The Spring Festival was reaching its zenith.
Over the last hour, the central plaza had turned into a theater of dreams and ambition. Smaller awards had been handed out like candy — "Most Innovative Product," "Best Artisan Craftsmanship," "Highest Public Satisfaction", etc.
Cheers had erupted, tears had been shed, and merchants from all walks of life had taken their moments in the spotlight.
But as the moon made its entrance, painting the capital in hues of deep blue and silver, the atmosphere shifted.
The festive noise quieted down, replaced by a thick, anticipatory tension.
Everyone knew what came next.
The Top Five.
The ranking of the supreme powers that drove the Empire’s economy.
On the elevated stage, the Master of Ceremonies, a man with a voice that could rival a temple bell, stepped forward.
He held a sealed scroll in his hands.
"Ladies and Gentlemen! Citizens of Ardentis!"
He boomed, his voice magically amplified to reach the furthest corners of the plaza.
"The moment we have all been waiting for has arrived. We will now announce the top five commercial entities of the year — the pillars of our prosperity!"
A hush fell over the thousands gathered.
"In Fifth Place..." The MC unrolled the bottom of the scroll dramatically. "For their excellence in alchemical distribution... Moonlight Apothecary!"
Applause rippled through the crowd.
A representative walked up, bowed, and accepted a bronze plaque.
"In Fourth Place..." The MC continued. "With a staggering growth in the textile and dye sector... the Fenni Family!"
More applause. The Fenni representative accepted their award with a gracious smile.
"In Third Place..." The MC’s voice rose. "The titans of logistics and resource distribution... the Golden Caravan Guild!"
This time, the cheers were louder. The Golden Caravan was an old giant, reliable and massive.
Their guild master, a rotund man with a friendly face, waved to the crowd as he waddled up the stairs.
Then, the MC paused.
The silence that followed was heavy. This was the real battle.
For the past three years, the script had been boringly predictable. The Nedici Family was always first.
But this year was different. This year, there was a challenger.
"In Second Place..."
The MC took a deep breath.
"A newcomer that has taken the capital by storm. A business that went from a single shop to a household name in less than twelve months. The pioneers of the ’Flash Sale’..."
"The Legacy Emporium!"
ROAR!
The plaza exploded.
Unlike the polite clapping for the older families, this was raw, genuine noise. The common folk cheered wildly. These were the people who had benefited most from the Emporium’s aggressive pricing and customer-friendly policies.
"Legacy! Legacy!"
A chant started in the back rows.
On the stage, Crown Prince Leomord stood up. He was a man of sharp features and regal bearing, dressed in ceremonial armor polished to a mirror sheen. He held a magnificent silver trophy in his hands, waiting.
"Will the representative of the Legacy Emporium please step forward!" The MC announced, gesturing toward the phoenix-sigil booth.
The spotlight swung to the far left.
The crowd turned their heads, expecting the curtain to part. They expected to see the beautiful, mysterious, icy Merchant Queen, Cassandra, step out.
...
Nothing happened.
The booth remained dark. The curtain did not move.
"..."
The cheering began to falter. The chant died down, replaced by confused murmurs.
"Is she late?"
"Did something happen?"
"Don’t tell me she’s boycotting the ceremony?"
On the stage, Prince Leomord’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes narrowed imperceptibly. To leave a royal waiting was a grave offense.
"Ahem." The MC coughed nervously. "Representative of the Legacy Emporium?"
Still nothing.
In the VIP booth on the opposite side, a young man with slicked-back hair and expensive silk robes leaned back in his velvet chair.
It was the Young Master of the Nedici Family.
He swirled the wine in his glass, looking at the empty stage with a faint, satisfied smirk.
’That fool actually did it,’ he thought, suppressing a laugh. ’I really made the right choice when picking him.’
Meanwhile, the tension in the plaza was now palpable.
Just as the MC was about to signal for a skip, a humiliation that would stain the Emporium’s reputation forever, a voice rang out from the back of the plaza.
"WAIT!"
It was a woman’s voice. Breathless, commanding, and undeniably familiar.
"I am here!"
The shout cut through the murmurs like a blade.
Thousands of heads snapped toward the entrance of the plaza.
The dense crowd, previously a wall of bodies, instinctively parted, creating a wide path for the woman marching toward the stage.
It was none other than Cassandra Von Virellia.
She wore an elegant, respectful evening gown, though it was slightly ruffled from the earlier chaos. A silk scarf wrapped gracefully around her head and neck, framing a decorative mask that obscured her features, leaving only her piercing, icy eyes visible. She walked with a stride that radiated fury and authority, her heels clicking rhythmically against the stone pavement.
However, the gasps that rippled through the audience were directed at what followed her.
Two burly guards from her personal retinue marched close behind, dragging a limp, unconscious man between them. His black assassin’s gear was tattered, and high-grade suppression cuffs bound his wrists.
"Is... is that a body?"
"By the heavens, look at his clothes!"
"What is going on?"
The whispers exploded into a chaotic buzz.
Up in the VIP booth, the Young Master of the Nedici Family paused, his wine glass halfway to his lips.
He looked down at the scene, his eyes landing on the woman standing tall despite the ambush. Then, his gaze shifted to the unconscious lump of meat being dragged behind her.
He raised a single brow.
’He failed?’
He remained perfectly composed, feeling only a mild annoyance, like a man who had bought a tool that broke on the first use.
’I guess that hired knife was just a fool,’ he thought, taking a slow sip of his wine. ’Or perhaps... this woman is simply more capable than I gave her credit for.’
He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand.
The game had just become slightly more interesting.
Down below, Cassandra reached the base of the stage. Her guards dropped the body of the assassin onto the red carpet with a heavy thud.
The Master of Ceremonies, sweating profusely under the magical lights, stammered into his amplification crystal.
"L-Lady Cassandra! You are incredibly late! This is a royal ceremony, a place of dignity! Explain the meaning of this intrusion immediately!"
"Peace."
A calm, velvety voice interrupted the flustered official.
Crown Prince Leomord raised a hand, silencing the MC instantly.
The Prince looked down at Cassandra. His expression was benevolent, the picture of a gracious ruler forgiving a subject’s transgression. He focused solely on the Merchant Queen, ignoring the unconscious man entirely.
"It seems you ran into some trouble on your way here, Lady Cassandra," Leomord said, his smile dazzling enough to charm the entire plaza. "But you have arrived before the ceremony concluded. That is what matters."
He gestured to the silver trophy in his hand, inviting her up.
"Come. Ascend the stage. Your achievement deserves its recognition. Accept your award as the Second Patron of Spring."
The crowd held its breath. The Prince was being incredibly generous. All she had to do was walk up, take the trophy, and the scandal would be smoothed over.
Cassandra looked up at the Prince behind her mask.
She looked at the trophy that represented the recognition she had fought tooth and nail for over the last year.
Then, she planted her feet firmly on the ground.
"No."
Her voice, though unamplified, carried a steel-like resolve that reached the front rows clearly.
The Prince’s smile stiffened by a fraction of a millimeter.
"No?" Leomord repeated, his tone dropping a single octave.
"I apologize, Your Highness," Cassandra stated, her voice ringing loud and clear. She pointed a trembling finger at the unconscious assassin at her feet. "But I cannot accept this award."
She swept her gaze across the nobles, the merchants, and finally, locked eyes with the Nedici booth in the distance.
"I will not accept any honor," she declared, her fury igniting the air, "until I get justice for the assassination attempt made on my life tonight!"