Chapter 3: The Violet of Lorencine and the Serpent’s Shadow

  August,1750 after the Unification Day — The Royal Palace of Lorencine.

  Chiryl Shiratius, the radiant violet of Lorencine and widely regarded as the most beautiful lady in Western Orancle, was twirling her colorful velvet gown. She played lightheartedly with young Prince Fastinga—her youngest brother—beside the enclosure of a Quoir. This creature, commonly found along the Mangetorian Straits, lay on its bloated belly, its skin slick and glistening with mucus as it toyed with its stubby, unremarkable claws. One might easily mistake it for a seal, were it not for the bizarre horns protruding from its perpetually runny nostrils.

  Fastinga was particularly fond of this Quoir; during a hunting trip with their father, it was the first creature the young prince’s weak arrow managed to strike. Unlike his eldest brother, Crown Prince Aravirel, twelve-year-old Fastinga held no interest in the political affairs that King Berian sought to instill in him. Spending his days playing with his beloved sister was the only thing that brought him comfort.

  Yet today, beneath the smiles of the moment, a lingering sadness haunted the deep, violet eyes of Lady Chiryl—eyes that mirrored the morning sun on clusters of ripe grapes. The seventeen-year-old princess was soon to part with her eldest sister, Reina, who had raised her since their mother’s passing. To Chiryl, Reina was sister, mother, and the finest teacher in all the arts not found within the gilded, leather-bound tomes of the royal library. But by tomorrow’s dawn, Reina would be gone, destined to become the Queen Consort of Infregterin—a nation that had long since lost its sovereignty.

  Chiryl had wept alongside her sister through many star-filled nights. She loved Reina, she pitied her, yet she remained unaware that her own fate was also destined to follow the path of a hollow, gilded carriage toward a deceptive prosperity filled with dark corners.

  "Your Majesty, it seems the children are all growing up at last," Queen Matharine, King Berian’s new wife, spoke softly from a shadowed balcony overlooking the garden where the siblings played.

  "You know I have no choice," the King whispered, taking his wife’s hand. "I am glad Reina will be with the one she loves, even if he is a fallen king. But it breaks my heart to see my little Chiryl bound to the Ryul clan."

  "I truly do not understand," the Queen replied in surprise. "Your Majesty should be rejoicing. The Ryul clan is the royalty of Mantorias, the eternal successors to the mantle of Grand Commander. They are the true masters of this Empire. For Chiryl to marry The’olard, the prince who will inherit Fris’kost’s throne—it is a blessing for us all."

  "I know," King Berian sighed, gazing at the vast, clear sky. "This union will bring prosperity to Lorencine. Our people will be spared years of backbreaking tributes. But beyond being a King, I am a father. I only wish for her happiness."

  "Becoming the Queen of a legendary Empire is a dream for many girls," the Queen emphasized. "In a few years, when Chiryl has truly matured, she will thank us, Your Majesty."

  King Berian said no more. He closed his weary eyes, seeking a moment of silence.

  Two days later, Princess Reina departed amidst the tearful farewells of Chiryl and Fastinga. Though the music of the ceremony played on, the mountains of Lorencine were drowned in sorrow. Princess Reina, the gentle saint in the eyes of her people, no longer bore the name Shiratius. She was now a part of the crumbling kingdom of Infregterin.

  That evening, Crown Prince Aravirel informed his remaining sister of her betrothal to The’olard Ryul. Only minutes later, the great hall doors were flung open as the beautiful princess fled the palace in haste. Aravirel did not stop her. He believed, as both brother and Crown Prince, that she would eventually return.

  The Royal Guard watched in confusion as their princess ran barefoot from the palace, yet none dared to intervene. Her blade had already tasted the arm of the Knight of Beche, Commander of the Guard—a warning of the sudden, fierce defiance within the normally gentle girl.

  Chiryl covered her ears against the echoing calls of her father, which struck at the deepest parts of her soul. She could not answer; she did not want to. She merged into the bustling crowds of the city, weaving through narrow alleys until her noble feet finally stopped at the threshold of a ruined, abandoned house with a collapsed attic.

  She curled into a ball, hiding her face with dust-stained hands, and sobbed. Fate was like a venomous serpent coiled upon a branch, striking without warning to drag its victims into a nightmare. What was the use of being a princess if she possessed no power over her own life?

  "Escape... I must escape!" she whispered to herself.

  But where could she flee when all the land belonged to the Empire? Where could she go when she had been born with the blood of the Shiratius line? Destiny was a cruel pen that bled crimson ink upon the pages of life, traveling in a great circle only to return to a predetermined end.

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  "Your Majesty..." Richard Tuckerham, the Knight of Beche, bowed in a brightly lit room at the heart of the somber palace.

  "It is unbelievable!" Queen Matharine’s face was purple with rage, gesturing at the bandaged wound on the Commander’s arm. "Behold what your precious daughter has done! The Princess dared to attack the royal guard for her own selfish desires. She disregards the safety of this country, this dynasty, all for her own fleeting happiness. I warned you not to let her associate with those Nes’Ocicini scholars. These rebellious thoughts are the direct result of your negligence. Now, tell me, how am I to face my cousin, Grand Emperor Fris’kost Ryul?"

  "And what would you have me do?" King Berian asked calmly.

  Queen Matharine narrowed her sharp brows. "Send the Royal Army to seize her. Drag her back and marry her off to Mantorias immediately! Only when she is within Mantorian borders can we truly rest easy!"

  "I will not treat the Princess like a common criminal," the King shook his head. "She will return on her own. I believe this."

  "Enough!" the King snapped, cutting off the Queen's protest. "My mind is set. Say no more."

  The Queen fell silent. In all their years of marriage, the Lord of Lorencine had never lashed out at her like this. Their union had begun as a political arrangement, yet it had grown into a loving partnership. The King had always treated her with respect, both as the cousin of the Grand Emperor and as the mother of Fastinga. Yet today, for the sake of the daughter he so desperately wished to protect, he had silenced his own Queen.

  "Richard..." the King called out. "Dispatch your most elite guards to follow the Princess in secret. Protect her."

  "And if... if she refuses to return?" Richard hesitated.

  "Then your men must follow her for the rest of her life," King Berian said, grasping the knight’s shoulder. "I want your oath that you will keep her safe forever. Even if she is no longer in Lorencine."

  Richard Tuckerham stood at attention. "I swear... I will protect the Princess until my final breath. I will personally lead two of my most trusted men for this task."

  Princess Chiryl’s eyes fluttered open as a cold droplet of water rolled down a rotting beam. The rumble of thunder made the air feel heavy, thick with the scent of wild Vanxue flowers growing through the cracks in the decaying walls. Outside, the storm roared, lashing the trembling structure. Chiryl leaned against a rotted table, her heart racing at the sound of heavy footsteps outside.

  "The weather in Lorencine is truly bizarre. It was scorching this afternoon, and now a tempest has arrived," a man’s voice echoed from outside the door.

  Chiryl gasped as she caught the flickering glow of magical fire. She scrambled beneath the table, pressing herself against the damp wall. The pungent smell of decay stung her nostrils. She covered her nose with her hands, terrified that even a breath would reveal her presence.

  The creaking door gave way. Six men filed in, soaked to the bone—save for a wizard who carried a roaring blue flame in his palm. They gathered scraps of wood, and the wizard tossed his light into the pile.

  "The King’s wedding is settled," one of them said. "Now, we must attend to the Council’s business."

  So they are from Infregterin, Chiryl thought. But what business do they have with the Council that keeps them here?

  "We must find a way to prevent the marriage between The’olard Ryul and Chiryl Shiratius, but no one has found a way into the palace," the wizard said. "Meeting the Princess seems harder than granting an audience with King Berian himself."

  "Why kidnap her?" another man interjected. "Is the Ryul envoy not staying here as well? We could simply kill him and pin the blame on the Lorencinians."

  "True," the wizard nodded. "But you are still a pup, Belloud. If Chiryl reaches Mantorias, Fris’kost Ryul gains the support of the Lorencine army. What does one envoy matter then? He would not hesitate to crown himself sovereign of the entire Empire."

  "He might as well be the Emperor already," Belloud shrugged.

  "Fris’kost still lacks a formal title. He will never be satisfied with merely being the Grand Commander," the wizard replied. "Human greed is bottomless. But he will not dare to act while the Council holds him in check. Only by forming ties with foreign nations can he truly extend his power. The Council recognizes this; that is why we have spent years assassinating the noble daughters of powerful clans across Orancle."

  "A farce played by the Council and Fris’kost!" Belloud spat. "And now they want us to kidnap a princess."

  "We have no choice. The only path to reclaiming our sovereignty lies in the Council's survival. The Black Cavalry will not dare to overthrow our King as long as the Council exists. Your suggestion to kill the envoy is not bad—if it prevents the princess from reaching Mantorias, it might even spark a war."

  "So... the plan?"

  The wizard smiled, extinguishing the flame. "Kidnap and threaten the envoy. Force him to lead us into the palace. Once inside, we threaten the King to force the Princess out. Imagine the Mantorians' reaction when they find their envoy and the King of Lorencine dead in the same room. We will pose as the envoy’s retainers and cry that the King murdered the representative. Amidst the chaos, we take the Princess. The massacre will be blamed on Crown Prince Aravirel."

  "Why the Prince?" Belloud asked, then realized. "I see! Kill the entire royal family and leave only the Prince! The King kills the envoy, and the Prince kills his own family to seize the throne. War will be inevitable."

  "Exactly. And if this war breaks out, it will be viewed as a private vendetta. The Empire will have no right to intervene. A massive portion of the Black Cavalry currently in Infregterin will be redeployed to the front. Then, we will help our King escape this humiliation! Hahaha!"

  Chiryl lay huddled under the table, her body trembling with terror. She wanted to flee, to return to the palace and warn her father. But how? There were six armed men, and one was a powerful wizard. Forced to remain still, the princess eventually drifted into a fitful sleep...

  In her dreams, she stood before a fire-serpent as it swallowed the palace whole. She saw her father locked in a death struggle with a wolf-headed wizard. She called out to him, and he turned just as a blood-stained blade pierced his heart. He collapsed, and as her world shattered, a sharp knife lunged toward her...