Many, many years ago, in the world of Elahar, there ruled the 5 Houses.
House Jeryul, dedicated to the study of magic and its properties.
House Mykradei, more of an army than a family with how it focused on swordsmanship.
House Kaethil, master tacticians with a flair for being extravagant.
House Seren, known for their musical and magic talent; it was said that their voices were as beautiful as steel was tough.
And finally, House Midas- known for their vast wealth, power, and unrivaled cunning.
But now, the Houses were in conflict. House Kaethil had been wiped out completely by House Mykradei, and the houses aligned to them were distressed.
So, Lady Freia of House Seren called for a meeting. Such an occurrence was rare; with how uncaring the Houses were towards each other, most disputes were minor and quickly finished. But now that an entire House had been destroyed...
=--=--=--=
The heads of the Houses all sat at a table, and the silence was deafening. Lord Fereleth of House Jeryul kept exchanging glares with Duchess Ladakei of House Mykradei, and tension ran thick between the two.
After a minute or two of the oppressing quiet, Baron Milianté Midas finally spoke up. "Duchess Ladakei of House Mykradei, none of us will be able to overlook the fact that you drove House Kaethil to extinction, nor can we ignore the murdering of the House's children."
Fingers rapped on the wooden table; some House heads shifted in their seats, but Lord Fereleth looked at Milianté with a steely, determined gaze.
It wasn't a secret that Fereleth was a good friend of Czar Zaelk. The two were practically brothers.
And it was no surprise that Fereleth wanted vengeance.
Duchess Ladakei just stared ahead, either unwilling or uncaring to move her purple eyes to look at Milianté, although her hands did move to smoothen out a small crease in her dark violet military uniform.
He then cleared his throat and spoke once more. "The only acceptable punishment for such a transgression will be death to House Mykradei, and life imprisonment for Duchess Ladakei."
Lady Freia then spoke up, her eyes wide. "Wait, we cannot just eradicate House Mykra-" but Ladakei cut her off. "I will take both sentences myself. It would be honorless for my family to be punished for my actions."
Milianté's eyes gleamed with something before he said, "Those in favor of Duchess Ladakei's choice, raise your hand. Those against her choice, if you would keep your hands lowered."
Lord Fereleth's hand shot up before anyone else's, and then Lady Freia raised hers... and finally, Milianté raised his.
Ladakei just kept her gaze on the table.
At least this way, her bloodline could go on.
At least this way, her daughters wouldn't die.
=--=--=--=
Two days later
Milianté sat on a quartz bench in the Midas Manor's garden; a beautiful place that he had built for his wife, filled with flowers of all colors and plants that exuded calming smells. It was also adorned with gold statues; perfectly smooth faces, pure gold construction...
Gold.
He remembered looking out at the sunset with Milairé once. She had said that this sunset was also called the Dripping Gold, for it seemed that as the sun went down, gold dripped down with it.
He remembered asking her what she liked so much about gold; she had said the vibrancy, the way it reflected the light, and how the color was just gorgeous.
He was brought out of his memories by the sound of his daughter, Léona, laughing with her mother.
He glanced over at them; Milairé was watering some flowers that were high up on a well-trimmed bush, and Léona was running through the falling droplets with a glee that only young children like her possessed.
Milianté chuckled a little, before standing up, straightening his purple waistcoat a slight bit, and then walking over.
=--=--=--=
A certain gold statue, positioned as the centerpiece for a small clearing, gleamed in the light, its surface reflecting the rays of the sun.
It was a depiction of a woman in a double-breasted uniform; the two columns of gold buttons shimmered, and the eyes, ever so well crafted, were glancing to the side.
The hair was done up in a waterfall braid, and it was so well textured that it seemed the whole thing was made up of literally gold-plated strands of hair.
Her hands were clasped behind her back, adorned with golden gloves.
There was no doubt about it.
It was an exact replica of Duchess Ladakei.
And inside of it, a soul was screaming. The loneliness, the inability to do anything but exist, was killing her.
For Ladakei had been trapped inside the confines of her now gold body, doomed to live out the rest of eternity being unseen, unheard.
Such was the price to pay for murdering House Kaethil.