The streets of Eldoria were a vibrant tapestry of sights and sounds.
The scent of baked bread wafted from a nearby bakery, mingling with the sweeter smell of fresh flowers from a vendor's cart.
Carriages clattered over the cobblestones, and the air was filled with the lively chatter of merchants, nobles, and common folk.
Daphne, with Lianna's arm linked with hers, felt a thrill of genuine happiness.
This was the life she had missed, the world she had returned to protect.
"So," Daphne said, her voice soft beneath the noise of the city. "You were just at your sister's home, weren't you? How is she? And how is her new husband?"
Lianna's face lit up. "Oh, she's absolutely radiant! Married life suits her well. Her husband, Lord Percival, is a dear, truly. He dotes on her, and they've already started planning to open a new school for young girls in the city. It's all so lovely and… domestic." She sighed with a hint of dramatic flair. "It's all my mother talks about now."
Daphne smiled, an understanding glimmer in her eyes. "She's already started with the suitors, hasn't she?"
She knew this because the legal age for marriage in Eldoria was sixteen for ladies. Lianna was already above said age.
Lianna groaned, a perfect picture of a put-upon daughter. "You know her too well, Daph. She says that since I'm past seventeen, it's time to start thinking seriously about my future. She has an entire list of them, and not a single one of them is even remotely interesting."
Daphne laughed, the sound bubbling up from deep inside her. "Well, perhaps we can convince her to give you a little more time. You've only just returned from your sister's. You deserve a proper rest."
"That's what I said!" Lianna exclaimed. She leaned in conspiratorially. "But my mother is convinced the the Prince, General Alaric's victory has sent all the eligible bachelors into a frenzy. She says the city is teeming with them, all eager to find a wife."
At the mention of the General, Daphne's expression sobered for a moment, her mind drifting to Alaric.
They turned a corner and the dressmaker's shop came into view, its large windows displaying mannequins adorned with exquisite silks and satins.
"Oh, look!" Lianna said, her voice full of excitement once more. "We're here. Let's get you into that masterpiece!"
The bell above the door of Madame Genevieve's boutique chimed, announcing their arrival.
The shop was a haven of opulence, its air thick with the scent of silk and fine lace.
Gowns in every color imaginable hung from racks, and shimmering fabric were stacked high on mahogany shelves.
"Welcome, my dears!" Madame Genevieve, a plump woman with a kind smile, bustled toward them. "Daphne, my darling, you've grown into such a beauty. And Lianna, how wonderful to see you again."
"Hello, Madame," Daphne said, her voice a soft melody behind the veil.
As they were led to a fitting room, a high-pitched, imperious voice cut through the air. "Madame Genevieve! This hem is a disgrace! It's a full inch too short!"
A young woman with an elaborate updo and a face that was a study in self-importance stormed out of a nearby fitting room, holding up a gown of crimson silk.
Her hands were on her hips, and her expression was pure disdain.
This was Lady Victoria, the daughter of the influential Minister of Justice, known throughout Eldoria for her sharp tongue and even sharper ambition.
"My sincerest apologies, Lady Victoria," Madame Genevieve said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "My seamstress must have misunderstood the measurements. We will correct it immediately."
Victoria's gaze fell on Daphne, and a sneer twisted her lips. "Who is this?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Daphne's veiled hat. "Did you bring a servant with you, Lianna?".
Lianna's grip on Daphne's arm tightened. "This is Lady Daphne Thomas," she said, her tone cool and protective. "She's my friend."
"Daphne Thomas? Duke Thomas' daughter?" Victoria scoffed. "The girl who was exiled to the mountains? I've heard you have quite the reputation for being... fragile."
Her eyes lingered on the veil. "And now you hide behind a hat? How very odd."
Daphne remained perfectly still, her composure unshaken. She simply gave a slight nod in Victoria's direction.
Victoria's face flushed with irritation at being dismissed so casually.
She turned her attention to the mannequins, her fingers running over the fabric of a silver-threaded tunic. "I am having this one replicated for myself," she announced, as if she were a queen bestowing a gift upon the world. "I believe the General would find it very fitting, don't you think?"
"General Alaric is not a man who cares for such frivolity," Lianna said, her tone sharp. "He cares for honor and valor."
"Nonsense!" Victoria snapped. "A man of his stature and power would certainly appreciate a woman who understands taste and elegance. After all, he is a Prince and a General. He would need a woman who can stand by his side as an equal. He is the most powerful man in the kingdom, after the Emperor. Only a woman of my standing would be a suitable match for him."
She spoke with a possessive air, as if General Alaric were a prize to be claimed.
Victoria had never even spoken to the General, but her obsession with him was the talk of the court.
She had even fought with other noble ladies over her self-proclaimed claim on him.
Daphne listened, a strange mix of emotions swirling within her. Hearing Victoria speak of Alaric with such a possessive tone was unsettling.
"I believe your fitting is ready, My Lady," Madame Genevieve interjected smoothly, pulling Victoria's attention away. "If you would just step back this way."
Victoria huffed, giving Daphne one last withering look before she left.
"Don't mind her," Lianna whispered, squeezing Daphne's arm. "She thinks she owns the world."
"Some people have a way of revealing their character in the most obvious ways," Daphne replied, her voice low and calm.
She looked in the direction Victoria had gone, a flicker of something calculating in her golden eyes.
The game had just become more interesting.
The dress was a masterpiece. Daphne stepped onto the small pedestal, and with the help of Madame Genevieve and her assistants, she was carefully fitted into the gown.
It was a stunning creation of silver-blue silk, a color that seemed to shimmer with an inner light, complementing the golden strands of her hair.
Delicate pearls were hand-stitched into intricate patterns across the bodice, like dew drops caught on a spider's web.
The design was elegant, simple, and utterly breathtaking.
Lianna gasped, her eyes wide with awe. "It's perfect, Daphne! It's better than I could have imagined. You'll be the most beautiful lady at the ceremony."
Daphne turned slowly, her reflection in the full-length mirror revealing a woman who was both poised and powerful.
"It's exactly as I remember," she murmured, a flicker of a past life in her mind.
After a final adjustment, she stepped out of the dress. "It's perfect, Madame Genevieve," Daphne said, handing the dress back to the seamstress. "Please have it delivered to the manor."
"Of course, my lady," Madame Genevieve replied, her face beaming with pride. "It would be an honor."
As they left the shop, the peaceful hum of the city had transformed into a roaring chorus.
A wave of excitement pulsed through the streets, and people were spilling from shops and homes.
Cheers erupted from every direction, and the air filled with the excited cries of "The General! The General!"
Lianna squealed with delight. "It's him! It's General Alaric! He's here!"
Daphne's heart began to pound in her chest.
According to her past life, Alaric was not supposed to return for another two days.
This deviation from her memories sent a shiver of unease through her.
A troop of mounted knights, known as the Skyblade Knights, came into view, their armor gleaming in the afternoon sun.
People were hailing them, throwing flowers, and making way for the triumphant procession.
Daphne's gaze fell upon the General, and a sharp intake of breath escaped her lips.
In her past life, she had only ever seen him from a distance or through rumors, never truly paying attention to his features.
She had been too consumed with her own despair to notice.
Now, she saw him clearly.
He was breathtakingly handsome. His dark hair was a bit disheveled, and his eyes, a piercing shade of green, scanned the crowd.
A faint scar ran across his jaw, a testament to his battles, but it only added to his rugged, masculine charm.
He was not just the heroic figure of legend; he was a living, breathing man, more captivating than any story could describe.
For a brief, fleeting moment, his gaze met hers.
He didn't stop, but his eyes seemed to linger for an extra second on the veiled woman in the crowd.
He couldn't see her face, but something about her, the fluid elegance, the stillness in her posture, the golden hair peeking out from beneath the hat, bugged him, a nagging feeling that he knew her from somewhere.
Daphne felt a jolt of shock.
The change in the timeline, combined with the intensity of his brief, searching look, left her feeling both unnerved and intrigued.
The threads of fate were already beginning to shift, and she had to be ready for the new path ahead.