Eileen watched the dramatic scene before her, feeling both amused and exasperated.
Chancellor Otto, meanwhile, wore a helpless expression as he looked at his daughter, who had instantly transformed into a devoted fan.
Then, glancing at the young magical prodigy his daughter so highly admired, he once again revised his assessment of the significance of this little group, Eileen included.
Karen had finally managed to find some paper and a pen, and happily secured Helga’s autograph like a treasured keepsake. Only then did she turn to Eileen, her gaze completely transformed.
With a sudden understanding, she snapped her fingers:
“Ah! I get it now! Your Majesty is truly wise! So that’s how it is!”
Her eyes were filled with comprehension as she looked at Eileen. “Miss Eileen, while your kind heart is commendable, your real value lies in bringing a true genius like Miss Helga to the Empire! With her help, healing those poor souls will surely be twice as effective! His Majesty really is far-sighted!”
At the same time, deep within the most luxurious and grand estate in Portland City.
Count Ulysses, the city lord, paced anxiously across the thick carpeted study.
His plump fingers absentmindedly toyed with a massive ruby ring, his brow deeply furrowed.
The plan to abduct Eileen had failed completely in Greystone Valley. His elite forces were wiped out with no survivors.
This dealt a devastating blow to the carefully orchestrated operation before it even began.
What was worse, the reputation of the “Rain-Seeking Saint” spread along Chancellor Otto’s convoy, and Eileen’s popularity among the common folk was growing by the day.
It had become increasingly difficult for him to secretly incite discontent among the local nobility.
“Damn it… is that it? Just watch that woman be escorted into the capital in all her glory, becoming His Majesty’s new favorite?”
Count Ulysses cursed under his breath, slamming his fist onto the heavy rosewood desk, causing the crystal inkwell to jingle.
Frederica had once been an impenetrable iron wall—her ruthless iron hand and diligent governance had crushed all the old noble forces that tried to resist, leaving them to barely survive.
Finally, that woman seemed to have shown a weakness—a “vulnerability” she was willing to pay a huge price for! This was a godsend opportunity! Missing it would be unforgivable!
While the count was restless and wracking his brains for the next move, a sudden chill, carrying a strange sweet and metallic scent, swept through the heavy velvet curtains without warning.
Startled, the count snapped his head up in alarm. “Who’s there?!”
He instinctively reached to press the alarm bell hidden beneath the desk.
But his movement froze.
A slender, graceful figure, as weightless as a ghost, silently appeared in the moonlight by the window.
It was an exquisitely beautiful young girl.
Her cascading black hair nearly touched her ankles, shimmering like silk under the cold moonlight.
Her skin was so pale it seemed translucent, as if she had never seen sunlight.
She wore an ancient-style black dress adorned with dark lace and spiderweb patterns.
Most unsettling were her eyes—like the purest rubies, yet as deep and frozen as pools of congealed blood. At this moment, they stared at him without a trace of emotion.
“You…” the count barely uttered before his throat felt constricted by invisible threads, his voice cut off abruptly!
The girl’s blood-red eyes flickered with an eerie glow.
Her slender, pale fingers gracefully curled in the air.
Several nearly invisible fine threads shimmering with dark red light shot out from her sleeve like living creatures in an instant!
As swift as lightning and unnervingly precise, they pierced the count’s neck, temples, and spine—his vital points!
An icy cold, soul-penetrating force surged along the threads into his body!
He wanted to struggle and scream, but his body refused to obey!
His consciousness sank into a thick, freezing swamp, gnawed and torn by countless tiny, venomous mandibles!
The agony made his eyes bulge and flood with bloodshot veins, yet not a single sound escaped his throat.
Helplessly, he “watched” his own arm rise uncontrollably to perform a respectful bow.
He “watched” his face contort painfully into a stiff, ingratiating smile.
He “heard” his throat issue a voice beyond his control, dripping with false warmth:
“Welcome… my lord… to Portland…”
The girl looked at the count, now a puppet completely controlled by her, his delicate but lifeless face finally curling into a cold smile laced with deep-seated hatred.
She raised her hand, her slender fingers gently caressing the count’s face twisted by fear and pain, the motion tender as a lover’s whisper yet sending shudders through his very soul.
“Freya…”
Her ruby eyes turned toward the bright moon hanging in the sky. Her voice was like ice scraping softly as she murmured,
“My foolish and pitiful little sister… Your revenge… Sister will take it…”
She paused, then let her gaze fall back on the fully controlled, hollow-eyed Count Ulysses. A cruel, enchanting curve appeared on her red lips.
“… a hundredfold, a thousandfold. By me, Freya of the Four Heavenly Kings…”
The cold moonlight filtered through the window, casting the girl’s solitary figure and the manipulated count onto the wall, creating a chilling and eerie tableau.
After resting a day in Portland City, Eileen and her party set off again, heading straight for the Empire’s heart—the capital.
At dawn, the grand obsidian city gates of Portland opened once more. Chancellor Otto’s convoy was ready to depart, black banners fluttering in the morning breeze.
Count Ulysses personally led city officials and some citizens to see them off.
His face was plastered with an enthusiastic smile, even more earnest than the day before, tinged with a subtle… impatience?
He hurried to Eileen’s carriage and bowed deeply to her as she lifted the curtain.
“Miss Eileen, Lord Otto, you must take care on the journey. Portland City is truly fortunate to have welcomed its ‘Miracle Saint’!”
Eileen returned a polite smile. “Thank you for your hospitality, Count.”
“You’re welcome, you’re welcome!” Ulysses waved his hands. Then, shifting his tone to that of a kindly father, he pleaded,
“Ah, Miss Eileen, Lord Otto, I have one small, awkward request. I wonder if now is the right time?”
Otto, seated on horseback, furrowed his brow slightly. “Count, please, go ahead.”
Rubbing his hands together, Ulysses’ smile grew even brighter.
“You see, my daughter Freya has been frail and sickly since childhood, mostly staying at home to recuperate and study, rarely venturing out. But she has an extraordinary talent and obsession for magic, especially the precise craft of magic automata.”
He gestured behind him.
Surrounded by the count’s attendants, a girl in a simple white dress with a pale violet sheer shawl stepped forward gracefully.
She was slender and delicate, with features as refined as the finest white porcelain doll, radiating an otherworldly purity.
Her glossy black hair was loosely tied at the back of her head, with a few strands softly framing her pale, almost translucent cheeks.
Her eyes were clear, pale blue—like an early spring lake—now lowered with a perfect blend of shyness and curiosity, too timid to meet Eileen and Otto’s gaze directly.