The Devil Duchess Adopts The Villainess

(Elimason Village)

Outside the capitol a few hundred kilometers to the west a small territory of a count was located, it consisted of no more than a simple village with roughly a thousand inhabitants. The ruler of the land was the count of house Brantfield, one of the many vessels under the noble duke family of Sepetine.

The count was a handsome middle age man with many female admirers among the village people. However, despite this and unlike many other nobles, he was faithful to his late wife Lady Girena who bore him two children. The eldest was the fourteen year old Rakan Brantfield and the youngest was his daughter who was only eight years old.

The family lived in a small castle on a gentle hill overlooking the village below, it was only about the size of a slightly large mansion and was decorated plainly with only the statue of a griffin guarding the gates. Inside the castle, the count was receiving a very important guest and was respectfully talking to her but there was an odd trembling in his voice.

“Thank you for coming this way, I am honoured to meet one of the famous ladies of the ‘All Seeing Eye’.”

The count was in the bedroom talking to an old woman who was standing across from him, the woman was old, and the ravages of time were plain to see across her face. Her facial features seemed to blur and shift the longer one gazed upon her.

The colour of her eyes would constantly change, and the count had lost track of how many colours he had seen. To be honest with himself, the woman before him scared him a great deal. If not for his ambitions, he would not have dared to invite this creature into his home. Wuxiaworld for visiting.

The ‘All Seeing Eye’ was an ancient and elusive order of fairy halflings who each had the ability to read potential futures by looking at a person’s mana circuits. It was almost impossible to invite them into your home as the members would traverse around the continent, many had tried to capture them but none succeeded.

Laying on the bed was the man’s daughter who slept soundly as if the surrounding noise was nothing more than air. She was a little beauty with soft pale white features and a delicate body that curled up within a soft blanket. Her hair was wavy with brown curls, the spitting image of his late wife. For the sake of no accidents occurring during the reading, the count slipped a small dosage of Nightingale extract into her tea to send her into a deep slumber.

The crone he summoned had once told him the future of his eldest child, who was predicted to assume the role of the leader of House Brantfield once he passed away. This was insufficient for the count as he had dreams of his house rising in the ranks of nobility, eventually becoming an upper level noble in the kingdom.

His daughter was now his only hope and if her future was also useless, he would simply trade her off for some benefits from a political marriage. The count was raised to be a cold, calculating ruler from his father and only his wife was able to bring joy and light into his life, when she passed away his heart was buried with her.

The only dream he had left was to fulfill the wish of his father and raise the glory of his house. His children no longer meant anything to him under than benefits and costs. He nodded slowly at the crone to begin the ritual and she took a strange patterned dagger and slashed both of her arms.

Blood dripped to the floor and began to form a strange rune, it formed a pentagram with two red eyes gazing from the floor. The count looked at the eyes and then turned to see the witch in action, the previous witch did not allow him to view the ritual, so he was quite curious about it.

The old woman stared at the count who stepped back and shuddered in fear as her eyes had turned completely white. She brought a wrinkled hand to the child’s face and gently stroked her head while whispering a language that count Brantfield could not understand. The crone removed her hand after a few minutes and her eyes turned back to normal, the little girl slept peacefully and was unaware of what just happened. “Well what do you see?” the count hurriedly asked.

The crone paused for a moment as if gathering her thoughts and replied,

“I see the most likely future for your child, I see her standing at the side of the king as the future queen and leader of the kingdom. A woman of unmatched beauty and power the likes of which the continent has never seen before. She will enchant and ensnare all the heirs of the major noble houses and bring them under her command. The glory of House Brantfield will rise far beyond that of a mere count. She is the chosen child of the heavens and none can stand in the way of her destiny.”

The count could hardly contain the grin that spread across his face, “Hahaha!” he threw back his head laughing merrily. No longer would his house be ridiculed and mocked by his fellow noblemen, he would stand at the top of the continent with his daughter as his weapon. No trace of the kind benevolent father remained as his look towards his daughter turned into one of greed.

The crone observed the man and shook her head slightly, she had seen far too many men abandon their children or use them as tools according to her prophecies. How could the future be so easy to predict? Her ability only allowed her to see the strongest possibility, but the time was like a river with twists and turns that makes the final destination impossible to see.

“Is there any that will stand in the future you predicted?” the man had stopped laughing and quickly asked. The crone turned away and began to walk towards the door ignoring the cries of the man behind her.

“Guards stop this woman at once!” the count shouted.

As the crone reached the door, two guards approached and placed a sword at her throat. Their hands trembled slightly in fear but held firm to the weapon in their hands. The cold metallic sting of the blade touched the old woman’s throat and she could taste the blood where the blade gently cut.

“Answer me now! Who can mess up the destiny of the Brantfield House?” the man yelled in a commanding tone.

The crone looked at him with an expressionless face and refused to answer, her tone was casual and light as she simply said,” I don’t want the child to be chained to your desires of power”. The count was now furious with rage, veins began to pulse at the back of his hand as he barely held on to his violent urges.

“Toss the witch into the dungeons and let her rot,” he finally said.

The guards nodded and gripped the woman roughly by the arms as she was carried out of the room and into the dungeons below. The count felt uneasy and looked at his sleeping daughter in her bed, it was safer to lock up the old witch so no one could find out the destiny of his child. She would be the key to winning the glory of his ancestors and to protect her, the count was willing to pay any price.

The old witch was thrown violently into a cell by the guards who then promptly left to report the deed to their lord. The witch looked around at the cell, it was a grey room with a small window attached to the right side of the wall. The dungeon appeared not to be in use as all the cells next to her were empty.

The woman sighed heavily and began to pray desperately in her heart for the safety of the child. The innocent child would cause the suffering and fracture of the kingdom from within if she followed her future path. Her eyes slowly turned white as she shifted through the potential futures until she found the one she was searching for.

The woman stood up and whispered a phrase in the ancient language that only she knew, “Teleporius animulse procarets nasrmous”.

The count visited the cell the next morning intent on interrogating the witch to spill all the information she knew but when he approached the cell, he unexpectedly heard the sound of complete silence. He rushed in and flung open the cell doors but no one was found in the cell and there was only a message written in blood on the wall of the cell with a chilling sentence.

‘Ashley Blackwolf will threaten the destiny of your child’