"Why would you even consider reaching out to Duke Matthias?" her father's voice was sharp, his expression rigid with disapproval. "You know well enough that Matthias Von Ignaz is untouchable. He allows no one to set foot on his domain."
"But isn't it unfair to take rumors as truth? We've never tried, and all we know of Duke Matthias Von Ignaz comes from whispers and second-hand tales. Wouldn't it be wiser to discover for ourselves what kind of man he truly is?"
"Are you deaf, my sister?" Hellene cut in suddenly, siding with their father, pressing Greta into a corner. "If approaching Matthias Von Ignaz were so simple, then anyone with the same thought would have succeeded long ago."
"Why? Are you all too frightened to face him? Is it because he lives in the south, in that frozen wasteland crawling with monsters, so dangerous no ordinary human could tread there without magic such as mine?"
"Of course! Only a fool would believe they could stroll through the eternal storm that shrouds Eisthal!"
"But if we never attempt it, how can we claim it's impossible?" Greta shot back, refusing to retreat. "Yes, Eisthal is a land veiled in mystery, but that does not mean it cannot be reached. We should try first, then ask Duke Matthias Von Ignaz to aid us. Everyone knows the South holds more power and wealth than the empire itself. Wouldn't it be wiser to—"
Bang!
Welhem Conrad Albrecht Von Meier slammed his fist against the table so hard it rattled the silverware. Both daughters flinched in shock, and Greta, though standing, instinctively stepped back. The chair behind her scraped against the floor as she recoiled from her father's sudden fury.
"Did I not make myself clear enough?!" he roared. "If it were that easy, don't you think I would have done it already?! I would march into Eisthal myself, stand before Duke Matthias Von Ignaz, and beg for aid, without sacrificing one of my daughters as collateral! Do you think reaching that wasteland is child's play?"
"But we've never even tried!" Greta pressed on, refusing to be silenced. "Why don't we attempt it before His Majesty the Emperor arrives? Wouldn't it be wiser to negotiate with Matthias first instead of blindly accepting the Emperor's demand to make one of us his concubine?"
She glared back at her father, fierce and unwavering. He met her gaze with eyes dark with warning. Greta was not granted the luxury of defiance, his mere presence enough to crush her spirit into submission.
"Trying something destined to end in failure is nothing but a waste of time. Forget it and accept your fate. One of you must sacrifice yourselves, for that is the surest way to guarantee Ehrenwald's survival." His tone was resolute, his decision unshaken—one daughter would become the Emperor's concubine.
No! Greta knew, only she would be chosen when the Emperor arrived in two weeks. Hellene, meanwhile, would be protected, her identity hidden under the guise of an innocent child deemed unready for marriage. Excuses would be spun endlessly, every one designed to burden Greta alone, shaping her into the perfect candidate for the Emperor's concubine.
It was a cruel fate, one she could never escape unless she seized control herself.
"One of you will wed Emperor Maximilian. There will be no objection. I will hear no more arguments. Your duty is to serve Ehrenwald, to keep our land prosperous." His tone was final as he turned from the table, intent on leaving.
But before he could walk away, Greta spoke.
"By selling your daughters?"
Her father halted, eyes narrowing as he turned.
"I thought you wiser than your sister. I was wrong. You're just as foolish as she is."
With that, he strode out, leaving Hellene stunned, her mouth ajar at the weight of his words.
Greta, however, stood frozen, shaken by the gravity of his decree and the price she would pay if she failed to rewrite her own destiny.
"What the hell was that?!" Hellene burst out, her frustration boiling over. "How could Father say that? Comparing me to you, as though you were nothing more than the child of his dead wife!" Her voice rang sharp, but Greta only sighed.
"Hey! Are you even listening? Can't you at least—"
"Father's words were clear, Hellene. You're no wiser than I am, which means he sees you no differently."
"You—!"
"I'm not in the mood to argue. If you enjoy the food, then eat. I haven't touched mine."
Greta pushed her plate forward, showing not a single bite had been taken, the utensils still resting untouched beside it.
Without another word, she rose and followed after their father, leaving the table behind. Hellene remained, fuming, her anger bubbling over.
Glass shattered as she hurled her cup across the room, shouting Greta's name, demanding she return and face her rage. But Greta would not grant her that satisfaction.
She had listened long enough in the past.
This time, she would no longer listen.
At least fortune favored her—their stepmother was absent. That meant fewer shouting voices for the next two days, the mansion blessed with rare quiet.
Lisolette Adelheid was a socialite, adored by her father and the sole reason Greta had been condemned to the wretched path of Emperor Dietrich Maximilian's concubine, ending on the gallows.
But this time, Lisolette was away, doing what she did best—attending a lavish banquet at the Duke's estate in the Southeast, parading one daughter as a prospect for marriage in pursuit of wealth and rank. Perhaps that was her excuse, but in truth, all she ever did was drink fine wine, gorge on decadent meals, and gossip. A shining example of motherhood in household affairs.
Greta wasted no time locking her bedroom door once inside. She would not allow Hellene or anyone else to barge in, nagging or screaming over trivial matters.
"I'll do this my way, if Father won't let me reach Eisthal," she whispered.
Hadn't she already vowed to rewrite her fate, to survive this lifetime? If she wished to break free of Queen Ingrid Anneliese's hold, only one path remained—Duke Matthias Von Ignaz.
Summoning every ounce of courage, Greta flung open her wardrobe, searching for valuables she could sell to fund her journey south, into a land most feared to tread. But she would dare.
Her fingers brushed a carved wooden jewelry box, its surface etched with a green peacock, an emerald stone glittering in its crest. Opening the lid, she was greeted with gleaming treasures: three golden bangles, a pearl necklace gifted by her father long ago, earrings, and a childhood tiara wrought from white gold and diamonds.
Diamonds, rarest of gems in the empire, were reserved for the highest aristocracy. Peasants would never lay eyes on such fortune. That was why Greta did not take them. Instead, she pocketed a single golden bracelet and gathered silver and bronze coins.
Satisfied with her meager provisions, she packed her clothing into a satchel, just enough for the journey, and slipped from her room toward the stables.
Her pulse quickened as she scanned her surroundings, ensuring no eyes followed her. Fortune was kind. The servants remained buried in chores, oblivious to her movements.
"Move the horses from the front stables for grooming!" a man barked.
That was Chug, the stable master. Greta loathed him. The hulking brute reeked of cheap liquor, more a drunkard than a horseman. He also had a reputation for sneaking into the maids' quarters, spending nights entangled with his lover, Erna. A fitting pair, Greta thought with disdain.
When Chug left to oversee the grooming, Greta seized her chance, slipping inside the stable, weaving between empty stalls in search of a horse left behind.
The remaining horses made no commotion, only snorts and soft shakes of their heads. When she stroked their necks, they calmed instantly. Fortunate—she needed silence for her escape.
Then she saw him. Her breath caught.
Rushing forward, Greta pressed her hands to the sleek black stallion's neck, warmth coursing through her fingertips.
"West… will you help me?" she whispered to the noble beast behind the gate.
West's name was simple, but to Greta he was priceless. Her companion for years, the only one she trusted to carry her to freedom.
Carefully, she saddled him, fastening reins and buckles. West did not resist. He stood patient, lowering his head to her command.
Just as Greta prepared to mount—
Chug entered. His thick brows drew together as he spotted her in riding gear, satchel across her shoulder.
"Lady Greta, what are you—"
Before he finished, Greta urged West forward, the stallion bolting, nearly trampling Chug as she sped past.
"No! Lady Greta, you cannot leave!" he bellowed.
He barked orders to the stable hands, commanding them to stop her, but West was relentless. Even when blocked, he reared, striking with his hooves before charging on.
Greta's skill was unmatched. When a stable hand swung a heavy beam to trip the horse, she yanked the reins, prompting West to leap, soaring over the barrier with ease.
She was free—but not safe yet. The Von Meier estate had only one exit, the main gate, and that meant facing the guards.
And as she neared, she saw him.
Standing by a carriage, towering and still, her father's glare cut through her. Greta's heart thundered. She knew this choice would haunt her forever. Yet she had no choice.
She had to change her fate. Whether it led to salvation or another set of gallows, Greta would never turn back.
She was going to Eisthal. She was going to Duke Matthias Von Ignaz.