The Heiress to the most powerful family in the Empire, Dalia, has chosen to pick a knight. A young man from a run-down village causes an uproar within the Nobles of the Castella Empire.
"I, Dalia De La Cruz, bestow you the title of knight as well a...
Over a hundred years ago, a small village lay under the rule of the Ostaria Empire. Once prosperous, the village had been reduced to a shadow of its former self due to the crippling taxes imposed by the Empire. In its prime, it had been home to several noble families, but now poverty clung to its streets. Among the residents was a young nobleman named Aron, whose family had suffered greatly under the heavy taxation. Despite the decline in his fortune, Aron possessed a sharp mind. His best friend, Elijah, a peasant from the same village, was a skilled swordsman, admired for his strength and discipline.
Aron, unlike Elijah, was not a fighter, but he harbored a bold ambition. He had devised a plan to overthrow the Ostaria Empire and take the throne for himself. Recognizing Elijah's skills, Aron sought his friend's help, promising him a noble title and a legacy that would last for generations. Elijah, drawn by the prospect of a better future, agreed. Together, they began recruiting an army from the disillusioned peasants and nobles alike, all of whom were desperate for change.
Months passed as Elijah rigorously trained the inexperienced recruits, molding them into a formidable force. At last, they were ready to face the Empire's knights. What followed was a brutal, prolonged conflict, with both sides suffering heavy losses. For months, the battle raged on until the Emperor, worn down by the relentless assault, surrendered. At Aron's command, Elijah swiftly executed the deposed Emperor, and the people, united in their disdain for the old regime, crowned Aron as the new ruler.
The Ostaria Empire fell, and in its place rose the Castella Empire. True to his word, Aron bestowed upon Elijah the title of Duke De La Cruz, granting him a vast dukedom to rule. Elijah was also appointed as the commander of the Empire's knights and guards, a position that became hereditary, and passed down through generations of his descendants.
Years later, the legacy of Duke De La Cruz still held power, but new tensions were brewing.
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"My Lady, I have finished with your hair."
Dalia gazed into the mirror one last time before rising from her chair. "Thank you, Rose," she said, offering a gentle smile. Yet, the sadness in her maid's eyes did not go unnoticed.
"My Lady, please don't go to the palace anymore!" Rose's voice trembled with concern.
Dalia hesitated. Rose was right—returning to the palace would only reopen old wounds. But despite that truth, she sighed and replied, "I won't be long." With heavy steps, she turned away, unwilling to prolong Rose's sorrow. Rose had been with her since childhood, ever since Dalia's father had hired her to help care for Dalia's mother when Alicia had first come to live with them.
As Dalia walked down the hallway, memories of her youth flooded back. Crown Prince Emilio had once been her dearest friend—her savior, even. Their bond had been unbreakable, forged in the fires of shared experiences. He had saved her from death once, and in those moments, her feelings for him had blossomed. But as the years passed, those feelings had withered, replaced by a deepening resentment toward Alicia, whose relationship with Emilio had grown closer.
The carriage rattled over the cobbled streets toward the imposing palace walls, and Dalia's heart was a whirlwind of emotions. The fond memories of her time with Emilio tugged at her, but they were now overshadowed by the pain of his rejection.
As the palace gates loomed ahead, Dalia took a deep breath, bracing herself for what lay ahead. Rose's warnings echoed in her mind, urging her to turn back, to avoid further heartache. But a stubborn flicker of hope still burned inside her.
Entering the palace's grand halls, Dalia felt an overwhelming sense of unease. The opulence around her reminded her of the times she and Emilio had run through these very corridors as children. Approaching the training arena where she knew Emilio would be, her pulse quickened. But as she neared, the sight that met her eyes shattered her fragile hope.
There, sitting with casual ease, Alicia and Emilio laughed together, their faces bright with shared joy. Dalia's vision blurred as tears welled in her eyes. Without a word, she turned on her heel and walked back to the carriage, the sound of their laughter haunting her with each step.
Bitterness coiled within her like a serpent. Every glance Emilio shared with Alicia, every whispered conversation, only deepened the wound in her heart. Yet, even as resentment consumed her, Dalia couldn't deny the bond that had once existed between her and Alicia. They had grown up together, shared the same home, the same family. Despite everything, a part of Dalia still longed for the closeness they once had. But that closeness felt unreachable now, buried beneath layers of envy and heartache.
The ride back to the manor seemed to stretch on forever. As Dalia stared out at the bustling streets, her mind wandered back to the day her feelings for Emilio had first bloomed.
She had accompanied her father to the palace, where he had a meeting with the Emperor. But that day, an assassin sent from the Calo Empire had infiltrated the palace, aiming to kill the Emperor.
Emilio and Dalia had been locked in a room with only a single knight to guard them while the Empress tended to the other ladies of the court. The air had been thick with tension.
"Dalia! Come here!" Emilio had called out, his eyes trained on the knight who was desperately trying to keep the door shut. Fear had paralyzed her, her vision blurred and her hearing muted by terror.
"Dalia! Dalia!" Emilio's voice broke through the fog of her panic. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the side of the room. His steady presence calmed her, his blue eyes—bright as a clear sky—bringing her peace.
But the peace had shattered when they saw the knight's lifeless body lying in a pool of blood. The assassin stood over him, a blade raised, ready to strike. Without hesitation, Emilio had grabbed the fallen knight's sword and killed the assassin, saving them both.
When the carriage finally halted, the coachman opened the door for her. "My Lady," a voice called out as a maid hurried toward her. "The Duke wishes to speak with you. He's waiting in his office."
Dalia nodded and, without a word, made her way to her father's study, the weight of her memories pressing down on her heart.
