The bold headline stretched across the front page of the newspaper, its ink still fresh.

"The Exile of the Bastard Prince!"

Beneath it, the damning words followed:

"Prince Edric De Varethorne, second prince of the empire, has been sentenced to exile in the northern territories after an alleged attempt on the life of Crown Prince Henry Varethorne. The palace has confirmed his immediate removal from court, effective in a week."

Seated by the grand window of her study,Veyna Duskborne turned the page with idle curiosity. The scandal had already swept through the noble circles like wildfire, but seeing it in print made it all the more real.

A prince exiled. A brother branded a traitor. A throne now uncontested.

"How convenience."

Veyna put down her teacup and turned the newspaper to the next page. She moves a strand of her snow-white hair from her face and tugs it behind her ear. She then rests her chin on her hand as she reads through the article. Once she reached the bottom of the article, she frowns. She grips the newspaper tightly almost ripping it apart.

"What the hell is this?!"

At the bottom of the article, there is a printed picture of her and the bastard prince's potraits placed next to each other.

"The Silver Thorn and The Bastard Prince were said to be hell-made couple!"

Clearly the one who wrote the article was trying to create a baseless scandal between her and the prince. It looks more like a ragebait to Veyna's eyes. Veyna ripped the newspaper to pieces.

"Those fools!"

After the short rage, she calmed herself down. She rubs the bridge of her nose. This kind of gossip is out of her control anyway. She is indeed not a dignified and a good noblewoman in public's eyes.

After the tragic loss of Marquis and Marchioness Duskborne, their only child, Veyna, was left vulnerable and adrift. At just ten years old, she was too young to inherit her father’s title, rendering her not only helpless but entirely without power.

Seizing the opportunity, the late marquis’s younger brother, William Duskborne, took matters into his own hands and assumed the title of marquis. However, his rule was only temporary, meant to last until Veyna came of age at 25 and reclaimed the title that was rightfully hers.

Veyna is 24 now, which means the title will be returned on her next birthday in about 7 months from now.

Veyna stares down at the ripped pieces of the newspaper with a blank expression. Deep down, she knew her uncle had no intention of ever returning the title to her but for now, it was only a suspicion.

Veyna’s thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of knocking on her chamber door. She let out a weary sigh, not in the mood for any interruptions at the moment.

“My lady, I have an invitation letter for you,” came the voice from the other side of the door—it was Marie, her ever-dutiful maid.

Veyna remained silent for a moment, staring at the flickering candlelight on her desk. An invitation? She had little interest in attending any gatherings, especially with everything weighing on her mind. Still, ignoring it wouldn’t make it disappear.

With a resigned sigh, she rose from her chair and walked to the door, unlocking it with a soft click. As the door creaked open, Marie stood there, holding a neatly sealed envelope on a silver tray.

"Who is it from?" Veyna asked, eyeing the letter with mild disinterest.

"The Duke of Ashvale, my lady," Marie replied, lowering her head slightly.

Veyna's brow arched. The Duke of Ashvale? He was not someone who issued invitations lightly. Taking the letter, she turned it over in her hands, studying the elegant wax seal pressed into the parchment.

"Thank you, Marie," she murmured before stepping back into her room, closing the door behind her.

As she broke the seal and unfolded the letter, a sense of unease settled in her chest. Whatever this was, it was unlikely to be a simple social call.

Veyna’s eyes skimmed over the elegant script, her fingers tightening slightly around the parchment as she read.

"Lady Veyna Duskborne,

I trust this letter finds you in good health. It is with great pleasure that I extend an invitation to you for an intimate gathering at Ashvale Manor in two days' time. The occasion is one of great significance - my daughter, Lady Evelyne Ashvale, has become betrothed to His Highness, the Third Prince. We would be honored by your presence at the celebration.

Your attendance would mean much to our family, and I believe there are matters of mutual interest we may discuss.

With highest regards,

Duke Alistair Ashvale”

Veyna lowers the letter, her lips pressing into a thin line. So, the Duke's daughter was now engaged to the Third Prince. It is a significant match, one that would undoubtedly shift the balance of power at court. The Ashvale family had always been influential, but with this union, their standing would be cemented even further.

A thoughtful frown crossed her face. The phrase "matters of mutual interest" lingered in her mind. What could the Duke possibly want from her?

The Duke is well awarded about her hostility towards his daughter. Yet, he still sent that letter requesting for her presence in the upcoming banquet. He even wrote down only her name at the beginning of the letter, not her family name which means the Duke wasn't requesting for the other rest of Duskborne. He was specifically requesting for her presence.

She glances toward the window, where the moon hung high in the sky. Normally, any nobles had little choice but to attend. If they refused, it could be seen as an insult, not just to the Duke but to the royal family as well. However in this case, Veyna is known for her attitude and carelessness towards whatever people talked about her.

Evelyne Ashvale, she is the perfect portray of a noblewoman with an outstanding achievement in academy and her fair beauty. She is a mannerful and dignified young lady.

Opposite from Veyna who is a haughty and overbearing person. Anyone who messes with Veyna never came back home unharmed. The contradiction made Evelyne the flower of the society while Veyna is the thorn.

With a sigh, Veyna folded the letter and set it aside. It seemed her quiet days were coming to an end.

Main Streets of the Capital

The golden spires of the capital gleamed under the midday sun as Veyna moved through the crowded streets. Merchants called out their wares, the scent of fresh bread and metalwork filling the air. She walked with quiet confidence while her guard followed a step behind, hand resting near the hilt of his very real sword.

She doesn't need him. She had never needed protection. As a bearer of the Marquis’s blood, the Empire’s loyal sword, her skill with a blade spoke for itself.

During her days in academy, she stood out the most as a skillful fighter among other students. It is quite uncommon for a lady to wield a sword but Veyna loves to exceed everyone's expectations and acts unpredictable.

However, in this case, formalities dictated an escort, and so he is there, watching. Veyna hates being watched. She would rather walks everywhere alone without any unnecessary protection.

She pats the dress around her thigh, checking a dagger that she placed around her thigh earlier at the mansion. It s still there luckily.

At last, she reached her destination. A shabby jewellery shop. A soft chime echoed through the shop as Veyna stepped inside. The air carried a faint metallic scent mixed with the subtle fragrance of polished wood. The dim lighting made the gemstones shimmer mysteriously under the glass, casting tiny rainbows across the dusty countertops.

An elderly shopkeeper, hunched over a workbench, glanced up from his delicate task. His wrinkled fingers held a tiny pair of pliers, working on a silver chain. He squinted at Veyna through his round spectacles, his expression a mixture of curiosity and recognition.

"Ah, back again, miss?" he said, his voice raspy yet warm. "Looking for something special today?"

Veyna took slow, deliberate steps toward a particular glass case near the back of the shop. Her fingers brushed lightly against the edge of the counter as she scanned the pieces inside.

She had always preferred these small, unassuming places over the grand jewelers of the capital. Here, the jewelry had history, soul, pieces that carried whispers of their past owners.

Veyna gazes at the array of gems displayed on the counter, her fingers hovering hesitantly over them.

"Do you..." she begins, then hesitates.

The shopkeeper watches her patiently, his expression calm and attentive.

"Yes?" he prompts gently.

Veyna takes a breath. "Do you have any magical gems?"

The shopkeeper, an elderly gnome with spectacles perched on his nose, strokes his beard thoughtfully. His eyes twinkle with curiosity as he looks at Veyna.

"Well, unfortunately i dont have any, miss."

The shopkeeper gestures toward the stack of jewelry before them, his finger tracing over the glittering assortment.

"All of these are ordinary gems and diamonds," he says with a sigh. "Magical gems are rare, and a small shop like mine could never afford something that costs a fortune."

Veyna nodded in response, unfazed by the shopkeeper’s words. She had expected this. After years of research, she knew how rare magical gemstones were—especially the one she sought. A gemstone imbued with flame magic wasn’t something an ordinary person could obtain. Only royalty had access to such treasures.

Magical Gemstones

Magical gemstones were no ordinary jewels; they were said to be fragments of a dragon’s heart. According to legend, dragons were mythical, intelligent creatures possessing immense magical power. They controlled the seas, forests, and every corner of the world, far surpassing other magical beasts in wisdom and personality.

Flame dragons, for instance, were known for their fierce and prideful nature. They were superior beings, capable of speech, thought, and deep emotions. However, their kind vanished centuries ago in a great war—a war ignited by conflicts among dragons themselves.

During that war, the ancestors of the current king struck a fateful deal with Viserion, the Dragon King. In exchange for helping him eradicate all dragons to bring peace to the world, the royal bloodline was granted magic. From that moment on, only those born of royal descent possessed magic, making it exceedingly rare for a commoner to wield such power.

Yet even in death, dragons left behind remnants of their existence. Their hearts, unlike their bodies, did not wither away but crystallized into powerful gemstones. These gemstones retained the essence of their original dragon’s magic. However, without dragons to govern the magical beasts who once controlled by dragons became dangerous threats to humanity. To prevent chaos, the Dragon King ordered that a portion of these gemstones be returned to the land, ensuring balance and keeping the wild beasts from descending into madness.

Nonetheless, over time, the gemstones lost their ability to fully control the beasts as the dragons once did. Their power, though immense, could never replace the will and presence of a living dragon.

Because of this, every corner of the kingdom had to be safeguarded by high-ranking nobles, such as dukes, who took on the responsibility of maintaining humanity’s safety. With powerful warriors, fortified strongholds, and strategic defenses, they stood as the last line of defense against the growing threat of magical beasts.

Those nobles also received a small piece of a magical gemstone as a gift—both as a symbol of their status and to enhance their strength. Since magical gemstones could serve as the core power for enchanted weapons, these fragments were invaluable in battle.

However, magical gemstones were highly sensitive to human touch, especially for those without magic. Only those of royal blood could hold them with their bare hands. If a non-magic user were to come into direct contact with one, the gemstone would release an uncontrollable surge of magical energy that is called mana, resulting in a violent explosion. Anyone caught and exposed directly by the explosion often died or even if they survived, they ll live with the bad side effects that will also lead them to a slow death.

Veyna stared down blankly, her thoughts swirling like embers in the wind.

Magical gems are surely powerful... yet so dangerous for a mere human...

"Miss?", she looked up as her thoughts were interrupted by the shopkeeper. He must ve been waiting for her to say something.

"Ah, yes. Then...", her eyes catched a glimpse of a shiny sparkling thing. It s a silver necklace with a round shaped diamond.

"I ll just take that for today."

The shopkeeper smiles warmly.

"Wonderful! Good choice, miss. That s one of my greatest masterpieces although i am not as great as other jewelers in the capital."

He laughs happly at his own remark as he takes out the necklace and wraps it neatly inside a white small box.

She smiles faintly. She put her pouch that contains golds on the counter top.

"Take as much as you like as the payment"

The white box exchanges hands. Then, he opens the pouch just for him to gasp in surprise.

"This is too much for a single necklace, miss."

Veyna turned her heels.

"It s fine, mister. Who knows, maybe this little regular customer of yours could never come back here again one day..."

She takes a step to leave the shop.

"Thanks a lot, miss!", he bends his body down toward her direction to show his thankfulness.

Veyna raised her hand and waved slightly before pushing the door and leaves the shop.

Veyna strolls past a row of shops, her gaze drifting lazily over the bustling street until a familiar sound caught her ear. Laughter. High-pitched, obnoxious, and undoubtedly laced with gossip.

A quick glance confirmed it: a group of noble ladies stand not far ahead, whispering and giggling behind their delicate fans. Probably spreading some scandalous tale.

She doesn't care. Even if they are talking about her (which, let's be honest, they probably were), she is long past the point of being bothered.

Unfazed, she keeps walking, chin high, stride unbothered.

Then, one of the ladies noticed her.

The effect is immediate. The woman's face goes rigid, her laughter dying in her throat as she hastily elbows her friend. Panic flickers in her eyes.

Like a domino effect, the rest of the ladies turns their attention to Veyna, their previous amusement evaporating. One by one, their heads lowered, their once-giddy expressions now frozen in poorly concealed fear.

Veyna barely spared them a glance as she passes. She isn't in the mood to be wicked today. Besides, they aren't stupid enough to provoke her not this time. So, she let them off easy.

Still, their reaction speak volumes. It is almost impressive how terrifying she had become in high society. She is famous, yes, but for all the wrong reasons.

Not that she doesn't earn it.

There was that one time when a noblewoman insulted her appearance. Veyna, ever the gracious lady, responded by bringing her Doberman-an aggressively enthusiastic creature-to the woman's pristine afternoon tea party. With a pleasant smile, she unchained the beast and watched as it gleefully shredded an expensive dress, sent pastries flying, and turned a meticulously arranged garden into a war zone.

And then, of course, there was the baron. Poor man thought he could deny her offer to supply workers for his struggling gold mine. He refused, so she kindly persuaded him-by acquiring certain... sensitive documents that conveniently made him reconsider. In the end, she walked away with a 30% share of the profits and a rather entertaining story.

It wasn't as if she went around looking for trouble. But if someone dare to speak ill of her, well... she simply believed in returning the favor...

Generously.

Veyna let out a long, exaggerated sigh. There is nothing fun in the capital.

The bustling streets, the lavish boutiques, the finely dressed nobles flitting about with their pointless chatter. None of it held even a shred of entertainment. She had already terrorized all the right people, won every battle of wit worth fighting, and made enough scandalous memories to keep the rumor mill spinning for weeks.

And now? Now, she is bored.

A truly dangerous state for someone like her.

Veyna glances around, hoping to spot a decent pastry shop, something, anything to cure her boredom. But just as her gaze drifted across the street, she caught sight of a familiar figure slipping into an alleyway.

A man with deep brown hair.

Her only cousin, Wayne.

Her brows knits together. *What is he doing there*?

Wayne is not a person who willingly wander into a dingy alley. He wont even step in mud even if he had to.

Without a second thought, Veyna changes course, her heels clicking sharply against the stone pavement as she follows after him. Suspicion curls in her chest, growing with every step.

But as she turned the corner, he is gone.

Then-

"Looking for someone, Lady?"

Veyna's heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She whirls around, eyes sharp, only to find herself face-to-face with a man, not Wayne, but someone else.

A tall figure clad in a black cloak loomed over her, the dim alleyway failing to conceal his striking features. His hood sit low, but not low enough to hide the golden strands of hair that peek out. And those eyes, deep, piercing gold that glow with quiet amusement.

She recognised him immediately.

The man who had nearly become a thorn in her side.

The first prince, Henry De Varethorne.

Her expression hardened instantly, her posture stiffening as she meets his gaze with an icy stare.

"What are you doing here, Your Highness?" she asked coolly, her voice devoid of warmth.

Henry smiles brightly while leaning his body lower to match her height.

"Are you curious?"