The capital of Holfort majestically towers on a massive floating island, seemingly hovering above an endless ocean of clouds. This unique city captivates attention with its multi-level architecture, dividing it into three primary zones, each serving a specific purpose.
The upper level, reserved exclusively for the nobility, the royal family, and high-ranking officials, stuns with its opulence. Majestic palaces surrounded by manicured gardens and elite magical academies, where the kingdom's brightest minds are educated, dominate this level. Daily life here is filled with splendor and grandeur, symbolizing the might and wealth of Holfort.
The middle level serves as the hub of craftsmanship and trade. Merchants, artisans, and scholars who sustain the capital's economic prosperity reside here. This level is considered strategically vital for the entire kingdom; it is the heart of governance, economic mechanisms, and magical research. The collapse of this level would nearly equate to the nation's downfall, as the capital houses key administrative functions and resources. Among its main landmarks are the Royal Palace and the Magic Academy, which not only adorn the city but also symbolize its strength and traditions.
The lower level, though overshadowed by the grandeur of the upper zones, is home to ordinary citizens, farmers, and laborers. Despite its apparent modesty, this level forms the foundation of the city's livelihood.
A special role in the life of the capital is played by the residences of high-ranking nobles. One such residence belongs to the Flayne family—a powerful house considered part of the lower nobility yet wielding significant influence over barons and viscounts. This estate essentially served as the headquarters of a secret society known as the "Forest of Dames." However, the atmosphere within these walls was rarely pure or bright: intrigues, manipulations, and covert negotiations filled every corner of the building.
Today, an emergency meeting was underway in the estate. Tension filled the air, and the anger and frustration of the society's members only heightened the oppressive atmosphere. The reason?
"Who the hell is this Bartfort?!" one of the leading witches shouted angrily, slamming her fist on the table.
"Because of him, our schemes involving marriages—where the 'husbands' were sent to war so we could collect compensations for their deaths—are starting to fail! That upstart is ruining our plans!"
"We spent years building this system to reap its benefits," added another nobleman with a piercing gaze. "And now this wretched Bartfort dares to interfere? He clearly knows more than he should!"
"We cannot let him continue! If he exposes even more, not only the Forest of Dames but our entire circle will be destroyed!" said another figure, her voice full of anxiety and hatred.
There was no room for sympathy or morality in this room. The only thing uniting these people was their fear of exposure and their hatred for the one who dared to challenge them.
At that moment, the leader of the Forest, looking sternly at everyone present, began to speak. Her voice was firm and confident:
"You are all right. This cannot go on. Many from our circle have already been stripped of their titles or executed."
A tense silence hung over the room. Her words made everyone pause. She continued:
"We must get rid of him. He openly opposes us now. Yes, killing him will be problematic since he has become a viscount and is on the verge of becoming a national hero. But before that happens, we must act. If we eliminate him now, it won't lead to critical consequences."
Her words sparked a murmur of approval. The members of the gathering exchanged glances and began nodding in agreement.
"The leader is right," a voice finally spoke from the group. "This cannot continue. More and more men are beginning to despise us, knowing that this upstart will stand up for them."
"My husband is already opposing me," admitted one of the women. "He refuses to send money, and I'm certain he's gathering evidence to annul our marriage."
"Mine too," added another.
Several voices spoke up at once. Each shared her problems and fears, but they were interrupted by Karen.
She stood, raising her hand to capture attention, and said:
"So it's decided. We have enough money to hire the Assassin's Guild. Unfortunately, their services will be expensive since our target is a viscount. But we have no other choice. Luckily, we won't have to wait long. Leon Bartfort is currently in the capital."
These words brought a wave of relief and approval among the attendees. Applause filled the room, charged with suppressed hope and veiled triumph.
"Excellent," someone said. "We must act quickly before he consolidates his power."
The discussion continued, but the atmosphere had shifted—now it was charged with determination and anticipation. Everyone present understood: the game had begun, and their future depended on their actions.