Frontline Empress

The attic around me that was filled with treasures was dimly lit, the flicker of candlelight bouncing off the silver table that seemed too grand for the dust-coated room. Across from me sat a woman, her short black hair framing her face. Her violet eyes sparkled mischievously as she licked her fingers, as she had just finished eating. The dangling green earrings she wore swayed with her movement, catching the light. She smiled at me with a strange kind of cheerfulness that made me uneasy.

"Go on," she said, gesturing to the bowl in front of me. "Eat. I didn't poison your food."

Her words did little to calm my nerves. My hand trembled as I lifted the wooden spoon to my lips. The warm aroma of the soup wafted upward, making my stomach twist painfully in hunger. I hesitated, staring at the liquid as though it might turn against me. 

Then, finally, I took a sip.

The flavor burst in my mouth, rich and comforting. I hadn't eaten in days, yet only because I had decided to punish myself. My body continued to betray me, urging me forward. I scooped spoonful after spoonful into my mouth, faster than I could think. It was incredible.

But with each bite, something else surfaced. By the time I was halfway through the bowl, I couldn't eat anymore. My chest tightened, and tears slipped down my cheeks. I tried to fight them, but they came harder until I was full-on sobbing. My hands flew up to my face, trying to muffle the sounds, but there was no stopping it.

The woman across from me opened her mouth, then paused, her expression softening. She didn't say a word, just watched as I unraveled. Her silence felt like permission, and I let the grief pour out, unfiltered. I cried until my voice cracked until there was nothing left in me but the sound of my own shaky breathing.

Finally, she spoke. "I have lost many people in my life," she said quietly, "but the one that broke me the most was the one I failed to protect."

I looked up, my breath steadying as I wiped my face. "Are you... are you a mind reader?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

She tilted her head slightly, giving me a half-smile. "You could say so," she said. "However, I feel exactly where you are coming from, so just let it all out. I won't judge."

Her words hit something deep in me. My lips quivered as I tried to form a response, but all I could do was stammer. "She... she was always the one protecting me," I said finally, my voice breaking again. "Even till her final breath. I should have been the one to die in her place, but I was so weak that... h-he didn't even bother to finish me off. How pitiful is that?"

The woman sighed softly, resting her elbows on the silver table as she leaned forward. Her violet eyes locked onto mine, steady and unyielding.

"I know it's harsh to say," she began, her voice gentler now, "but the dead are dead. They're gone, and no amount of grief or regret will ever bring them back. Do you really think they would want to see you like this? Stuck, punishing yourself, refusing to live? No. They would want you to be happy. To smile, to laugh, to enjoy this life they no longer can. They'd want you to carry their memory with pride, not let it weigh you down."

Her words cut through me like a blade, sharp and precise, but there was no cruelty in her tone. She paused for a moment, letting the weight of her statement settle in the air between us. 

Then, she continued.

"Life is a gift… that is why we call it the present… a present. You can't rewrite the past, no matter how much you wish you could. But you can choose how you live right now. You don't have to forget them—no one's asking you to. Hold on to the memories, cherish them. But don't let them chain you down. Moving forward is the only way to honor them and yourself. Even if it's hard, even if every step feels like a battle, you have to keep going."

Her gaze softened as she leaned back in her chair, her hands folded loosely in her lap. "Grief doesn't go away," she said, quieter now. "But it changes. You learn to carry it, and you grow stronger because of it. And one day, you'll find yourself smiling again. Not because you've forgotten, but because you've chosen to live."

My lips trembled. For what I thought had been my last tears, were quickly overrun by more. I sobbed, but this time not out of anger or pity, but out of pure, utter, sadness. 

"Alex… Alex… Alex…" My voice quivered.

After what felt like a while, I finished crying and wiped my tear-stained cheeks before speaking once more. "When you picked me up from the streets, you must have wanted something… what is it?" 

"From what I can tell, you're pretty strong. I'm thinking of starting a new guild. Wanna join?"

"That's… That's it?" 

"Yes." 

"Are there any sketchy parts of the contract?" 

"Well, you'll have to look over the contract for that." 

I took in a deep breath before muttering, "Then let me see the contract." 

The woman across from me chuckled at my serious demeanor. I wasn't kidding. I didn't want to be shackled by some oppressive contract. I wasn't going to let myself be manipulated by this woman's kind words into signing something I would end up regretting.

"First, how about we introduce ourselves," She smiled. "I'm Tridra." 

"Ophelia…" 

"Nice to meet you, Ophelia. I know we are going to have tons of fun together." 

…

(Present Day)

"Well," Ophelia said softly. "Anything to say for yourself?"

Tridra remained silent, her violet eyes narrowing as she stared unflinchingly at Ophelia. The tension in the room thickened as the council's eyes shifted toward Archmage Medarda, their collective focus holding an air of malice. Before anyone could voice their suspicions, Ophelia's voice cut through the charged atmosphere.

"Yes," she began, her gaze sweeping across the council members. "What you all are thinking is correct. Kachi was working with me from the beginning." Her tone grew sharper, commanding attention. "But let me remind you all… you all agreed to support me. I trust people of your stature will not go back on your words."

This was true. If word got out that they went back on an agreement, they could all be in deep trouble, not just in the eyes of the public, but the entire force of nobles supporting the thrones they currently sit on. 

"Just as General Medarda suspected, I was not lying or bluffing when I said I could sell out this Empire. This woman right here…" she gestured toward Tridra, still bound by the magical chains, "... is from the renowned guild: Black Trumpet."

A ripple of unease passed through the room. Black Trumpet—the infamous guild of double agents known for their mastery of espionage and thievery. Their allegiance was dictated not by loyalty but by profit, a reputation that unnerved even the most seasoned politicians and generals. 

The council members exchanged glances, their concerns apparent.

"If you all had chosen to disagree with me," Ophelia continued, "I would have let her run free. After all, none of you sensed her presence until now, correct?" Her words hit home, and the council members caught off guard, glanced at one another. Beads of sweat formed on their brows, though they tried to mask their discomfort.

The attention shifted once more, this time with harsher scrutiny, to Archmage Medarda. Kachin von Medarda, renowned for her loyalty to the Empire, now found herself under the weight of her peers' suspicion. A bead of sweat slid down her temple, but her posture remained calm.

Sensing the rising distrust, Kachi finally spoke. "I had no intention of betraying the Empire," she declared, her voice cutting through the tension. "Ophelia assured me this exact scenario would play out. However, even though we didn't discuss it, had it not played out like this, I was prepared to execute her for treason and kill the rat immediately."

"But, there was no chance that was going to happen," Ophelia lowered her smile. "Now, I believe this meeting is over," she muttered, walking over to Tridra and staring down at her. 

Tridra met her with a harsh glare. Ophelia continued to look at her as if judging her, blinking quite rapidly as if she had something in her eye, before turning around and pushing her way through the double doors, but not after leaving one last message. 

"You may do what you want with the rat." 

About an hour later, the clock had just struck midnight and the soft chime echoed faintly through the quiet halls of the palace. Ophelia stepped into Kachi von Medarda's office, the faint scent of aged wood and ink filling her senses.

The room was a cluttered mess of books, papers, and scrolls scattered across every surface. Several tomes floated lazily through the air, guided by unseen magic, their pages flipping occasionally as though searching for something. The mahogany desk in the center was no exception—papers piled high on one side, an inkwell precariously close to spilling on the other.

Ophelia sat down across from Kachi, who was slouched in her chair, her sharp, calculating eyes fixed on the older woman. The silence persisted between them for a moment, broken only by the faint rustling of floating pages and the quiet hum of magic that seemed to permeate the space.

Kachi folded her hands atop the desk, leaning forward slightly. "You handled that... better than expected," she said, her voice calm but edged with a trace of irritation.

Ophelia tilted her head, her silver eyes narrowing. "You doubted me?"

"I always doubt everyone," Kachi replied, her tone clipped. "It's how I've survived this long." Her gaze flicked briefly to one of the floating tomes before settling back on Ophelia. "But this alliance of ours… it's a dangerous gamble."

Ophelia leaned back in her chair, her hands resting lightly on the armrests. "Everything worth achieving is a gamble. What matters is ensuring the odds are in your favor." Her voice was steady, but her eyes carried a glint of quiet determination.

Kachi sighed, running a hand through her hair. "You've bound the council to you for now, but don't think for a second they'll stay loyal if they sense even the slightest weakness. Especially after tonight." She gestured vaguely at the mess on her desk. "And dragging me into this… bold move, I'll give you that."

Ophelia's faint smile deepened. "You agreed, didn't you?"

Kachi leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. Her smirk didn't quite reach her eyes. "Against my better judgment," she admitted. "Now, how about we talk about my side of the contract."

Ophelia inclined her head slightly. "Of course."

"You and I both know that between me and Archmage Agueric, I am the better mage. So, whatever is in these ruins… it will belong to me. Correct?"

"Absolutely," Ophelia said without hesitation. "I have no use for it."

Kachi tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. "So, you know what it is, then? Care to enlighten me?"

Before Ophelia could respond, the door creaked open. The sound drew both women's attention as General Solgrath Medarda stepped inside. Her long, fiery red hair framed blazing red eyes that burned with intensity even behind the black mask covering her lower face.

"What is it, sister?" Kachi asked, her voice sharp with irritation.

The general's piercing gaze swept over Kachi, lingering for a moment. Then, with a low sigh, she said, "Please don't refer to me by such a stupid title." Kachi's expression darkened, but Sheek continued, her tone harsh. "I'm here because I'm disappointed in you. Working with her?" She nodded toward Ophelia, her disdain cutting.

Ophelia, unfazed, locked eyes with Sheek. Neither woman backed down. The air in the room seemed to grow heavier with unspoken tension.

"If you're only here to insult me, then get the hell out of my office," Kachi snapped, her voice rising as her mana thickened the air. The magical pressure churned, oppressive and suffocating. Ophelia's chest tightened as she struggled to draw a full breath, the oppressive magic twisting in her lungs.

Sheek crossed her arms before responding. "I didn't come to insult you. I came to warn her," she said, her fiery gaze shifting back to Ophelia. "Your speech before the Emperor was… compelling. Entrancing, even. But let me make something clear." Her voice dropped to a dangerous pitch. "If you make even the smallest mistake, I will retrieve my soldiers without hesitation."

Ophelia's lips curved upward slightly, the barest hint of amusement flickering across her face. "Of course," she replied softly.

Kachi's mana subsided at Ophelia's calm response, and the oppressive weight in the air dissipated. Ophelia exhaled slowly, her composure never wavering, even as the tension lingered.

Sheek lingered a moment longer, her fiery gaze boring into Ophelia before turning on her heel and leaving without another word. The sound of the door closing echoed in the room, signaling the end of the confrontation.

Kachi exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair again, her expression darkened by lingering irritation. She reached under her desk, pulling out a sleek black briefcase. Placing it on the cluttered mahogany desk, she unlatched it with a click. The lid lifted to reveal a single pitch-black flower with an eerie dark green stem, its surface seeming to absorb light rather than reflect it.

Ophelia's lips curved faintly as her gaze rested on the flower. 

"This fulfills the last of my side of the deal. So I expect you to fulfill yours. Of course, if you don't…" Her words trailed off, her tone sharpening. "I'll kill you and everyone you love. Including that little knight of yours."

Ophelia's smile remained, but her expression darkened. She leaned back in her chair, her posture deceptively casual, as her gaze drifted upward. Slowly, the light in her eyes began to shift. Her pupils turned an inky black, and the whites of her eyes dimmed to an unsettling gray. The air around her grew heavier, and a palpable tension settled over the room.

Kachi's confidence faltered as a bead of sweat traced down her temple. For the first time, she looked unsettled, the sight of Ophelia's quiet but overwhelming anger breaking through her composed exterior. It had quite literally seeped into her physical form. 

Ophelia's breathing slowed as she brought her gaze back down, her eyes gradually returning to normal. "I understand," she said, her tone as calm as it was cutting. Standing, she reached out to take the briefcase. Turning toward the door, she paused, glancing back over her shoulder. "Have a good night, Archmage Medarda."