Two Weeks Before the Events of the Prologue
“My loyal subjects,” the booming voice of Emperor Borisfil IV of Velgravia echoed through every corner of the Throne Hall, filled with nobles, advisors, sages, and clergy. Rumors had been swirling in the capital for weeks that something was brewing at court, and today, everyone eagerly awaited the monarch’s explanation. Some whispered that he planned to abdicate due to a mysterious illness progressing in secret, though no one knew the details. Some believed the gossip, others didn’t, but all anticipated the arrival of changes that seemed inevitable. “Today, I have decided to announce the start of the Golden Tournament! May only the worthiest of my sons emerge victorious! Whoever proves themselves most capable and worthy of ruling our mighty empire will take my place on the throne in exactly two months, on the Night of Grandeur.”
The empire welcomed the launch of the Golden Tournament with lavish celebrations. That very evening, the sky was painted with bursts of colorful sparks—fireworks flaring in joyful clusters—while tables groaned under the weight of culinary masterpieces. News spread across the realm at record speed, and gossip reached even the farthest corners, with everyone who had a coin to spare placing bets. Oh, people always love a good spectacle! And there hadn’t been entertainment like this in Velgravia for a hundred years.
The Golden Tournament was held only in rare cases when the heirs to the throne couldn’t settle who would ascend, a situation almost unheard of since, by law, power passed to the eldest son of the monarch and only after his death could it transfer to the next in line. But this time was different—there was no elder or younger among twins. The emperor chose to disregard the mere minutes by which one prince was born before the other, declaring on the day of their birth that the throne would go to whoever proved themselves worthy to him, their father, ruler, and lord. Borisfil IV took the matter of succession with utmost seriousness and responsibility. From the moment of their birth, Anthony and Darian began their rivalry... a twenty-five-year struggle, the finale of which would unfold in just two months. Could there be a better amusement?
Yet the princes themselves felt differently...
“Anthony, you understand, don’t you?” Her voice was soft and gentle, and she herself seemed like the embodiment of a delicate jasmine flower—so enchanting and vulnerable. But those who knew the princess well had no doubt about the inner strength hidden behind her delicate appearance. The first child of Their Royal Majesties and their only daughter, she was not just the jewel of the court and everyone’s favorite; above all, she was a shield for one of her younger brothers. A shield that had protected him from every hardship, though the prince never tried to hide behind his sister’s voluminous skirts.
“Selina, my dear, I assure you: everything will be fine...” Anthony smiled warmly, brushing his lips against the young woman’s fingertips. She was twenty-eight, though it seemed impossible to believe. With raven-black hair, deep blue eyes, a piercing gaze, soft lips, and a flirtatious mole on her right cheek... there simply wasn’t a more beautiful woman at court. But she wasn’t loved for her looks. What set the princess apart was the kindness of her heart, a quality she’d managed to preserve in a cruel world.
“No, listen to what we’re trying to say...” added Duke William Elem of Rhine, the princess’s beloved husband, Anthony’s friend, and the most loyal member of his advisory council. He was a tall, striking man with luxurious blond hair, a kind gaze, and a core of steel—fitting for a knight and captain of the royal guard. “His Majesty has said time and again that our empire is built on family ties. Before ascending the throne, your father married. So did your grandfather, great-grandfather, and every emperor before them... That’s our tradition. Darian is married, and you’re not. Anthony, that weakens your chances...”
“Anthony, I overheard our parents talking. Mother begged Father to give you a fair shot, but he’s adamant: ‘There will be no unmarried emperors in Velgravia.’ Look at Adriana... She’s a snake, strutting around like she’s already queen. If she becomes empress, I’ll be tempted to sin...” The princess often joked like this, though, of course, she’d never stoop to murdering a member of the dynasty.
But the truth was, no one at court liked Adriana Lester, Darian’s wife and the other heir’s spouse. Smug, cunning, and insincere... Despite her enchanting appearance as a blonde seductress with a perfect figure and striking eyes, her behavior often grated on people. It seemed she’d long ago placed a crown on her own head. And today, even though the Golden Tournament had only just begun, she clearly saw herself as the hostess of the ball. Yet the empress liked her daughter-in-law, as Adriana had skillfully become her lady-in-waiting, friend, and servant all at once. Selina, however, considered that friendship fake and often warned her mother that she’d taken a viper to her bosom.
“Don’t drive your sister up the wall. You need to marry a worthy woman. Someone who’ll be your partner on this tough journey, a noble lady like our Empress Katarina, not like Adriana,” William added promptly.
Well, there was no shortage of women eager to marry Prince Anthony, Velgravia’s most handsome man and a potential future king. Perhaps that’s exactly why he wasn’t in a rush to tie the knot. He’d seen how his brother’s story played out... Though, played out? It was still ongoing and annoying to the point of grinding his teeth! Velgravia definitely couldn’t handle another Adriana. And he wasn’t Darian, who bowed to beauty and tolerated his “better half’s” antics. Sometimes sharp and impatient, Anthony risked becoming a widower before even being crowned if paired with such a wife. But right now, both Selina and Will were right... He couldn’t delay any longer.
The matter was brought before the team council. Each prince, on their path to the throne, had formed their own team of supporters. Anthony’s consisted of just seven people: his sister, his brother-in-law, one of the king’s oldest advisors, Duke Ernestine Donar Ross, Earl Ronald Marley, spiritual guide Phil Har, and Marquis Jack Jans. Their loyalty had been proven by time and events, while Anthony remained wary of others. And not without reason... You could never be sure a spy for his brother wasn’t lurking nearby. Childhood had taught the heirs to be cautious.
Choosing an aristocratic bride proved difficult. For one, it wasn’t clear which young lady’s family was truly loyal to which prince... And even if their loyalty wasn’t in doubt, or if they were greedy for power and wealth, the candidate herself often didn’t inspire trust.
Take Marquess Daniela Ares, for instance... She’d long been predicted as Anthony’s fiancée, but the prince couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but friendship for this socialite. Despite all her efforts to win the heir’s heart, he saw her only as a childhood companion.
“We don’t need a hysteric or a snake! We need an elegant, intelligent, calm, noble lady from a family loyal to us!” Selina repeated for what felt like the seventh time, ruthlessly dismissing every option.
“Your Highness, allow me to propose my granddaughter once again...” Leaning on his cane, Duke Ross spoke up, and this time, he was heard. Anthony always listened to Donar’s opinions, as his wisdom and dedication to their shared cause were invaluable and deserved boundless respect. But the idea that the old man had a granddaughter... or even a daughter or son, for that matter, had somehow never crossed the prince’s mind. It was odd that one of the closest figures to the dynasty didn’t boast about his descendants at lavish celebrations.
“Your granddaughter? Do I know her?” the young man asked with curiosity. Who he married was almost irrelevant to him; it was just another step toward his goal. Anthony understood he’d long been ready to take responsibility for a woman, for a family, but he simply didn’t have time for romantic encounters or lengthy courtships. Thoughts of his empire and the race against his brother overshadowed any notions of love. So, first, he’d marry someone suitable for his status, and perhaps feelings would follow later. After all, that’s how it had been for his parents, and it hadn’t stopped them from becoming an exemplary couple.
“She’s never appeared at the emperor’s court because my daughter, Maderika, moved far away after her marriage. Astrid Vanessa Ormskolt holds the title of Viscountess Conradine and is my heir, thus also Marquess Ernestine. She was one of the top graduates of the boarding school for noble young ladies, completing her studies six months ago. She’s twenty years old and fully prepared to become your fiancée, if it pleases Your Highness.”
Anthony exchanged a glance with his sister at this account. From the sound of it, the girl seemed truly worthy and, likely, unspoiled if she’d lived in the provinces rather than the capital. He could only hope she was also beautiful and obedient. If that was the case, they might have settled on a candidate.
“We’d like to meet Astrid Vanessa... Is that possible?” Leaning on her brother’s chair, Selina fixed a sharp gaze on the duke. He beamed with a self-satisfied smile.
“I’ll write to my granddaughter at once to come here. She loves Morgan and me dearly and will set out immediately,” Donar said, exaggerating a bit. For one, neither he nor his wife, Duchess Morgan Ross, had ever met the viscountess, as their daughter Maderika had left the family estate in secret after her parents forbade her marriage to Tobias Ormskolt, a man they deemed too poor. He didn’t even hold a barony, just a town in the county of Conradine, owned by his brother. Still, the duke hadn’t forgotten his granddaughter, sending her gifts every year and later funding her expensive education at the empire’s finest boarding school. After all, was the child to blame for her parents’ sins? And now, it seemed, she’d repay that “debt” in full by becoming the crown prince’s wife. Donar had always loved power and wealth... All that remained was figuring out how to convince Astrid to come to the capital, since Maderika had always prevented her daughter from meeting her grandparents. But for that, he had his wife. Morgan’s cunning could rival any court intriguer.
“Will she agree to become my wife?” It seemed an odd question—who wouldn’t want to marry a crown prince? Anthony himself wasn’t sure why he’d asked, but his loyal advisors only chuckled mockingly.
“If you choose Astrid, you’ll honor us beyond measure! My granddaughter is a great admirer of yours and has dreamed of meeting Your Highness her whole life,” His Grace declared cheerfully, without so much as a blink. The royals had no reason to doubt him.
“Bring her to the palace. I want to meet her,” the young man decided, somewhat intrigued by this person. It would be ideal if she suited him... Though unaware that the girl’s father wasn’t of the highest nobility, Anthony understood that aligning with Duke Ross, the wealthiest and most influential courtier, was advantageous. It was a worthy match. Adriana was a distant niece of the king of a neighboring state, giving Darian an edge in that regard, but not everything depended on lineage when it came to people, not pedigreed horses. If Astrid was as Donar described, she could rival that so-called princess.
“Bring her to the annual Spring Ball next week. You can officially present her to the king’s court, and if the young couple takes a liking to each other, the king will publicly bless their union before all the courtiers. That will be Anthony’s statement that he’s serious about the battle for the throne...” Placing a hand on her brother’s shoulder, Selina spoke. Her sharp mind had been noted by the court many times over.
“The Spring Ball... Brilliant!” the prince agreed. And for good reason—the annual Spring Ball was a celebration of betrothals. Throughout the year, young ladies and gentlemen met at various social events, culminating in this one occasion to publicly declare their serious intentions and receive the emperor’s approval or prohibition. Marriages among titled individuals were always considered matters of the empire. Few were allowed to defy the monarch’s decision. One such exception was Maderika Ross, now Ormskolt, but that’s another story.
Astrid Vanessa Ormskolt
“Astrid better not know...” That’s the phrase that kicked off the whirlwind of crazy events in my life. If I’d known the trouble it would bring, I would’ve pretended not to hear. But no! My stubbornness and curiosity got the better of me, as always.
“Better not know what?” I asked cheerfully, practically bouncing into the living room. In a few quick strides, I was beside my mother, snatching a piece of paper from her hands. My father let out a heavy sigh, sinking into his favorite armchair, upholstered in blue velvet, by the fireplace. He stretched his legs so close to the flames that I half-expected them to catch on his tall boots. My mother, on the other hand, frowned and made a grab for the stolen letter, but I dodged her and nimbly hopped behind a small table adorned with a tea set patterned with raspberry flowers.
“Astrid, give it back!” she snapped, furrowing her brows and extending a demanding hand toward me.
“What is it?” I asked with a grin, unceremoniously unfolding the paper. One glance was enough to recognize the seal of Duke Ernestine Donar Ross—my grandfather, the generous benefactor I’d yet to meet. “A letter from your parents? Addressed to me... Why didn’t you want me to read it?”
“Because we care about you,” my father said quietly, turning to his wife. “Maderika, there’s no point hiding it anymore. Let her read it...”
With my father’s permission—though I didn’t exactly need it, since the letter was already in my hands—I scanned the neat lines written in narrow, calligraphic script. My eyes widened in shock as I looked up at my mother. There was plenty to be surprised about, as the message read:
“Our dear Astrid Vanessa! Not a day goes by that we don’t dream of meeting you, our precious and only granddaughter. With great pride and joy, we congratulate you on completing your studies at the boarding school. Now that you have more time, we invite you to visit us in the Duchy of Ernestine. Please, don’t refuse our request. Your grandmother, Duchess Morgan Ross, has been in very poor health these past months, and her condition is worsening. Her Grace’s greatest wish is to see you, our sweet Astrid Vanessa. Whatever your mother may say, we are family. And in difficult times, family must stand together and support one another.
We would also be delighted to welcome your parents, our inimitable daughter Maderika and our son-in-law Tobias Ormskolt, Viscount Conradine. It’s time to bury the hatchet. We’ve grown old, and soon we’ll pass from this world... We don’t want to leave with a heavy burden on our souls. We’re ready to forgive our daughter’s actions if she can forgive us. Dear Astrid, only you can reconcile us, so please help us, granddaughter.
Your loving grandparents, eagerly awaiting our meeting.”
“And you wanted to hide this letter from me?” I exclaimed, outraged. Unbelievable! “Your mother is sick! Is pride really more important than that?”
“Astrid, be careful with your assumptions. I’m more than certain every word in that letter is a lie! In all my years in the duchy, I was nothing but a valuable commodity my parents wanted to sell off for profit. Now they’ve set their sights on you, which means they’re up to something. You don’t know them!” my mother said sternly, her tone deadly serious.
“All I know is that I’d run through any obstacle in the world if I thought my mom might be in bad shape! And if it turned out to be a lie, I’d just be relieved!” I shot back sharply, crossing my arms. My mother sighed heavily, lowering her gaze. “And what about all those gifts? What about my education? You accepted everything gladly, but when it’s time to repay the favor, you hide? What a fine upbringing!”
Silence settled over the room. I continued to fume, though only in my head, while my parents exchanged meaningful looks.
“We’ll go, meet them, check if everything’s okay, and come right back...” my father finally decided with a heavy sigh. “Get ready. We leave in the morning.”
Now that’s more like it.