Chapter 1

As the carriage emerged from the winding, labyrinthine alleys like the fresh leaves in spring, it's destination came in view as soon as it arrived, getting portrayed right before it.

Bastian stepped out, drenched in grace, and surveyed the unfamiliar and strange street with a critical eye, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling thoroughfare. On either side of the narrow road, where a single wagon would struggle to pass, shops were crowded like bees around honey, together in a riot of color and noise. Mostly taverns, gambling dens, and theaters with posters that would make a sailor blush. It was a landscape that existed solely for the seekers of pleasure.

"What's taking you so long, Bastian? Let's go!" Lucas von Ewald's flushed with excitement as he clapped his friend on the shoulder. He was privileged to be the only son of Count Ewald, the powerful president of the Senate.

Bastian couldn't help but smile at the infectious enthusiasm of his companion, who had been his closest ally during their time at the military academy. With a slight upward curl of his lips, his cool, collected facade melted away, replaced by a sense of adventure and a thirst for the unknown mystery the strange streets were hiding in their hearth. Together, they stepped forward into the unknown, ready to lose themselves in the hedonistic delights that lay before them.

Bastian followed the group like a kitten following its mother hen, led by Lucas like an alpha, as they made their way to the gambling house at the end of the road. The building had a respectable and modest appearance, but it was nothing compared to the opulent social club he had frequented in the past.

"Don't be fooled by its appearance, my friend," said one of the officers with a thick voice, Erich, the eldest son of the Faber family, who had made a name in the steel industry. "This place has its own unique charm. You'll see for yourself soon enough." He gave Bastian a sheepish grin and a promising gesture.

Bastian nodded with a smile, understanding the unspoken and hidden message. He had no desire to sully his reputation by frequenting a seedy establishment in the back alleys, but he also knew it would be unwise to offend these powerful men by pretending to be above such pursuits. It was better to play along and choose his battles wisely.

As they entered the gambling house, a middle-aged man, presumably the owner, greeted them with over-the-top enthusiasm. "You're finally here! I've been worried, as it's been far too long since I've seen any of you," he said, his words dripping with bitter insincerity. It was clear that this hospitality was motivated solely by the knowledge of how much money would be spent here tonight on immodest pursuits.

The man's gaze swept over the group of officers, finally landing on Bastian's face. "And who might this be?" he asked, his tone curious.

"This is Captain Klauswitz ," Lucas said, pride exploding in his voice like a lava. "I'm sure you've seen his name in the newspapers. He's the hero who protected the empire's seas." The man's eyes widened in surprise before he let out a joyful exclamation.

"I never thought I'd have the honor of meeting such a distinguished hero here! It's an honor, Captain." He presented Bastian with a gift of quality whiskey and a box of cigars, to which the officers responded with great enthusiasm.

However, Bastian's face remained stoic, indifferent yet his smile smooth but unenthusiastic. He went through the motions of drinking, smoking, and chatting, without an emotional investment to any of the glitters surrounded. This was a far cry from the sophisticated conversations and debates he was used to having in the exclusive social club. Instead, the topics of the night quickly devolved into dirty scandals and shady dealings, all punctuated by raucous laughter.

Bastian was content to simply listen and observe, interjecting only occasionally with appropriate responses and light laughter. As the night wore on, the owner of the establishment approached them with swift steps and a deep bow. "Gentlemen, the second floor is now ready for you. Please, follow me."

The officers, who had been deep in conversation, rose from their seats with eagerness. Despite the copious amounts of alcohol they had consumed, they moved with the energy and vitality of young soldiers, welcoming their next adventure already.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

"One more time pease! Please Just give me one more chance!"

As they made their way down the hallway on the second floor, heading towards the VIP card room, they were met with a desperate scream. An elderly man was being dragged out of the normal card room by guards, frantically pleading for one more chance. The officers stopped in their tracks, their eyes drawn to the commotion. The man, now on his knees, was a typical gambler who couldn't bear to leave the tables, even after losing all his stake.

Bastian, who had been paying little attention to the trivial fuss, checked his watch. The clock said that the midnight almost approached. After a dinner at the Admiralty, drinking at a social club, and now this. He tidied his uniform and shook off the fatigue by opening his eyes.

At that moment, the man began to riot again. "Let me in! I still have stakes left!" he cried.

"Ah, yes. How are you doing, Mr. Beggar Duke? Then show me the stakes," the guards mocked, their faces withering.

"That's…that, yes! My daughter! I will bet my daughter!" the man exclaimed triumphantly, shaking off the guards' hands. "You all know what a great beauty my daughter is, right? Compared to that, the stakes are nothing."

Even as the guards clicked their tongues in disbelief, the man continued to roam the card room, speaking passionately. Bastian watched the scene with a mix of laughter and sighs and Erich, the eldest son of the Faber family stepped out.

"Hey! Really, are you ready to accept responsibility for what you just said?" Erich approached the desperate gambler who was trying to sell his daughter, his eyes sparkling as he did so. "Are you genuinely willing to give up your daughter for a bowl of chips on the table?" He pointed to the table in the card room where the chips were ready to be used.

The man let out a loud shout while cautiously swallowing. "Of course, I agree! The gem of this city, no, the most stunning woman in the entire empire, is my daughter!"

"I anticipate this version being more enjoyable. What about you?" With a fairly intrigued expression, Erich Faber requested permission. The officers looked at one other and then discreetly moved towards the man in the poker room.

Bastian sat in the dimly lit room, his eyes as serene as the depths of a starless night. He gazed upon the shoddy skit being performed on stage, finally understanding the allure that drew the privileged children of society to these low-rent gambling dens.

"Hurry up, Bastian!" The rowdy group gathered around the card table beckoned him with fervor, the father who had sold his own daughter now watching him with a gleam in his eyes.

Bastian approached with a small, knowing smile on his lips. The game was set to begin as soon as the final seat was filled. He examined the cards dealt to him, taking a puff of his cigar as he weighed his options. Though the outcome was not in his favor, it was a small loss he was willing to accept.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

The clock tower bell's loud sound shattered the nocturnal silence of the starless gray night. Odette put an end to her laborious weaving and turned her attention to the area in front of her. Tira, who had been so anxious to help, was now dozing off on the table.

Odette finished the task at hand and sighed softly. She rubbed her worn-out hands, hurt from hours of embroidery, as she delicately folded the partially finished veil and gathered the cotton thread. The lovely light of a white, full moon peeked the early spring sky through the torn curtains.

"Tira," Odette whispered, gently tapping her shoulder. Tira jolted awake as if she received an electric shock, her eyes wide with surprise. "Has father not come home yet?" Tira, still drowsy and disoriented, began to weep. "What if something's happened to him?"

"Don't worry," Odette soothed, "It'll all be fine." She guided Tira, who was struggling to shake off her worries, towards their shared bedroom.

The room, facing north, offered a stunning view of the Prater River and the drawbridge that spanned it. Though the sight was breathtaking, on windy nights like this, the creaking of the ancient window frames made it difficult to sleep.

"It sounds like the roar of a ghost," Tira grumbled as she splashed water to cleanse her face, her reddened cheeks aglow like a crescent moon in the soft lamp light. Odette tenderly caressed her sister's cold cheek, her own hand still warm from a feverish burn.

Back in good old days, they resided in a home with the luxury of hot water, but because of their father's financial difficulties, they were compelled to look for a less expensive rental. But even this run-down, old building beyond the city was a blessing, made only possible by the benevolence of the pension paid to the Imperial family. Odette couldn't help but find the pleasant creaking of the old window frames, a reminder of how much worse their situation could have been, despite the horrible wails that resounded through the corridors.

Tira's sobs bid farewell without announcing as Odette leaned in, planting a firm kiss on her forehead. "Stop crying, sweet pea, try to sleep now." she commanded.

Tira grumbled in protest, "I am not your baby," yet even then, she lay down on the bed like an obedient child. Silence conquered the room, battling with the soft sound of Tira's snoring.

Odette moved stealthily, dimming the lamp before sneaking out of the room. She completed her priority task; placing the food she had prepared for her father on the table and securing the door. With a list of necessities in hand, Odette set out to make the most of the money earned from yesterday's race.

Exhausted, she longed to collapse into bed, but her determination pushed her on. She washed her clothes, slipped into her worn pajamas and tended to her hair with care before finally succumbing to the sweet release of sleep.

Her mother would always chant to her riligiously "Under no circumstances should you lose the minimum dignity." It was a habit, even after their family fell into poverty and could no longer be called aristocrats.

Her mother held onto the worn-out rope of hope that one day they would return to their former status, but she ultimately passed away without ever nearing her dream and untiring hope. Despite this, Odette couldn't bring herself to let go of the past, it was the last legacy her mother left behind.

As she locked the window and drew the curtains, Odette lay down next to her younger sister Tira, who was sleeping soundly. As she held her sister close, Odette found comfort in the moment. It felt peaceful, it felt warm, and it felt like good old days. She knew her life would be difficult, but for now, it felt fulfilling. The moment was beautiful enough to live for.

It was a night that offered her a glimmer of the hope seen in fairy tales that these tranquil days would last forever.

It was an unpleasant luck, not willing to escape their lives.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

Bastian gazed down at the cards in front of him, his expression got blended in confusion and disbelief of whatever was happening before his eyes. Four identical cards stared back at him, a clear indication of his victory.

"Five! I think Captain Klauswitz just won the most beautiful woman in the empire!" exclaimed one of the players.

"What? Isn't it a foul to bring the goddess of victory to the deck of cards?" questioned another. The room erupted in cheers as the players celebrated, completely forgetting about their defeat in the face of the excitement of the moment. Bastian took a drag from his cigar, rubbing his aching forehead. Though victorious, he couldn't shake off the feeling of embarrassment at winning in such a casual game.

"Is the beggar duke looking at his son-in-law?" sneered one of the onlookers as the tension in the room reached a fever pitch.

"Now. Now you have to pay the stakes!" the crowd chanted, their voices growing louder and more insistent.

Bastian's gaze was cold and mocking as he looked across the table at the man who sat there, half dazed, his eyes wide open with fear. Cold sweat dripped down his flushed face and dripped onto the back of his thin hand. "No way…uh, that can't be…" he stammered, fidgeting nervously with his now meaningless hand.

Bastian stood up from his seat, ready to leave this place and wash his hands of any involvement with the daughter of such a pathetic noble, but the party had other plans. "Where? You have to get the stakes right!" they shouted, holding him tightly.

"That's right, Bastian. This is your legitimate right," the officers called out as they summoned watchful guards.

"I want him to bring the stake he promised," Erich declared, his voice ringing out above the chaos. It was a high-stakes game, and he was determined to come out on top.

At Erich's suggestive remarks, the guard's eyes began to shake. When the man finally realized what was happening, he began to sob and plead for mercy, but the audience's excitement ascended to no ends.

"Pay the debt, beggar duke, as soon as you can."

The owner quickly arrived after learning the news and issued a strict directive. The security guy sighed deeply before eventually leaving the casino to collect the woman.

Bastian returned to his chair and inhaled deeply of cigar smoke. He felt rather filthy about the victory, but he didn't bother to give it a voice. He chose to remain silent. Bet cash for waste anyhow. First and foremost, he was decided to handle the biggest profit by returning discreetly after blending into this environment.

Bastian sighed in irritation, his sigh thicker than the fog of his cigar. He could make out the father who had sold his daughter to him through the dissipating pale smoke.

The man known as the Duke of the Beggars sobbed in pain, loud enough to slice the sky.