Amyra's eyes widened as the sight of the library quite literally stole her breath. It was massive, stacked with more books than she had ever imagined any house could contain. Thousands of volumes lined the two-storied walls, neatly arranged on every side.
A large couch and a comfy chair were placed in the center of the room before the fireplace, accompanied by a small coffee table.
"There are all kinds of genres in here, my lady. You may choose anything that interests you," the butler stated.
Myra simply nodded, unable to find the right words.
"Do you have a preference in mind?" Alvin asked a moment later.
Myra thought for a second before answering, "Umm... history?"
The butler nodded and led her to a wall in the far-right corner of the room. "This entire shelf contains books on history, Lady Myra."
She approached and pulled out a thick book with a blue leather binding. The title was boldly embossed in gold:
*************************************
PAUL MACAULAY
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
HISTORY OF ARCARDIA
VOLUME I
*************************************
The book looked old and worn. Though the pages remained intact, they had yellowed with time and emitted a faint, earthy smell.
She skimmed through the pages, debating whether to read it or pick another book.
The butler, still standing beside her, said, "Lady Myra, feel free to choose from any of the shelves. However, please refrain from going up to the second floor. That section holds confidential books and is restricted to everyone except the Lord."
Myra nodded in understanding. Alvin then bowed slightly. "If there's anything else you need, please call for me. I'll come right away." With that, he left the library.
Settling into the comfy chair, Myra began to read.
.
.
The Ministry is an organization founded to ensure stability across the Five Lands. While each land is governed by a Lord, the Ministry takes responsibility for maintaining law and order across Arcardia, Wendyln, Stonefort, Northwick, and Zantra Valley. Its role is to preserve peace and assist in smooth administration by providing necessary guidance to the Lords.
The Ministry's headquarters is located in Arcardia, with branch offices in the remaining four regions.
Theodore was seated in the office of Head Minister Rupert.
Rupert Malphus was the fifth Head Minister of the Ministry. A strict and disciplined semi-trueborn demon, his father had been trueborn while his mother was a falseborn—making him of mixed lineage.
He was a short man, with pepper-colored hair neatly combed back and pale yellow eyes. His complexion was a warm wheatish tone.
"So, what do we do about the listed members?" Rupert asked, removing his glasses and placing them on the table. He leaned forward, interlocking his fingers and eyeing the Lord seated across from him —who was, to Rupert's quiet horror, calmly folding an important document into a sharp-pointed paper dart.
"That's a confidential report."
"I'm aware," Theodore replied, not looking up.
Rupert stared at the Arcardian Lord in disbelief. Theodore was a maddening man to deal with — charming when he wanted, razor-sharp always, and disturbingly unpredictable. Even now, seated like royalty in a leather-backed chair, he exuded the smug self-assurance of someone who believed the world operated at the pace he set.
"We'll do nothing — for now," Theodore said finally, flicking the completed dart between his fingers.
"I don't understand."
"Of course you don't," Theodore replied with a slow, deliberate smile, and then launched the dart. It sliced through the air and landed perfectly on the Ministry crest embroidered on the far wall.
Rupert closed his eyes briefly, inhaling through his nose.
"We set a trap," Theo continued, now brushing nonexistent lint off his coat. "And wait for the vermin to crawl in willingly."
"Theodore—"
"You wanted a plan, and I'm giving you the best one," he cut in, then added, "The fact that it's entertaining is just a bonus."
Rupert reached for a quill but paused. "The six names listed… if this intelligence is accurate, they're already helping the dark witches. We don't have the luxury of waiting."
Theodore leaned back, his golden eyes gleaming. "You think too small, Malphus. We're not just plugging leaks. We're draining the swamp."
Rupert stiffened. "So we wait for them to strike? Let them poison innocents while we... observe?"
"Think, Rupert. If we detain even one of them, the others will scatter like roaches. The witches will retreat underground and return with an even uglier plan. I'd rather catch them all at once."
He stood and wandered toward the window, hands clasped behind his back.
"They will strike when the crowds are large —when chaos is guaranteed."
Rupert's eyes narrowed. "The Snowflakes Ball…"
"Exactly," Theodore said, still facing the glass, his tone almost amused. "There will be hundreds gathered that night. Everyone will be busy enjoying the party, and no one will notice if someone slips incantia into the food."
Rupert hesitated, then said, "Why don't we just tighten security? Keep a close watch and intercept any—"
Theodore turned, cutting him off with a sharp glance. "We'll do no such thing. We'll appear as vulnerable as ever. A wounded beast draws predators faster than a roaring lion."
Silence settled between them.
"We don't just want the traitors," Theodore added, voice low. "We want the one orchestrating all this. And that means patience. One wrong move and they'll vanish— maybe for good."
Rupert studied him. "You really believe they'll take the bait?"
Theodore gave a light laugh, low and lazy. "They'll dance right into it. I'll make sure of that."
Rupert sighed. "One day your arrogance is going to be your downfall."
"Perhaps," Theodore mused, getting ready to leave, "but at least I'll fall with style."
He headed for the door, then paused. "Assign a covert team. Monitor the suspects quietly. I'll send someone from my end as well."
Rupert gave a short nod. "You're playing a dangerous game."
"Oh, Rupert," he said with a glint in his eye, "those are the only kinds I enjoy."
And with that, he walked out.
.
.
Later that night, as the Lord returned home, Alvin met him at the entrance, helping him with his coat.
"What is my little guest doing?"
"Lady Myra has been reading in the library for the past three hours, my Lord," Alvin replied with a slight bow.
Theodore nodded and made his way to the library. He found Myra fast asleep on the sofa, the book resting gently in her hands.
He shook his head softly and lifted the book, placing it on the table. Then, kneeling beside her, he observed her sleeping face.
He watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the faintest furrow between her brows, as if she were dreaming of something she couldn't quite control.
She looked so peaceful — her fair skin glowing in the warm firelight, her expression calm and serene. The sight brought a rare, genuine smile on to his lips.
Then with a soft sigh, Theodore stood and scooped her into his arms. Carrying her effortlessly, he strode down the hallway, then climbed the stairs. Reaching her room, he laid her gently on the bed, pulled the duvet over her, and left the chamber in silence.