Wilhelm Dravenor cast a faint glance toward the attendant standing beside him.
"Tell me… do you find the maids of this court fairer than those of our own? Then what must their noble ladies be like, I wonder?"
The attendant bowed at once. "You speak truly, my Lord. Your eye can discern even the pearls hidden in the deepest sea."
Wilhelm allowed himself a slight smile. "Hmm… you are rather skilled in flattery, Steve."
The attendant lowered his head in quiet acknowledgment and returned to stillness.
At that very moment… in the direction where Wilhelm's gaze had lingered, a subtle stir arose at the top of the grand staircase. Slowly, a figure began to descend—
Lyra Ravencrest.
Attendants surrounded her, carefully gathering the flowing edges of her gown as they moved in perfect harmony beside her. She wore a gown of pale lemon hue, its fabric catching the chandelier light and casting a soft golden glow around her form. Her silver hair was arranged with delicate precision, adorned with ornaments shaped like golden raven feathers, enhancing her elegance further. The jewels and fine detailing upon her attire were unmistakably crafted for her alone—precious, balanced, and wholly regal.
As Lyra Ravencrest descended into the center of the Grand Hall, the atmosphere shifted of its own accord. Moments ago, the hall had been alive with divided conversations—of politics, trade, and the balance of power—but now, those voices seemed to fall away. One by one, every gaze was drawn toward her.
Her beauty… her presence… and above all, her recent achievement—the bond with a dragon spirit—had made her the undeniable center of attention. Nobles abandoned their prior discussions, turning instead to speak of her—some in admiration, some in quiet assessment, and others in speculation of her future.
Among them, one noble leaned toward his wife and murmured softly, "Look… this is what a true Ravencrest should be. I am certain she will rise to great prominence. It would be wise for us to secure favorable relations with the future heir…"
He paused briefly, then leaned closer. "By the way… where is our son? He was present in Sylvian Village with Princess Lyra, was he not? He mentioned they had grown quite close. He ought to go and speak with her… this is the proper age for such connections…"
His wife leaned toward his ear, her voice low—yet sharp.
"You seem quite fond of turning our child into a political instrument," she said. "But I will not have him entangled with a Dark Family… no matter whom we serve. Do you understand?"
The noble's expression did not change. He simply placed his hands into his coat pockets and looked ahead, as though the matter had ended there.
By now, several royal families had also begun to gather within the hall. Unlike the others, they arrived later—once the majority had assembled—for no gathering of such scale truly commenced without their presence. And now that many among them had arrived, they stood in composed silence, observing all that unfolded without uttering a word.
Amidst all this, the children of various Blood Houses, royal lineages, and noble families gradually began to gather around Lyra. Some approached with hesitation, others with excitement, and a few simply watched her with quiet curiosity. Many among them had been with her in Sylvian Village and had become her companions, while others were those she did not particularly favor.
Yet, bound by her family's name and standing, Lyra could not allow even the slightest displeasure to show—for even the smallest misstep could cast a shadow upon the honor of Ravencrest.
Lyra moved with ease among the gathering, speaking gracefully with all who approached her. There was an innocence in her smile, yet a quiet maturity in her words—one that impressed even those far senior to her. She reunited with the children who had accompanied her in Sylvian Village, reviving shared memories with gentle warmth.
Amidst this, a young noble boy—no more than eight years of age—began, in the course of conversation, to speak of Lucian… and the so-called "Evil Spirit." The manner in which he spoke made his intent unmistakable; he was not merely recounting events, but subtly mocking Lucian before the gathering.
The nobles standing nearby suppressed their laughter. They were already aware of such matters, yet could not voice them openly. Now, hearing it spoken by a child, they found a certain quiet amusement in it.
Lyra listened in composed silence, her expression unchanged as she heard every word. She could also see the restrained smiles upon the faces around her… yet within, a surge of fury rose—sharp, controlled, and deadly.
Then… parting the crowd with quiet authority, a familiar figure stepped forward—
Malakar Van Hellstone.
His presence alone altered the atmosphere. The faint smiles that lingered moments ago vanished as though they had never existed. Even the children who had been speaking fell silent at once. There was something in the air around him—something that compelled unease, even fear.
Malakar came to a halt before Lyra. That same measured, composed smile rested upon his lips.
"So… it is true," he said in a low, steady voice, "you have indeed forged a pact with the Dragon Spirit?"
At the sight of him, Lyra responded with natural ease.
"Uncle…" she said softly, offering a graceful bow. There was respect in her voice—yet also a familiar warmth.
Then, with a faint smile, she added,
"Hmm… I am a Ravencrest now as well… so I suppose such things are only natural for me."
Malakar regarded her with a steady gaze.
"Your progress… has exceeded expectations. It is… most impressive."
He inclined slightly, his tone lowering.
"However, I have heard it is a Dragon Book… and yet, you have not brought it with you?"
Lyra stepped closer with quiet enthusiasm.
"Hmm… it is in my chambers. Once Father and Mother arrive, I shall present it before everyone… you must see it as well."
Malakar lowered his hand gently upon her head.
"Hmm… I would indeed wish to see it. I have only just arrived, and your father will take some time yet… though your mother should have been present. Where is she?"
Lyra paused, visibly taken aback. She lifted a finger lightly to her forehead, as though searching her thoughts—genuinely uncertain.
At that moment, from behind her, a boy of nine stepped forward—
Osian Hellstone.
His gaze lingered upon Lyra for but a moment, devoid of excitement or curiosity. With only the barest courtesy, he inclined his head.
"Princess…"
And then, he fell silent.
A few brief formalities were exchanged, yet whatever warmth existed remained confined to Malakar alone. His son, in contrast, maintained a clear distance—as though the entire exchange held little significance for him.
Meanwhile, Lyra's attention shifted to the attendant standing nearby—the one who oversaw the inner workings of the palace after Marley. Leaning slightly toward her, Lyra asked in a low voice,
"Where is Mother?"
The maid answered at once, her tone respectful and precise.
"My Lady, Her Majesty is with the King in the guest chamber upon the second floor. They are presently engaged in a matter of importance."
Without hesitation, Lyra replied,
"Then I should go to her."
The maid responded immediately—still respectful, yet firm.
"No, my Lady… you must remain here. The guests… have gathered, most especially, to see you."
Lyra paused.
For a brief moment, uncertainty flickered across her expression—yet she said nothing. Turning her attention back toward Malakar, she glanced beside him—But Osian was no longer there.
Malakar understood the direction of her gaze.
"He has likely gone to meet Lucian… it has been quite some time since they last saw one another."
Then, with casual ease, he added,
"Though… I see neither Lucian… nor your elder sister. Where might they both be?"
Lyra, who truly knew nothing, fell into thought once more.
Malakar gestured lightly.
"Lyra… have you greeted all those present here? If not… come, I shall introduce you. They have, after all, been awaiting you for quite some time."
As Lyra Ravencrest moved alongside her uncle, Malakar Hellstone, she cast a subtle glance toward the maid standing at her side. In that single, fleeting gesture, much was conveyed—and understood. Without delay, the maid turned and made her way swiftly toward the staircase, ascending to the upper floor.
---
At that same moment, within a guest chamber upon the second floor of the palace, an entirely different atmosphere prevailed.
A grand chandelier cast a pale white light across the vast room, yet the corners remained touched with shadow, lending the space a quiet, suffocating tension. Between two large silk-upholstered sofas stood a finely carved table of sandalwood, upon which rested glass decanters and neatly arranged goblets.
Upon one of the sofas sat Queen Seraphina—one leg crossed over the other, her posture composed and controlled—her gaze fixed upon King Aurelius Solmyr seated opposite her.
After a moment of silence, she spoke, her tone cold and measured.
"I believe… there is nothing left for us to discuss."
Without haste, she rose, adjusted the fall of her gown, and turned toward the door.
Then, breaking the silence at last, King Aurelius spoke—"Seraphina… there is something I would ask of you…"
There was a slight hesitation in his voice, though the weight beneath it was unmistakable. "Since your marriage… you have not once returned to your family. May I know… why?"
Queen Seraphina stood facing the door, then turned her head slightly—just enough for her profile to be seen.
"King Aurelius…" her voice was calm, yet cold as frost,
"You must be aware that I am the wife of this realm's king… the Queen of this kingdom… and the mother of its future ruler."
Slowly, she turned to face him fully.
"I bear many responsibilities… and above all—this is now my family. The place of my birth… holds no claim over me any longer."
Her gaze was direct. Unyielding. "So… do not ask me that question again. This shall be the last time."
At this, King Aurelius rose abruptly from his seat."I am your cousin, Seraphina!" there was unrest in his voice now. "I am concerned for you… I wish for my sister to return… to her home…"
"Could you not come back… even once?"
Not a single expression shifted upon the Queen's face.
"I am no sister of yours."
Her voice turned colder still.
"And I severed all ties with you… long ago. Therefore… you will refrain from addressing me by that name."
A brief pause…
"I am the Queen of Ravencrest… and a king ought to remember his decorum."
The air in the chamber grew heavy.
King Aurelius struck the table with force, the sharp sound breaking through the silence. Then, as he sat back down, he seized the decanter and poured himself a drink, drawing a slow, steady breath.
"I know… you hate us," Aurelius spoke, his voice now weighed down with something heavier than before."And I know why."
There was a pause.
"I regret what happened… and I know as well that your marriage to King Alaric was born of that very reason. Otherwise… why would a woman such as you ever choose to wed into a Dark Family?"
Until that moment, Seraphina had stood still.
Then—suddenly—she turned.
This time, the restrained anger upon her face was unmistakable. She strode forward without hesitation and stopped before Aurelius, leaning slightly toward him.
"First—" her voice was low… yet laced with venom,
"I am not your sister."
"And second—yes… I hate you all."
Her eyes burned with the embers of old memories.
"A hatred far deeper than you can ever comprehend."
"So… do not ever speak again of what your family did to my father. And no matter how often you claim you bear no fault—" her voice sharpened, "—I will never accept it."
She stopped abruptly.
Then, slowly, she straightened. Drawing a steady breath, she brushed the faint moisture from her brow and spoke again, her tone returning to control—"These are matters of the past… and I have no wish to revisit them. So… keep your distance from such things."
A heavy silence filled the chamber.
Aurelius wished to speak… yet the words halted upon his lips.
Then Seraphina spoke once more—
"I should take my leave. I am required below… the guests will have all arrived by now."
She moved toward the door, then added without turning—"And one more thing… do not trouble my husband with such trivialities. Especially not regarding that new continent. He has no time for such matters."
Her breath had grown uneven.
She turned—
And from behind her came a low, fractured voice—
"Can you… not even call me by my name…?"
"Am I… no longer your brother…?"
Aurelius' gaze had fallen to the table.
For a few moments, Seraphina stood in silence, looking at him.
Then—without a word—she opened the door and stepped out.
The door shut with force.
Its echo rang through the chamber.
And then… silence returned. Heavy. Unsettling.
Aurelius' golden eyes now resembled a still, dark lake—within whose depths something slowly sank.
---
The moment she stepped outside, Seraphina leaned against the wall. The cold, regal composure she had worn moments ago was gone—replaced by visible exhaustion and pain. Tears slipped from her eyes, and she lowered her head, unwilling to be seen.
At that moment, a maid came rushing toward her—the assistant to the head maid, the very one sent by Lyra.
"My Lady… you must come below. All the guests have arrived… they await your presence…"
The maid halted abruptly as her eyes fell upon the Queen's lowered face. "My Lady… is something amiss? Should I summon the King… or one of the Heads?"
Fear, concern, and hesitation trembled within her voice.
Seraphina slowly raised her head. Her voice was weary.
"Take me… to my chambers…"
"Y-yes, my Lady…"
The maid immediately took her hand, supporting her as they began to walk. Unease stirred within her thoughts—questions she dared not voice—but she forced them aside, focusing entirely on the Queen.
Together, they moved slowly through the long, silent corridor…With each step, the weight of the atmosphere seemed to deepen.
As the doors to Queen Seraphina's private chamber opened, the maid standing beside her continued to support her hand. The Queen's gaze remained lowered, as though her thoughts were still entangled in something far deeper than the moment itself.
In a soft voice, the maid spoke,
"Your Majesty… we have arrived at your chamber…"
Seraphina slowly lifted her tired eyes, glancing within, and without another word, stepped forward. As she entered, her voice came—low, controlled, yet carrying quiet authority,
"Come inside… quickly."
The maid hesitated for a brief moment, her hands instinctively rising to her chest, as though unsure whether she should cross the threshold. Sensing this, the Queen suppressed the traces of pain upon her face and allowed a faint sharpness into her tone.
"What is it that you want? Do you expect me to appear before the assembly in this state?"
She took a step further inside, her composure tightening again.
"I must set my attire and compose myself… and all the other maids are occupied. You will assist me. Come in."
The maid drew in a nervous breath, her voice trembling slightly,
"But… Your Majesty… you do not seem well. You should rest… if you wish, I can summon someone…"
Her dark eyes were filled with concern, her face having grown pale under the weight of worry.
For a few moments, Seraphina simply looked at her.
Then, in a colder, commanding tone, she said—
"Come inside. That is an order."
A brief pause.
"And do not forget… you are a maid."
There was a sting in her words.
The maid flinched immediately and stepped inside, lowering her head, standing as though ready to rush out at the slightest command.
But then—unexpectedly—Seraphina stepped closer and gently took her hands into her own.
Looking directly into her eyes, her voice softened.
"Do not worry so much… you allow your emotions to overtake you too easily."
She paused, her gaze steady yet calm.
"It is not a flaw… but neither is it a strength in every moment. That is why you still stand as Marley's assistant… and not as the Head Maid."
Her tone remained composed, yet carried quiet instruction.
"If you wish to rise further… you must learn to govern yourself first."
For a moment, she studied the girl's face—there was an innocence there, almost childlike.
Then she asked,
"Marley… has she brought the Prince down yet?"
The maid hesitated slightly before replying,
"No, Your Majesty… he has not yet come. It seems he is still within his chamber. Miss Marley remains with him… she will bring him to the hall shortly."
Seraphina slowly released her hands and turned toward the grand mirror before her—its frame adorned with intricate engravings of gold and silver.
"I see…"
Her voice was quieter now, steadier.
"Then I, too, must prepare without delay…"
A faint, weary smile touched her lips.
"My son… may yet arrive in the hall only to hide himself in some distant corner… I must not allow that."
With that, she began preparing herself with renewed urgency, and the maid, without further hesitation, moved swiftly to assist her.