Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1003: Ravenshade Women

Outside the glimmering gates of Valorian’s noble district, two golden chariots could be observed under the sun, each pulled by white-plumed horses and surrounded by bored, armored knights. The richer of the two was unmistakable: a high, arched roof carved from rare woods, inlaid with gold filigree and sapphire trim. Velvet curtains blocked the view inside, but every passerby already knew who it belonged to.

Duchess Maerina Ravenshade of the Ravenshade duchy. She sat with her legs crossed, adorned in layered silks too thick for the weather, with a diamond-studded fan lazily moving in one hand. Three lady servants fanned her with feathered fans from different angles while another silently dabbed her brow with a chilled cloth.

Still, she was scowling.

"Ridiculous!" she growled, making the servants flinch. "The sun is scorching. Where is my husband? Does he think I have nothing better to do than bake under this wretched sky?"

The fact that she was lounging in a throne of cushions inside an enchanted chariot that regulated temperature to perfection—and that she hadn’t felt a real breeze in twenty years thanks to her servants—didn’t seem to soften her mood.

In the second, somewhat smaller but still overly luxurious chariot nearby, her daughter was even more animated.

Princess Selendra Ravenshade leaned forward as she whispered to one of her handmaids while her painted nails drummed excitedly on the edge of her seat.

"Rumor has it that the Greenvales, those nasty forest-dwelling creeps, are gifting the King some high-value Consortium prisoners tonight!!" she chirped excitedly. "I wonder if there’s a bad boy among them... I’ve never had a high-profile criminal in my harem before. Oh~ How scandalous that would be~"

She giggled with a fan elegantly hiding her wicked grin.

The maid, head bowed, kept her tone neutral. "I’m afraid I don’t know, Young Lady. And, Young Lady, I humbly beg you to stop discussing such topics in the open. Your father still hasn’t found you a proper husband yet; you’re expected to be a lady of feminine virtues."

"Ugh. You’re so boring," Selendra scoffed, already waving her off. "Go. Shoo. Bother my mother instead or something."

The maid bowed again and walked away in silence.

Selendra sighed and glanced around, clearly restless. The slow trickle of nobles coming through the city gates was hardly worth noticing... until something caught her eye on the horizon.

A group was approaching.

At the front strode a tall man. Broad-shouldered, lean, and dressed in a black noble’s coat tailored just right to emphasize every line of muscle. His face was obscured by a minimal, sleek mask, just enough to create mystery. But it was the company he kept that made Selendra lean forward.

At least a dozen women flanked him, each stunning in her own unique way. Silken gowns, shapely curves, eyes like fire and frost and storm. Everyone of them wore a mask just like his.

Selendra’s eyes sparkled with interest as soon as her eyes found the curious group.

She licked her lips behind the fan.

Then reached for her diamond-petaled mirror, flipping it open and quickly checking her reflection. "Where’s that useless maid, whatever her name was again?!" she snapped. "Come back and do a thorough check for any imperfections."

The same maid who’d just been dismissed reappeared with practiced swiftness and not a hint of irritation despite the condescending and outright rude way she was being spoken to. "Yes, Young Lady."

"Do you recognize any of those people?" Selendra asked, tilting her head as the brush glided through her midnight-black curls.

"They’re wearing masks, so I can’t be sure, Young Lady."

"Hmm..." The princess pouted, then fanned herself slowly. "Why are they even wearing masks? Any noble who was invited should know we can’t disguise ourselves in the noble district. That’s a royal decree, and it was mentioned in the invitation letter."

With the last touch of hair set in place, Selendra gave herself one final glance, then got out of the chariot. Her heels clicked loudly as she made her way directly into the path of the approaching group, intercepting them just before they reached the gates.

She placed herself squarely in their way, her lips curled into a faux-polite smile. "And just who do we have here, I wonder~" she purred.

...

Quinlan was surprised to have already met such a high-profile person even before they entered the noble district.

He didn’t know much about Selendra Ravenshade, but easily recognized the woman based on the portraits he’d been shown of her during their little research of the notable participants of the celebration. 𝐑Ã𐌽ỗ𝐁Ěꞩ

What he knew was that she was a low-level, pampered person who didn’t have to worry about a single thing in her entire life. The few levels she gained were, naturally, gathered while being escorted by high-level guards, just like the Greenvale twins.

And just like the aforementioned lovely pair, Selendra was giving off immense bratty vibes as well. But whether her heart was as wretched as the twins’ or was just an entitled woman who never had a proper father figure present in her entire childhood, he didn’t know.

But there was one thing he found curious. Selendra looked eerily similar to Iris. He already knew it from the portraits he’d seen, but now that he met the woman in person, the similarities were truly unmistakable.

Which made sense, as Iris’ family, the Ravenclaws, were distant relatives of the Ravenshades.

But, while the two might’ve looked oddly similar on the surface, the air with which they carried themselves as well as their body language couldn’t be farther apart.

Iris had a wild edge to her that made her nearly impossible to approach, and as she grew up imprisoned by her unhinged father and then serving in the army, she didn’t have a noble air surrounding her at all. All she emitted was an immense sense of danger, and, once one got to know her better, like Quinlan, a lot of trauma she hid in the deepest parts of her soul.

The biggest tell was the difference in their eyes, however.

Selendra’s were the kind of eyes one saw on paintings of princesses. Large, bright, and perfectly shallow. Eyes that had seen nothing beyond garden parties, orchestrated drama, and the occasional scandal whispered behind lace fans. They shone with self-satisfaction, not understanding. The gaze of someone more concerned with how others perceived her than what the world was truly like. A mirror that was polished daily.

Iris’s eyes were the complete opposite.

They were never still.

Always watching. Always judging. Always calculating. Even in moments of calm, there was tension behind them, as if she expected an ambush from every corner.

While Selendra saw the world as a stage to be admired on, Iris saw it as a battlefield she had to be willing to do everything to survive.

Where Selendra’s gaze said ’look at me,’ Iris’s eyes asked ’what do you want?’ and if the answer was wrong, ’how fast can I kill you?’

Quinlan wasn’t the only one who was surprised by how oddly similar Iris and Selendra looked on the surface, however.

<Look, Iris! Allow me to apply makeup on you just once, and you’ll shine so brightly!> Seraphiel cooed in a sing-song voice.

Iris sent the mischievous elf a sidelong glance of pure judgment.