The most striking feature was her hands, folded neatly in front of her and adorned with white lace gloves.
Her fingers were long and delicate, the knuckles not rounded like those of an ordinary girl but instead possessing an extraordinary slenderness, as if born to manipulate intricate objects.
“This is my daughter, Freya,” the Count introduced, a hint of pride in his tone. “She has long admired the Imperial Capital’s Manaria Magic Academy, renowned for having the empire’s finest magical automaton workshop and masters. But she is frail in health and shy by nature; traveling alone is a worry to me…”
Count Ulysses’ gaze shifted to Eileen, filled with earnest appeal. “I heard that Miss Eileen and Miss Helga are outstanding figures in the field of magic, and Lord Otto commands great respect. Might… might you allow my daughter Freya to accompany you to the capital?”
“Having someone to look after her on the road, and once in the capital, ensuring she can smoothly enter the academy to study. Though my daughter lacks talent, she does possess some magical knowledge. Perhaps… perhaps she could offer some minor assistance when Miss Eileen tends to those unfortunate souls?”
The Count’s reasoning was both reasonable and humble.
Otto looked to Eileen, seeking her opinion.
Karen, too, curiously studied this girl who seemed even younger than herself, with a pure and gentle aura — “little sister Freya.”
Eileen’s eyes fell on Freya.
The girl did indeed give off the impression of fragility, her pale blue eyes pure and unstained by worldly dust, carrying the innocent bewilderment of one just stepping into the world and a hint of hopeful longing for the future.
Her presence was faint, like a quiet flower easily overlooked.
Yet, the moment Freya noticed Eileen’s gaze, timidly raised her head, met it shyly, and lifted her skirt to perform an impeccably proper, textbook-perfect kneeling bow—
An extremely subtle but bone-chilling cold swept through Eileen’s senses without warning!
Like the sharpest ice needle, it instantly pierced through Freya’s pure and delicate exterior!
Eileen’s golden pupils contracted sharply!
The feeling vanished as quickly as it had come, almost like an illusion.
Before her stood the same pitiful, harmless-looking Freya, as if the brief chill had been nothing but a hallucination brought on by travel fatigue.
Yet deep within Eileen’s soul, the divine core perception granted by the Sacred Magus King silently sounded a sharp alarm!
This girl… was far from as simple as she appeared! Beneath that pure facade lurked something dangerously incongruous!
But what exactly it was, Eileen could not say.
“Miss Eileen?” Count Ulysses noticed her silence, a precisely measured concern flickering across his face.
Otto also cast an inquisitive glance.
Suppressing the storm within, Eileen remained composed, even smiling gently. “Since the Count’s beloved daughter wishes to study, we naturally have no reason to refuse. Miss Freya, welcome to join our journey.”
“Really? Thank you so much, Miss Eileen!” Count Ulysses was overjoyed, his face blossoming into a smile as if a great burden had been lifted.
He quickly urged Freya, “Freya, don’t forget to thank Miss Eileen and Lord Otto!”
“T-thank you, Miss Eileen, thank you, Lord Otto.” Freya’s voice was as gentle and ethereal as her appearance, trembling slightly with shyness as she bowed perfectly once more.
Her pale blue eyes met Eileen’s, filled with gratitude and… a subtle, barely perceptible, deeply hidden curiosity.
Eileen smiled in return, but inside, the alarm bells rang loudly.
She discreetly glanced at Serena beside her.
The female swordsman stood with arms crossed, brows furrowed slightly, as if instinctively sensing discomfort but without identifying any specific anomaly.
Meanwhile, Helga’s attention was completely captured by the keyword “magical automaton,” scrutinizing Freya’s unusually dexterous hands with a scholar’s gaze.
Karen enthusiastically stepped forward. “Freya little sister, right? Don’t be afraid! Big sister will protect you on the road! I’m Karen! Oh, and Helga’s here too! The genius who proposed the ‘Elemental Annihilation Field Theory!’”
Freya seemed startled by Karen’s warmth, taking a half step back and nodding shyly, softly saying, “Y-you… hello, Sister Karen. I’ve long admired Miss Helga’s name.”
Her gaze at Helga held a trace of admiration, though the feeling seemed somewhat hollow.
Seeing Eileen’s agreement, Otto ordered his subordinates to prepare a comfortable carriage for Freya to join the convoy.
Count Ulysses was deeply grateful, watching the convoy disappear down the wide road to the capital before gradually tempering his overly enthusiastic smile.
His small eyes, squeezed by chubby flesh, flickered with an ineffable, puppet-like emptiness and… a hidden, twisted anticipation.
The convoy resumed its journey.
Yet, a sense of unease steadily spread within Eileen.
She knew that mages, upon reaching a certain level, developed a sort of empathic perception akin to divine communion, and this ability was constantly warning her.
But she could not quite articulate what the warning meant.
And Freya, outwardly a timid, naive, fragile girl—
Eileen hoped it was all just her imagination.
As she thought this, she heard Lilisa whisper softly beside her, “It’s strange. There’s something familiar about Miss Freya’s scent…”
Lilisa’s quiet words were like a pebble cast into a still lake, rippling within Eileen’s heart.
“Familiar scent?”
She instinctively pressed, her gaze sharp as it swept over Lilisa’s face.
Startled by her own words, Lilisa’s heterochromatic eyes flickered with panic. She immediately shook her head, feigning nonchalance. “Ah? N-no, nothing! Mistress, I was just babbling! Miss Freya’s scent… well, maybe it’s the fragrance from her new dress? Or perhaps that unique… mineral dust smell from Portland City? Don’t take it to heart!”
She waved her hand, trying to appear relaxed.
Eileen stared at Lilisa for a moment.
It was best not to press further, yet in her heart, she wrapped Miss Freya, who sat quietly in another carriage, with a thin veil of caution.
That coldness hidden beneath her pure and delicate exterior was no illusion.
Thanks to Otto’s careful arrangements, the journey passed without incident despite increased guards.
The empire’s heartland gradually unfolded before them: vast fertile plains, villages scattered like stars, wide and smooth roads, and the faint glow of the magic network shimmering on the distant horizon, heralding the strength of the empire’s core.
At last, the imperial capital’s magnificent, breathtaking silhouette appeared on the horizon.
The towering magitech spires reached toward the sky like the fingers of giants, while the massive city walls enclosed a scale far exceeding the Holy Capital.
The magic network’s glow flowed across the walls like luminous veins.
The air thrummed with the deep hum of magical energy in operation, suffused with a cold, efficient sense of order.
Empress Fredelega had fulfilled her promise, hosting a grand welcome banquet in the resplendent palace.
Crystal chandeliers illuminated the hall like daylight, with the empire’s highest nobles, ministers, and generals dressed in splendid attire, glasses clinking in lively camaraderie.
Eileen, the so-called “Savior Saint of the Nation,” wore a silver-blue gown gifted by Fredelega, symbolizing imperial favor, becoming the absolute center of attention.
Yet beneath this radiant spotlight were countless scrutinizing, probing, and even subtly hostile gazes.