Opening her eyes groggily, Diana sat up, her gaze meeting the soft morning light that filtered through the velvet curtains. A gentle knock on the door followed before it creaked open, revealing Annelise, her ever-dutiful maid, carrying a fresh set of clothes.
"Good morning, my lady. Shall we prepare for the day?" Annelise asked, setting the garments neatly on the bed.
Diana nodded, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Thank you, Annelise."
The maid helped her into her formal attire, fastening the intricate buttons of her tailored coat. Once ready, Diana dismissed Annelise and returned to her office. The desk was littered with reports and letters, but her attention was drawn to a thin pile labeled Citizen Complaints. She flipped through the documents, her brow furrowing.
"Another merchant harassed by Detrius..." she murmured. Her fingers drummed against the edge of the desk before she stood, determination hardening her features.
Reaching for her travel cloak, she secured it tightly around her shoulders and grabbed the silver-haired wig from its stand. With practiced ease, she concealed her identity and prepared to venture out.
As she descended the grand staircase, the butler, appeared at the bottom, a concerned look etched across his weathered face.
"My lady, forgive me, but this is far too dangerous. Surely there are better ways to investigate than placing yourself in harm's way," he said, voice laced with worry.
"I appreciate your concern, but the danger is no stranger to me," Diana replied, her tone firm but kind. "If we wait too long, Detrius will tighten their grip on the merchants. I need to see the situation for myself."
The butler sighed but stepped aside, muttering something about stubbornness.
At the entrance, Theo, her knight, waited, fully armored and ready. His sword gleamed under the morning sun.
"You're certain about this, my lady?" he asked, his dark eyes searching hers.
"Absolutely," Diana said, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head. "Let's go."
The bustling central city greeted them with the hum of daily life: vendors shouting their wares, children laughing, and the clatter of wheels on cobblestones. Diana and Theo navigated the crowded market streets, observing merchants and their customers. Despite the lively atmosphere, an undercurrent of tension lingered.
Diana noticed a fruit vendor hesitating as a group of rough-looking men approached. Coins exchanged hands, but the vendor's shoulders sagged with defeat.
Theo leaned in. "That's them. Detrius."
Diana's lips pressed into a thin line. "Follow them. Find out where they're operating."
"Understood. Be careful, my lady," Theo said before slipping into the crowd like a shadow.
Diana continued her survey of the market, eventually tracing her way to a dimly lit tavern at the edge of the district. She pushed the door open, stepping into the smoky, low-ceilinged room. The stench of stale ale and unwashed bodies filled her nose, but she kept her head low, her hand resting lightly on the black dagger concealed beneath her cloak.
As she moved deeper inside, conversations were hushed, and she felt the weight of multiple eyes on her. A man blocked her path, his scarred face twisted into a sneer.
"Lost, are you? This ain't the place for a lady," he said, voice dripping with menace.
"I'm exactly where I need to be," Diana replied coolly, her grip tightening on the dagger's hilt.
The man's sneer deepened. "Intruder," he barked. In an instant, the tavern erupted into chaos.
Diana sidestepped the first attacker, her dagger flashing as she slashed his arm. Another lunged at her, and she spun, landing a precise kick to his knee.
"Not bad for a lady," someone jeered, their tone mocking.
Diana smirked, the adrenaline sharpening her focus. "A lady should wield a fan, not a weapon. Isn't that what they say?" she mocked, parrying a wild swing. "Well, I've long abandoned those notions."
She fought fiercely. She thought briefly of Julian, her husband, who faced enemies on the battlefield for their homeland.
"If Julian can fight for our home, so can I," she muttered, her voice a mix of defiance and resolve.
But as the skirmish dragged on, the numbers began to overwhelm her. She silently prayed for Theo's swift return, her blade cutting through the dim light as she held her ground.
"Come on, Theo," she whispered under her breath, bracing herself for the next attack
.
*****
At the bustling port, the air buzzed with the clamor of sailors, merchants, and dockhands shouting orders and unloading crates. Amid the chaos, a man with unruly black hair stood on the deck of a ship, his grin as wide as the horizon. Without a second thought, he leapt down from the ship to the dock below, his boots landing with a loud thud. Gasps of horror rippled through the crowd at his reckless stunt, but he merely brushed off his coat, unfazed by the commotion he'd caused.
The man—Cassian—tossed a small pouch of gold coins to the ship's captain, flashing him a wink. "Thanks for the ride! Drinks are on me next time, yeah?"
The captain caught the pouch and shook his head, muttering under his breath about foolhardy travelers, but Cassian was already striding away, his eyes scanning the sprawling city ahead.
The city was alive with color and movement, and Cassian hummed cheerfully as he made his way through the central market. The stalls overflowed with fruits, spices, bolts of fabric, and glittering trinkets, but his attention was fixed on the quiet corner of the square. There it was—a modest, slightly worn café with a crooked sign hanging above the door.
He clapped his hands together, beaming. "Finally! The perfect spot."
Cassian pulled out a key and unlocked the door, pushing it open to reveal a dusty interior. Cobwebs clung to the ceiling beams, and the furniture was layered with grime, but none of it seemed to bother him. He walked in with purpose, placing a bag on the counter and rolling up his sleeves.
"Just you wait, world," he declared to the empty café. "Cassian's Café is about to serve the best tea and scones this side of the continent!"
He began cleaning with enthusiasm, humming a lively tune as he swept away years of neglect. Hours passed, and as the space transformed, so did his mood. He leaned against the counter, wiping his hands on a rag and gazing out the window.
"Ah," he sighed, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. "Finally, a normal life. No more running. Just tea, scones, and peace."
But peace, it seemed, was a fleeting illusion.
Cassian pulled a crumpled note from his pocket, his brow furrowing as he read it again. Detrius, the name scrawled in bold letters, stared back at him. The infamous group had been the talk of the southern ports—smugglers, mercenaries, and all-around troublemakers. Cassian scratched his head, debating whether it was worth seeking them out for rare ingredients.
"Maybe they've got that rare spice for the Earl Grey blend," he mused, grabbing his coat.
He made his way to a shabby tavern on the outskirts of the market, the place rumored to be a haunt for Detrius. Pushing open the creaking door, Cassian stepped inside, his gaze sweeping the dimly lit room. At first glance, it was an unremarkable scene—gruff men nursing ales, dice games in the corners, and a heavy scent of smoke in the air. But then, his eyes caught something unusual.
In the center of the room stood a woman, her chest heaving as she faced down three bulky men armed with swords. Her deep green gown was dusted with dirt, but her posture remained firm, her chin held high despite the odds stacked against her.
Cassian blinked, recognition dawning as he stared at her. "Oh, come on," he muttered under his breath.
The woman was none other than Duchess Diana Edelline, the so-called Witch of the East. The very Duchess whose cunning and grace had turned the crumbling Edelline Duchy into a thriving force in the empire.
Cassian sighed, rubbing his temples. "There goes my peaceful life."
The sound of one of the men barking orders snapped him out of his thoughts.
"You should've stayed in your palace, lady," growled the largest of the three, his sword glinting ominously. "This isn't a place for a duchess."
"And yet here I am," Diana replied coolly, her voice unwavering. "Unlike you, I don't cower in the shadows to get what I want."
Cassian groaned, stepping forward. "Right, that's enough."
The thugs turned to him, their expressions shifting from surprise to irritation.
"Who the hell are you?" one of them snarled.
"Just a café owner," Cassian said with a disarming grin, spreading his hands. "But you're scaring off potential customers, and I can't have that."
"This doesn't concern you," the leader snapped.
Cassian sighed dramatically, pulling out a small blade from his coat and twirling it lazily. "See, I was really hoping to avoid this kind of thing today. But since you've gone and made it my business..."
Before the thug could react, Cassian moved. In a blur, he disarmed the leader, sending the sword clattering to the floor. The other two hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances.
Diana watched the scene unfold, her expression unreadable.
"You didn't have to intervene," she said as Cassian turned to face her, brushing dust off his coat.
"Trust me, Duchess, I didn't want to," Cassian replied with a tired grin. "But you looked like you could use a hand."
She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "And you looked like you could mind your own business."
Cassian chuckled, sliding the blade back into his coat. "Touché. But you're welcome."
As the thugs scrambled out of the tavern, muttering curses under their breath, Diana turned her attention fully to Cassian.
"Who are you, really?" she asked, her tone sharp.
"A traveler," he replied, offering a theatrical bow. "And your new neighbor. I just bought the café down the street."
Her eyes narrowed, skepticism written all over her face. "I see."
"Don't worry, Duchess," Cassian added, a teasing lilt in his voice. "I'm not here to cause trouble. Well, not much, anyway."
Diana sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Wonderful. Just what I needed—a meddlesome neighbor."
Cassian grinned. "You'll learn to love me, I promise."
As Diana swept past him, her head held high, Cassian watched her go, a mixture of amusement and exasperation tugging at his features.
"So much for a normal life," he muttered to himself, heading back to his café. "Why do I always attract the complicated ones?"