Chapter 1
I was born the daughter of a viscount's second wife—a man of modest means and a small, unimpressive domain.
From an early age, I chose to live apart from the main Lambton household, far from the petty drama and strained ties of a family that barely acknowledged my existence.
I have only one wish: to live a quiet, peaceful life, surrounded by my butterfly familiars.
No one knows I inherited the rare butterfly spirit—an ancestral power passed down through the Lambton line.
For generations, this ability had vanished, and with it, the family's former glory faded into near-forgotten history.
Once a name of renown, the Lambtons have dwindled into irrelevance, barely clinging to the scraps of wealth left behind by our ancestors.
'Haah... If anyone in the family found out, they'd surely force me to help restore the family's glory and fortune. What a hassle that would be.'
Family... what a word.
Technically, they are my family, but only on paper.
I was never mistreated physically, but I was invisible—ignored, set aside.
My two older half-brothers, sons of my father's first wife, used to be kind and warm to me.
That was before I turned eight.
That year, my mother died, and their warmth vanished as if it had never been there.
'I suppose I should be grateful they merely stopped being kind...'
At least my basic needs were still provided for, and the servants continued to treat me with courtesy.
When I told my father—Viscount Lambton—that I wanted to live in my late mother's villa on the eastern coast of the kingdom, he agreed without much concern.
I've lived here since I was ten.
Now, nearly six years have passed, and I'm approaching my sixteenth birthday.
"Fay, my coming-of-age debut will be held in the capital soon," I murmured. "Once we're there, you'll probably have to stay hidden—and I doubt it'll be much fun for either of us."
With a soft sigh, I stretched out my hand. Fay, a crimson butterfly with shimmering wings—one of my loyal spirit familiars—fluttered gently onto my palm.
"Ah... that kitten... It's been five years. I wonder how it's doing now."
On my journey to my mother's villa five years ago, I found a kitten lying unconscious on the road.
Our carriage came to a sudden stop, and when the coachman said there was a kitten lying on the ground, I picked it up.
It was a small, skinny black cat. I took it with me to the villa.
A few days later, after being cared for, the little kitten finally opened its eyes.
Its eyes were golden, like honey—so beautiful and mesmerizing.
At first, it was very wary of everything around it. It hissed at every human it encountered, refusing to let anyone come close.
But as time went on, it started to adjust. Eventually, it even began enjoying playing with me and my butterflies.
After staying with us for five months... it disappeared.
'I just hope it at least found its way back to its family and is living a happy life.'
I trudged back inside from the balcony, closing the door behind me.
The day ended as quietly as any other. No one suspected how soon everything would change.
* * *
Slash.
In the heat of a brutal war, a man slit his opponent's throat and charged toward the next one without hesitation, cutting them down one by one.
His eyes gleamed like gold bars catching the sunlight, and though his movements were quick, he dispatched the oncoming enemies with deadly precision.
'So this is how it ends.'
"Your Grace."
"Report."
"Other than the four of us and Your Grace, it's confirmed—there were no other survivors. The enemy has been completely wiped out."
"I see."
Amidst thousands of corpses, only five remained standing on that battlefield.
"Follow me."
The man with dark, purplish-black hair turned around.
His face was soaked in blood, yet not a single drop was his own.
His golden eyes glared fiercely, wild and sharp like those of a beast, as he looked at his four subordinates. Instinctively, they flinched and lowered their gazes.
The man strode past them, heading straight for the Hotham Palace, where Emperor Felipe resided.
Hundreds of soldiers from both sides lay dead across the floor of the palace gates.
He stared down Emperor Felipe with those same feral golden eyes, like a black leopard who had already locked onto his prey.
"P-please spare me—"
Before the emperor could finish his plea, his head rolled across the palace floor.
The man picked it up and held it high, as if declaring their victory.
His subordinates wept—not just from joy, but also from sorrow and grief for the comrades they had lost.
But the man's eyes... never wavered for even a second in the face of the scene before him.
The man had wandered the battlefield for five long years, leading soldiers since he was merely a fourteen-year-old boy. William Lascelles—soon to be William Alastair—was notorious for his infamous title: the 'Warbeast,' earned for his beastlike presence in war. Some said he was cursed, that it made him unstoppable. Others claimed he had stopped being human long ago.
'I have to see her again, and soon.'
Determined, his eyes shone even brighter as the thought crossed his mind.
* * *
A day after William's party sent a letter to the kingdom by carrier pigeon, the cleanup and restoration began—repairing the damaged sites and burying the fallen knights.
William, now occupying the late Emperor Hotham's study, had been reviewing every document since their victory the day before. There was no time to rest. The aftermath of war left a mountain of urgent tasks.
The people, terrified and uncertain of their fate under the new regime, needed reassurance. Their situation had to be thoroughly assessed before any future plans could be laid out.
To ease the fears of the former citizens of the Hotham Empire—especially the palace staff—representatives of Lascelles officially announced the abolition of the slave system. They not only promised not to continue it but swore to eliminate slavery entirely.
Various forms of aid were also provided to civilians harmed by the war.
Within two weeks, the residents of the former empire accepted the new rule. They pledged their loyalty and became citizens of the newly proclaimed Lascelles Empire.
Before, it felt as though the whole world expected Lascelles to fall. With the might of the Hotham Empire against them, victory wasn't just unlikely—it was unimaginable.
From the size and scale of each nation alone, everyone was certain the kingdom would fall to the empire. But the outcome was beyond anyone's expectations—beyond reason.
On this continent, there are four empires and four kingdoms.
The four great empires are:
To the north, the Hotham Empire, ruled by Emperor Felipe Hotham.
To the south, the Zouche Empire, under Emperor Douglas Zouche.
To the west, the Fiennes Empire, ruled by Emperor Igor Fiennes.
And to the east, the Poitiers Empire, under Emperor Jasper Poitiers.
Among the four kingdoms caught between these empires is the Kingdom of Lascelles, located in the northwest and governed by King Leopold Lascelles.
The other kingdoms—Mowbray in the northeast, Bagot in the southwest, and Kinnaird in the southeast—formed an alliance to avoid conflict and war with the surrounding empires.
The reason Lascelles never joined the alliance was a declaration made five hundred years ago by the Great Temple of the Hotham Empire. They proclaimed that Lascelles was cursed by the gods and must become part of the empire to be purified.
It sounded like a suspicious decree—but because it was issued by the Pope of the time, the other nations had no choice but to believe it. After all, every prophecy the temple had issued over the past few centuries had come true.
As the Hotham Empire continued to provoke public opinion, and Lascelles restrained itself again and again, tensions eventually snapped. What followed was a war that lasted more than five long years.
Everyone had expected Hotham to swallow Lascelles whole. But that expectation shattered the moment Emperor Felipe Hotham's severed head was raised by the enemy—William Alastair, a prince and direct descendant of King Leopold Lascelles.
And so, the northern empire fell into the hands of the northwestern kingdom, which rose to power and became the Lascelles Empire.
"Your Grace, we've received responses to the letters sent out last week to the nations across the continent. They've all confirmed their attendance at the coronation and victory celebration."
"Alright. When is my father arriving?"
"Emperor Leopold Lascelles is expected to arrive at the imperial palace in two days."
"I see. You may go."
William's aide, Drake Bellington, bowed his head and walked toward the door. Just before exiting, he glanced back at William.
'It's been two weeks since His Grace last had a proper night's sleep. Will he really be alright?'
With that final look, Drake stepped out and closed the door behind him. Inside, William remained—still poring over imperial documents, scribbling notes, drafting summaries, strategies, and plans.
After several minutes, William finally set the papers down.
'This should be enough.'
Leaning back in his chair, he gazed up at the ceiling of the study, lost in memories of days he longed to return to.
To be continued