"Why is your hair like a boy's?"
Alice's eyes dilated in surprise, and she turned to see a young girl with softly wavy, deep-red hair that like crimson safflower. The child had two black holes for eyes. As though they were portals to an endless emptiness, their darkness was profound and unending. In the midst of this gloom, she stared at Alice with a look that was halfway between inquisitive and dangerous. Alice began to feel cold, as though those eyes were waiting for an unspoken response rather than merely observing her.
"Hmm? Why is a boy wearing a dress?"
Alice's golden eyes narrowed and she became irritated after the girl mentioned. "How about you go back to your mother before I make you cry?" Alice yelled in annoyance. "With this beautiful face I have, you think I'm a boy? Didn't your parents teach you not to meddle in what doesn't concern you!" She rolled her eyes before standing up and walking away from there.
The little girl stood there, shocked, before tears fell from her eyes. "Daddy!" She ran in the opposite direction, crying and gasping. Meanwhile, Alice walked on, cursing the girl, "That dwarf," she sighed in annoyance.
Alice went to the village market to pass the time because she had nothing else to do. The market stretched through the center of the village like a vibrant tapestry of colors and life. The ground was paved with uneven stones, marked by the footprints of people. On either side of the square, simple wooden stalls covered with cloth or straw stood, displaying a variety of products: piles of shiny red apples, bags of freshly ground grains, and carefully polished pottery.
The sounds of the market were like a random symphony; the calls of the vendors rose into the air, each one calling out for their goods in their own unique style, mixed with the noise of children running between the stalls. The sound of small bells rang out from the carts of the street vendors who wheeled their goods through the square. The smell of fresh bread wafting from the nearby bakery mingled with the scent of medicinal herbs hanging in small cloth bags.
In the corner of the market, an elderly man sat playing the flute, while a handful of children gathered around him, their faces enchanted by the dreamy melodies. Next to him, a woman wearing a simple dress and a tattered apron displayed handmade dolls made of fabric and wood. From time to time, Alice would watch silently, then look down at the ground as she walked, thinking about random, somewhat trivial things.
Until she bumped into a man's shoulder. "Oh, sorry!" Alice mumbled and looked at the man who was holding a little girl with one arm while holding a somewhat full paper bag with the other. Alice froze when she realized that the girl... was the same one she had met before, the girl with red hair. Then Alice looked at the man; his hair was red like his daughter's but a shade lighter. His sharp, dark eyes looked at her and he was about to say 'it's okay' but the girl started crying again and pointing at Alice.
"Waaah! Daddy, this boy hurt me!" This was the last thing Alice wanted to happen on her day filled with bad luck.
"Boy?" the man muttered.
Alice's face and body demonstrated her gender, but this girl seems to have mental issues in understanding things. The father's eyes narrowed when he realized that Alice had made his daughter cry. "You... stay where you are."
Alice raised an eyebrow, "And who are you to command me?" She stared at him, trying not to break eye contact to prove she wasn't afraid, even though her heart was pounding in her chest. The father set his daughter on the ground, and the daughter grabbed the paper bag. Alice took a step back. "Yes, I made her cry," she added defiantly, "what are you going to do about it, hmm?" she hummed provocatively.
Alice turned sharply, her back now facing him, and without hesitation, she darted into the bustling crowd of the market. The colorful stalls and lively chatter provided perfect cover, but her pulse quickened with every step. She could feel his presence behind her, relentless and menacing, like a shadow that refused to let go.
"Don't you dare to run!" his deep voice boomed through the chaos, sending a shiver down her spine.
Alice weaved through the sea of people, her breath coming in short gasps as she tried to put as much distance as possible between them. Vendors shouted their wares, children ran laughing between the stalls, but none of it seemed to matter the man's heavy footsteps were growing louder, his determination unyielding.
Her mind raced. She couldn't afford to slow down...
The carriage came to a halt in front of the grand building, its facade adorned with towering columns and intricate carvings that reflected the opulence of the Lulibre Empire. The air was heavy with anticipation, the rhythmic clatter of horse hooves and distant church bells. As the door opened, two figures stepped out, their movements practiced and deliberate, drawing the attention of the attendants and guards stationed nearby.
Twins in their early twenties, the sons of Emperor Aamon, were strikingly alike, their golden hair cut short and neat, reflecting the disciplined upbringing of royalty. The first boy's coat, deep gray with gold trimmed lapels, hung crisply over his broadening shoulders. His silver eyes scanned the towering columns of the hall's entrance with quiet calculation, a faint furrow on his brow betraying his readiness to navigate the storm of diplomacy awaiting them.
Behind him followed his twin, a boy whose features bore a softer echo of their shared lineage. His expression lacked the sharp edge of his brother's, his gaze carrying a warmth that hinted at their mother's gentle nature. Yet, in his presence was a quiet strength, a resilience tempered by kindness rather than force. He wore a gray coat, fit his poised yet approachable demeanor.
The massive doors of the assembly hall creaked open, and the twins stepped inside with measured grace. The vast chamber fell silent as they entered, their matching uniforms and golden hair marking them unmistakably as scions of the Dirghala Empire. Though young, they moved with an air of seasoned authority, their very presence a reminder of the empire's enduring might.
As the meeting began, the vast assembly hall was filled with murmurs of polite conversation and the subtle tension of unspoken rivalries. Delegates from neighboring empires and allied nations took their seats at the grand, circular table, their expressions a mixture of guarded interest and mild skepticism. The twins took their places, their golden hair catching the flickering light of the ornate chandeliers above, standing out among the seasoned faces of the diplomats around them.
The presiding chairman, a stern looking man with graying hair and an air of authority, struck his gavel against the table to call the room to order. "We convene today to address matters of trade, border security, and the ongoing disputes within the southern provinces," he announced, his deep voice carrying effortlessly across the hall. His gaze lingered briefly on the twins before he shifted his attention to the rest of the room, clearly unsure of their ability to contribute.
As discussions began, the atmosphere turned sharp. Representatives spoke in measured tones, carefully choosing their words to advance their own nations' interests without appearing overtly antagonistic. Trade agreements were hotly debated, with some delegates proposing increased tariffs, while others argued for open trade to benefit smaller regions. Talks of border security grew heated, as accusations of territorial violations and rogue militias were flung across the table.
The twins remained silent at first, observing the ebb and flow of the conversations, their expressions unreadable. The elder twin's silver eyes flicked between the speakers, his sharp mind piecing together the underlying motives behind their arguments. Meanwhile, his brother's softer demeanor masked a keen understanding of the human dynamics at play who was posturing, who was genuinely concerned, and who could be swayed.
Finally, an older diplomat from a rival empire made a pointed comment, his voice laced with mockery. "I must say, while it is... refreshing to see new faces at this table, one has to wonder if the Emperor of Dirghala has grown so weary of these discussions that he now sends children in his place."
A murmur rippled through the room, and all eyes turned to the twins. For a brief moment, silence hung heavy in the air. Then, the elder twin leaned forward, his voice calm but cutting. "With all due respect, sir," he began, his words measured, "I am pleased to see that your long experience in this council has emboldened you to make such remarks. However, I must remind you that wisdom is not measured by the years one has lived but by the sharpness of one's mind. Great decisions are forged by clear thought, not the weight of time passed without purpose. If you have doubts, I am here to discuss ideas, not ages."
The room fell silent again, this time in shock at the boldness of his reply. His younger brother followed up with a smile, his tone diplomatic yet firm. "We may be new to this table, but that does not mean we come unprepared. If anything, our fresh perspective might bring clarity to discussions that have long been mired in deadlock."
"We do not seek to prove our worth through the number of years we've lived but by what we can contribute for the benefit of all. If you prefer to engage in serious discussions, we welcome it. However, if your aim is to categorize participants based on their age, I fear such criteria will do little to resolve the disputes before us."
The chairman raised an eyebrow, intrigued, as the murmurs turned into hushed whispers of approval. The twins had captured the attention of the room, and it was clear that their presence would not be dismissed so easily. The meeting was only just beginning, and the sons of Emperor Aamon were ready to prove their worth.