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✦ Part 1 of ?? I. Adolescence 1749, Imperial Time A young girl, clad in lavish frocks and shining jewels, hopped and skipped down a street in Oren to greet her parents at the door. Food lined the table, servants bustled about. “We bought the whole street!” her father cackled, gently ruffling her hair. She really hadn’t paid attention to the folk she’d seen moving out of the manors beside them . . . poor folk. “Ai. There’s just one other family - they own the other half. They have a son, your age, you know . . . Lloyd.” Viktoriya blinked and warily shuffled upstairs, crossing her arms. She closed her eyes, and suddenly, when she opened them again, she was overseeing a livery meeting, with some odd Pertinaxi Prince monologuing to her too close. Lloyd was only a memory, now, except for when he showed up outside of her home with a crossbow in-hand. A jealous one, he was! She was sixteen, now. “Lady Viktoriya! You … and I. We’d make a powerful couple, don’t you think?” the man quipped, grinning down at her. He already had little gray hairs peeking from behind his ears, and the woman grimaced and shuffled away. Yet every time, he’d follow, speaking about this and that - until another man stooped down and waved her off into one of the Livery offices, the Lord Mayor. “I saw that man was bothering you! We can have him removed, if you’d like. We try to hold these meetings in . . . relative peace,” the man chortled. The girl bobbed her head, already reaching for her pouch of mina. “Oh. Uh, no . . . bribe needed. I don’t like him, anywho! Ha, ha. Name’s Philip Pruvia de Cantal.” An aggressive knock sounded at the door, that Prince's voice resounding from outside. “Lady! Lady! I need to speak with you.” She cast a nervous glance at Philip, and he cast one back, before opening the door. “What business have you with my wife?” It didn’t take much more than that to have the man sent off. Viktoriya snickered, poising a brow as she sipped from a teacup in the palace. A marble bust of Peter III stared down at them, ever stoic and mighty. “That was a bold move. He believed it!” “Ai. But, you know, if you’re looking . . .” He was silenced by her frown, but continued a moment later. “If you’d like, think of it as a political marriage. Elevation in society, protection. Any problem you have, it’s gone!” The girl uncomfortably shifted, her gaze pinned on the lukewarm tea in her cup. After a long while, she nodded. ”If … you can prove that, sure. There’s this guy - I . . .” “I don’t really know him,” she lied. “His name’s Lloyd. Just get him to stop bothering me, please - and I’ll believe you.” “Consider it done,” Philip hummed. Certainly, this single decision would impact her forever, for when she woke and exited her manor, the body of her once-lover, Lloyd, was splayed not far outside covered in dirt, grime, and blood. Even then, he still moved. It was a slow, and gruesome death, and not one passerby dared stop it. A familiar figure hunched over him, surrounded by other masked hooligans, who quickly dragged it off and dumped it in the horrifyingly disgusting canal. A few days later, she was getting married. It was a grand affair, and they were sent off with gifts galore and a new estate to themselves. She tried not to think about what she’d seen - that man had wanted her dead, anywho. It was just one life.
