A perplexing situation, one that was highly preventable, yet for what reason did Lady Evelyn still venture into the jaws of predicament?
The servant was baffled by the decision of her mistress.
"Lady Evelyn... I don't understand..." Silvie muttered. The mistress didn't reply, while potential assailants pressed in from both ends of Grey Street's narrow alleyway.
"Silvie, do not scream. Trust me..." Lady Evelyn finally spoke. The servant stayed close, and it was clear she had no choice but to do as her mistress willed.
Silvie tried to calm her nerves, terrified, yes, but she had no intention of admitting it. Her mistress remained unbothered, and the servant doubted that Lady Evelyn could miraculously overcome such a dire situation.
"Whatever it is Lady Evelyn's plotting, I'd better stay out of her way... She's my only savior here..." Frightened as she was, she acknowledged that Lady Evelyn was her sole chance at survival.
One of the robed figures in front of them removed his mask, revealing a shiny bald head, an eye patch over his left eye, and a scar across his face.
"Greetings," he said as they halted. "We're aware that what we are doing right now isn't kind, and might've caused you unnecessary... Discomfort..."
As he explained, he gestured with his hands. "For that, we sincerely apologize." Lady Evelyn kept listening with a smile on her face, her eyes carrying a small but noticeable, condescending stare.
The man took a careful survey of Lady Evelyn's appearance. She did not exude the presence of a commoner, yet why could he not recognize her? Especially with her striking violet hair.
"May you tell me your identity? In case we are dealing with a noble. I have never seen you before..." he asked. But his words were met with silence.
Silvie, on the other hand, was intrigued. To her, it was unthinkable that her mistress was not of noble birth. After all, what kind of commoner could possess such wealth and good looks? Perhaps Lady Evelyn belonged to some obscure bloodline with violet hair.
"We will keep this brief..." the man said at last with a sigh, after receiving no response, reasoning that knowing the identity of the mistress was not the main priority.
"That white-haired girl, surrender her over," he demanded. His voice was old and a little rough. Silvie clung to Lady Evelyn's cold hand, a silent plea not to let her go, for she could not predict what these strangers might do.
"And what if I don't?" Lady Evelyn replied sharply. It was rather interesting that her tone was playful yet defiant, which only deepened Silvie's confusion.
The bald stranger released another heavy sigh. "We have our orders. We cannot leave without her. Hand her over, and we will depart peacefully. We shall even return the five thousand crowns you spent on her," he offered generously.
Silvie grew increasingly wary, pressing herself closer to her mistress.
"I see..." Lady Evelyn's patience was wearing thin. None of this made sense, and she could not form even a single speculation as to who these people were.
They knew when the Servant of White would be auctioned; they were there, yet they didn't attempt to bid despite apparently having the funds to do so.
"State your name and the royal family you serve," Lady Evelyn demanded firmly. This was not Karlen Magnus's doing, that much she had already concluded.
The man hesitated, debating whether it was wise to comply with her demands. After consulting one of his fellow robed figures, he made up his decision.
"My name is Demiscus Voglia, sworn to House Crownhurst. I serve the royal family under the noble division of the Royal Guard... beneath Her Majesty, the Empress," he declared.
"Royal Guards..."
"House Crownhurst..."
Lady Evelyn let out a short, dry chuckle, the kind one does when a particular subject was hilarious. The servant, on the other hand, merely witnessed everything in silence, inwardly wondering why her mistress found the robed man's words amusing.
"I fail to see the humor in this," Demiscus remarked. He was a proud member of the nobility, inheriting the name 'Crownhurst,' the second most influential royal family within Umbridge, responsible for the Hurst Royal Army and the Gravenhurst Purity Authority (GPA).
Those granted the Crownhurst title were distinguished soldiers, officers, or enforcers, making the family synonymous with martial skill and authority. They were expected to be loyal and, at the very least, disciplined.
Demiscus found the mistress's mannerisms disrespectful to his noble name; however, he wouldn't let his emotions or his position of power cloud his judgment. Even though he found it Impertinent, he was willing to let it go.
"I implore you to cooperate. The Empress has her reasons. Though it may be troublesome, we are open to negotiations for compensations, state your demands."
"We harbor no intention of harming her; there is no cause for fear..." Demiscus tried his best to appear non-hostile, even softening his tone.
The other robed figures beside him always showed their empty hands and stepped back, giving the mistress and servant a less suffocating atmosphere.
"Why does the Empress of all people want me?" Silvie murmured to herself.
She was the main reason for this situation. She tried to remember, as hard as she could, the question was 'why', but she couldn't find 'how' or 'when.'
However, based on Lady Evelyn's story, the Empress appeared to be a truly sinister figure, having orchestrated the assassination of the first Empress.
The servant once again drew close to Lady Evelyn, nudging her gently, a clear, indisputable sign that she had chosen to stand by the side of the woman who had granted her a taste of salvation upon awakening.
Her mistress was satisfied with her servant's decision; it was the ideal scenario for her. She cast a disdainful glare at Demiscus and the robed men.
"The Empress, you say? You wish to know my demands? Very well," she said before declaring, "Tell the Empress that I demand she come to me personally, kneel at my feet, and beg like the dog she is!" As those words left her lips, she wrapped her hand around her servant's, tightening her grip.
Silvie flinched at the discomfort but remained silent. It was evident now that her mistress had little tolerance for any mention of the Empress.
Demiscus was disappointed with the mistress's remarks. He appeared visibly irritated, rubbing his face and sighing that their purpose here wasn't proceeding as smoothly. "We are... prepared to look the other way. We will not press charges for what was said regarding her Majesty. This is your final warning: surrender the girl," he said calmly.
"I refuse—rudely, at that." Lady Evelyn firmly replied.
Demiscus was frustrated by her decision, having no wish to go down this route; this was well beyond what he was being paid for.
"Forgive us, but that's not possible."
Chapter End...