As the lights began to glow, the grand ballroom of the Erylian imperial palace was a dazzling scene of elegance and opulence. Richly attired nobles gathered in small groups, engaging in lively conversations, flattery, and jockeying for position - a display of calculated hypocrisy. They wore masks of refinement, concealing the greed and ambition that festered within, weaving intricate webs of beautiful lies, waging a silent war in this gilded palace.
Eira stood in a corner of the ballroom, clad in a soft lavender gown. The wispy chiffon flowed around her, embroidered with delicate silver patterns that shimmered like stars under the candlelight, exuding an air of elegant nobility. Her raven hair cascaded down her shoulders in silky waves, gleaming faintly in the warm glow. Her porcelain skin was flawless, her refined features akin to a meticulously crafted work of art, breathtakingly beautiful. Her deep blue eyes, like an infinite expanse of stars, were profound and captivating, tinged with a subtle melancholy and sorrow that beckoned one to cherish and protect her.
Eira observed the lively scene with a faint smile on her lips, her gaze cool and detached, as if she were merely a dispassionate observer to this charade. Over the past three years, she had prepared tirelessly for this moment, mastering court etiquette, familiarizing herself with the powerful factions of the Erylian Empire and their intricate power struggles, all in service of her eventual return to reclaim what was rightfully hers and avenge her mother, ensuring that those who had harmed her would pay a heavy price.
"Lady Eira, it's been so long. You have become even more beautiful." A greasy voice came from behind Eira, laced with fawning flattery that made one's skin crawl.
Eira turned to see a portly, oily-faced middle-aged man, his eyes gleaming with naked greed, as if he had laid eyes on a priceless treasure. He was Count Clarel, a cunning and avaricious noble who would betray anyone, even his own friends and family, for the sake of his own interests.
"Ah, Count Clarel, it has been a while." Eira responded coolly, her expression betraying no recognition, her tone icy and distant, as if addressing a complete stranger.
"Lady Eira, you remember me! I'm truly honored!" Count Clarel rubbed his hands together, his forced smile growing even more obsequious, the excess flesh on his face bunching together in an unpleasant display. "Do you remember when your father brought you to the royal hunt three years ago? You were just a little girl then, and now, you have blossomed into such a ravishing beauty."
"I'm afraid my memory is not the best. I don't recall." Eira replied indifferently, clearly not interested in engaging further with the man.
Count Clarel was momentarily taken aback by Eira's nonchalance, but quickly regained his composure. He knew that while the Erikr family was a minor one, Eira was beloved by the Emperor and Empress, and there were even rumors that the Emperor intended to betroth her to his own son, the Erylian crown prince. If that were true, Eira's future status would be immensely elevated, and even he dared not provoke her lightly.
"No matter, no matter. I was being presumptuous." Count Clarel chuckled awkwardly, his expression slightly flustered, but he maintained a semblance of composure. "I won't keep you any longer, Lady Eira. Please, enjoy the banquet."
With that, Count Clarel hastily retreated, as if intimidated by Eira's icy gaze.
Eira watched the retreating figure of Count Clarel, a hint of disdain in her eyes. She had seen too many like him in the Erylian imperial court - sycophantic, opportunistic, willing to betray anyone for their own gain, even their own souls. They were parasites, clinging to the great tree of the Erylian Empire, draining its lifeblood, until they brought it crashing down.
"It seems you have already begun to adapt to court life." A familiar voice spoke behind Eira, tinged with amusement, like the greeting of an old friend.
Eira turned to see a tall, graceful man approaching her. His steps were steady, his gaze unwavering, emanating a powerful presence that commanded attention.
The man wore a sleek black suit, his short dark hair neatly combed, not a strand out of place. His deep blue eyes, like the boundless expanse of stars, were captivating and perceptive, as if able to see through everything. His straight nose, defined lips, and an inherent nobility and elegance all spoke of his lofty status and formidable aura.
This was Duke Ryce, one of the most powerful nobles in the Erylian Empire, a trusted confidant of the Emperor, commanding the imperial armies. His words could sway the fate of any individual.
"Duke Ryce." Eira curtsied respectfully.
"Lady Eira, it's been a while." Duke Ryce inclined his head slightly, a faint smile gracing his features, making one feel as if basking in the warmth of spring. "Three years have passed, and you have blossomed into such a stunning beauty. I almost didn't recognize you."
"Your Grace is too kind. I am merely an ordinary girl." Eira maintained her composed smile, her thoughts unreadable. She knew that Duke Ryce was the Emperor's most trusted adviser, a dangerously perceptive man. She had to be cautious, revealing no weaknesses.
"I've heard you've been studying magic recently?" Duke Ryce asked casually, his gaze sharp and probing, as if he could see into the depths of Eira's soul.
"Yes, I've developed a keen interest in magic." Eira nodded, not denying it. Magic was her greatest secret, her weapon for vengeance, but she could not expose it so easily, lest it bring her ruin.
"Is that so? How wonderful." Duke Ryce's eyes gleamed with a barely perceptible light, seemingly intrigued by Eira's response. "I've heard a recent prophecy in the Erylian Empire, about a young woman with extraordinary magical talents who will change the Empire's destiny. Have you perchance heard of this, Lady Eira?"
"That's just a legend, nothing more." Eira responded calmly, her tone betraying no emotion, as if she truly dismissed the prophecy as an inconsequential tale.
"Legends often hold a kernel of truth." Duke Ryce's gaze was profound, as if he could see through Eira's facade. His tone was laced with a subtle probing, as if he were guiding her to reveal her secrets. "What do you think, Lady Eira?"
Eira's heart skipped a beat. She realized that Duke Ryce might already know her true identity, or at least suspect it. Carefully avoiding his gaze, she said, "Your Grace, you jest. I am merely an ordinary girl. How could I possibly change the destiny of the Erylian Empire? And as you said, it is just a legend, nothing more."
"Ah, Lady Eira, you are too humble." Duke Ryce chuckled, seeming to have obtained the answer he sought, or rather, confirmed his suspicions. "It grows late. I won't keep you any longer. Enjoy the banquet."
With that, Duke Ryce turned and left, his tall, imposing figure receding like an insurmountable mountain, inspiring both awe and trepidation.
Eira watched Duke Ryce's retreating back, her mind filled with confusion and unease. She couldn't shake the feeling that Duke Ryce somehow knew her true identity, but why had he not exposed her? What was his true purpose?
"Eira, who were you talking to?" A coy voice suddenly spoke behind her, tinged with discontent and jealousy.
Eira turned to see a tall, elegantly made-up woman approaching her. With each step, the woman's jewels clinked, as if flaunting her wealth and status.
The woman wore a vibrant scarlet gown, the skirt adorned with shimmering gems that accentuated her pale, alluring skin. She had flowing golden hair, cascading in waves and coiled into an elaborate updo, with a few strands playfully framing her face, adding to her captivating beauty. Her piercing blue eyes, like shimmering gemstones, radiated a mesmerizing glow, her regal nose and sensual lips, combined with her curvaceous figure, all exuding an irresistible aura of beauty and sensuality.
She was Anya, Eira's cousin and the current Empress of the Erylian Empire, a ruthless and ambitious woman.