Erythro: The Prophecy Unveiled

In the dimly lit servants' quarters beneath the palace, Madeline slipped out of her room, still clad in her nightdress. Her small, bare feet darted quickly down the shadowy hall, where the absence of candles cast a haunting gloom. Tears welled in her eyes as she frantically searched for her mother, shaken awake by yet another nightmare. But this one was different.

In her dream, she found herself walking atop a pile of bodies, surrounded by pools of blood. The air was thick with the sound of wailing and cries, the source of which she couldn't discern. All around her, houses burned, and within moments, chaos consumed the scene. She saw figures on horseback, mercilessly destroying everything in their path. One man, his eyes glowing red with bloodlust, spotted her. A whip gripped in his right hand, he raised it high, aiming directly at her. But before he could strike, Madeline jolted awake.

Madeline wandered through the empty hall, desperately searching for her mother. The prince's room crossed her mind, but she dismissed the thought, remembering her mother's stern warning. Instead, she decided to seek refuge in the palace kitchen.

Meanwhile, at the bustling royal ball, servants scurried about, delivering food and tending to the guests' every need. Theresa and Emily, exhausted after a long night of service, were still attending to the guests' requests. From a distance, Emily noticed the young Duke William engaged in a serious conversation with a middle-aged man. Although she was far away, their expressions hinted at the gravity of their discussion. As the man approached the duke, he discreetly handed him something, whispering a few words. The duke quickly concealed the item in his pocket and abruptly left the ball.

Emily's eyes narrowed; her suspicions piqued by the duke's sudden departure. She handed her empty tray to a fellow maid, who regarded her with a questioning look. "Where are you going?" the maid inquired. Emily hesitated, torn between her curiosity and her duty. She cursed inwardly, berating herself for her impulsive thoughts. "What are you doing, Emily? This isn't your business!" she scolded herself. Returning to the table, she grabbed another tray.

Just then, Rose appeared, transformed into a radiant vision. She wore an exquisite gown, her face adorned with makeup, and her lips painted a striking red. Her hair was styled with meticulous precision, drawing admiring glances from the guests. Her appearance exuded an air of simplicity and elegance, befitting a noblewoman. Little did anyone know that she was merely a maid at Carthage Royal Palace. Rose walked confidently beside Lord Nesthor Bretman, the king's second cousin and a prominent royal official.

Nesthor, a married man, and Rose is his mistress. Unbeknownst to him, his wife, Lady Jane Bretman, had also attended the ball, determined to expose his affair with the maid. Lady Jane, a scion of a wealthy and noble family, was appalled by her husband's infidelity.

Rose, with a smug smile, basked in the attention of the crowd. She felt like a queen, living out her dream of becoming a person of importance. A high-ranking servant observed the new arrival, who was captivating the attention of several men at the ball. Upon recognizing Rose and recalling her earlier boast of attending the ball as a guest, the servant's eyes narrowed. "Oh dear," the maid thought, hurrying over to her fellow servants.

Emily and Theresa were assisting with the wine distribution when a fellow maid approached them. "Did you see that? It's Rose," she whispered, sharing the news with the others. Miss Emilia, the head maid, noticed the maids' hushed conversation and narrowed her eyes. The gossiping maids quickly returned to their tasks, pretending as if nothing had happened. Miss Emilia also observed Rose, who had seamlessly blended in with the guests, but she chose to remain silent. Emily watched Rose closely, noticing how she carried herself with the grace and confidence of a noblewoman.

Rose was not a mere maid, but Lord Nesthor's mistress, a secret kept hidden beneath layers of deception. Dressed in a borrowed gown that was far too opulent for her status, she played the part of a noblewoman, her heart pounding with every carefully constructed lie. The grand ballroom was a world away from the discreet corners of the castle where their illicit affair unfolded. A group of nobles, their eyes glittering with amusement and curiosity, approached her.

Lord Nesthor, excused himself, murmuring something about an urgent matter. Rose was left alone, a predator in a gilded cage. "Lady...?", A man with a smug grin inquired his voice dripping with condescension. "Rose, Lady Rose," Rose replied, emphasizing the word. "Such a lovely gown," a woman chimed in, her eyes scanning Rose from head to toe. "Thank you," Rose replied, her voice a mere whisper. "It is a family heirloom." She forced a laugh, a sound that came out more like a strangled croak.

The conversation flowed, superficial and meaningless, yet Rose felt as though she were treading on thin ice. She answered questions about her supposed upbringing, her travels, her family. Each lie was a dagger to her heart, a betrayal of her true self. Then, disaster struck. A particularly observant lady, her eyes narrowing, took a step closer. "Your hands, Lady Rose," she said, her voice laced with disbelief. "They are rough, calloused. Not the hands of a noblewoman."

A hush fell over the group as all eyes turned to Rose. Her face flushed a deep crimson as the truth, stark and undeniable, hung in the air. The carefully constructed facade was crumbling, revealing the mistress beneath the borrowed guise. Some guests who heard their conversation turns to pay attention to the clamor. Many whispering to each other, the earlier eye of admiration turns into a mocking one. One woman who was near Rose raise her question a bit louder, "What are you doing with Lord Nesthor? Are you, his relatives?".

The guest who heard, pay attention, waiting for her answer. Some even mentioned, that Lord Nesthor was not with his wife. Rose was stunned with the turn of events. She didn't answer and remain silent. Making the rumors be louder than ever. Her heart beats frantically inside her chest. She looks around and saw her fellow servants, looking at her with mockery, some with concern. She feels stupid and helpless. "Why are you not answering?" "Don't tell me you're a mistress?" One guest commented, sounding shock, earning gasp and reactions from the guests.

Emily watched with growing concern as Rose interacted with the guests. She attempted to approach Rose, but Theresa grabbed her hand, shaking her head as a warning. Emily pleaded, "I don't like where this is going. If we don't help her, she could end up like Julia." Theresa, however, held her firmly, insisting, "It's not our place to interfere. They're old enough to make their own choices." Emily was about to protest when a sudden commotion erupted among the guests.

A middle-aged lady emerged from the crowd, her presence commanding attention. She carried an unmistakable aura of a noble lady of high status. Her gown, a masterpiece of intricate craftsmanship, was a study in regal elegance. A deep, emerald-green velvet hugged her figure flawlessly, adorned with delicate silver thread embroidery that shimmered like moonlight on water. The bodice was fitted to perfection, accentuating her graceful posture, while the skirt flowed gracefully to the floor, leaving a trail of opulence in her wake.

A diamond necklace, a family heirloom of unparalleled brilliance, rested delicately on her collarbone, complementing the emerald hues of her gown. Her hair, a cascade of auburn waves, was adorned with a matching emerald tiara, and her eyes, a captivating shade of hazel, sparkled with amusement as she scanned the room. Every detail of her appearance was a testament to her refined taste and impeccable style.

"Everything you think is true. This girl is a mistress," Lady Jane declared, her words sending a shockwave through the crowd. As Lord Nesthor's wife, her accusation carried weight. She stared at Rose with open disdain, her eyebrows raised in a gesture of disbelief. "How dare you set foot in this place, a mere maid like you!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with contempt.

She glanced around, taking in the astonished faces of the onlookers. Lord Nesthor, who had been engrossed in a conversation with another man, turned to face the commotion. His expression froze as he saw his wife's furious countenance. Fearful for his reputation within the kingdom, he scanned the crowd, desperately searching for a solution. However, his relief turned to dread when he noticed the presence of the kings of neighboring empires, whose conversation had been interrupted by his wife's outburst.

Lady Jane looks at the blanched face of his husband, who stares at her with the same intensity. He carefully shakes his head, as of a warning. But the Lady was furious. She only stare at him mockingly and smirk. "This maid commits a serious crime, thankfully, we have regents with us today, to solve this issue. And perhaps enlighten us with the right and appropriate judgment," she added. 

The hushed conversations among the guests grew louder, creating a buzz of excitement and anticipation. Rose was stunned, her eyes darting around the room. She spotted Lord Nesthor, but he was avoiding her gaze, instead focusing on his wife. Her heart pounded in her chest as the reality of her situation dawned on her. She had never imagined her dream night ending so disastrously. The faces of the royals, including King Alexander, were filled with disapproval. The king regarded her with disdain, his anger evident for causing a scene and disrupting the important ball.

Refusing to accept the fate that had befallen Julia, Rose shook her head, desperately searching for a way out of this predicament. King Alexander, with deliberate steps, approached Rose and Lady Jane. His measured pace echoed through the hall, drawing attention to his arrival. Facing the crowd, he announced in a commanding voice, "I apologize for this interruption. As this matter falls under my jurisdiction, I believe I have the authority to resolve it." He turned to the head regents present, who nodded in agreement, encouraging him to proceed.

"May I call a soldier here please," he smiled at the crowd and added, "Let us make this ball memorable for you, shall we?".