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On the television screen, a news reporter spoke with evident pride as a sea of enthusiastic youths waved banners and cheered in the background. The nation's pride, Joy Rider, the youngest martial arts champion, had once again secured an international gold medal for her country, cementing her position as the most revered woman and idol of the century.
In a room, a woman with elegantly slender fingers sat, her gaze fixed on the broadcast, a sense of contentment evident on her features. She possessed a fair beauty, her dark hair falling just past her shoulders, while deep red lipstick and sharply winged eyeliner accentuated her appearance. With a click of her tongue, she turned her attention to a man lying on a pristine white hospital bed, his face concealed by an oxygen mask and his head wrapped in a bandage.
Seated beside him, she commented, "I see you take pride in your sister's accomplishments." Her voice carried a touch of satisfaction. "Unfortunately, she chose to sever ties with the company. Would you believe what she told me before her latest fight?"
The woman's gaze lingered on the motionless figure as if anticipating a response, though none came. "Before her final match, she boldly declared her intention to terminate the contract and devote herself to caring for you," she continued, a tinge of annoyance making her voice grow hoarse.
"I concur! You also think her words are mere gibberish, don't you?" she exclaimed, nervously biting her nails. Her gaze flicked to her phone, which had received a message, and in an instant, her expression transformed into a sinister grin.
"You know what I informed her?" she inquired, her words taking on a chilling clarity as she leaned over the bedside. "I informed her that once she won the match, she'd reunite with her brother and remain by his side for eternity." Her hand hovered menacingly near the man's face before she mercilessly removed his oxygen mask.
"If Joy won't bring me profit while alive, then her demise will serve my purpose," she chuckled coldly. The man, previously inert, twitched with pain. The monitor's green lines traced unusual patterns, and after a few agonizing moments, the line flattened, signaling the end of his suffering and the beginning of his eternal slumber.
"Mr. Rider, it was quite a productive partnership with your family," she stated, her voice devoid of emotion, icy and detached.
...................................................................
"Your Majesty, the caravan from the Kingdom of Ridavell has arrived at the castle. They have brought the princess," a man draped in a flowing grey cloak announced reverently. He kept his head bowed, avoiding direct eye contact with the Emperor, whose intense aqua blue eyes conveyed a grave seriousness. "They seek an audience with Your Majesty," he added.
The Emperor of Ohaeria, known for his youthful visage and cold demeanor, possessed shimmering golden hair and captivating aqua eyes. Despite his late forties, he appeared youthful and handsome. However, his formidable presence deterred many from approaching him, despite the numerous admirers vying for his attention. He was a ruthless ruler with a heart of ice.
"Show them in," commanded the Emperor in a deep, resonant voice that sent shivers down the cloaked man's spine. The man cautiously exited the throne room under the Emperor's penetrating gaze. Soon after, the room's doors swung open once more, revealing the cloaked figure and three individuals. Just before the throne's stairs, the cloaked man paused, clearing his throat before speaking.
"The princess of the East, the radiant light of the Kingdom of Ridavell, has arrived."
With these words, he stepped aside, granting passage to those behind him. As Arcane Lachtara, the third princess of Ridavell, approached the Emperor of Ohaeria, all eyes were drawn to her. Her long ebony tresses cascaded down her back, reaching her knees. Her ivory complexion beautifully complemented her crimson eyes, which sparkled like fully bloomed roses. She was a rare beauty, her dark hair and clear eyes absorbing light and leaving a breathtaking impression.
Bowing gracefully, she addressed the Emperor in a voice as soothing as a lullaby. "Your Imperial Highness, I am Arcane Lachtara, daughter of Duke Jackal Somerset and the third princess of Ridavell." As she curtsied, her layered gown fluffed up, and her straight hair formed a delicate curtain across her cheek.
The Emperor's intense gaze lingered on her, his demeanor unwavering. After a brief pause, he raised his hand, signaling her to rise. "The journey must have left you fatigued," he remarked, his tone devoid of emotion.
"Your concern warms my heart, and I will certainly convey your kindness to the King of Ridavell," she responded with a smile. Her snowy-white teeth contrasted against her crimson lips, creating an ethereal appearance.
"I appreciate that. The empress is unwell, so you shall meet her on another occasion. For now, my chancellor will escort you to your palace," he declared, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Thank you once again, Your Majesty," Arcane nodded respectfully, her head dipped.
The chancellor guided Arcane and her attendants to Hortus Palace, nestled amidst lush fruit orchards. The palace showcased an array of fruits, a testament to the kingdom's bounty. An opulent retreat for royalty and foreign envoys, its grand architecture exuded magnificence. Luxurious gardens and orchards enveloped the palace, adding to its splendor.
"Your Highness, this chamber is reserved for your stay. Should it not meet your preferences, the palace offers numerous splendid rooms for you to choose from. Please, make yourself comfortable," the chancellor's words were clear and humble.
"Thank you, Chancellor," Arcane replied, her smile warm. She entered the room accompanied by her quiet maid. As the doors closed, her eyes wandered around the expansive chamber. Divided into two sections, it featured plush couches and a study table on the lower level, while a few steps led to a grand king-size canopy bed shrouded in rich, blood-red curtains. The room was adorned in lavish red and gold hues, exuding opulence that heightened its grandeur. Arcane's tired gaze wandered before she finally approached the bed and sank into its soft embrace with a relieved sigh.
"Blanca?" she called to her maid. "Yes, my lady," the maid, her gray hair dusty and eyes sparkling with fatigue, responded. "You must be weary as well," Arcane murmured, her eyes closed, her breath weighed with exhaustion. "The bed is too vast for just me. You may share it," she gestured to the mattress.
"But..." the maid hesitated.
"No arguments, rest now," Arcane insisted, rolling onto the bed. Designed for royalty, the bed could comfortably accommodate several adults. The maid nodded and settled on the other side, finally able to find respite.
8
