1. Royal Decree

"Ravenna Solarius, I hereby declare you the sole ruler of Jola Island and the Duchess of the Jola Dukedom!" Emperor Andrew Solarius’s voice echoed powerfully through the vast, marble-lined Imperial Halls. His youngest daughter and fifth child, Ravenna Solarius, knelt on one knee, bowing her head as the decree was delivered. Sunlight spilled in through the open ceiling, casting her in a golden glow as she received the solemn proclamation, her figure framed by the elegance of the grand hall.

"By the decree of the Imperial Court, you and your 300 knights are to depart by tomorrow evening to assume control of Jola Island, replacing its current caretaker, Duke Edward Jola and his family!" the Emperor’s voice resounded with authority, its clarity carrying across the entire assembly.

Yet, behind his words, the murmurs of nobles filled the hall, woven with disbelief, derision, and smug satisfaction. "So, he’s finally sending her out of the capital," one woman whispered to her husband, a barely concealed smile on her lips. "Good riddance! With this She won’t compete for the throne," muttered a minister nearby. "Poor Jola Island," another voice chimed in softly, dripping with sarcasm, "those subjects don’t know what chaos awaits them."

The Emperor continued, ignoring the murmurs. "You will be granted 400 Mana Coins to stabilize your new Dukedom and will be exempt from all taxation for the next 15 years!" At this, the whispers grew louder, curiosity and criticism mixing in equal measure.

"Only 400 Mana Coins? That’s barely enough to sustain her own household, let alone an entire region," one minister scoffed. "Serves her right. After all the money she’s wasted on her indulgences, I’m surprised she’s getting anything at all," someone muttered nearby. "Actually, he’s being practical with that tax exemption," another voice countered. "The people of Jola can hardly afford their daily bread, much less pay taxes to the crown."

The decree concluded with the Emperor’s solemn words, "The Sun God Solious bears witness to this decree, as do the noble houses gathered here." The hall fell silent, and Ravenna finally raised her head, meeting the Emperor's gaze with her piercing, dark eyes, as sharp and unyielding as a raven.

Her beauty was striking—her jet-black hair seemed to drink in the sunlight, glinting like polished obsidian, and her dangerous, alluring smile sent a shiver down the spines of those who had spoken against her just moments before. With an expression that was oddly disinterested, she absorbed the implications of her father’s decree, as though it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

"Well, I’ll see you later then, Father." Her words were smooth, almost dismissive, and as she rose to her feet and turned to leave, her dark red gown—embroidered with glistening threads of gold—swirled around her like the feathers of a raven. It was as though she were striding out of a victorious hunt rather than receiving what many saw as a humiliating exile. Her steps echoed down the hall with a resolute authority that left the court whisperers swallowing their laughter.

Once outside the court, Ravenna strode toward the West Wing of the palace, where the Imperial Family’s chambers were situated. Her gaze was fixed ahead, unbothered by the stares she received. On her way, a figure stepped into her path—a tall, broad-shouldered man with the same midnight-black hair and strikingly aristocratic features as her own. Her elder brother, Prince William, regarded her with a mocking grin.

"Ah, did I miss the decree? Such a pity," he remarked, feigning innocence. "Well, best of luck scraping for fish or whatever it is they do on Jola Island. Send a word if you’re in need of funds. I might even spare a few Mana Coins, out of brotherly love, of course."

Ravenna’s lips curved into a smile just as sweet, yet somehow far more unsettling, like a raven smiling at dead bodies. "Thank you, dear brother. I don’t know how I’ll manage with just 30 Mana Coins at my disposal."

His smile faltered, replaced by confusion. "What 30 Mana Coins?" he asked, frowning as he tried to read her expression.

Her smile widened, dangerously charming, as though she were toying with him. "Why, didn’t you just offer to lend me a hand? Surely, sparing a pity 30 Mana Coins won’t strain your finances."

Before he could respond, William’s gaze shifted nervously over her shoulder. A priest of Solious was observing them with an intent look, his eyes flickering from the statue of Solious to the imperial siblings. Realizing he was under watchful eyes, William forced a tight smile. "Ah… Yes. Of course, I did," he replied, his words laced with barely concealed annoyance as he hurried past her.

Arriving at her quarters in the West Wing, she stopped before the knight stationed at her door, his posture visibly tense under her gaze. With a calm but unwavering tone, she addressed him, her piercing eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "You received the decree, did you not? What are you doing here still?" Her words came out as smooth as velvet yet laced with an edge. "Gather the knights and the servants. Prepare them to leave within two hours."

The knight, visibly rattled by her presence and calm authority, swallowed hard before giving a quick bow. “As you command, Your highness.” He turned on his heel and hurried off, leaving her with the echo of his retreating footsteps.

Once inside her room, Ravenna closed the door firmly, sealing herself in near darkness. Only the faint glow of moonlight spilled through the tall, narrow window, casting shadows across her ornate furniture. For the first time since the decree was read, she allowed herself to sink against the wall, her posture softening as the tension melted from her frame. Her fierce, unyielding expression faded, replaced by one of quiet despair and weariness—a glimpse into the woman she truly was beneath her carefully crafted façade.

"Why me?" she whispered, voice thick with frustration. “Anyone else would have been fine…” Her voice faltered, and she glanced around the unfamiliar room, the silence heavy. There was no mistaking it—she was utterly alone in this foreign, gilded prison.

In truth, she wasn’t Ravenna Solarius. She was a woman from another world entirely, an ordinary office worker who had died in a tragic accident. Three days ago, she had woken up in this body, Ravenna’s body, with all the memories and senses of the princess but none of the attachment to this life. The life she now lived felt like an impossible, surreal fever dream.

“Why Ravenna?” she muttered again, her words laced with bitterness. She recognized the name all too well; Ravenna Solarius was a minor character from a novel she had been reading before her own death—a political fantasy called The Light’s Conquest. In that story, Ravenna was a troublesome princess, a thorn in her father’s side, briefly mentioned before being exiled to some remote island, never to appear again.

And now here she was, inhabiting the very body of this fictional figure, living the last days Ravenna’s story would ever mention. She grimaced, bracing herself as an overwhelming wave of homesickness surged through her. She missed her old life, her routines, the comfort of a world where she hadn’t been trapped in someone else’s story.

"I must have committed some unforgivable sin,” she said to herself, her words fading into the empty room. “What else could explain being put in this body, this life?”

But one unexpected consolation came to mind—the memories. When she had woken up in Ravenna’s body, a flood of vivid recollections had hit her all at once. In mere moments, she had experienced Ravenna’s life from birth to now, as if watching a film from the princess’s own perspective. She felt Ravenna’s emotions, her dreams, her disappointments. And though the memories painted a clear picture of Ravenna’s life, they didn’t affect her own sense of self. She was still her own person, shaped by her past life and determined to survive in this strange world.

Straightening, she pushed off the wall and steadied herself. "So, Jola Island, huh?” she murmured, her mind churning. "If I’m to survive in that barren place, I’ll need some extra funds." A glimmer of determination sparked in her eyes. Survival was something she understood, even if this world followed a different set of rules. With that determination she stepped out and went into the East Wing of the Palace.

This part of the palace, shrouded in silence, was dimly lit by moonlight streaming through high windows, casting long shadows on the ornate walls and age-old relics. Her footsteps were soft but purposeful as she approached her destination—the Imperial Museum of Ancient History.

Upon entering, she took in the vast room, lined with shelves holding ancient manuscripts, relics, and heirlooms of long-forgotten legends. In the center, under a faint shaft of moonlight, stood the grand statue of the Hero Luminous, a figure of immense historical significance and a symbol of hope for the empire.

“It must be here,” she muttered, her voice barely audible. Ravenna recalled a passage from her past life—a detail from the final volume of The Light’s Conquest. According to the book, a hidden vault in the East Wing had been a last-resort fund, used by the protagonists to stabilize the empire during its collapse. If she could find it, she would take only enough to survive comfortably for the next few years, allowing her time to gather her bearings in Jola.

But where could it be? Ravenna moved carefully through the room, examining the items on display: crumbling parchments, ancient weaponry, even the faded robes of past emperors. She scanned each piece, her gaze settling on a worn rug near the statue of Luminous.

"What did it say in the novel?” she murmured, half to herself. She crouched down, her hands skimming over the rug, feeling for any imperfections in the floor beneath. She checked behind the shelves holding old documents, carefully lifting a few to see if anything lay hidden underneath. The memory was faint; it had been a single line buried in a dense paragraph. She sighed in frustration. "There’s no way I’ll find it like this…”

Turning her attention back to the statue, Ravenna considered the Hero Luminous himself. He had been a legendary figure four centuries ago, a man of unmatched prowess who, according to myth, resurrected entire regions and brought forth unprecedented magical advancements. She remembered bits of his tale, both from the novel and from the extensive palace education Ravenna had received, though none of it seemed helpful at the moment.

“Come on, there has to be a clue somewhere,” she muttered, staring into the statue's stoic face. She reached out, placing a hand against the cold stone cheek of the statue, tracing its features thoughtfully. For a moment, nothing happened.

As she stepped back, her dress caught on something at the statue’s base, causing her to stumble slightly. She managed to catch herself, but her unsteady step shifted the statue just a fraction. The faint sound of a mechanism clicking into place echoed through the room, followed by a brief whirring. Startled, Ravenna’s gaze snapped back to the statue as something small and metallic shot out of its hand, landing directly in her hands.

“What in the world is this?” she breathed, staring down at the object now resting in her hands.