Free Web NovelNight had fallen over Victoria.
A carriage sped along a wooded road on the edge of the city.
The wheels rolled over the gravel road, making a dull crunching sound.
The interior of the carriage was lined with crimson velvet cushions, and gas lamps on brass brackets flickered with a faint glow.
Outside the window, bare branches stretched out in the night like countless skeletal arms.
The carriage passed through a dense forest, and lights gradually appeared ahead.
It was a manor.
Tall iron gates, stone walls, and an ancient family crest carved into the gateposts—a lion with a broken sword beneath its paws.
The carriage stopped in front of the gate.
The tall coachman jumped down from the carriage with agile movements.
He wore a dark uniform and a top hat, his face devoid of any expression.
He walked to the carriage door, bowed, and extended a gloved hand.
"Madam."
His voice was low and respectful.
A hand, also wearing a white glove, was placed upon his.
Then, a figure stepped out of the carriage.
It was an elderly woman.
Time had left deep marks on her face—wrinkles on her forehead, fine lines at the corners of her eyes, and a slight downward curve at the corners of her mouth.
But even so, the elegance of her youth could still be seen in that face.
A high bridge of the nose, deep-set eyes, and thin, firm lips.
Her hair was already graying but combed meticulously, coiled into an exquisite bun at the back of her head and secured with a jewel-encrusted hairpin.
She wore a well-tailored man's ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) suit.
Dark gray fabric, a black bowtie, and a silver badge pinned to her chest.
Over it, she wore a dark overcoat with the collar turned up, covering her neck.
She wore a black top hat, the brim pulled low, casting a shadow over her face.
Her right hand gripped a cane.
A black wooden shaft with a silver lion's head at the top, its eyes set with two rubies that shimmered with a cold light.
The guards at the manor entrance had already opened the gates.
They stood straight on both sides, holding a salute, motionless.
The elderly woman did not look at them.
She simply raised her cane and lightly tapped the ground.
A crisp tapping sound echoed in the night.
Then she stepped into the manor.
The rhythmic tapping of the cane sounded.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Like some ancient drumbeat.
Neat shrubs were planted on both sides of the manor's main road, their branches trembling slightly in the cold winter wind.
Streetlights lit up one by one, with cast-iron brackets and frosted glass shades, the gas lamps inside emitting a dim yellow light.
In the distance was the manor's main building.
Three stories high, with Gothic spires, massive stained-glass windows, and stone walls covered in withered vines.
Bright light shone through the first-floor windows, along with the faint sound of voices.
The elderly woman's footsteps did not falter.
She walked along the main road, up the steps, and to the front door of the main building.
Two attendants immediately stepped forward and pushed open the heavy oak doors.
Inside was a spacious foyer.
Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and portraits of past family members hanging on the walls.
The people in those portraits wore ornate clothing, their expressions solemn and gazes indifferent, as if looking down upon everyone who entered.
The elderly woman took off her overcoat and handed it to an attendant.
She removed her top hat, revealing her wrinkled but still majestic face.
A pair of pale gold eyes, like winter sunlight, cold and deep.
She looked up toward the hallway at the end of the foyer.
A commotion came from there.
Arguing.
Even angry shouting.
The elderly woman's brow furrowed slightly.
Fools.
They can't even maintain the most basic level of decorum?
She gripped her cane and walked toward the hallway.
The tapping of the cane sounded once more.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The hallway was long, with more portraits and several landscapes on the walls.
The carpet was deep red, swallowing the sound of footsteps.
But the tapping of the cane remained clear.
The further she walked, the louder the commotion became.
"—How dare you say that?!"
"—It's the truth! If it weren't for you—"
"—Enough! Now is not the time to assign blame—"
"—Then what do you suggest we do?! The pro-peace faction has already—"
"—Shut up! All of you, shut up!"
Then came the sound of a chair being pushed over.
The sound of a table being slammed.
And more chaotic arguing.
The elderly woman stopped before the doors of the Council Chamber.
Two attendants stood by the door; seeing her, they immediately bowed.
"Madam."
The elderly woman nodded.
"Open the door."
The two attendants glanced at each other, then both reached out and grabbed the door handles.
The doors were pushed open forcefully.
The clamor instantly poured out.
The scene inside the Council Chamber came into view.
It was a massive room.
The ceiling was ten meters high, adorned with exquisite frescoes—the war between angels and demons, heroes battling dragons, and the Twilight of the Gods.
Imperial flags hung on the walls, along with several family crest banners.
In the center of the room was a massive long table made of oak, its surface smooth as a mirror.
About a dozen people sat around the table.
All were nobles.
All were dressed in refined attire. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm
But at this moment, their expressions were all very grim.
Some had ashen faces, their hands clenched into fists.
Some were red-faced, as if they had just been shouting.
Some kept their heads down, saying nothing.
Others had stood up, pointing at those across from them and still shouting insults.
The entire room was in chaos.
The elderly woman stood at the door, quietly watching it all.
She did not speak.
She simply raised her cane.
And then—
Thump.
The cane struck the floor heavily.
The sound wasn't loud.
But in this noisy room, it was exceptionally clear.
All voices ceased.
Everyone turned their heads.
When they saw the elderly woman standing at the door, the expression on every face changed instantly.
Anger vanished.
Dissatisfaction disappeared.
Replaced by—
Awe.
And a hint of fear.
"Your Grace, Duchess Erwina."
A middle-aged man sitting next to the head of the table stood up and bowed.
His voice was very respectful.
The others also stood up one after another, bowing their heads.
"Your Grace."
"Your Grace."
"Your Grace."
Duchess Erwina slowly walked into the room.
The tapping of her cane echoed in the silence.
She walked to the head of the long table and stopped.
Her golden eyes swept over everyone present.
Under her gaze, the nobles bowed their heads one by one.
No one dared to meet her eyes.
The corners of Duchess Erwina's mouth curled slightly, revealing a cold smile.
"Everyone."
Her voice wasn't loud, but every word was crystal clear.
"I was just outside, and I heard your discussion."
She paused.
"It was... very spirited."
The room grew even quieter.
"I thought that those capable of sitting at this table were the finest nobles of the Empire."
"People of breeding, wisdom, and foresight."
"But now it seems—"
Her voice suddenly grew sharp.
"—you are no different from ruffians on the street."
The faces of several nobles instantly turned pale.
"Accusing each other? Hurling insults? Almost coming to blows?"
Duchess Erwina's cane struck the floor again.
Thump.
"Are you here to solve problems, or to vent your emotions?"
No one dared to answer.
Duchess Erwina sat down.
She leaned her cane against the chair and rested her folded hands on the table.
"Now, sit."
