°•~Real Prologue

That was the last testament of the previous Duchess Ilyas. I seal the envelope and toss the letter into the open flame of the uneccessarily grandiose fireplace behind me.

I shift my legs into a crossed position as I lean my head onto my hands. My gaze lingers onto the tall portrait facing me.

It depicts a beautiful pale lady with luciously long hair as dark as midnight fading into a purple. She is dressed wearing a soldiers uniform. Wrapped around her a cape embedded with an imperial crest that shows she is far from an ordinary noble.

The caption of it reads 'the ordainer of justice and divine prophet, Great Duchess Deianira Ilyas'

She and I share alike feature - too alike to the point of it being identical down to every last scratch on her rough hands.

If it wasn't obvious by now, I am Deianira Ilyas.