Location: Imperial Council Chambers
The Imperial Council Chambers were a testament to the grandeur of the Healian Empire, resplendent with gold filigree and crimson banners, their high ceilings adorned with carvings that whispered tales of past victories. The light from the towering windows bathed the room in a warm glow, highlighting the contrast between authority and elegance.
Yet amid this opulence, Magda stood rooted, her slender frame exuding quiet strength.
Her ink-black hair cascaded in soft waves to her waist, styled in a waterfall braid that kept it from her face but allowed its natural vibrancy to shine. Her crimson eyes, mirrors of her father's, held steady as they met his piercing gaze.
The Imperial Princess faced the Emperor—not as a child seeking approval but as a steward of the Empire ready to shoulder responsibility.
At the head of the table sat Raphael, his raven-black hair flowing like a river over his shoulders, each strand immaculate. His sharp, symmetrical features were statuesque, but it was his crimson eyes, aglow with unyielding power, that demanded reverence. He leaned back in his ornate chair, its golden frame accentuating his imposing presence, and studied her with an unreadable expression.
"Papa," Magda began, her voice calm but resolute, "the Western Vassals are restless. If I go personally, it will show them that the Empire values their allegiance."
Her words were measured, every syllable deliberate. But beneath her composed exterior, her heart trembled. She knew the weight of her deception, the risk of betraying the trust of the man who had moved heaven and earth to protect her.
Raphael's gaze lingered on her, his crimson eyes scrutinizing. "And you believe your presence will resolve this unrest?" His tone was steady, carrying the gravitas of a ruler who had seen too much.
Magda nodded, her hands clasped tightly before her. "Diplomacy is what's needed. My presence can affirm their importance in the Empire and remind them of the stability we offer."
The chamber fell into silence, broken only by the faint rustle of documents and the occasional creak of a chair as the courtiers shifted uneasily. Their eyes darted between the Emperor and the Imperial Princess, watching the interplay of power and determination.
Raphael's expression softened imperceptibly, but only Magda could detect it—the faintest hint of concern hidden beneath his stoic mask. "You understand the risks?" His voice, quieter now, carried a vulnerability rarely heard in the hallowed halls of the council.
Magda hesitated, guilt clawing at her as she heard the unspoken fear in his words. She knew the ghosts that haunted him, the loss of her mother that had left a chasm in his heart. Yet her resolve remained firm. "I do, Papa," she replied, her voice steady. "But the Empire's needs outweigh my own safety. This is my duty."
For a fleeting moment, Raphael's control wavered. His broad shoulders tensed, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair as though they anchored him. She saw it then—the father beneath the Emperor, the man who had called her his little dove and shielded her from the cruelties of the world.
Finally, he exhaled, his crimson eyes softening as he leaned forward. "Very well," he said, his voice carrying both authority and resignation. "Dame Vivian will accompany you, and her combat unit will be assigned to you. They will ensure your safety."
He paused, his gaze sharpening. "But understand this, Magda. If you refuse this unit or deviate from the plan, you will not go anywhere."
Magda inclined her head, the ache in her chest deepening as she saw the worry etched into his features. "Thank you, Papa," she said softly, her tone tinged with both gratitude and guilt.
Raphael studied her for a moment longer, as if committing every detail of her face to memory. "Do not make me regret this decision, little dove," he murmured, the tenderness in his voice a sharp contrast to the authority he wielded.
Magda's breath caught, but she managed a small smile. "I won't, Papa. I promise."
As she turned to leave, the weight of her deception pressed heavily upon her shoulders. She glanced back once, catching a glimpse of Raphael's figure framed by the grandeur of the council chambers. He looked every bit the Emperor—but to her, he was simply her father, a man burdened by love and duty.
Location: Imperial palace, Magda's chambers
The flickering light of the hearth bathed Magda's chambers in a warm, golden glow, casting soft shadows across the walls. Magda stood by the mantel, her ink-black hair cascading in wavy streams down her back, tied partially into a loose waterfall braid that reflected the elegance of her station. She gazed into the flames, her crimson eyes thoughtful and troubled. Her shoulders bore the weight of the deception she was about to commit, a betrayal of trust she had never imagined herself capable of.
A soft knock broke her reverie, and Dame Vivian entered, her emerald eyes scanning the room with practiced vigilance. Her long auburn hair was pulled back into its usual braid, a practical style befitting a seasoned warrior.
Despite her composed demeanor, there was a warmth in her expression when her gaze landed on Magda—a bond that had begun to form during an unexpected and comical encounter a month ago.
Vivian inclined her head respectfully. "Your Highness," she said, her voice steady but not without a trace of familiarity. "You requested my presence?"
Magda turned to face her, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yes, Dame Vivian. Thank you for coming."
Their relationship had begun in the Duchess's embroidery and tea workshop, an event ostensibly designed for the Shelb sons, their spouses, and potential spouses.
Vivian, attending as an observer, had found herself drawn to Magda, not for her imperial poise, but for the way she sat—posture perfect, her movements precise, as though wielding an invisible blade. It was the unmistakable signature of someone trained in Imperial swordsmanship, the style perfected by Raphael Valoria, Magda's father and the idol of all Imperial guards.
The memory brought a flicker of amusement to Vivian's lips. She had approached Magda then, only to have Magda sheepishly admit to learning the technique under her father's tutelage. That shared laugh had been the start of a mutual respect that had only deepened since.
But now, Magda felt a pang of guilt as she prepared to use that bond to manipulate her retainer.
"Vivian," Magda began, her tone gentle yet firm, "I need your help. I need you to trust me."
Vivian's sharp instincts flared at the words. She stepped closer, folding her arms over her armored chest. "Your Highness, when a liege asks for trust, it's usually because they're about to test it."
Magda winced at the accuracy of the statement but pressed on. "You've been assigned to accompany me to the Western Vassals. But the truth is, I won't be going there."
Vivian's emerald eyes narrowed, and her jaw tightened. "Then where will you be going?"
Magda hesitated for a moment, searching for the words that would persuade Vivian without unraveling her carefully constructed plan.
"To the North," she admitted. "To the Mage Tower, to study the mana fluctuations and investigate the pandemic."
Vivian's silence was heavy, her expression unreadable. Magda hurried to explain. "I won't be fighting or meeting patients. My role will be strictly observational—research-based. And remember, the North is my mother's homeland. The House of Valenhart has always been loyal to my mother and now to me. If anything happens to me, my cousin Fredrick wouldn't stand idle."
Vivian's lips pressed into a thin line, skepticism etched into her features. "Your Highness, with respect, if you are not equipped to face this danger, you shouldn't venture there at all. The Emperor—your father—entrusted me with your safety, and this plan does not align with that trust."
Magda took a step closer, her crimson eyes earnest. "Vivian, I may already know the solution to this issue," she said, the lie slipping from her lips with practiced ease. "If I can confirm my theories at the Mage Tower, we may be able to save countless lives."
The seasoned warrior studied her, the weight of her oath warring with the instincts that told her this path was fraught with peril. "And if your theories are wrong?" Vivian asked softly, her tone carrying both concern and challenge.
"Then I will return to the capital immediately," Magda said, her voice unwavering. "I promise you that."
Vivian let out a long breath, her gaze dropping briefly before meeting Magda's again. "Your Highness, you know as well as I do that this isn't a matter of agreement or refusal. Under the current decree, my loyalty lies solely with you. Even if I disagree, I am bound to follow you—to the sea of fire or the storms of ice."
Magda's chest tightened at the weight of those words. "Vivian," she said softly, "you have my gratitude, and my promise that I will not put you in unnecessary danger."
Vivian inclined her head, her posture straight and unyielding. "If you are determined, Your Highness, then I will see it through. But know this—I will not allow harm to come to you. Whatever it takes, you will return safely."
Magda nodded, a mix of relief and guilt coursing through her. "Thank you, Vivian. Your loyalty means everything to me."
As the two women shared a moment of solemn understanding, the crackling of the hearth seemed to echo the tension between them. Magda knew the deception she carried weighed heavily on her conscience, but she also knew that without Vivian by her side, her path to the North would be far more treacherous. And for Vivian, her oath as an Imperial guard meant that her liege's safety was paramount, even if it meant walking a path she did not entirely trust.
Location: Shelb Estate
The early morning mist hung low over the Shelb Estate as the sound of boots on cobblestones echoed through the courtyard.
Magda had chosen to depart from Shelb as she felt it would be easier to decieve those in Shelb than her father.
The princess's entourage was a sight to behold—ten horseless carriages gleamed in the pale light, their mana-powered engines humming faintly as if alive.
Micheal had spared no effort in ensuring Magda's journey was both safe and efficient. The sleek design of the carriages, combined with the precision of the recruits selected to drive them, spoke volumes of his dedication.
Micheal himself stood near the lead carriage, his platinum blonde hair catching the faint rays of the rising sun. His sharp blue eyes, usually filled with wit and mischief, seemed dulled, as if weighed down by an invisible burden.
He adjusted the lapel of his coat absently, sneaking glances at Magda as she oversaw the loading of supplies. Her ink-black hair, styled in a loose but elegant braid, swayed with her movements, and her crimson eyes were focused entirely on the task at hand.
Vivian, ever watchful, stood nearby, her emerald eyes catching the subtle tension in Micheal's posture. Though his actions seemed composed to an untrained eye, his frequent glances toward Magda did not escape the notice of the seasoned warrior.
She noted the way his gaze lingered, the unspoken words heavy between them, and how Magda seemed oblivious, her attention consumed by the preparations for their departure.
"Everything is ready," Micheal said finally, his voice calm but lacking its usual charm. "The recruits are the best we've trained for the horseless carriages. You'll be safe."
Magda turned to him briefly, offering a polite smile. "Thank you, Micheal. I appreciate everything you've done."
Her tone was formal, but there was a flicker of hesitation in her crimson eyes before she turned back to instruct the guards.
Micheal's shoulders slumped slightly, but he quickly straightened, his expression unreadable.
As the entourage began to board, Magda stepped into the rear carriage.
Before the door closed, her gaze darted to Micheal, lingering for a moment longer than she intended.
From her window seat, she watched him grow smaller as the carriage rolled away. His stoic figure stood alone in the courtyard, the wind tousling his platinum hair.
"Does he know?" Vivian's voice cut through the soft hum of the carriage, her emerald eyes trained on Magda.
Magda's gaze dropped, her hands tightening slightly on her lap. "No," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "And I'd prefer it stayed that way until we return."
Vivian's expression hardened for a moment before she nodded reluctantly. "As you wish, Your Highness. But it won't be easy to keep him in the dark."
Magda managed a faint smile. "I know. But it's better this way."