Chapter 71
Sunlight spilled across Elicia’s face as she stepped off the train.
She raised her hand to shield her eyes from the bright rays.
Moments later, Lisbeth and Roa followed her down from the train.
At long last, Elicia was finally able to set foot in the Belvion Empire—at the age of twenty-four.
The three of them immediately boarded a carriage and headed to the Farthing Ducal Estate within the Empire.
News that a new duke was arriving had reached the estate in advance, and every servant employed there came out to the main gate to greet Elicia.
“That’s enough. Go back to your work.”
Elicia’s curt, almost cold greeting made the servants exchange uneasy glances.
“The Duchess requests that you all… g-g-go back to your duties!”
Roa stepped in awkwardly to fulfill her role, stammering slightly mid-sentence.
The slip of her tongue made Elicia chuckle as she ascended the steps.
“I hope the head maid returns soon.”
Roa hurried to catch up with Elicia and muttered under her breath.
“She’s been dropping by often while I was away, hasn’t she?”
Perhaps that was why none of the servants showed her any disrespect. Most likely, Rachel had already given them prior instructions.
“Then I suppose she’ll be visiting again soon?”
“Knowing Rachel’s personality? Absolutely.”
Elicia replied as she arrived at the door of the room she would be using from now on and opened it.
The room resembled the one she had used back at the Selendid territory in nearly every detail.
That too must have been Rachel’s doing.
Feeling a surge of appreciation for Rachel’s meticulous care, Elicia walked toward the desk.
On the desk sat an envelope sealed with wax bearing the imperial crest.
Elicia’s eyes widened, and she quickly tore the envelope open and unfolded the letter inside.
Her eyes darted across the page rapidly.
“Oh no…”
A groan escaped her lips before long.
“What is it?”
Roa couldn’t hold back her curiosity.
“It’s an invitation from the Imperial Palace. A masquerade ball, apparently…”
Elicia waved the letter in the air with a face that practically screamed how much she didn’t want to go.
But it was an invitation from the Imperial family. Like it or not, there was no refusing.
The legacy of Meldion is said to be kept within the palace…
A part of her wanted to see for herself what that cursed legacy looked like, yet another part of her wanted nothing to do with it.
To Elicia, Meldion’s legacy carried far more negative weight than positive.
“A masquerade? A masquerade ball?!”
In contrast to Elicia’s reluctance, Roa’s eyes sparkled with excitement.
“Uh… yeah.”
Elicia couldn’t understand why Roa looked so thrilled.
“Then… a dress! Or, not necessarily a dress—if you have any particular outfit you’d like, please tell me. I’ll prepare everything!”
“Roa, why are you suddenly so enthusiastic?”
Elicia asked with a wry smile.
“Huh? Me? Do I seem that way?”
Anyone could see it.
Even someone utterly oblivious.
The truth was, ever since Roa became Elicia’s personal maid, her life had become infinitely easier.
The exhausting days of running errands from dawn till dusk were over. Gone were the times of tearful pleas and begging.
She now had room to breathe.
And as her life settled, Roa began to see Elicia in a new light.
Elicia, to her own people, was astonishingly kind.
She never gave unnecessary orders and never vented her frustrations on her maid like so many other nobles did.
It was, in every sense, an ideal job.
Not that Roa had ever taken particular pride in being a maid—she simply believed in doing what was asked and avoiding what wasn’t. That was her entire work ethic.
So why was she so excited now?
“Well, I’ve always wanted to prepare for a noble ball—the kind I’ve only ever heard about in stories!”
Roa clenched her fists with gleeful determination.
Having spent her whole life in the Selendid territory, Roa had nursed a quiet fascination with aristocratic gatherings.
“To go to a salon, take your measurements, and pick colors that suit your complexion—oh! When is the deadline?”
Elicia hadn’t even agreed to attend, but Roa had already decided for her.
There was no way Elicia could crush that enthusiasm with a negative answer.
“Ten days from now…”
“Oh my! Then there’s no time to design a new dress. We’ll have to buy something from the salon.”
Roa touched her cheek with a look of mock concern.
“Sure. Don’t worry about the cost.”
From Elicia’s perspective, the masquerade held little benefit.
If it were a regular banquet, she would’ve gone willingly—at least to mingle and make acquaintances among the nobles.
But a masked ball? A gathering where identities were hidden? That offered her nothing.
At least it posed no harm either.
Since she had to attend regardless, she decided she might as well observe the imperial nobility’s atmosphere—and indulge Roa’s excitement in the process.
“You might even meet someone… fatefully!”
“….”
Where did all her sense go?
Elicia forced an awkward smile and looked away from Roa’s sparkling eyes.
She was pretty sure Roa used to have better judgment.
Her repeated insistence that she disliked nobles had apparently been erased from Roa’s memory.
As Elicia stepped down from the carriage, her fingers brushed the mask covering her face.
A blunt-edged black mask concealed everything from her eyes to the bridge of her nose.
“Does it feel uncomfortable?”
Lisbeth, who had traded her stiff uniform for an elegant dress for the day, pointed at her own mask and asked.
She too wore a mask just like Elicia.
“Yeah. The way it presses against my nose and cheekbones is irritating.”
Elicia’s voice carried a note of annoyance.
“Then why agree to come in the first place?”
As a knight, Lisbeth wouldn’t have been allowed inside the ballroom—but tonight, she attended under her identity as the eldest daughter of Baron Monty.
That didn’t mean she liked it. Her tone was edged with displeasure.
“You saw Roa’s face when she handed us the dresses.”
Elicia gave a pointed glance at Lisbeth’s gown that covered her arms and legs completely.
“….”
Fair enough.
Lisbeth shut her mouth, seemingly conceding the point.
Her gaze, however, lingered on Elicia’s own gown—a stark contrast to her own.
Elicia’s white silk dress bared her arms, standing out all the more against her dark hair.
“Besides, it was an imperial invitation. Refusing without reason would’ve been a blow to my reputation.”
She had no intention of stirring up needless trouble.
The more Elicia explained, the more Lisbeth found herself sympathizing with her efforts.
“So… what’s the purpose of this ball anyway?”
If anything, Lisbeth chose to direct her resentment toward the palace.
“The emperor’s birthday, apparently.”
A monumental occasion for the emperor.
For Elicia and Lisbeth? Hardly.
To them, it was simply the day a stranger had been born.
“Hardly worth the fuss.”
“Please. Keep those honest thoughts between us?”
“I know how to hold my tongue.”
Well, that was a relief.
Elicia worried about Lisbeth’s bluntness but didn’t press the matter further.
Just before entering the palace, Elicia’s eyes drifted to the vast gardens beyond.
Her gaze instinctively swept past the hedges, searching.
No sign of Meldion’s legacy from here.
It felt almost like a convenient excuse to avoid the evening altogether.
“Duchess?”
Lisbeth’s puzzled voice pulled her from her thoughts.
“It’s nothing.”
Elicia shook her head and resumed walking toward the palace doors.
“….”
Lisbeth followed close behind.
The ballroom was magnificent—an exhibition of sheer opulence.
And it was packed.
As one would expect for an event commemorating the emperor’s birth, attendance was virtually mandatory for anyone without an exceptional excuse.
Yet, despite the emperor being the reason for the gathering, the whispers weren’t about him.
They were about Elicia.
“I heard the Duchess of Farthing is here tonight.”
As Lisbeth handed her a glass of wine, Elicia’s ears caught stray bits of gossip floating through the air.
“Too bad it’s a masquerade—we can’t see her face.”
“They say she’s moved her household permanently to the capital. Plenty of chances to meet her, I’m sure.”
“My son has shown… considerable interest in the duchess.”
“Oh, so has mine. But the duchess… well…”
Everywhere, the same conversations.
Lisbeth glanced at Elicia, anxious.
The mask made it impossible to read her expression—making it somehow worse.
“Sounds like her standards are sky-high.”
“I heard she’s turned down numerous proposals already.”
“She wants someone handsome, apparently… How unrealistic. Though she’s still young, so maybe that explains it.”
Lisbeth’s eyes darted nervously as Elicia finally spoke.
“If I’ve earned my place, why shouldn’t I refuse to settle?”
And her demands weren’t limited to looks.
The most crucial condition—that the suitor not be a noble—was conveniently omitted from their speculations.
Beneath the mask, Elicia’s face twisted with irritation.
“Uh, Duchess… what do you mean by that?”
Lisbeth, unaware of what Elicia had written in response to those countless proposals, tilted her head.
“Oh, I just told them I wanted someone handsome—and not a noble.”
What?!
Lisbeth nearly smacked her forehead.
“Even if you were annoyed, wasn’t that a bit much…”
“You think I’d have done it otherwise?”
Elicia’s lips left a faint print on her wine glass as she took a sip.
With a sigh, Lisbeth rubbed her forehead, only to nod reluctantly in agreement.
“I can understand, but… no wonder the rumors sound like that.”
“Isn’t it funny, though? How they twist it however they like?”
“They just don’t want to close the door entirely—and admitting their sons can’t measure up would sting their pride.”
Truth be told, Lisbeth doubted any of the nobles here could meet Elicia’s standards. Not when she was the Duchess of Farthing.
“Still… wasn’t that a little too blunt?”
“What? That was me trying to be polite! Anyway, you’re the last person I expect to lecture me about bluntness.”
Being called blunt by the bluntest person she knew? That was rich.
At Elicia’s indignant retort, Lisbeth scratched her cheek awkwardly.
“I fought tooth and nail for this title. I won’t let anyone take it from me.”
A steely glint flashed in Elicia’s masked eyes.
How far she’d come from the woman who once said she didn’t want it at all.
But then, she had sacrificed too much to get here.
Elicia reminded herself constantly: her power was her freedom—her strength.
“Of course, Duchess.”
Lisbeth offered no argument. She often marveled at Elicia’s occasional self-loathing.
If only she could see what Lisbeth saw: compared to the truly vile nobles crawling all over the Empire, Elicia was almost saintly.
The very fact that she recognized her own misdeeds set her apart—proof of a conscience most lacked.
Her father, for instance.
A man who imprisoned a foreign prince to satisfy his greed—a man who abused his own two daughters.
A man so immoral, so disgraceful, that his sins could never be spoken of aloud.
