The first light of morning filtered through the windows, casting a soft glow across the room. The air was crisp with the quiet hum of early winter. In the Larousse estate, peace reigned—an almost unnatural stillness broken only by the occasional whispers of servants and the distant clatter of horses.
"Good morning, Your Grace." Ewan Gertha's voice, calm but tinged with exhaustion, echoed in the otherwise silent room. His fiery red hair and intense yellow eyes starkly contrasted his weary demeanour. In his hands, he held several reports and a sealed letter.
"You've returned early, Ewan," Duke Edric Larousse said without lifting his gaze from the pile of documents scattered before him.
"I'm starting to wonder if you plan to imprison me instead of assigning me work, Your Grace." Ewan's voice held a wry edge, though there was a flicker of frustration in his expression. As the Duke's trusted aide and Viscount, Ewan had come to expect no small amount of responsibility.
Duke Larousse took the letter, his fingers brushing over the seal. "Ah, another missive from the imperial court. This concerns the Rutledge trial?"
"Yes, Your Grace. The trial begins in two days," Ewan confirmed, the gravity of the situation hanging between them.
The Duke's expression darkened slightly as he scanned the letter. "We shall see what the court uncovers," he said, setting the letter aside. "I'm heading to breakfast."
Ewan placed another envelope on the table. "There is also a report regarding the carriage accident from five years ago."
The Duke, without further comment, nodded, signaling that Ewan could leave. The weight of impending trials and secrets seemed to settle over him as he made his way to the breakfast table.
Duke Edric Larousse was a figure both commanding and enigmatic. His silver hair, sharp aristocratic features, and piercing blue eyes made him an unmistakable presence. He ruled the southern region of the empire with a cold, unflinching authority that commanded both respect and fear.
The Larousse family was renowned not just for their political power but for their mastery of magic. The Duke's eldest son and daughter wielded divine holy powers, while his second son was a skilled swordmaster, and his youngest daughter, Elara, possessed light magic—an ability she had inherited from her mother.
But Elara, the Duke's second daughter, was different. Born without any magical power, she was a curious anomaly in a family of prodigies. Magic was the heart of the Larousse legacy, yet Elara was a blank canvas, a shadow among the light. In a world where no one had been born without magic or divine gifts, her existence was an uncomfortable puzzle.
Elara awoke before dawn, her thoughts clear and sharp. It was her first real day of work at the Larousse estate, and she had no intention of being anyone's afterthought. In the mirror, she saw herself in sleek, tailored office attire—dark, elegant, and professional. Though she knew it was a symbol of her status, Elara found the suit a bit too suffocating for her taste.
Her maids, Yura and Lily, stood behind her, watching with awe. "My lady," Yura began, her voice filled with admiration, "you look radiant in this outfit. It's as if it was made for you."
Elara glanced at herself in the mirror, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I think so too," she said quietly, though beneath the smile, there was an edge of determination.
"I'm heading to breakfast and then straight to the office. There's no time to waste."
"Good luck, my lady," Lily wished as Elara made her way out.
As she descended the grand staircase to the dining hall, Elara couldn't help but think about how her life had changed. The years she spent in Korea had left no room for personal goals. No time for meals, for connections, for herself. But now, things were different. She wasn't here to prove herself to anyone—this was for her. She would not allow herself to become invisible.
"Good morning, Your Grace," Elara greeted her parents, her voice steady and confident as she took her seat at the table.
"Elara," her mother, Eirlys, said with a smile that lit up her features. "You look stunning today. That outfit suits you perfectly."
"Thank you, Eli. You look beautiful as always," Elara replied, her voice warm, though her mind was already elsewhere.
Though it was customary for the family to gather every morning for breakfast, Elara found the routine increasingly grating. She had work to do, and the endless chatter around the table felt like a distraction.
Duke Larousse, sharp-eyed and calculating, spoke next. "The Rutledge case begins in two days. Elara, you will be attending the trial."
Elara's jaw tightened slightly, but she nodded. There was little use in protesting—her father's commands were absolute. She glanced down at her breakfast, a lavish spread of meats, fruits, and pastries, yet she barely tasted any of it. Her thoughts were already turning to the trial.
As the meal wore on, Elara turned to her father, her tone sharp and direct. "Your Grace," she began, "is there a punishment more cruel than execution, where one is left to live in torment, wishing for death?"
Duke Larousse's gaze hardened, his eyes narrowing. "You mean the Northcrest prisons," he said, his voice cold.
"Northcrest?" Elara repeated, intrigued. "I've never heard of such a place."
"Northcrest is the one place where there is no mercy. It's a prison for those who've betrayed the empire—noble or common. It's a place of suffering," the Duke explained, his voice grim.
Elara absorbed this, her thoughts turning inward. Northcrest. The name seemed to echo in her mind, a shadow in the back of her memories. "Northeast, you say? Thank you for the information."
Without another word, she finished her breakfast and rose from the table. "I'm leaving for the office now."
**15th Deepwinter, 378 AE – Imperial Court**
The imperial court was filled with tension. Nobles and commoners alike filled the grand hall, murmuring anxiously. The trial of Viscount Rutledge had become a spectacle that everyone wanted to witness, a chance to see if justice would truly be served.
At the front of the hall, Magistrate Ethyros Vynar Eldridian, the Emperor's younger brother, took his place. His piercing gaze swept across the room, and the crowd fell silent at his presence. He raised his hand, his voice carrying the weight of authority.
"Under the law of this realm, and the sanctity of this court, let the trial of Edward Rutledge begin."
An eerie silence followed as the magic-infused sigils on the walls of the court flickered to life, signaling the beginning of the trial.
Ryan, the Crown Prince's aide, stepped forward with a stack of documents in hand. "Your Highness," he said, addressing the court, "these are intelligence reports detailing Viscount Rutledge's dealings with a neighboring kingdom, involving the sale of Empire secrets."
"I didn't do anything! These are all lies!" Rutledge's voice rang out in desperation. His face was pale, his hands trembling as his wife wept at his side.
"Then explain why you were hiding for weeks," Ryan shot back. "Why did you change locations every week if you were innocent?"
Rutledge stammered, his voice breaking. "I feared for my life. I thought they would come after me."
"And yet," Ryan continued, "we have documents that tell a different story. These show your dealings with the Voritha Kingdom, located east of our Empire."
Gasps spread through the court. Whispers of betrayal and treason filled the air.
"These are the documents that implicate Rutledge's wife as well," Ryan added coldly, passing more papers forward. "She was involved in the murder of her butler's daughter—killed simply because the girl was more beautiful than her own."
The room erupted Into shock and disbelief. But Magistrate Eldridian raised a hand, demanding silence.
"Is this true?" he asked, his voice laced with disbelief.
Ryan nodded. "Yes, Your Highness. The evidence is irrefutable."
As the evidence continued to unfold, Rutledge's guilt became undeniable. He had sold secrets, committed illegal acts, and even engaged in a slavery trade. Despite all of this, Rutledge denied it vehemently.
"We call the butler to testify," Ryan announced, his voice cutting through the chaos. The butler, Kaelion, was brought forward. His face was filled with sorrow as he confirmed the horrific truth: Rutledge and his wife had murdered his daughter.
The court was silent, the weight of the revelation hanging heavily in the air.
Just as the trial seemed to reach its peak, a figure cloaked in mystery entered the room. Her voice trembled as she made her way to the center of the hall. When she threw back her cloak, revealing her identity, the entire room gasped in shock.
"Sofia Rutledge?" someone whispered.
"Is she implicating her own family?" another voice trembled.
The court fell into an uneasy silence, all eyes on the woman who was about to reveal the final truth about the Rutledge family's dark crimes.