Sophia Blackfeld gave the softest of sighs, tracing small-print words of strategy and well-thought battle plans in a red-covered book. She breathed slowly, absorbing each word as if it were a gift from a god, her blue eyes flitting from paragraph to paragraph, page to page. This book, The Art of War, was the most intelligently written book - so many tactics and conditions that had to be met in order for the tactics to work., so many positions and procedures.
She smiled twistedly, reading through to the next page where she placed her bookmark and closed the book, setting it down under the Tiffany lamp on her nightstand. Closing her sky blue eyes, she stretched out her arms and legs, joints stiff from being in one position for too long. She sighed for the second time and reopened her eyes, tossing her legs over the edge of the couch and standing.
Padding over to the needlessly large window, a dismal frown took over her face.
The sun still shone through the clouds blanketing the sky and Britannian children still played outside in the courtyard of her father's home, tossing a pink ball to each other. Maids stood close by, monitoring their play time and rushed over if any of the children fell or hurt themselves in any way. These children were quite young, only six to nine-years-old each.
They were so naive in their fun that it was painful.
Sophia couldn't remember the last time she'd had a solid childish moment when she was younger, having been raised up as Duke Blackfeld's daughter. Every day, she was instructed to do proper noble things like perfect her posture and study habits - was entirely unnecessary considering that, even though she was the Duke's daughter, she wasn't planning on taking his place when the time came - and even punish an Eleven the correct and brutal way that would meet everyone's expectations.
She would never lay a hand on an Eleven, for she was half.
A war was set into motion seven years ago in 2010, ten years to the day after Sophia was born. The Britannian Empire waged this war on most of the world and by the end of it, the Empire assumed control over one-third of the entire world. In its triumph, the Empire stripped Japan of its name and rights and renamed it Area Eleven, naming the defeated country's indigenous people Elevens.
Ten years before the war, as was mentioned, Duke Weiss Blackfeld took advantage of an unsuspecting Japanese maid, throwing her frail frame onto his lavish and heavily cushioned bed, where he pressed on to rape her. Bruises curved along the delicate crooks of her body, staining her wrists and small chest, her body branded by the Duke's careless drunken need to feel more power than he already felt. This woman that served him in any way she possibly could, Minami Amane, was now pregnant with his child.
Sophia closed her eyes again and turned away from the window, leaning up against the blue wall of the room her father set aside for her when school was on scheduled break.
Seeing the signs of her pregnancy, the Duke willingly forbade her from working and kept her in a less populated area of his home, hiring maids to keep quiet and take care of the woman that would bear his child. He fed her anything she requested and gave her anything she wished, treating her as if she was as holy as the Britannian Empire for which she served. However, on that fateful day, when she pushed a blond baby girl from her loins, her cervix tore and she bled out all over the bed she was given, dying instantly. The Duke took the baby and raised it as a noble, disposing of her mother's body in a less honorable manner than she deserved. Minami Amane was dressed in a beautiful blue kimono and set ablaze in a crematorium, her body slowly turning into ash. And, without hesitation, her ashes were poured into an expensive and enormous Dutch urn, forever on display in the center of the foyer in the Duke's home.
She opened her eyes and looked over towards her blue laptop, deciding it may be best not to think too much about such ancient and dismal family history. Working her way over to her laptop which sat uniform on her mahogany desk, she spared the playing children one last glance and prayed they would grow into wonderful people and never harm an Eleven. She pulled out her blue arm chair and plopped right into it, setting her laptop in her lap and opening it.
Pressing the power button... The screen lit up with its usual white glow as it turned itself on. Sophia leaned her head in her hand and breathed slowly, the familiar buzz of her laptop comin on as it's fan kicked into gear.
"Sophia!" howled a girlish voice, interrupting her silence.
The blond frowned and rolled her eyes. "I'm in here!" she returned, hoping to high-heaven that the person approaching her room wasn't who she thought it was.