The General's study was a sanctuary of controlled chaos, a room where the fate of Eldoria was often decided in hushed tones. Maps of the Empire were spread across the large desk, covered in a spiderweb of red and black ink. Alaric sat at the desk, his expression a mask of cold concentration.
A shadow detached itself from the shadows, stepping into the circle of light. It was a woman in a simple maidservant's dress, her hands clasped in front of her. But the way she held herself, the rigid spine, the lack of a single wasted movement, spoke of years of military training. It was Alice, one of his most trusted knights, who now served as Daphne's personal maid.
Alaric didn't look up from his work. He knew she was there.
"Has she settled in?" he asked, his voice a low, steady rumble.
"Yes, sir," Alice replied, her voice efficient as a blade.
Alaric finally set down his scroll, his dark eyes meeting hers. "Make sure she gets everything she needs. And above all, ensure her safety and protection. Test for poison, every meal before it is given to her." The command was sharp and absolute, revealing a layer of concern beneath his calm.
"Yes, sir," she said without hesitation.
Alaric leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming a soft rhythm on the armrest. He looked not at the knight, but into the space beyond her, his mind already calculating the next move.
"Hmm."
The single syllable was a world of thought. It spoke of a plan in motion, of known dangers and unknown variables.
...
The first light of dawn was just beginning when a quiet knock came at Daphne's door. Before she could answer, her maid, Elara, slipped inside.
"It's six in the morning, my Lady," Elara said in a hushed tone. "We can't be late for breakfast."
Daphne sat up in her single bed, a wave of concern washing over her. She watched as Elara moved. "Did you sleep well, Elara? Are your quarters comfortable?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine worry. In her father's manor, her mother had always insisted that every member of their staff be treated with comfort and respect, a lesson Daphne had taken to heart.
Elara paused, her movements softening. A small, grateful smile touched her lips. "Yes, my lady. It was quite comfortable. Thank you for asking."
Elara then began to lay out a number of dresses, all exquisitely crafted and richly embroidered. She chose a gown of crimson silk, its design meant to command attention. "You must outshine them all today," she whispered, holding the dress up for Daphne to see.
Daphne shook her head. "No, Elara. Not that one." She reached for a gown of a different color, a quiet, elegant shade of lavender. "I would rather be underestimated." Her mother's words echoed in her mind about her beauty making her a target.
She also took the translucent veil her mother had given her. It was the final touch, a subtle shield that drew attention away from her features and added to her mysterious allure. She was not trying to win a popularity contest, she was playing a different, more dangerous game.
After getting ready, she moved into the quiet corridor. The air was already filled with the rustling of silk and the quiet murmurs of other contestants. The morning sun had just begun to rise, but the race had already started. She watched as a line of ladies, all dressed in their most extravagant clothes, hurried down the hallway toward the dining hall.
The battle had begun, just as Lady Klara had said.
The walk to the dining hall was a silent parade of elegant, ambitious women. When Daphne arrived, the large hall was already filled with the other contestants, a sea of bright silks and nervous energy.
Daphne found her assigned seat at a long table, a simple card with the number 243 marking her place. Her own maid, Elara, had already been dismissed, as the rules dictated that personal staff were only available during certain hours. Now, the ladies were at the mercy of the Imperial maids.
As Daphne settled into her chair, a wave of whispers swept through the room. She kept her gaze forward, her expression serene, but her ears were keenly aware of the soft, venomous chatter. The ladies were talking about her. Even with her simple lavender dress and the translucent veil obscuring her face, she was still the focus of all their attention.
"Hello."
Daphne's head turned, surprised by the small, quiet voice next to her. She saw a frail-looking lady. "Hello," Daphne replied.
"I'm Lyra. It's a bit overwhelming, isn't it?" Lyra said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Everyone seems so… serious."
Daphne's eyes softened. "It is. It feels less like a competition and more like… a test of endurance."
Lyra let out a small, nervous laugh. "Precisely! I'm from the House of Valerius. My father is the Earl of the Western Territories. I believe your family is quite influential as well?"
Daphne nodded. "The Thomas family." She kept her tone pleasant, but offered no more details.
Lyra continued, "I was so nervous this morning. Did you find your room easily? It was a little maze-like, wasn't it?"
Daphne smiled thinly. "I managed. It's quiet, which is a blessing."
Just then, a new voice, sharp and laced with condescension, cut through their quiet exchange.
"How fortunate for you. Most of us have to share our rooms with someone who could be plotting our downfall."
Daphne turned her head slowly. It was Lady Victoria, the same arrogant noblewoman she and Lianna had encountered at the market. Daphne remembered the rumors: Victoria was obsessed with the General, having joined the competition in the desperate hope that he would fall in love with her if she won.
A smirk played on Victoria's lips as she looked Daphne up and down, her eyes lingering on the translucent veil. "Some of us," she continued, her voice dripping with mockery, "are more comfortable hiding in the shadows than others."
Daphne remained serene, her posture perfect. She didn't rise to the bait.
"Perhaps," Daphne said, her voice calm and measured. "But it is in the shadows that one can best observe the players of the game."
Victoria's smirk faltered. She hadn't expected such a quick retort. She glanced around the room, catching the curious eyes of other contestants. She couldn't lose face.
"A simple excuse for a simple look," Victoria spat, her voice growing louder. "We all know why you are here, Lady Daphne. The Emperor's words have given you a false sense of security. You may be hiding your face now, but soon we will all see if your talents match your reputation."
Lyra shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Please, Lady Victoria, there's no need for that."
Victoria ignored her. She stepped closer to Daphne, leaning in. "You won't last long, not when we all see that your so-called beauty is all you have. There are far more accomplished ladies here."
Daphne's gaze did not waver. "Time will tell, Lady Victoria. And I am certain that the Emperor values character far more than a lavish display."
Before Victoria could retort, the head maid, Lady Klara, entered the hall with a stern expression.
"Breakfast is served," Lady Klara announced in a voice that cut through the tension. "Any further disruptions will result in disqualification. You have been advised to live in unity."
Victoria shot one last hateful glare at Daphne before turning on her heel and returning to her seat. The whispers began anew, this time with a mixture of fear and curiosity. The first battle was over, and Daphne had won simply by refusing to fight.
The Imperial maids began to serve the food. One maid, with a stern face and precise movements, placed a bowl of rice porridge and a plate of steamed buns directly in front of Daphne. Daphne became suspicious. This maid had a posture of a martial artist. She could already guess who sent her.
The knight, Alice, disguised as a maid. Just as Alaric had commanded in his study, she had already tested the food for poison, and now she served Daphne.
Daphne's heart relaxed. She was not alone. The General was watching.