The winter snow of Star Calendar 1697 drifted across every corner of the continent.
In the mist-shrouded Agate City of the distant Albion Kingdom to the north, the Second Princess, Chris Salamander, formally stepped out of the ivory tower and into society.
Her ruby-like eyes could make anyone’s heart flutter.
Unfortunately, God forgot to give her a brain along with her beauty, and this princess’s willfulness and mediocrity soon spread throughout the entire noble circle.
In that same winter, shocking news came from the great prairie’s royal tent.
The Great Khan, Temur Aslan, had actually sent away his youngest daughter.
Twelve-year-old Aisha embarked on the long road to Parisi, where she would serve as a hostage, symbolizing the alliance between the steppe and Gaul.
When the cavalry disappeared over the horizon, the wolves of the prairie howled throughout the night.
An ancient prophecy began circulating once more among the people.
The shadow of the Grim Reaper’s decree was a thing of three hundred years past, and some said the Demon King’s banner would once again descend upon the world.
No one wanted to believe such words, for this was an age of scientific advancement and rational supremacy.
Manual workshops and frontier exploration were the main themes of this era, and ancient curses should have become dust in the annals of history.
In this turbulent age, one city still stood tall upon the waves, like an everlasting pearl—the imperial capital of the Lucius Empire.
This city sat at the heart of the rippling Rumel Lake, where the spire of the White Gold Tower pierced through clouds and mist, shining with sacred radiance under the sun.
The streets paved with moonstone were wide and straight, lined with countless majestic buildings and cathedrals.
The plazas were always crowded with merchants and travelers from every nation, all speaking different languages yet equally awed by the capital’s grandeur.
This could be considered a city that knew how to make money.
Here, the vast majority of people toiled day and night, thinking only of how to weigh down their purses a little more.
Merchant ships came and went in the harbor, loaded with silk, spices, gemstones, and countless rare treasures.
Bankers calculated profits in their luxurious offices, and every decision they made could influence the continent’s economic direction.
But setting that aside, everything else about this city seemed rather gloomy.
The sparse greenery within the city could hardly signal the changing of seasons.
Every summer, the sun baked a layer of dust onto the streets; every autumn, torrential rain left travelers’ shoes caked in mud.
Only in winter could one enjoy clear skies, though in spring the city’s flower shops would also display fresh blooms gathered from the suburbs, adding a breath of fresh air and the vitality that spring ought to bring.
Of course, this did not mean the city’s inhabitants were mere money-grubbers who had turned the place into a filthy mess.
Though they worked hard to earn and grow rich, they also possessed the hobbies of ordinary people—after work, they would head to a nearby tavern for hearty drinks, browse newly published novels in bookshops, or watch the latest plays at the theater.
People were fairly cordial with one another, and asking a passerby for carriage fare would never end in empty hands.
But that was all in the past.
Now, this once-beautiful city had been completely transformed by a game of power.
When the young Empress Elaine Lucius ascended the throne, she found herself facing not a unified court but countless greedy ministers and deeply entrenched bureaucratic factions.
Like hungry wolves, they encircled the young empress, scheming to seize every shred of power from her hands.
Every court session was an invisible war, and every decree’s promulgation required countless compromises and concessions.
They took advantage of her youth and her lack of trustworthy allies at her side.
They bowed respectfully in public while secretly defying her orders; they professed loyalty to her face while plotting behind her back to carve up the imperial authority.
Elaine quickly realized that if she did not take drastic measures, she would either become a puppet in the hands of these powerful nobles or be outright dethroned and replaced with a more obedient emperor.
It was then that she remembered her distant cousin bearing Lucius imperial blood—Friedrich Salamander.
The illegitimate son of a former Albion king and a Lucius imperial princess, though born of low status, he carried the noblest bloodlines of two empires.
More importantly, he had served in the Albion military for years, commanded a contingent of elite mercenaries, and had no entanglements whatsoever with the Lucius Empire’s noble factions.
Elaine dispatched a secret envoy to Albion, where they found this silver-haired illegitimate son and promised him titles, wealth, and even legitimate imperial status—if only he would help her purge the court and eradicate those vermin.
For an illegitimate son who had always been marginalized, such an opportunity was nothing less than a gift from heaven.
Friedrich came.
He marched into the imperial capital with his Silver Order, and those battle-hardened soldiers stood in stark contrast to the pampered private troops of the capital’s nobles.
Friedrich launched a bloody purge with thunderous force: the most stubborn old nobles were executed on charges of treason, and their family properties were confiscated; the heads of the bureaucratic factions were either exiled to the frontiers or mysteriously disappeared; even those ministers who had seemed loyal but secretly defied orders became obsequiously obedient overnight.
For a time, Elaine believed she had found the perfect ally and enforcer.
Imperial decrees were once again implemented, imperial dignity was once again respected, and those once-arrogant nobles trembled under Friedrich’s iron rule.
But she was wrong.
Power is the deadliest poison in the world.
When Friedrich tasted the flavor of dominion, when he discovered he could make the entire empire operate according to his will, he was no longer content to be an obedient executor.
He began monopolizing authority, bringing the military, the treasury, and the judicial system entirely under his control.
More terrifying still, he began cultivating his own power base—those nobles who had survived the purge began currying favor with this de facto ruler.
Soon, a strange phenomenon appeared in the capital: the nominal emperor was Elaine, but the one truly giving orders was Regent Friedrich.
The court split into two factions—one still nominally pledged loyalty to the empress but with dwindling actual influence, while the other openly sided with the regent, with some even hinting that at the next Elector Assembly, they would install Friedrich as the official emperor.
This standoff plunged the entire empire into a delicate balance.
Though Elaine still sat upon the throne, the forces she could mobilize grew increasingly limited.
She found herself trapped once again, and this time the predicament was even more dangerous than before, for she had personally nurtured an even more powerful enemy.
Elaine certainly had no intention of waiting for death.
Using the vestiges of imperial authority she still possessed, she launched the Witch Hunt Movement in the regent’s name.
Her calculation was simple: let the people witness the cruelty and brutality of Friedrich’s rule, let them grow angry and resentful toward this foreign ruler, and thereby rally them back to her side.
If the popular fury burned fiercely enough, those wavering nobles might also reconsider their positions.
But she underestimated her cousin’s political acumen once again.
Far from being troubled by the Witch Hunt Movement, Friedrich shrewdly seized the opportunity.
Not only did he execute the policy with even greater zeal, but he cleverly transformed it into a tool for eliminating his political enemies.
Those mages who refused to swear allegiance, those non-human races who might threaten his rule, those nobles harboring dissident thoughts—all were branded with the charge of “heresy” and sent to the pyre.
What’s more, he successfully dragged church forces like the Inquisition into his camp.
Those clergy who should have remained neutral began endorsing his rule, proclaiming that the Regent was God’s envoy sent to purify the world, and that those who opposed him were the Devil’s minions.
Under the sacred halo of religion, Friedrich’s rule became all the more unshakeable.
Now, the imperial capital had become a living hell.
Scorched remains of those burned at the stake could be seen everywhere on the streets.
Those once-beautiful elves were now nothing but strands of hair drifting in the wind, like tattered banners mourning this dark age.
Gallows stood at every intersection, hung with corpses of every race—vampires, half-elves, even human mages who had not registered with the guild.
Blood had long since dried and congealed into black scabs, yet the stench of death could not be washed away no matter what.
The soldiers of the White Robe Legion donned brand-new uniforms, embroidered with the red dragon crest on their chests—the emblem of Friedrich’s paternal Albion royal line.
The iron boots of patrol squads struck the stone pavement in perfect unison, the dungeons were packed with prisoners awaiting trial, and the flames of the execution pyres never died out day or night.
The entire city was saturated with an atmosphere of terror; people dared not speak loudly, fearing that a careless word might bring death upon them.
And Elaine, who had hoped to use the Witch Hunt Movement to reclaim power, could only cower in the imperial palace beneath the White Gold Tower, gazing down at this out-of-control situation through colored glass windows.
Her golden eyes burned with regret and fury—she had released the demon from its cage with her own hands, only to discover she no longer had the strength to lock it back away.
Yet, in the shadows of the capital, faint whispers drifted.
The golden-flame-eyed devotees at the empress’s side and the secrets buried deep beneath the imperial palace now lay dormant with her in the silence, waiting for an opportunity to tear through the gloom.