Chapter 11

Annabell looked out at the grand ballroom, a lavish space alive with the ethereal strains of music that filled the air, creating an enchanting atmosphere. Noble couples twirled gracefully in the center of the room, their elegant gowns and finely tailored suits swirling like petals caught in a gentle breeze. The opulence of the chandeliers overhead cast a soft, golden glow on the polished marble floor, reflecting the joy and excitement of the evening. Yet, despite the splendour surrounding her, Annabel felt a dull throbbing in her head, compelling her to rub her temple gently in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort.

The only guests left to present themselves to the emperor and Annabel were the remaining Arch-Dukes and Duchesses, their regal presence adding to the air of sophistication. A single young man emerged from the crowd, his head bowed low, obscuring his face. The air seemed to shift, a tension wrapping around the room as he spoke, "Greetings to the Glorious Sun and Glimmering Star. I, the Arch Duke of Montcroix, greet you."

The Emperor's voice broke the stillness, his curiosity piqued. "It's good to see you, Arch Duke Montcroix. How have things been faring since taking over after taking your father's title?" The young man lifted his head, revealing striking red eyes that burned like embers, a trait characteristic of those born into House Montcroix. He was tall and lean, exuding an air of youthful confidence, his long, wavy hair cascading to his shoulders, held back in an extravagant ponytail.

"Thanks to your Imperial Majesty, everything has been going well." Annabell could see the glint of ambition in his eyes, a fire that hinted at the calculating nature of his house. It made sense; the Montcroix family was known for their strategic minds and ambition. She recalled the stories of the Montcroix who would one day come to aid Tyrla, a child yet to be born. Annabell knew that she, too, would be caught in the web of competition for Tyrla's affections. Initially, her approach to Tyrla had been laced with ulterior motives, a façade of love masking her true intentions. But as time passed, those pretences faded, and genuine feelings took root, leaving her tangled in a complex emotional web she had never anticipated.

"I'm glad that you were able to attend, but where is your fiancée?" The Emperor pointed out the conspicuous absence of the Arch Duke's partner, drawing attention to a matter that was both personal and public.

"I regret to inform you, my fiancée and I have broken our engagement," the nobleman replied, his voice heavy with sorrow. As he spoke, he began to look increasingly pitiful, and Annabel couldn't help but notice the sympathetic glances from the women in the crowd. The young man was undeniably handsome, and to many, a heartbroken figure like him elicited a natural sense of empathy and even desire. It was fascinating how easily emotions could sway public opinion, especially in a court filled with gossip and intrigue.

"Oh, what happened?" The question hung in the air, not out of genuine curiosity from the Emperor but rather the eagerness of those around them to hear a scandalous tale.

"It turned out that my fiancée had been having an affair with one of my aides," he explained, his eyes glistening as if he were about to shed tears. His demeanor was that of someone truly wounded. Yet, Annabel remained skeptical. She was well aware of the Montcroix reputation; their territory was notorious for having ears and eyes everywhere. It seemed implausible that he was entirely unaware of the affair, especially given his position and the resources at his disposal.

Perhaps this public display of heartbreak was precisely what he desired—to gain sympathy and attention, to manipulate the narrative to his favour. Yet, Annabel couldn't help but wonder if her own suspicions were clouding her judgment. Was she overthinking the situation? After all, the court was a place where appearances mattered, and the game of emotions was often played with strategic cunning. There was more to this story than met the eye, but none of this really mattered to her.

The Arch Duke had then returned to the gathering of nobles, where women began approaching him all giddy, their laughter ringing through the air like a chorus of cheerful birds. Annabel glanced over to him for a fleeting second, her heart fluttering with curiosity, before turning back to the front of her, where two more figures began heading toward the Emperor and her. The duo approached with a dignified grace, kneeling low in a respectful bow. "The Arch Duke of Raizungu greets the master of the land and future of the land," one of them announced, his voice resonating throughout the hall.

"You've traveled far, old friend," the Emperor spoke in a familiar tone, his voice warm and inviting. The man had stood up, revealing an older figure who was tall and slim, with arched eyebrows framing his striking face and a closely shaved goatee that added to his distinguished appearance. He possessed waist-length blonde hair that hung neatly, pulled back out of his face, allowing his striking white eyes to be fully visible. Yet, the most remarkable feature that set him apart had been his long, pointy ears, a characteristic unmistakably associated with his elven heritage. "Is that your grandson?" The ruler's gaze shifted, curiosity piqued, to the figure who knelt respectfully behind the old man.

"Yes, this is my eldest son's son," the elderly man stated with evident pride swelling in his chest. "Introduce yourself, Ellisar." Upon hearing his grandfather's instructions, the young elf straightened, his demeanour shifting to one of confidence.

"I am Ellisar Trisgeiros Raizungu," the young man declared as he took a step forward. He was a tall, slim figure who appeared to be in his mid-teens, with arched eyebrows giving him an air of youthful mischief. His shoulder-length straight blonde hair, reminiscent of spun gold, was swept to the side, revealing his glassy white eyes that sparkled with intrigue. He was the spitting image of his grandfather, embodying the same regal presence that commanded respect. As an elf, he was undeniably beautiful, with his pointy ears peeking through his hair like elegant antennae, enhancing his ethereal appearance.

Ellisar Trisgeiros Raizungu—this was the name of the eldest grandchild of the current head of Raizungu, destined to inherit the legacy of his ancestors. He was not just any young elf; he was the future head and a very powerful spirit summoner, a rare talent that enabled individuals to forge bonds with mystical beings known as Elemental Spirits. This unique form of magic endowed its practitioners with the ability to summon and establish contracts with these enigmatic entities, each representing a different aspect of nature and the elements. Depending on one's innate abilities, a summoner could connect with numerous Spirits, each offering unique gifts and challenges, shaping the wielder's destiny in ways they could hardly imagine.

However, the one main key point of Ellisar would be his deep-seated hatred of the other races. This animosity was not merely a passing sentiment; it was a fundamental aspect of his identity. He looked down upon any being that was not a full-blooded elf, viewing them as lesser creatures unworthy of his attention or respect. The only exception to this contempt was the Emperor, who was a dragon—one of the seven closest beings to the Gods. This unique status afforded the Emperor a level of reverence that Ellisar begrudgingly acknowledged, though it did little to alleviate his disdain for the varied races that populated their world.

What made Ellisar particularly dangerous was the fact that, although outwardly perceived as the perfect heir to the throne due to his noble lineage, he harboured dark secrets that would eventually unravel his facade. No one knew of the depth of his hatred, nor the lengths he would go to in order to maintain his perceived superiority. As events unfolded, it became clear that he would later emerge as one of the primary antagonists in Tylra's journey, working insidiously against him.

The hatred for the young man was multifaceted and deeply entrenched. It was fueled not just by Tylra's status as a half-elf, a lineage that was seen as a stain on their pure bloodline, but also by the shared blood that linked them together. This familial connection only intensified Ellisar's loathing, as he viewed Tylra as a living embodiment of everything he despised. The situation escalated dramatically when Tylra was chosen as one of the contenders to compete for the title of the next emperor. This moment was a tipping point for Ellisar, whose jealousy and animosity reached a boiling point, propelling him further down a path of villainy and conflict that would leave an indelible mark on their world.

Although, now that she thinks about it… Annabel was possessing the body of the Emperor's daughter, making her the rightful heir… is there a need for a competition over the throne?