Chapter 58
Back in her room, Lucilea immediately sat down at her desk and pulled out paper and a pen.
[Lucy, what are you trying to write down?]
“Shh. If you talk to me now, I’ll forget.”
She lowered herself into the chair and quickly began reproducing the pattern on the paper.
Her memory was sharp.
Every thin line, every delicate curve, every precise placement—she could recall it perfectly.
Just in case, I’ll keep a record.
If it turned out to be nothing, then so much the better.
A few minutes later, Lucilea set her pen down and slowly rolled up the paper. Then, carefully, she opened her material collection box.
As the lid lifted, a faint chill spilled out.
It was thanks to Noah’s spell, which kept the collected ingredients fresh.
Lucilea slipped the rolled-up paper between the transparent glass jars of herbs and minerals, then let out a quiet sigh.
“There.”
For now, she had no way of knowing what that magic circle meant.
But curiosity burned. A strange magic circle hidden inside the mansion of such a flawless, devout baron?
It made her feel like a detective.
Who knows—it might be useful someday.
After all, wizards and magic circles were inseparable.
Once she tidied up, Lucilea lay down in bed.
The moment her head touched the pillow, the long-lost comfort of a soft mattress pulled her into a deep sleep.
The next day, the same sun rose above the imperial capital.
Golden light streamed over the Empress’s palace, spilling gently across the white marble floors.
Attendants and maids bustled about—unfolding tablecloths, arranging flowerpots, polishing away smudges from crystal windows.
Their steps were brisk, but their conversations cautious.
“Do you think His Highness the Grand Duke will attend this year’s banquet?”
Two young maids whispered as they walked down the corridor.
“I don’t think so. He hasn’t come for years.”
“Right? He’s skipped every time.”
“Wasn’t it because he was away on campaign?”
“That’s not what I heard. Even when he was back from the front, staying at the Grand Duke’s estate—”
“Shh.”
One maid quickly cut off the other.
All eyes turned toward the end of the corridor.
There stood the mistress of the palace—Empress Eluana herself.
Startled, the maids hurried forward and bowed low.
“We greet Your Majesty the Empress.”
The Empress acknowledged them with a serene smile.
“Thanks to you ladies working so diligently this early in the morning, the palace feels full of life.”
“You honor us, Your Majesty.”
Still smiling, Empress Eluana added gently:
“But you know the saying—within the palace, even the walls have ears.”
It was a soft-spoken reminder, but one laced with quiet authority: do not gossip carelessly.
The maids bowed their heads even lower.
“We beg your pardon, Your Majesty.”
The Empress’s voice remained kind, her movements poised, her expression saintly—she granted forgiveness with the grace of a holy woman.
“I trust you will each devote yourselves to your duties. Only two days remain until the banquet.”
The maids bent even deeper in reverence, and with a small wave of her hand, the Empress dismissed them.
They withdrew quickly and quietly.
Watching them go, the Empress turned to the noblewoman standing silently by her side.
The lady wore a long black gown. A veil of black lace cascaded down from her head, shrouding half her face.
A shaft of sunlight fell across her, piercing the veil to reveal elegant, captivating features.
It was Anasis—the Marquise of Belgar, and sister to Elbadin.
She stood like the Empress’s shadow, her eyes deep with ambition.
Empress Eluana inclined her head slightly, then resumed walking.
Anasis followed one step behind.
“Anasis, I feel I need a more leisurely cup of tea today.”
“It would be my honor, Your Majesty.”
Together, they entered the Empress’s drawing room.
The chamber was warm and refined, bathed in soft golden light filtering through embroidered curtains.
A silver tray was set down with a gleaming teapot, and soon the air filled with fragrant steam.
The maids carefully poured the tea, bowed deeply, and withdrew.
Their footsteps faded.
The Empress lifted her cup, and Anasis mirrored her.
Their gestures were quiet, but beneath the calm surface lay a taut, razor-thin tension.
Setting her cup back down, the Empress turned to Anasis.
“So then, Marchioness—how goes the ‘gift’ you promised me?”
Anasis ran a finger along the rim of her cup.
The amethyst ring she wore, edged in gold, caught the sunlight with a sharp gleam.
“Of course, Your Majesty. I entrusted it to someone reliable. Someone with the unwavering respect of the entire Empire.”
“Someone reliable, you say.”
The Empress’s smile thinned.
“I trust your judgment, Marchioness. Still…”
Her tone softened, but her words cut with cool calculation.
“…I wonder if this ‘gift’ will truly be worth the price I intend to pay.”
Anasis lowered her gaze, answering evenly.
“When it comes to matters between the Imperial House and the Grand Duke’s line, I do not choose lightly. Trust me this once, Your Majesty.”
Her manner was humble, but her voice carried supreme confidence.
“As I vowed, I will bring that arrogant wolf of the North to his knees at Your Majesty’s feet.”
The Empress’s eyes narrowed.
Anasis raised her head and met her gaze directly.
“I mean to place in Your Majesty’s hands the sharpest, deadliest dagger—driven straight into the very heart of Descartes.”
The Empress’s eyes glinted with interest.
“If that dagger merely removes one heir, it would hardly impress me. Such a thing could be managed without your help, Anasis.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
Anasis smiled faintly.
“Rest assured—Your Majesty will seize the North entirely.”
Only then did the Empress allow herself a satisfied smile.
That was what she truly desired.
When her son ascended the throne, she wanted the Empire’s only rival power— the independent, wealthy, militarily mighty North—utterly subjugated beneath the Imperial House.
“Yes. I shall look forward to it—until the day you promised arrives, Anasis.”
“It will be proven soon. Very soon.”
Anasis lifted her cup again, picturing the day her “gift” would shake Grand Duke Elbadin to his core.
Behind their gentle smiles, a cold tension shimmered—like the quiet overture before a banquet’s grand curtain rises.
The Empress sipped her tea once more, while Anasis’s gaze drifted beyond the window.
Already, her eyes were fixed on the Grand Duke’s household in the distant North—
—where the stage she had prepared would soon unfold.
