The streets of Celestafell were alive with activity, the hum of life filling the air as vendors called out their wares, children darted through the crowd with laughter on their lips, and artisans displayed their crafts to admiring onlookers. The once-crumbling facades of buildings had been restored to their former glory, their vibrant banners and freshly painted signs lending a brightness to the city that had been absent for decades.
Lucien Vaeral walked among the crowd, his cloak drawn around him, though he hardly needed it to go unnoticed. The citizens of Celestafell were too busy with their lives to pay him much attention, and he found himself both relieved and resentful of the anonymity. His name, once synonymous with power and privilege, now lingered only in whispers as a relic of a bygone era.
He passed a bustling bakery, the warm scent of fresh bread and sweet pastries wafting into the street. A line stretched out the door, customers chatting cheerfully as they waited their turn. A sign hung proudly above the door, painted in bold, elegant letters: "Victory Loaf Bakery."
Lucien's lip curled, the memory of that ridiculous name resurfacing. "Victory Loaf," he muttered to himself with a bitter chuckle. Yet, as his gaze lingered on the happy faces of the patrons, he couldn't deny the truth: the bakery was thriving.
Further down the road, a group of laborers hauled supplies toward the city's outer wards. Their faces were weathered but content, and they joked and laughed as they worked. The sound of hammers echoed in the distance, where the new walls—taller, sturdier—were nearing completion. Merchants passed them with carts brimming with goods, their wares unimpeded by the corruption and bribes that had once strangled trade.
Lucien's jaw tightened as he turned onto a quieter street, the sounds of the bustling city muffled slightly by the narrower alleyways. He hated her. The Vengeful One. The woman who had destroyed everything he had known, the one who had humiliated him, stripped him of his family's legacy, and turned him into a reluctant participant in her plans. His hatred for her burned as hot as ever, even after a year.
And yet… he couldn't deny what she had done.
The city was thriving. Celestafell, once rotting from within under the weight of his father's greed and incompetence, was now alive in ways he had never thought possible. The streets were safer, the markets more prosperous, the citizens happier. Even the outer wards, long neglected and left to decay, were now bustling hubs of activity, their once-ramshackle buildings replaced with solid, carefully constructed homes and workshops.
He stopped near a fountain in the center of a square, its crystal-clear water sparkling in the midday sun. Children played at its edges, their laughter mingling with the soft murmur of the water. A vendor nearby handed out small cups of juice to passersby, refusing payment with a smile.
Lucien leaned against a stone column, his gaze sweeping across the square. Everywhere he looked, he saw the unmistakable mark of her rule. The people were cheerful, industrious, and loyal. He had heard them speak of her in reverent tones, calling her "The Savior of Celestafell," or even "Our Queen."
He scoffed under his breath. "Savior. Tyrant. What's the difference?"
And yet, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, the truth loomed over him like a shadow he couldn't escape. She had succeeded where his father had failed. The city was better—stronger—under her rule than it had ever been under his family's name.
A merchant passed by, pausing briefly to call out to Lucien. "You, good sir! Care for some of the finest apples in Celestafell? Harvested just this morning! The Queen herself praised them last week!"
Lucien waved him off with a curt shake of his head, but the mention of her left a sour taste in his mouth. Even here, among the streets he had once walked as a lord's son, she was ever-present, a constant reminder of her dominance.
He pushed off the column and continued down the road, his thoughts churning. No matter how much he despised her, no matter how much he longed to see her fall, there was one truth he couldn't deny: Celestafell was flourishing under her rule. It was better than he had ever seen it. And that infuriated him more than anything else.
The soft rustle of parchment filled the air as Serena sat at the massive desk in her private chambers. The afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows, casting warm light over the piles of documents and reports neatly arranged in stacks. Each paper represented a decision—funding for a new trade route, approvals for the expansion of a workshop, or the resolution of minor disputes among the city's guilds.
Serena leaned back in her chair, her legs crossed casually, as Great Sage shimmered into view at the edge of her vision. The orb-like entity pulsed faintly, its calming, methodical voice breaking the quiet.
"Next request: approval for additional lumber allocations for the outer ward's housing expansion. Request aligns with current projections for population growth and wall fortifications. Recommend approval."
Without missing a beat, Serena scribbled her signature on the parchment and set it aside. "Approved, naturally. Those wards will collapse if they don't have proper infrastructure. Next?"
"Request from the merchant's guild to reduce tariffs on incoming spices from the southern regions. Current tariffs fund city repairs and guard wages. Reduction would result in a seven percent decrease in revenue but may foster goodwill with southern traders. Recommend denial unless offsetting measures are proposed."
Serena clicked her tongue. "Denied. If they want reduced tariffs, they can propose something better. We're not running a charity for their profit margins. Next."
The orb flickered as another document floated to the forefront of her attention. "Request from the blacksmiths' guild to form an apprenticeship program for young workers. Funding needed for initial tools and space. Long-term benefits: increased workforce, better weapon production, and local skill growth. Recommend approval."
"Now that's more like it," Serena said, a small smirk tugging at her lips. She signed the approval with a flourish. "Investing in our own. They'll produce better weapons, and those apprentices will be loyal to the city for life. Approved. Keep them coming, Sage."
Great Sage paused briefly, its orb pulsing faintly. "You are particularly efficient today, my Lady."
Serena leaned back further in her chair, stretching her arms lazily. "That's because you're the best thing ever, Sage. Honestly, this whole ruling thing would be an absolute disaster without you." She tilted her head, her crimson eyes glinting with amusement. "Can you imagine me wading through all of this without your infinite knowledge condensing it into neat little summaries? I'd probably set half the city on fire out of frustration."
Great Sage's voice remained even, though there was a faint trace of what might have been humor. "Such an outcome would indeed be… counterproductive. My purpose is to guide, condense, and assist, ensuring optimal decision-making efficiency. You, however, are the one who ultimately determines the fate of Celestafell."
"And you make it so easy," Serena replied, a genuine note of gratitude in her tone. She gestured at the mountain of papers with a dramatic sweep of her arm. "Without you, I'd be drowning in this mess. Instead, I'm gliding through it. You're like a cheat code for ruling an empire."
"Your acknowledgment is appreciated, my Lady," Great Sage responded, its orb flickering brightly for a moment. "Shall we continue? There are seventeen more requests awaiting review."
Serena groaned theatrically, resting her chin in her hand. "Seventeen? You're cruel, Sage. But fine, let's get through them. What's next?"
"Request from the alchemists' guild for permission to establish a new laboratory near the central plaza. Benefits: closer access to the marketplace and the ability to test new potions for trade expansion. Potential drawbacks: increased risk of accidental chemical incidents in a populous area. Recommend conditional approval with safety measures in place."
Serena tapped her pen against her chin, thinking for a moment before nodding. "Approved, but they'll need to install some magical containment fields. If anything explodes, I don't want to be the one calming an angry mob. Make a note of that in the response."
The orb shimmered as it logged her decision. "Acknowledged. Adding safety contingencies to the approval letter. Next request…"
As Great Sage continued presenting the requests, Serena leaned back in her chair, the ghost of a smile on her face. Despite the monotony of ruling, moments like these reminded her that she wasn't alone in navigating the chaos. Great Sage's unerring precision and infinite database of knowledge made her reign as the Vengeful One more efficient than even she had imagined.
"Sage, you really are the best," she said again, a touch of warmth slipping into her tone. "If I ever conquer the rest of this dying world, it'll be with you guiding the way."
"Acknowledged, my Lady. Shall we proceed to the next conquest—er, request?" Great Sage replied, the faintest trace of humor lingering in its measured voice.
Serena chuckled softly, already reaching for the next parchment. "You really are perfect. Let's get this over with. The world won't conquer itself."
The final document lay before her, a request for additional funding to repair a bridge in one of the outer wards. Serena signed it with a flourish, setting the quill down with a satisfied sigh. The stacks of papers that had once seemed endless were now neatly organized, each stamped with her decisions.
"And that's the last of them, Sage," she said, leaning back in her chair and stretching her arms. "A city reborn, one signature at a time. Maybe next time, I'll demand some applause."
"Acknowledged, my Lady. Shall I prepare the next round of tasks for tomorrow?" Great Sage asked, its voice calm and unwavering.
"Please don't," Serena replied with mock horror. "Let me have at least one evening to pretend ruling isn't constant paperwork."
The heavy door creaked open, interrupting her brief moment of victory. Serena's crimson eyes flicked up, immediately narrowing as she saw Lucien step inside. His posture was casual, his hands tucked into the folds of his cloak, but his expression was unreadable—a mix of guarded defiance and something else she couldn't quite place.
"You have impeccable timing, Lucien," she drawled, tilting her head as she regarded him. "I just finished the last of my work. Did you come to bask in the glow of my success, or are you here to remind me how much you still hate me?"
Lucien's lips twitched, almost forming a smirk, but he quickly smothered it. "Neither, actually." He stepped closer, his gaze fixed on hers. "I came to invite you out."
Serena blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. She sat up straighter, narrowing her eyes at him. "Out? As in, away from the castle?"
"That's usually what 'out' means, yes," he replied dryly, folding his arms across his chest. "The city's bustling tonight. You've been cooped up in here all day. Maybe it's time you see the fruits of your 'success' firsthand."
For once, she was at a loss for words. The idea of Lucien—who rarely spoke to her without sarcasm or disdain—inviting her anywhere was so unexpected that it caught her completely off guard.
She recovered quickly, arching a brow as she leaned back in her chair, feigning nonchalance. "And here I thought you couldn't stand the sight of me. What's changed? Finally realized I'm the best thing that's ever happened to this city?"
Lucien rolled his eyes, though there was a flicker of something softer in his expression. "Hardly. But even you deserve to enjoy the city you've been so busy rebuilding. Besides, it might do you some good to see how the people are really living."
Serena tilted her head, studying him intently. She couldn't quite tell if this was a ploy or genuine. Either way, she found herself intrigued. With a small, almost imperceptible smile, she rose from her chair, her black cloak settling around her shoulders like a shadow.
"Fine, Lucien. Lead the way. But if this is some elaborate scheme to annoy me, you'll regret it."
"Noted," he said with a slight smirk, gesturing toward the door. "Shall we?"
Serena followed, her curiosity piqued as much by his unusual behavior as by the prospect of stepping away from her endless responsibilities—if only for a little while.