Olivia Marie Elisabeth Tabitha Ginevra Yves de Trafford was the youngest daughter of the prestigious Trafford family. In other words, she was a noble, and a very capable one in her own opinion.

When one first thinks of a noble lady, they first look towards their vanity. They’re horribly narcissistic creatures that meticulously powder their skin white and paint their lips red, all while donning the fanciest of gowns with the most extravagant of jewelry. They undergo all of this effort, and for what purpose? To flaunt their affluent status? To attract a rich suitor, with their handsomeness as an added quality? They care only for their beauty and none for their intellect, and as such, Olivia couldn’t resist sneering at those shabby porcelain dolls. No matter how pretty the doll may be, that pretty little head with those pretty little bonnets will always be hollow.

Naturally, she could not stand this fact. She refused to degrade herself to the same status as those . . . doxies. She wasn’t a useless braggart like them. There were already enough of those in the royal court. She is an esteemed graduate of her alma mater, King’s College in New Londinium, Albion. She was the first woman to graduate at the top of her class at the tender age of twenty-two, easily achieving a Bachelor’s Degree in Law with European Legal Studies as her major. She went on to pass the bar exam at the age of twenty-three, after which she had immediately made a name for herself in the political scene. She had everything a young noble would want.

Except for her family’s respect.

Her family, for some reason, blindly believed that commoners should be treated the same way nobility are. This was a viewpoint that she honestly found moronic to its very core. After all, why treat those dirty peasants like royalty? Their treatment should be just as they are - commoners. They were mongrels. Nothing more, nothing less. They were mongrels for one reason and one reason only - they were without reason.

Every day as she would ride her carriage to her chambers in the royal court. She would always see them begging on the streets, pleading and wailing like dogs. Whimpering when they’re hurt, and whining whenever new policies are implemented. The only way to deal with the animals was to train them.

She could have sworn that the dogs’ influence was rubbing off on her parents. With her mother retorting to her with measly complaints, and her father feigning innocence to gain appeal from the public. It was disgusting that there was no longer the least bit of sense in their arguments.

When would they realize that satisfying the masses was impossible?

She stormed out of her parents’ chambers with as much elegance as a rampaging elephant. The beret delicately placed on her crown of wavy golden locks bounced along with her anger. The military-style button dress cloaked her figure in black, mirroring the icy gaze of her onyx eyes, complete with an attached half-cape for bearing the Trafford insignia. The emblem itself was meticulously embroidered with an intricate design of red and white lines, woven into the majestic griffin she took so much pride in.

She stomped her way towards her offices, causing all the maids and butlers in the house to hastily avoid her temper. At one point during her angry walk, she had encountered her sister, whom had tried to talk to her. She was ignored.

Olivia was NOT in the mood.

When she had finally reached the sanctity of her offices, she immediately slammed the door, visualizing her parents in the doorway. This just made her angrier.

“RRRRRRAAAAGGGGHHHH!”

Crash!

She threw a vase to the ground in her anger without realizing it. She clicked her tongue and looked at the mess in disgust. Hmph, no matter. One of the maids will clean it later.

She frowned at herself and tried to control her temper. She is a Trafford! A noblewoman of esteemed birth. She should be ashamed with herself! She needed to calm down.

Breath In, Breath Out, Breath In, Breath Ou-

RING!

Olivia could feel the vein appear on her forehead as she glared at the intercom. She growled at the offensive thing and screamed, “WHAT!?”

The man on the other side of the line audibly winced, but Olivia couldn’t care any less about him. She was more angered by his hesitation to speak up.

“T-There’s a letter for you here M-Madame, should I h-h-have it brought in for you?”

Olivia pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Yes, bring it in. Why didn’t you bring it to my office already? That’s what we pay you for, you mongrel!”

“M-my deepest apologies!” He squeaked. “I-It’s simply that, ah. . . It’s an unmarked letter, Madame.”

Now that piqued her interest. She frowned and walked closer to the intercom, her rage was long forgotten. “Really now?”

“Y-Yes,” The man continued to stammer. “Do you still wish to have it delivered?”

Olivia paused, thinking for a moment. She wasn’t one to ponder on such decisions, but the appearance of such a strange letter is quite the conundrum. Would it be possible that she was sent an explosive? Or perhaps it’s laced with poison on the seal? It could be an ordinary letter and she is simply overthinking the matter. But still, one could not be too careful.

She grinned. “Of course.”

Fortis Fortuna Adiuvat, after all.

The man on the other end couldn’t have hung up the phone any faster than he did, terrified of his mistress’s wrath. She couldn’t care any less about that, to be honest. What she did care about was the letter.

After a few minutes of insufferable waiting, the letter finally arrived, the maid who had delivered it seemingly happy to leave immediately.

Olivia quickly brought the letter to her desk, intent on examining it very closely. First of all, the letter was too thin to contain anything obviously dangerous, like a parcel bomb. She then checked the seal for any poison, testing it with a few chemicals that she always kept on hand. Negative on poisons, so it really was just a normal letter. As normal as an unmarked letter could be, at least.

A second check revealed the exact same results as the first, so the letter was clean. That was promising.

She tore the seal open, immediately greeted by the sight of high quality paper, the kind that is only used for important government business. She skimmed over the contents, still irritated, highlighting only the critical information in the letter.

Dear Ms. Olivia Marie Elisabeth Tabitha Ginevra Yves de Trafford-

Entrust with a mission of the utmost importance-

In acknowledgement of your diplomatic skills-

Require to travel for an amount of time-

Upon completion, you will be adequately recognized-

His Highness’s royal court-

Please burn this letter when you have finished reading.

Olivia paused. She hummed to herself, smiling. Tres Bien! It seemed to be an invitation for her to flaunt her ability as a diplomatic envoy. Only this time, the issue that is to be discussed is of the utmost importance. This could potentially be the most important mission she would ever take, and it flattered her that His Highness himself had sought her out for this matter. The letter was a tad bit vague, but it was not anything new. Secrecy was critical in government affairs after all. It wouldn’t do to have all the details on paper.

Moreover, it seems that this mission would require her to leave the mansion for a fair amount of time. This meant that it would give her a legitimate reason to avoid her insufferable parents without seeming as though she had done so out of a childish tantrum, and that alone was already very tempting.

Very well then. She might as well just go and satisfy her own curiosity. There didn’t seem to be any harm in doing so, and the rewards also seemed to be satisfactory for her. She did feel that it was due time for her to get a promotion in the courts.

After all, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, wasn’t it?