Though she had a keen appetite, the way this young lady conducted herself was downright bone-chilling.
"Zyra! You see your Lady and yet refuse to show respect?"
Wulfric, the steward, suddenly shouted from behind, voice booming, trying to seize the upper hand. "Do you have any manners at all?"
Zyra finally turned her head, her eyes as clear and cold as a still mountain lake. She cast a faintly indifferent glance at Wulfric and Lady Wilhelmina, but did not rise. The chopsticks feeding the mottled rabbit never paused.
Wulfric was making a pathetic display of false authority.
Lady Wilhelmina's gaze was fixed hungrily on the sumptuous rabbit feast, quietly swallowing her saliva.
Zyra ignored Wulfric entirely, instead pondering how to deal with this gluttonous, petty Lady of the Great House who dared to withhold her rightful wage.
Since she was so greedy…
"Have you eaten, Lady Wilhelmina?" Zyra asked casually.
Wilhelmina's eyes brightened instantly, drawn by the aroma of the feast. "Not yet. This Rabbit Feast of yours smells divine."
Quick! Flatter me. Say something inviting, so I may join!
Zyra's expression remained cold and unreadable.
"These are leftovers… fed to the rabbits."
Wilhelmina blinked in confusion.
What nonsense was this?
They were supposed to be invited to dine , yet the dishes barely touched were "leftovers"?
She alone could devour a whole tableful!
"Impudent!" Wulfric hissed in fury, humiliated beyond measure. "Who cares for your leftovers!"
He straightened his back, believing he'd regained some ground.
Lady Wilhelmina inwardly wished she could strangle this foolish servant lacking all tact.
She was eager!
She was about to tell Zyra she didn't mind leftovers , she wanted to eat , when Wulfric's scolding cut her off, slamming a lid on her words.
"Hmph."
Zyra nodded slightly, "Good if you don't care."
Then, as if it were nothing, she handed another piece to Rabbithound.
The poor beast had been gravely injured; its spiritual core shattered. Without proper nourishment, it would never regain its former majesty as a great demon beast.
Now a human's puppet, it had a modest appetite; a few bites per dish sufficed. The food's spiritual essence was potent , if she ate too much, her body couldn't digest it.
Lady Wilhelmina swallowed hard, unable to spit or swallow, utterly vexed.
She had lost all face.
"Zyra," she coaxed one last time, "Isn't it wasteful to feed rabbits so lavishly? In the Dustveil Manor, we must never be so extravagant."
Stop! Stop eating! Damn that mottled rabbit!
All this feast was hers; not a morsel could be lost without her heart breaking.
She planned to quietly take the feast back to the kitchens, then have servants sneak it away to her own quarters. It was a roundabout way, but at least she would get to eat it.
Zyra remained unmoved.
"You are not as extravagant as the Great Lady," she said calmly.
Indeed, who could outdo the Great House's opulence?
Wilhelmina spent five silver marks on a single meal like it was pocket change. Ten silver marks were normal; even fifty was not unheard of.
Master Zivan of the Dustveil House held a post at the Royal Treasury, overseeing the weaving bureau. All silk cloth produced in the kingdom, whether tribute or trade goods, passed through his hands. The profits hidden there were immense.
And this corrupt official...
Had once belonged to Lady Zyra's late father, Lord Edric Ravenswood, the second son of the noble Ravenswood family.
Lord Edric was the most gifted among the three sons of the old Chancellor Ravenswood , wise, skilled both in strategy and letters, a man of great promise. The Chancellor had high hopes for Edric, placing him in charge of the Royal Weaving Guild and the Treasury's textile division.
Edric did not disappoint. Under his leadership, the Guild flourished, profits multiplied tenfold, and the kingdom's coffers swelled, benefiting all. Everyone at court knew if Edric rose further, he would surely become the Minister of Treasury.
But fate was cruel.
While on a journey to oversee the southern guild offices, Edric was ambushed by coastal brigands and perished without healing.
From that moment, the second branch of the family began to decline.
When Edric died, he left behind considerable wealth: silver bonds, antiques, paintings, ancient manuscripts.
His widow, Lady Miriam, a gentle and kind woman, was an only child without a family of her own to rely on , like an infant clutching a mountain of gold surrounded by wolves. The consequences were predictable.
The third uncle, Lord Aldric Ravenswood, was Edric's full brother.
At first, Aldric helped Lady Miriam fend off the predatory Great House and guard the estate.
But everything changed the day Aldric was poisoned and blinded.
Once a brilliant scholar, the top graduate in the kingdom's academy and favored disciple of the deputy headmaster, Aldric lost his future , his sight vanished, his body riddled with poison, his veins destroyed. He could neither pursue a career in court nor follow the path of cultivation.
Struggling for his own survival, Aldric had no strength left to help others.
The second branch's assets were gradually devoured by the Great House , an undeniable fact.
Lord Gerard Ravenswood, head of the Great House, was born not of the chancellor's wife, but of a lowly stable maid whom the Chancellor met during a military campaign.
True to his name, Gerard was an unremarkable man.
No talent for governance, no rare spiritual roots.
Only bitterness and growing ambition.
While Edric was alive, all resources , political and magical , bypassed Gerard.
But with Edric dead, and Aldric broken, Gerard finally gained access to the family's wealth and power.
His resentment deepened.
Whether Gerard was responsible for poisoning Aldric remains unknown.
But ever since Aldric's fall at eighteen, his betrothed was stolen away, his official post lost, his opportunity to become a disciple revoked, he had been ailing in bed for over seven years.
The second branch's lands and fortune were swallowed by the Great House.