Was her father privately in contact with Irina?
Or had the power behind Irina—the Holy Temple or the Imperial Family—already managed to infiltrate House Elwin so easily?
“Did you see the face of the person who met her?” Freya asked.
“He looked to be in his fifties, slightly hunched, with a mole on his left cheek,” Lyra described in detail.
Freya searched her memory and quickly matched the description to a specific person.
He was an old gardener under the butler, a man named Old Jim. He was usually silent and reticent, responsible for the flower beds in the most remote corners of the estate, almost never attracting any attention.
To think such a person was Irina’s… or rather, an informant for the faction behind her?
“There is more — ” Lyra continued. “When I came back, I felt like there was something ‘extra’ outside our room.”
She pointed toward the door and the windowsill.
“Though it’s well-hidden, the traces of magic in the air aren’t right. It’s like… low-level surveillance or sensing magic, set up very recently.”
As expected.
Every move they made in the Earl Elwin’s Mansion was being monitored. Her father, or some other power within the estate, did not trust them.
“I see.”
Freya’s expression remained unchanged, but her fingertips tightened slightly.
“Ignore that magic. The level is not high; it should be just a probe. Before the banquet, they won’t make any major moves.” She paused to deliberate for a moment. “Lyra, find an opportunity to confirm Old Jim’s identity and daily routine without alerting anyone. Just confirm it. Do not make contact, and do not alert the enemy.”
“Understood!”
A flash of excitement crossed Lyra’s eyes. Missions that involved acting right under the enemy’s nose always thrilled her.
Night fell once more.
The night before the banquet felt exceptionally long.
Freya had no desire to sleep.
She stood by the window, looking at the courtyard outlined by lamps and the still-lit window of the main building’s study in the distance. ‘What is Father doing right now?’
‘Is he making final arrangements for tomorrow’s banquet, or is he… having a secret conversation with some “hidden guest”?’
Irina’s appearance was like a stone thrown into stagnant water, causing the unease in Freya’s heart to expand. This woman, who had pushed her into the abyss in her past life, seemed even more active in this life, embedding herself deeper into the massive web being spun against Freya.
The golden mark on her wrist… the Stigma Trial… her obsession with the Holy Sword…
Freya’s train of thought was interrupted by an extremely faint tapping sound that almost blended in with the night wind.
Her gaze narrowed as she looked toward the balcony.
Under the moonlight, a nimble figure was clinging to the balcony railing. With long white hair fluttering in the night breeze, it was Lyra.
She winked at Freya before flipping inside silently like a cat, her movements so light and agile she seemed weightless.
“Boss, not asleep yet?”
Lyra brushed off non-existent dust and leaned in. Her face carried a hint of pride from a finished mission, mixed with the gravity of a new discovery.
“I figured it out. That old gardener is called Old Jim. He’s worked at the manor for nearly twenty years and usually lives in a tool shed next to the servants’ quarters on the far south side. He did leave his post for a short time this afternoon, claiming to be buying flower seeds in the city, but the direction and route he took coming back were wrong. Also…”
She lowered her voice.
“On my way back, I ‘passed by’ the outer edge of the main building’s east wing. Guess what I ‘heard’?”
Freya signaled for her to continue.
“Even though I was far away and the windows were closed, my ears are sharp.” Lyra’s red eyes glowed in the darkness. “I think I heard your father’s voice. I couldn’t catch the details, but his tone was… very serious, even a bit… anxious? Then a woman responded. Her voice was very soft, but she definitely wasn’t a maid or a female relative of the house. That deliberately soft, low tone… she sounded like that Crybaby!”
‘Father and Irina are having a secret meeting late at night!’
Freya’s heart leaped.
What could they be talking about? The banquet? The Holy Sword? Or… her?
“And — ” Lyra licked her lips and continued. “While I was ‘wandering’ near the main building, I felt that it wasn’t just our room; the security and surveillance of the entire manor have been tightened. There are new faces among the guards in the shadows, and their auras aren’t weak. Besides… they have a scent that makes me uncomfortable. It’s like… the scent of that ‘light’ emitted by the Holy Sword Replica the other day, but more subtle and colder.”
‘People from the Holy Temple?’
‘Or guards directly under the Imperial Family who have practiced special light-element combat arts or magic?’
Freya’s fingertips turned ice-cold.
It seemed tomorrow night’s banquet in the Emerald Hall was indeed a carefully prepared trap. And the Earl Elwin’s Mansion had already entered a state of martial law in advance.
“Lyra — “
Freya’s voice sounded exceptionally clear in the silent room.
“At the banquet tomorrow, no matter what happens, stay close to me. If… if circumstances change and an accident beyond my control occurs—like me being forcibly taken or restricted—do not hesitate. Break through and leave immediately. Go back to House Dale and find Grandpa Aru.”
“Boss!” Lyra immediately objected, her red eyes widening. “That won’t do! I said I would protect you!”
“Let me finish.” Freya interrupted her, her gaze calm to the point of being cruel. “If you are trapped too, we will truly have no cards left. You need to safely carry out everything that happened here, our discoveries, and any new information we might get at the banquet. Only then can Grandpa Aru take action. And — “
She looked at Lyra, her tone softening slightly.
“I believe in your ability. You can do it.”
She gave Lyra a gentle smile. Although her voice was firm, given her pale complexion, it looked…
Lyra bit her lower lip hard, her eyes full of frustration and struggle. But eventually, she saw the undeniable determination in Freya’s eyes and could only nod forcefully, her voice muffled.
“…I understand. But Boss, promise me, you must be careful! Nothing can happen to you!”
“I will,” Freya promised softly, though she didn’t know how much weight that promise held in such an unknown whirlpool.
She walked to the bed, took out the small leather pouch Grandpa Aru had given her from under the pillow, and opened it.
Inside, besides several bottles of magic potions labeled with different effects, there were a few inconspicuous metal plates engraved with complex runes and a deep purple crystal that seemed to contain stable magic.
“Take these.” Freya handed two of the metal plates and the crystal to Lyra. “The metal plates are Directional Short-distance Teleportation Runes. Once activated, they can randomly teleport you to any location within 100 meters, but they can only be used once. The crystal is a Magic Resonance Stone. If… if I really lose consciousness or can’t be contacted, it will guide you toward my general direction. I’ll tell you how to use them in a moment.”
Lyra took them solemnly and tucked them away carefully as if she were holding the most precious treasures in the world.
“Boss, I will definitely use them when they are needed most.”
That night, neither of them slept.
Freya explained the usage of the small items and the strategies for various situations they might encounter to Lyra in detail.
Lyra listened with extraordinary focus, her red eyes shining in the darkness as she carved every word into her heart.
When the first ray of morning light seeped into the room through the gaps in the curtains, the brief “preparation period” ended.
Today was the day of the banquet.
Freya changed into the gown she had prepared in advance, which met the standards of a court banquet — a silver-purple dress with a simple cut that highlighted her elegance. The hem was adorned with tiny Starlight Magic gemstones that shimmered with a faint light as she moved.
She put her long hair up in an elegant bun, wearing only a pair of small amethyst earrings and a House Dale crest brooch.
The girl in the mirror was as beautiful as ever, but deep within those light purple eyes, it was as if ten thousand years of ice had frozen over—cold and resolute.
Lyra also changed into a more formal assistant’s suit. The deep red color made her skin look even fairer, and her long white hair was meticulously braided. Though the short sword at her waist was purely ceremonial, she had quietly added several nearly undetectable mechanisms to the hilt to facilitate a quick draw and increase concealment.
A small, sealed box sent by the people Grandpa Aru had arranged arrived early in the morning. Inside was a pair of exquisitely crafted wristlets that showed almost no magical fluctuations. The attached note had only one sentence:
[A gift from Lord Calanso. Can disrupt low-level detection and protect the heart in critical moments.]
Freya put on the wristlets. The cold touch of the metal eased her mind slightly.
Breakfast was silent. Count Hezdi did not appear; only the butler conveyed the Earl’s command — a carriage arranged by the Imperial Family would arrive in the afternoon, and the lady should be prepared in advance.
Time passed slowly in the wait. Every minute and second felt like a stretched string, tightened to the limit.
In the afternoon, the sun was hidden behind the clouds, and the sky was gloomy.
A magnificent carriage decorated with the Imperial Crest and pulled by four majestic white horses stopped punctually in front of the Elwin Count’s Manor.
Accompanying it, besides the driver, were two knights in royal guard uniforms, their expressions solemn and their auras steady.
Freya and Lyra walked out of the manor gates accompanied by the butler. Count Hezdi finally appeared. He stood on the steps, dressed in formal Earl attire, looking at Freya. His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he only gave her a look filled with complicated, indiscernible emotions before waving his hand.
“Go. Remember your identity, Freya Christo Dale.”
Freya nodded slightly without responding. Holding her skirt, she boarded the carriage with composure.
Lyra followed closely behind.
The carriage door closed, cutting off the outside world.
The interior of the carriage was spacious and luxurious, covered with thick carpets and permeated with the incense used exclusively by the Imperial Family.
Two royal knights rode on either side, guarding the carriage.
The wheels rolled, leaving the Elwin Count’s Manor and heading toward the center of the Royal Capital, toward the palace that symbolized the supreme power of the Empire.
Lyra sat opposite Freya, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. Her red eyes peered through the gaps in the window, vigilantly observing the streets passing by and the increasingly close, towering outline of the Imperial Palace.
Freya closed her eyes to rest, adjusting her breathing. She buried all her tension, unease, hatred, and determination deep in her heart, leaving only a coldness like ice and snow.