Summer in Greylands was always longer and brighter. The sun would shine to its heart’s content. Nights were colder, almost desert-like.
It was noon on a hot day. A beautiful tall lady with her daughter was out in the market to buy groceries. She wore red heels, blue trousers, and a black top. A white hat covered her head, and dark glasses shielded much of her face. Her daughter walked behind her, while their butler carried two packets of groceries they had just bought.
She loved buying household things herself, so once in a while she would go to the markets, spend a few hours there, and enjoy the look on people’s faces when they saw her. For she was often called the most beautiful and powerful woman in the whole land of the west-continent.
Her name was Queenie. Queenie Wolf, wife of Victor Wolf—the most influential, powerful, and ruthless man in Greylands. If Greylands had a king, it would be Victor Wolf. They had only one child, Natasha. Queenie was in her late 30s but looked no older than 25. Natasha was turning 18 soon, and Victor was 43.
There was a certain appeal with Queenie and Natasha. Whenever they were present at a gathering, they were always the center of attention. It was also due to Victor’s immense power that everybody wanted to be friends with them, hoping to secure a favor or two.
Natasha had inherited much from her parents: her mother’s cunning and intellect, her father’s ruthlessness and strength. Her only weakness—or as some called it, her strength—was her anger. The only person in the world who could control her was her mother. Even her father never bothered her when she was angry. But Queenie was a different story. She had her ways, with her daughter and with everyone.
They bought groceries and a few other things, then went back to the car. The butler opened the door for them, and they slid into the back seat. The car was white, with the Wolf family crest in place of a number plate—a black wolf with red, burning eyes. Both mother and daughter sat with heads held high, charisma and high-class aura radiating from them.
The butler turned his hand and touched a black circle on the steering wheel with his ring. With a low, melodious hum, the car moved forward.
They didn’t talk the whole way, sipping chilled soda from stylish built-in glasses that slid from the car walls. Sometimes they glanced at the plasma screen in front of them for the latest news.
After a 15-minute drive, the car stopped before a gigantic black-and-white gate. The butler pressed a blue button on the dashboard, and the gate began to open. The car rolled in at a medium pace.
Inside the outer walls lay a huge estate, blanketed in green grass and countless varieties of plants. Small buildings dotted the grounds, but the real attraction stood at the center: the Wolf mansion. It wasn’t really a mansion, but a castle-like fortress. The estate walls formed a perfect circle, while the castle itself was rectangular and jet-black, towering seven floors high. The outer walls gleamed white, and a massive alloy wolf’s face loomed above the main gate, its features fierce and unyielding.
The car stopped before the entrance. Queenie and Natasha stepped out, striding towards the door, which opened automatically. The butler carried the shopping inside.
Though the mansion had a black exterior, the interior told a different story. It was vibrant, with thousands of lights glowing across colorful decor. A grand hall opened before them, flanked by twin round staircases leading to the second floor. Victor and Queenie’s main chamber was there.
To reach the upper floors, side lifts and stairs stood near the entrance. Natasha lived on the third floor, which was entirely hers. Nobody but cleaners and attendants were permitted there.
Beneath the massive central stairs stretched the dining hall. A long rectangular table stood on one side, a line of sofas on the other. A gigantic plasma screen adorned the wall. To the right was the kitchen.
The butler moved towards the kitchen while Queenie and Natasha sat on the sofas. Queenie studied her daughter.
“What do you want to do on your 18th birthday?” she asked calmly.
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll tell you when I am. Can I go now?” Natasha answered carelessly.
“You are the daughter of Victor Wolf, so behave like it. Be responsible!” Queenie said sharply.
“I’m doing the best I can. I have a life too!” Natasha replied loudly.
“You are not doing enough. We are the Wolf family, and we must maintain our reputation. Do you know why we are the most feared and powerful family in Greylands?” Queenie demanded. Then, with a piercing gaze, she continued, “It is because of your father’s reputation. Remember my words: protect your reputation like your life. If you lose it, you lose everything. And please—lose your idiotic friends. Connect with elite families. It is expected of you,” she said, her tone softening at the end.
“Whatever. We are the elite among elites. I don’t know why I have to develop relations with those idiots. Anyway, I’ll see what I can do. Now please, can I go?” Natasha said, rising from the sofa.
“Alright. I’ll suffer this attitude of yours for one more week only. Once you turn 18, I expect growth. If you don’t show progress in your relations with important people, Victor will have words with you!” Queenie warned as she rose, walking briskly towards the stairs that led to her floor.
Natasha stood silently, thoughtful. She had never seen anyone win an argument with her mother. Queenie always had the last word. In a way, Natasha admired this and was slowly following in her mother’s steps.
Victor Wolf was the most powerful man in Greylands, one of the few in the empire with a direct shell line to the king. Shells were devices used to communicate across distances, powered by magic. Every mage had a unique magical signature, which acted as their signal. Non-mages used essence-powered shells, like everything else in the empire.
Victor’s main strength lay in his mafia network, spread year-round across legal and illegal dealings. He owned countless clubs and underground spots in Greylands’ capital. Inherited wealth gave him a never-ending gold supply—gold being the empire’s ultimate currency.
But it wasn’t only the mafia that made him powerful. Everyone with sense knew there was something else supporting Victor. The king never interfered in mafia affairs unless major trouble arose. The police avoided Victor’s matters altogether. The Wolf family’s influence had always backed the current king’s claim to the throne, and in return, the king let them reign unchecked.
Later, Queenie sat in her enormous bedroom, speaking into a compact shell. The door opened, and a tall, muscular man entered. Bald, with gleaming eyes full of intellect and cunning, he moved with authority. His red three-piece suit stretched over bulging muscles, his black tie neat. Even his face bore sharp cuts of muscle, intimidating enough to make the greatest fighters think twice before facing him hand-to-hand.
Queenie felt his presence instantly. She ended her shell conversation and set it on the table.
“Three weeks! Three weeks, and now you show yourself? You know how hard it is for me to run affairs in your absence!” she grumbled furiously.
Without a word, he crossed the room, sat in a chair, crossed his legs, lit a cigarette, and exhaled smoke with a smile.
Her face reddened. “Not even a shred of communication for weeks, and now I’m getting the silent treatment!” she yelled angrily.
“You look beautiful when you’re angry. Thanks for being my woman,” he said in a loving tone.
Amazingly, Queenie’s anger melted. A blush rose to her cheeks, and her eyes glowed.
“Alright, alright. Do not thank me. If somebody heard you, they’d think the Wolf has gone soft,” she teased with a smile.
“It’s only for you, my Queenie. I would not thank even the king,” he replied earnestly.
“It’s your ruthlessness I love, and your love that I cherish. Be ruthless to the world, and save your love for me,” she said dreamily, swaying her hand. The air filled with a pleasant melody.
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