Firelight, crowds, and the flustered Consortium amidst wind and rain.
All before Elizabeth reminded her of the musical dramas she watched as a child, which liked to portray the life of the last aristocrats. It was said that the scripts were treasures left from before the Third War.
She clearly remembered reading a melancholic epic about a fallen aristocrat's quest for revenge.
The scenes now unfolding were just as described in those musical dramas.
Unlike those fabricated or adapted stories, however, everything around her was truly happening.
Perhaps, she would die like those damsels of the last aristocrats in the scripts. She recalled the Head Maid telling her that the real downfall of true aristocrats was much more tragic than what the scripts depicted.
"Head Maid, will I die?"
Elizabeth was being dragged along by the arm by the Head Maid, rushing through the familiar castle. She could distinctly feel the Head Maid's poor health, seemingly due to falling from a height.
