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Chapter 1

The rainy season in the empire was extensive. It had been more than ten full days of rain. People awaited the sun to break through the clouds, occasionally stepping outside in thin hope but went inside and locked the door when that did not happen, feeling utterly defeated. The rain beat down on the imperial palace and the downtown, and the slumps. Nothing, and no one was spared.

Light usually didn’t enter the narrow alleys covered by the eaves. Rumor has it that the mail carriers avoided stepping in these alleys. The police in charge were indifferent to the crimes taking place in the place. The place was a ghetto absorbing the footsteps or ordinary people and forgetting them.

A carriage stood at the entrance of the dark district of Louvre, where it was hard to even distinguish between day and night. From the looks of the carriage’s condition and its horses, it didn’t look like it belonged to any of the inhabitants there. Nobody could afford a carriage like that in that place when people survive a week on one gillie.

A servant in a robe put down the foot step and opened the carriage door. A woman’s heel decorated in silk and leather placed a foot on the steps.

“Careful,” said an elegant, low voice. The man standing in the dark groveled, showing his yellow teeth.

“Th-this way please.”

The woman looked down at him with cold eyes and put on a robe. The neglected alleyway riddled with trash, bums, and animal carcasses reeked despite getting a fresh cleansing from the rain. Her icy fingertips trembled at the chilly sight. There was no other way it could be. Because a high-ranking aristocrat didn’t fit well in such an underdeveloped district.

“Your Ladyship, you can wait in the carriage. I can take care of it.”

“No, I want to go myself.”

Anastasia Vale, wife to Marquis Gliad Vale. Marquis Vale owned several textile and tobacco factories and also delved into shipbuilding and iron mining industries. Now that the Hundred Years’ War was over, the House of Vale was a respected family with enough wealth to be on par with the Grand Duke of Ihar. So why was a woman of such prestige stepping into a slum?

A nervous guard followed behind her, his hand on the sword at his waist.

“I mean, she is having a hard time finding him. Heh-heh. By the way, why in hell’s the kid so important...,” said a man grinning at the woman.

“Show her the way. If it were me, I wouldn’t waste my time circling around the same place,” said the knight.

He pulled his sword out halfway with a sound of iron grinding. The body of the man leading the way flinched at the fierce threat, crouching down even lower.

“Round and round and round. A little while ago it was that run-down pub, now we’re at Mrs. Milburn’s oil supply store. Even though the path looks similar, it’s all different, so don’t worry.”

Anastasia gave the vigilant guard a warning look. If the guide becomes terrified and runs away, they all may lose their hard-earned opportunity. The knight sheathed his sword and followed, politely.

This place was like a fortress. A massive fortress home to those who had been abandoned by the world. The front guard, glancing around like he was scared of something, pointed to a house with a red ribbon hanging front of it. It wasn’t a standalone house, it was as though a dozen doors lined up to form a wall.

“That’s it over there. You have no idea how much trouble I’ve been through trying to look for that little girl. The mother cared desperately for her child... So you have to be generous and give me ten gillies... heh-heh.”

This was the only place which didn’t have eaves, so she got rained on. The girl was here. The girl Anastasia had searched for so thoroughly. She gestured to the guard. He came forward and dropped a pouch of coins into the hands of the guide. The dead silence was filled with coins clinking as the guide counted the amount of the money he received. After making sure he had the right amount, he bowed to them and stepped back.

The guide then ran away, frightened. Perhaps the amount was bigger than they had agreed on, or maybe he was terrified of the knights. She stepped into the rain, a clammy feeling entered her leather heels. Her lips quivered because she was disgusted by the wetness inside her shoes.

“Go shut him up,” said Anastasia.

Another knight nodded with a determined look at Anastasia’s instructions. “Understood, Ma’am,” he said.

Meanwhile, the little girl was busy; perhaps she didn’t know that the woman was approaching. With sludge on her cheeks, her honey-coloured hair extending to her waist, she was a delicate little thing. She looked younger than twelve. Dressed in tatters, she was busy carving wood. The way the little girl handled a sharp knife made the wrinkles on Anastasia’s face deepen.

Anastasia was only a stone’s throw away from the little girl. But she was so busy that she didn’t notice her approaching. Anastasia stopped on a path that sloped downwards.

“Hey, kid,” she called.

The child lifted her gaze to meet Anastasia’s and flinched, dropping her knife in surprise. The girl’s dazzling eyes, like a mix of turquoise and emerald, met Anastasia’s cold ones. At the sight of the girl, a wave of pent-up anger rose in Anastasia. She patiently suppressed her anger and looked at the child.

“What are you doing here in the rain?” she asked.

The child, pouting, pulled out a bundle of cloth that had been blocking her ears and hid it behind her back.

“My mom is at work... Who are you?” retorted the child.

“Work?” Anastasia snorted. The sounds of a woman groaning and a man cursing flowed from a window covered with a thick curtain above.

Canillia lived in a broken home. A brilliant jewel born in a muck. That was what people in these slums called her. In the past, an eye-catching, beautiful woman with a full figure had been hidden in Louvre. With nowhere to go, she had bounced around from house to house, receiving bread and sleeping in the streets. Always frightened, like someone had been chasing after her.

Then one day, she had given birth in the same street. On that rainy day just like today, next to a decaying dog carcass she had given birth to an angel with emerald eyes. People had felt sorry for the woman who wasn’t even able to produce breast milk for her child because of starvation. The woman took care of the child as well as she could.

However, raising a child in the streets was near to impossible. The harsh winter had shown that. The child had come down with a fever in the severe cold. She had gone to the doctor. Men hardly refused her because she was beautiful. The doctor had saved the life of the baby and took her in. That had been twelve years ago.

“Your name is... Lia, right?” asked Anastasia.

The child nodded. “How do you know me?” she asked.

“After hearing... about your mother being terribly sick I came looking for you,” said Anastasia.

“...Mom? My mom is sick?” said the child. Her eyes grew wide at the news. She turned around wanting to run back inside to where her mother was. Tears prickling her eyes, she was about to knock on the door when a guard’s hand hit the back of her neck.

The child fell down unconscious. The guard lifted her up. “The child seems terribly young to be twelve years old,” he said.

Anastasia looked at the unconscious body and nodded. “let’s get out of here,” she said, “I hate the stench and the noise here. Tell them to be ready.”

“What about the child’s mother?” asked the guard, cautiously.

Already walking back to the carriage, she halted her steps and turned. She stared at the window from where the groans were still heard. The corners of her mouth raised in a cold smile. “What would happen if a fire broke out on a rainy day?” she asked, coldly.

The guard’s skin prickled with goosebumps at her words. His eyes widened. “I am just joking,” she said, chuckling, “Just know that if you run away with her... Let’s just hope that doesn’t happen.”

The two shadows were swallowed in the dark and several windows opened. The people looked out seeing no signs of the much-awaited sun. Instead the torrent of rain had intensified. They closed the windows again. The night was getting darker and deeper.

*

“Hey kid, hey kid...”

A nice fragrance. The place felt light. Was this heaven? If it was, she never wanted to wake up but Lia’s eyelids fluttered open because hands were shaking her awake. They were unceasing.

“Argh!” The frightened child screamed out and sat up. A horror seeped into her eyes scanning the room. An unknown place. The best place she’d seen in the past ten years was Lauren’s attic–where Lauren sold clothing. A cute dog named Paulie had been there, and a variety of fine-colored fabrics hung in the attic. When Lia had seen the clothing flapping in the wind, it had filled her with joy. The colour and the softness made her feel like a princess in a castle.

This place wasn’t Lauren’s attic. A fancy room she’d never even imagined. The bed was about ten times her size, and the windows stretched from the floor to ceiling. And she couldn’t hide her surprise at the books piled up on the luxurious carpet and the big fireplace.

This must be heaven, she thought. She had never seen a place this beautiful.

At Lia’s innocent wide-eyed reaction, a woman holding a tray smiled and put it down upon the table.

“You’re hungry, right? Fill your tummy first before you wash up. The smell... might be a bit intense,” said the woman, handing her a bowl of soup.

She swallowed as she looked down at the soup in front of her. But she couldn’t eat it. She wanted her mother. She wanted to go home. She couldn’t stay in this fancy and unknown place. Maybe she was dreaming. Did I fall asleep in the middle of the street again? She thought. I remember talking to a gorgeous lady. She said mum was sick, then...

“Why aren’t you eating? Aren’t you hungry?” asked the woman, looking worriedly at her.

Lia shook her head and sat up on her knees. “Ma’am, where is this place?” she asked, “Where am I? Where is my mom? Who was the lady who was talking to me earlier?”

“After you eat this soup, we will get you washed up,” said the woman, “Then the lady will come see you.”

“But why?” asked Lia, “Why am I here?”

“Because...,” said the woman and hesitated.

A knock interrupted them and the door swung open. A boy with emerald eyes and honey-colored hair stood at the threshold, smiling at Lia. It was his first time seeing someone so beautiful. Lia looked at the boy walking towards her and hid her dirty hands.

“Hi Canillia,” he said.