Act II: To slay the dragon | Fear and delight

At the same time, in a very different place…

Ginevra stepped into her father's throne hall. On days when her father, Enzo Nuvoloso, held court, it always felt like she stepped through a boundary between worlds.

Standing on the other side of those massive wooden doors decorated with beautiful engravings of plants and animals, she could hear the echoes of courtiers' conversations, harsh commands of her father, soft music that an enchanted lute played to soothe Enzo's moods. From outside, Ginevra could almost pretend she was in some other life, a life where a day was merely a stretch of time to pass, not another fight to win.

But when she stepped inside, the harsh reality reminded her of itself. The "peaceful life" was a myth, a lie that weaklings convinced herself about to sleep better.

It was like the entire opulent hall became submerged in water. All conversations stopped; all eyes were on Ginevra.

She knew she was beautiful—or at least, no one dared to say otherwise. Visiting bards put songs about her "stormy eyes", "rosy lips" and "waves of hair the color of dark wood". Well, Ginevra's father paid him to do that… Just another ode to the greatness of the Nuvoloso family.

Now, no one watched Ginevra with awe. The eyes of these people, more than anything, held within fear.

Fear was good. Fear was something Ginevra could depend on.

Only eighteen years old, she already was a rank three mage, her steel Mage's Mark with three amethysts proudly hanging from her right earring. This, though, was not why no one dared to meet her eye.

Ginevra marched over the luxurious red carpet towards her father's throne. Though only a count, Enzo liked to envision himself a king in his lands. A king over everyone, including his only child.

That meant that no matter how much Ginevra could ignore everyone else in this room, she must bow before Enzo.

When she reached the first steps before Enzo's throne, she lowered to one knee. Her clothing was that of a man, and not a set of mage's robes, but a comfortable riding suit.

"Lord Father," Ginevra spoke. "I have a report to make."

Enzo lanced around at the courtiers, then looked down at Ginevra. His lips pressed together in distaste.

"Was it so important to disrupt my proceedings, daughter?"

"If some wait would kill your sycophants, Father, you would be best off feeding their bodies to pigs," Ginevra spoke, not hiding her disdain for these people. They all had one quality in common—lack of spine.

She knew all too well how hard it was to keep your back intact next to Enzo. Those people who didn't even try were too pathetic to earn even a modicum of her respect.

"Fine," Enzo scoffed. "Ginevra, follow me."

He stood up from his bejeweled, gilded throne and walked towards the side exit. Ginevra fell in step with him. Through the door they entered Enzo's private office, a much smaller and more modest place. At least, it had fewer tapestries of great mages defeating endless hordes of enemies.

Enzo sat down at his writing desk and propped his head on his chin. His dark eyes peered at Ginevra.

"What did you want to say? Be quick."

"Adriano missed his daily report for three hours. I assume he's dead or captured by now. And he's the only one of our spies that got to Sanremo di Mare and even approached Oliveira's tower."

Enzo frowned and leaned back in his chair. "Is that so? A waste. And you didn't mention him reporting anything of consequence yesterday, didn't you?"

"Yes, Lord Father. But there was one thing he said yesterday that I thought wasn't worth your attention. There's a rumor that Gianni Oliveira's eldest son miraculously recovered from his manaless condition and became a powerful mage overnight. Citizens were unsure if this was a divine blessing, or he sold his soul to devils. Adriano didn't have time to find out anything more definite."

"So, Cael Oliveira? Tsk." Enzo scowled. "Even if he healed somehow, maybe even learned some spells—unlike most, he has access to his family library… It takes years to become someone better than a first rank cannon fodder. You shouldn't worry about this one of Gianni's spawn. Now, his youngest shows promise. In a few more years, he could even catch up with you. Another reason to deal with their family now."

"Of course, Lord Father." Ginevra nodded. "Our other spies report as usual. Oliveira moves more of his troops to our border. Are you sure we should wait until he prepares for our advance?"

Enzo clenched his fist, and Ginevra flinched inwardly. Even if on the outside not a muscle on her face moved, it was still enough to cause a burst of self-loathing in her chest.

She was also weak.

"Don't question my actions, Ginevra. You know the plan. Now bring it to life! And send someone to Sanremo di Mare. Keep them outside the city, but I must know when Gianni moves out himself."

"As you command, Lord Father."

With a bow, Ginevra turned on her heels and left. As she walked past the fearful courtiers, she wished she could throw them all out in the dirt they belonged. She wished she could ride to the battlefield and unleash her icy rage at the enemy, so she wouldn't have to burn in it herself.

Another reason to do her work well. The sooner the spies will gather enough information, the sooner she would be able to move out.

Ginevra couldn't wait.