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Reinhardt Baterville could scarcely believe it—the young woman gracing his arm at the grand year-end ball was none other than Yelena Darconer, the eldest daughter of Duke and Duchess Darconer.
Of course, he knew who she was. They had crossed paths once, many years ago, when the Duke and Duchess had visited the royal palace for an audience with the king, accompanied by their children.
Reinhardt would never forget that encounter. Even as a child, Yelena had displayed a chilling aptitude for manipulation. With calculated cruelty, she humiliated a palace servant before the king himself—all because the poor man had forgotten to bow to her. At her behest, the unfortunate servant was dismissed from the palace in disgrace.
Rumors had long swirled about her penchant for destroying the businesses of lesser nobles, wielding her father's influence like a blade.
Sebastian's reports were thick with accounts of her past misdeeds. Yet, strangely enough, it seemed that several months ago, the once-infamous Lady Darconer had undergone a radical transformation. She claimed to have received a blessing from the Goddess herself in a dream.
"I'm convinced Lady Darconer is merely wearing an angel's mask to conceal her true intentions, Your Highness," Sebastian declared, pouring two cups of fragrant jasmine tea for himself and Reinhardt.
"No one changes so suddenly," Sebastian continued, his voice low with suspicion. "I highly doubt she has truly been touched by the Goddess."
Reinhardt leaned back in his chair, lost in thought. The night he danced with Yelena Darconer had left a vivid imprint on his mind—one that refused to fade.
Since that evening, her image had haunted him: the ethereal beauty of her face, the alabaster grace of her slender neck, the intoxicating scent of roses clinging to her chestnut hair. The memories clung to him so fiercely that even his work began to suffer under the weight of his distraction.
"Is there no way to confirm whether she truly received the Goddess's blessing?" Reinhardt asked again, a note of urgency in his voice. He desperately needed certainty. If Yelena had truly repented, then—and only then—could he consider making her his Crown Princess.
Sebastian sipped his tea thoughtfully, his sharp gaze studying Reinhardt from behind his spectacles.
"There might be a way," he said slowly. "Have you ever heard the story of the First Saintess?"
"The First Saintess?" Reinhardt echoed. "You mean Lafita Ruberius?"
Sebastian nodded gravely.
"I'm familiar with the tale."
It was one of Baterville's most enduring legends, alongside the story of Duke Winchester's pact with the Black Dragon. A century ago, Lafita Ruberius, scion of the noble Ruberius family, had been chosen by the Goddess in a time of great need.
According to legend, Lafita received the Goddess's divine word while she slept. Upon waking, she found herself able to read the ancient runes carved into a stone tablet hidden beneath the royal throne—runes no living scholar could decipher. The tablet chronicled the founding of the Kingdom of Baterville itself.
Moreover, the High Priest of the temple had publicly sworn that he had seen the sacred light of the Goddess radiating from Lafita's very soul.
This light served as indisputable proof that Lafita was the Goddess's chosen envoy. The temple anointed her as Saintess, and the Ruberius family was entrusted with the stewardship of the Northern Holy Lands.
"So, you're suggesting we ask the High Priest to perform a purification ritual on Yelena?" Reinhardt asked, his mind racing.
"Precisely, Your Highness," Sebastian replied. "In this kingdom, only the High Priest, as a direct recipient of the Goddess's blessing, has the ability to perceive the divine light in another's soul. Only one blessed by the Goddess can recognize another."
»»--⍟--««
While Reinhardt and Sebastian were busy discussing Yelena's strange transformation inside the royal palace, the woman at the center of their conversation was, in fact, miles away—traveling south with her father.
Sevine and Duke Darconer had left the capital behind, embarking on a long journey toward the southern region, where the sun was merciless and the air thick with dust. They traveled in two carriages, each guarded by the Darconer family's most trusted knights. Sevine and her father rode in the lead carriage, while the second was packed with their belongings.
But this wasn't just a casual trip. Duke Darconer had important business down south. The Darconer territory was rich with high-quality mineral mines, which served as the backbone of the family's immense wealth. These raw materials were processed in collaboration with two other noble houses: Marquess Helix and Viscount Levis.
The Helix family handled non-magical metals, turning them into weapons and armor—swords, shields, and the like. Meanwhile, Viscount Levis specialized in refining materials that contained magic cores, transforming them into enchanted pendants often set into rings and necklaces.
In this world, only a rare few were born with the gift to use magic. And those pendants could significantly boost a person's magical abilities—making them highly valuable and fiercely sought after.
As for Sevine, she had her own reasons for tagging along. Officially, she claimed she wanted to learn how to run the family business, to support her younger brother Louis in his future role as head of the household. But the truth wasn't that simple. There was something unsettling she couldn't ignore.
She wanted to understand why the southern region remained in such dire poverty, despite receiving food offerings from the Northern Temple every month. There was a rotten stench masked by tradition, and Sevine suspected greedy rats were dancing behind the scenes.
"You still haven't explained why you're so determined to come. There's nothing worth seeing in the south except shanty towns," Duke Darconer grumbled, giving in to his daughter's stubbornness.
"I just want to learn how our family does business. Besides, it might come in handy in the future," Sevine replied calmly, her icy gaze hiding the storm beneath.
»»--⍟--««
Around the same time, deep in Baterville—a small district in the south—a heated argument was breaking out inside the home of a low-ranking noble.
"Hand over the Darconer family's offering! I know it arrived just yesterday!" barked a fat man with a thick mustache, shouting at a young priest in a plain robe.
The man was Baron Dormund, a self-serving noble ruling over a crumbling stretch of land.
"But… If we take everything, the royal inspection teams might start asking questions…" the priest stammered, kneeling on the cold floor, trying to calm the Baron's fury.
His plea earned him nothing but a harsh shove that nearly knocked him over. Baron Dormund stormed over to a massive safe in the corner of the room, yanked it open, and pulled out a pouch of gold coins, which he threw at the priest's feet.
"That's your damn payment! Tell those temple rats I'm paying top coin!"
The priest dared not lift his head. Another pouch came flying, the Baron's face flushed with rage.
"STILL NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU?!"
Behind the madness, a filthy secret had been festering for years. Baron Dormund was lining his pockets by buying food offerings from corrupt temple officials and selling only a fraction to the people. The rest? Smuggled off to neighboring kingdoms. All done quietly, cleanly, without leaving any obvious trail.
But the white-robed temple rats weren't any better than the black-furred southern ones. They were even worse—clever, well-organized. To cover their tracks from Ruberius that routinely inspected the region, they bought cheap, spoiled food from the capital and handed it out to the locals.
It was barely edible. Sour-smelling. Rotten. But to the starving poor, that stench was the price of survival. So, when Ruberius sent knights to check on the south, they found nothing. No complaints. No unrest. Just silence. Obedience.
Baron Dormund wasn't the only monster hiding behind a noble title.There were also Wilson and Tori Modris, a wicked couple who thrived on loaning money with soul-crushing interest. Borrow a single bronze Dell, and your debt could balloon into a gold one before you knew it.
Can't pay? They'd take your children. And to make sure you really couldn't pay, they hired bandits to ruin whatever livelihood you had left.
Those unfortunate kids? Sold off at underground auctions—elite events only accessible to those with a red crescent moon pin.
But fate was shifting, even if they didn't realize it yet.
Because Sevine, with eyes sharp as blades and a will forged in fire, was on her way straight into their den.
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