This novel also recounted the fate of the Emperor's true daughter, Magda Featherfield, who grew up far from the splendor of the imperial palace. The Featherfield estate, once a proud symbol of nobility, had become a crumbling relic of its former glory, a grim testament to her family's fall from grace. In this bleak setting, Magda assumed the role of acting head of the household, caring for her father, Steffan Featherfield, whose grief and descent into alcoholism had left him a shadow of his former self.
Steffan, once an ambitious and promising country noble, had faced what might have been a temporary financial crisis. However, the sudden death of his wife, Livya, and the arrival of a daughter who bore no resemblance to him or his lineage shattered him. Magda's jet-black hair and crimson eyes, so unlike the Featherfield traits, hinted at a heritage he both resented and feared. Quietly, he harbored suspicions of betrayal, fearing that his wife had been taken advantage of by the Emperor. Though his anger festered, it was tempered by a sense of guilt. Magda, the child he knew was not his own, was also the only one who remained by his side, tending to his needs while the rest of the Featherfield family abandoned them.
The villagers, wary of Magda's striking appearance and burgeoning magical talents, whispered among themselves, dubbing her the "Witch of Featherfield." Despite the stigma, Magda's talents became her refuge. Without formal instruction, she demonstrated an extraordinary affinity for magic, her grasp of the arcane providing her both an escape and a means to carve her own path.
At twelve, her abilities caught the attention of an imperial scout, earning her a scholarship to the prestigious Academy for Special Talents in the capital. For the first time, Magda left the desolation of Featherfield behind and stepped into the grandeur of the imperial city. The capital, however, was far from welcoming. Her rustic manners and plain clothing made her an easy target for ridicule among the nobles. Yet her talent was undeniable. In every class, she stood out, her mastery of advanced spells and mana manipulation leaving peers and instructors alike in awe.
During a routine evaluation, the true extent of her abilities was revealed. As Magda conjured an intricate magical barrier with ease, the examiner, a seasoned mage, muttered in disbelief, "That's impossible." His trembling hands measured her mana reserves, which dwarfed even those of the Emperor himself.
"What do you mean?" Magda asked, her voice steady despite the flicker of unease in her crimson eyes.
The examiner's voice faltered as he replied, "You… you're of royal bloodline."
The room fell silent, save for the hum of magical instruments calibrating her immense mana levels. Hours later, the Academy's headmaster, recognizing the gravity of the discovery, requested an audience with the Emperor. Though cautious, the headmaster's words hinted at scandal: a prodigious mage with uncanny similarities to the Emperor—both in power and appearance.
The imperial throne room, a vision of majesty with its towering columns and glittering chandeliers, became the stage for the revelation. On a court day filled with nobles, scholars, and military leaders, Magda's entrance in plain academy robes commanded attention. Her jet-black hair and piercing crimson eyes mirrored the Emperor's so precisely that murmurs rippled through the assembly.
The headmaster bowed deeply. "Your Majesty, this is Magda Featherfield—a prodigy the Empire has never seen."
Gasps filled the hall. The Emperor, descending his throne with deliberate precision, studied Magda's face with an intensity that silenced the room. His hand lifted slightly, as though to touch her shoulder, but stopped short. In that moment, the unspoken truth was clear: Magda was his daughter.
The Emperor's silent command launched an investigation, confirming what his heart already knew. In private chambers, he read the reports with a heavy heart, each detail painting a vivid picture of Magda's resilience and the hardships she endured. The Featherfield estate's decay, Steffan's bitterness, and Magda's rise despite the odds deepened the Emperor's guilt. Sixteen years of mourning had hardened his heart, leaving both Flora and Magda to suffer in silence.
Magda's brilliance and unmatched mana reserves reignited a part of the Emperor he thought lost. Watching her study, her gestures reminiscent of the Empress, brought bittersweet memories. For the first time in years, he felt joy, marveling at her unrelenting determination and the spark of her mother's spirit in her every action.
Though he formally adopted Flora to right past wrongs, it was Magda who captivated his heart. She embodied the brilliance and resilience of both her parents. In her, the Emperor found redemption, and he vowed to give her the life she deserved, cherishing each moment as an opportunity to mend the years they had lost.
In an effort to help Magda acclimate to the imperial court, the Emperor decided to host her debut ball on the Summer Solstice—an occasion reserved only for heirs or individuals of monumental significance. Determined to amend the hardships she had endured, he chose this symbolic day to solidify her place in high society. The Summer Solstice, a celebration of unity and prosperity, also underscored the Emperor's unwavering rule. The event, marked by parades and tributes from vassal states, was a declaration that Magda was not merely a member of the royal family; she was its pride.
Magda's gown reflected the importance of the day. Crafted from crimson silk of the Western Desert, adorned with pearls from the Eastern Isles, and lined with fur from the Northern Wastelands, it was crowned with a tiara created by twelve master artisans from the fertile Southern lands. Every detail of her attire symbolized the unity and wealth of the Empire.
The anticipation in the ballroom was electric. Nobles and dignitaries from across the empire gathered, their conversations buzzing with curiosity about the Emperor's newly discovered daughter. As the orchestra began to play, the herald's voice boomed, "Her Imperial Highness, Princess Magda, Light of the Empire."
Magda stepped into the ballroom, her jet-black hair and crimson eyes a striking reflection of the Emperor's. The crowd fell silent, their whispers momentarily stilled by her commanding presence. The Emperor himself advanced, extending his hand to her. Traditionally, a debutante's first dance was with a nobleman to symbolize trust and alliances. By choosing to dance with Magda himself, the Emperor elevated her status beyond question.
Their waltz was deliberate and elegant. Magda's steps, though careful, displayed her composure, even as her grip on the Emperor's hand betrayed her nerves. "Am I performing well, Your Majesty?" she whispered.
"You are," he replied, his tone firm but encouraging. "Hold your head high."
When the dance ended, polite applause rippled through the room. The Emperor's subtle smile as he escorted Magda to her seat revealed his pride. Yet the grandeur of her moment was short-lived.
The grand doors opened, and Flora entered in a golden gown that shimmered like sunlight. As whispers filled the room, Flora approached the Emperor. "Your Majesty," she said softly, "I must beg your pardon for my delay. I stopped to reunite a lost child with his parents."
The nobles buzzed with approval, enchanted by Flora's display of kindness. "Such grace," a noblewoman murmured. "She truly has the Late Empress's spirit," another added.
The Emperor nodded curtly, granting permission for Flora to take her place. But the spotlight quickly shifted again as Ethan von Shelb, the eldest son of Duke Louis von Shelb approached. Bowing to the Emperor, his medals gleaming, Ethan declared, "Your Majesty, may I dedicate my military honors to Princess Flora?"
The Emperor's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. Still, he nodded. Ethan turned to Flora, lowering himself onto one knee. "Princess Flora, may I have this dance?"
The room gasped as Flora accepted. Their dance was flawless, each movement captivating the audience. Applause thundered through the ballroom, the court's admiration firmly fixed on Flora.
From her seat, Magda watched. The warmth of her father's earlier dance faded under the brilliance of Flora's spotlight. Even those who initially approached Magda left after brief exchanges, unsettled not by rudeness, but by her blunt demeanor and inability to navigate aristocratic niceties. They soon joined Flora's growing circle, captivated by her effortless charm and warmth. Magda remained seated, her stiff posture making her isolation even more apparent.
Across the room, the Emperor's gaze remained fixed on Magda. His jaw tightened as he noted her isolation, guilt simmering beneath his stoic exterior. As the evening wore on, his frustration grew. This was Magda's night, yet she had been overshadowed.
Sensing his turmoil, Duke von Shelb approached with a calm demeanor. "Your Majesty, I understand your feelings," he began quietly. "But punishing Flora for a single dance would send the wrong message. You cannot alienate one daughter to favor another."
The Emperor nodded begrudgingly. "For now," he muttered, his gaze shifting back to Magda.
As the evening progressed, Magda excused herself, retreating to a quieter corner of the palace. The laughter and music from the ballroom echoed faintly behind her. Back in the ballroom, Flora and Ethan's dance continued, the court's admiration firmly upon them.
But the Emperor's thoughts were elsewhere. Deep within, he resolved to ensure that Magda's future would shine so brightly that no shadow could ever dim her light again.
However, over the years, Magda withdrew further from court life, alienated subtly by the powerful members of the Noble faction. Her straightforward nature clashed with an environment that valued charm and subtlety. While no one expected her to rival Princess Flora's social grace, the comparisons were relentless. Under Duke von Shelb's mentorship, Flora had mastered courtly etiquette and become beloved among the nobility. In contrast, Magda struggled with aristocratic niceties, her practicality often misconstrued as bluntness.
Her training under a high-ranking mage, focused solely on magical excellence, left her unprepared for palace intrigue. Courtiers whispered behind her back, "She's nothing like Flora. A true princess versus someone so… unpolished."
The Emperor, hoping to ease her struggles, lavished Magda with gifts: exquisite gowns, rare jewels, enchanted artifacts, and even a personal guard. Grateful but resolute, Magda returned the guards, keeping only a trusted female mage. This selective rejection fueled gossip. "Ungrateful and uncultured," nobles sneered. "A country girl playing princess."
Despite this, Magda's graduation from the Academy for Special Talents at eighteen was a triumph. Her unparalleled magical prowess earned her acclaim as one of the most gifted mages in generations. Yet, her reluctance to embrace court life left the Emperor conflicted. Finally, he decided to let her leave court. The best solution, he reasoned, was to marry her to someone disinterested in court politics. "She deserves peace," he confided to Duke von Shelb. "Someone who will shield her from chaos."
Sensing an opportunity, Duke von Shelb proposed his youngest son, Micheal von Shelb, as Magda's suitor. "Idle, uninterested in power, and ambitionless," the Duke assured. "A perfect match for tranquility."
The Emperor hesitated. "Will he agree?"
The Duke promised, "He'll need persuasion, but I'll make him see reason. Your daughter deserves stability, and Micheal is ideal."
Unspoken was the Duke's motive. To him, Magda was tactless and unsuitable for Empress. Flora, whom he partially raised, seemed the better candidate. Over years, he had urged the Emperor to treat Flora lovingly, seeing her as a daughter. As she matured and depended on him, the Duke believed Flora would repay his care by supporting the Shelb family in the future as the Empress. His growing appetite for influence made Flora's ascension vital.
Magda, by contrast, was too opinionated and powerful to sway. Though the Royalists or Loyalists might rally behind her, her bullheadedness alienated court factions. The Duke, perceiving the Emperor as a logical man, trusted he would prioritize merit. Thus, Flora—polished, charismatic, and loyal—was his clear choice.
Marrying Magda to Micheal would sideline her in the Race for the Throne, ensuring Flora's uncontested rise while preventing external families from leveraging Magda. Micheal's eccentricity and lack of ambition made him an ideal candidate. Believing Micheal, who had suffered from congenital heart disease since childhood, to be incapable of fathering children, the Duke calculated that Magda's lineage would pose no threat to Flora's future, thus securing the Shelb family's imperial ties. Confident in his other healthy sons to produce heirs, the Duke considered this sacrifice minor.
But the novel held a nasty surprise for him. Once deemed infallible, the House of Shelb fell.
The fall of the House of Shelb began with Ethan's heroic death, saving Fredrick from a frenzied beast tide on Flora's behalf. His death was both unexpected and tragic, occurring during the height of the family's power. Magda, isolated and consumed by depression, succumbed to a pandemic. The Emperor was led to believe she thrived, reassured by both the Duke and Magda herself, who didn't want to burden him with worry. Only after her death did the truth of her suffering emerge, shattering his trust and fueling his vengeance.
The Duchess, already mourning Ethan, succumbed to grief after Magda's death. Rivals accused the Shelbs of treason, leading Adrian, his second brother to take the blame. Paraded as a traitor, Adrian's execution marked their decline. Micheal, weary and crippled, returned to intercede on behalf of his father, but his fragile health and unique constitution led to his untimely death. Shortly after, the Duke was apprehended and executed by Fredrick, Flora's fiancé, in an act of righteous vengeance that sealed the Shelb family's tragic downfall.
Throughout, Flora watched as the Emperor and Fredrick dismantled the Shelbs—the family that raised her. A year later, Flora presented a sickly weak infant resembling Ethan, claiming him as Ethan's illegitimate son. This puppet Duke secured her control. Micheal, however, knew Ethan's honor wouldn't allow such scandal.
Years later, the Emperor, broken by Magda's loss, passed away in despair, leaving the Empire in Flora's unchallenged grasp.
That was how their story ended in the novel: a tale of one girl's imperial triumph built on the suffering of countless others.