Unfortunately for Victoria, he did.

The demon toyed with her beautiful, pale breasts a little longer, eliciting moans from the empress’s lips that a common harlot would not have been ashamed of, and then he fulfilled his promise.

Victoria was free. With his magic, the demon cleansed her divine body and clothes, which he had tossed aside like rags. The sorceress hurriedly grabbed them and fled the chamber as quickly as she could. She no longer resembled the haughty lady she had been when she entered.

Just after leaving the crypt, the empress began to dress herself. She had never done this before—her loyal maids had always dressed her since childhood. She fumbled awkwardly and slowly, but eventually managed to clothe herself.

My first success of the day, she thought grimly.

At that moment, Victoria de Montfort was a completely defenseless woman, stripped of any means of protection. Yet this did not trouble the cunning ruler. In the chamber, she had refrained from plotting, knowing the vile demon could read her thoughts, but now, free from his grasp, she could begin to plan her ****. She had a few artifacts that might help her regain her magical abilities.

But first, I must return to my palace, she thought.

The intelligent ruler’s contemplations were interrupted by the sight of a peasant family she had seen on her way to the crypt. Back then, she could levitate; now, she had to trudge through uneven fields in high-heeled shoes.

Could anything worse happen to me?

Her shoes were designed to look beautiful, certainly not for walking on filthy ground. Moreover, the spell that kept her clothes and body perpetually clean was no longer working. She didn’t want to check, but it seemed some dirt had gotten into her shoe, likely staining her beautiful white stockings. To make matters worse, because of this, she had to hold her expensive gown slightly above the ground to keep it from touching the soil. And on top of it all, she was starting to sweat.

This is the worst day of my life, she thought bitterly, glancing at the ragged peasants in their tattered clothes and bare feet.

Even though she had made it clear last time that a woman of her stature deserved proper bows, they just stood there, staring at her without a shred of humility.

Victoria did not speak to commoners. Once, when she was still relatively young and her carriage had broken down, she had spoken to peasants who came to fix it, but only through her knights. Those peasants had hoped for a small reward for their help, but the then-Lady Victoria gave them nothing. After all, wasn’t it the duty of the rabble to serve the nobility?

This time, however, she might make an exception. It would be their lucky day.