering her work accomplished in waking the unruly Mademoiselle Lise Millet of Arenberg for the day, the maidservant collected her broom and descended the long, spiraling stairs.
The flickering and elongating figure of her shadow as it was accompanied by the electric lighting accompanied the shadowed mood on the young maiden's countenance.
Her brows had completely settled onto a near permanent crease, and her eyes were narrowed as the irises pulsated with disappointment and anger. The young maiden's lips had pursed into a tight scowl, and her hands were firmly clenched underneath the sleeves of her nightgown.
Lise Millet maintained her posture for several breaths of time as numerous thoughts raced through her mind, eventually relaxing as an exhausted sigh escaped from her lips. Directing an intense glare towards the spiral staircase that lead from the seventh floor to the main hallway, the young maiden closed the door of her room to stride before a mirror.
The mirror was taller than her and was casted in a single piece of reflective platinum, the thin sheet supported by a series of extended rods arching across its frame. As the young maiden stared into the wide panel, she couldn't help but frown at what she saw.
The reflection of Lise Millet who stared back towards her was indeed beautiful and doll-like, with golden blonde hair, fair skin, and blessed with skin whose texture was as soft as warm cream. The young maiden had been fortunate to escape the outbreak of pimples or freckles on her
countenance, and a pair of topaz irises cutely blinked towards their viewer from within the sheet of metal.
The Lise Millet seen within the mirror was a beautiful cut of artwork that would be desirable by many, and that was indeed the case. Many had sought after her hand, only to be turned down without even being graced by an initial greeting.
However, Lise Millet saw a different reflection from that of others.
Instead of a modern-themed room embellished by a wonderful assortment of fashionable items, adorable articles of furniture, and a mouthwatering assortment of clothing, the young maiden saw before her a dense web of metallic chains. The room was replaced by a dark, dull background, and the faint smile on the maiden's countenance was replaced by a screech of pain.
The chains tethered her limbs and torso to the abyss, the abyss that was known as the House of Arenberg.
The black chains of abominable metal latched themselves onto her wrists and ankles to lock her to the House of Arenberg's fate, forever unable to escape and fly free in the vast skies that modern technology had begun to unlock. The young maiden was a beautiful young maiden, but before that, a disposable puppet.
A disposable puppet with an immense beauty that nobody could refuse – one that would guarantee the House of Arenberg a –
"No. I refuse to marry that batard of the Rothschild Family. Never!"
Lise Millet hissed in defiance. The young maiden abruptly dashed towards the fluffy and extravagant bed, digging throughout the fur blanket to expose the sleek design of an iPhone X, the black frame standing in contrast to the silver blankets.
Her fingers fumbled at the unlocking mechanisms of the phone, the tips scrambling in her haste and desperation. The moment the originally dark screen lit up with a brilliant light, Lise Millet's lips broke out into a hopeful smile at the word displayed on the display.
Accepté.
-
Two days later, Shang Xuan was suddenly prodded awake in the dead of midnight by Na-er. As the youth blearily rubbed at his eyes due to the sudden change in lighting, the young girl disengaged her camouflage to dump a large metal suitcase onto the floor of the apartment next to the bed.
"Na-er…?"
"Ah Xuan, you have to get busy and change clothes, ah," Na-er replied in an aimless voice as her small fingers scanned the various contents in the suitcase to confirm their integrity.
"We have work to do."
At this moment, Shang Xuan had managed to roll himself onto the edge of the bed, his hair in a complete mess. The Flame Ancestor blinked at the young girl's distracted statement, its meaning registering in his mind after a significant delay.
"…work?" the youth muttered.
"There's something new on the mission board?"
"Yes, and we've got to head to the airport within the next few hours," Na-er slotted in the final cartridge of ammunition for a handheld pistol obtained from Ah Hu and the other fire spirits.
"Our flight is at five in the morning, and we can't miss that."
…flight is at five in the morning?
Pardon, my dear Na-er, can you repeat that again?