Chapter 414: My beloved princess.
The Valeria Empire.
In the private territory of Duke Charles, early March. Howling winds swept across the land, and the town of Liya Tower was blanketed beneath a heavy layer of snow.
Located in the empire’s northwest, Liya Tower was a border town closest to the frontline between two nations. Positioned at the center between the Abyssal Rift and the Dragon Spine, it formed a critically prominent bulge in the empire’s planned defensive line.
With war looming, Duke Charles had evacuated most of the town’s original civilians, leaving only a few behind to support the army’s supplies. Enhanced by a series of defensive magic circles and military fortifications, Liya Tower had transformed into a stark, jet-black military fortress.
At the heart of Liya Fortress stood a towering command tower. Wearing a thick, fluffy military uniform, Charles stood on the rooftop, gazing down upon the entire fortress.
"The Emperor hasn’t attended any meetings for two weeks."
"There are rumors in the capital that His Majesty is unwell, but the details remain unclear."
"One thing is certain, however, His Majesty hasn’t appeared before any of the ministers in a long time, not even stepping out of his chambers."
Listening to the attendant’s report, Charles remained silent, his eyes fixed on the desolate, flat snowfields to the northwest.
Fine snowflakes, carried by the biting wind, brushed against the man’s sharply chiseled face. A few melted from body heat, dampening his clothes with moisture.
As the duke among the empire’s Four Great Dukes most closely tied to the royal family, Hibbort trusted Charles no less than his own personal Butler, after all, the Lester family had once been the empire’s most prominent military aristocracy, forming tight alliances with the royal house through generations of marriage and oaths tied to imperial authority.
Beyond that, Charles and Hibbort personally shared a strong relationship. By family rank, Charles was Hibbort’s uncle, having watched the young prince grow up. During the succession struggle, he had unequivocally supported Hibbort.
To put it without exaggeration, aside from Hibbort’s own talent and efforts, Charles’s support accounted for at least a third of why he sat on the throne.
"Any new developments within the capital City?"
"Your Grace, no signs of discord have emerged so far."
Although many speculated the current Emperor could no longer govern effectively, the fear inspired by Hibbort’s iron-fisted rule still lingered. That residual prestige alone was enough to deter most from rash actions.
However, if Hibbort continued feigning illness and avoided public appearances, how long could this intimidation last remained uncertain.
Especially with the two princes already eyeing the throne, and the Emperor’s control over the empire weakening, this was the perfect opportunity for them to expand their influence and eliminate rivals.
If, by chance... one of them possessed even slightly more courage...
His coarse leather gloves rubbing against the uneven black stone bricks of the fortress railing, Charles furrowed his thick brows. The creases of age on his cheeks deepened with his frown.
While others might only know the surface of the Emperor’s illness, Charles knew the truth, he truly had little time left. Whether he could survive the year was uncertain.
Then, what exactly was his current condition?
With war imminent, Charles couldn’t afford to leave the front lines. Even if Hibbort’s condition worsened rapidly, he shouldn’t have deteriorated so severely that he couldn’t even send word.
"..."
"Travel to the capital City as quickly as possible. Tell Mr. Trin that Duke Charles has sent someone to visit the Emperor."
"Yes, Your Grace."
After giving his orders, Charles walked alone down from the command tower to inspect the day’s military drills.
Meanwhile, amidst the falling snow, a girl with pink hair stood in the snowfield, wearing a light-colored coat and pristine white short leather boots, gripping a translucent knight’s longsword.
Warm sunlight struck the blade’s tip, scattering dazzling sparkles. The sharp edge needed no force, drifting snowflakes touched it and were instantly split in two.
Though less than a month had passed, compared to her time in the capital, Lyra had changed noticeably. Her soft, silky pink hair was now tied into a neat, high ponytail, secured with a pure black silk ribbon, the third color between the snow and her hair.
Her fragile and delicate aura from the past is gone. After enduring the harsh northern blizzards, Lyra now radiated a more mature strength. Even without armor, her resilient spirit, like a dandelion, was unmistakable.
"Miss Philice, shall we continue?"
Lyra tightened her grip on the hilt. Wisps of white mist rose from the slender blade as hot light-elemental particles evaporated surface moisture, drying the sword once more.
Philice Lester, Duke Charles’s second daughter and an early tier Master Knight, had learned of Lyra through the Empire Weekly. Hearing that the famed Holy Light Knight had come to the border for training, she eagerly sought a few sparring matches.
The brown-haired girl nodded upon hearing the question, raising her longsword once again toward Lyra.
"I’d like to try one more time, Miss Lyra."
Indeed, a genius of the empire who had defeated Princess Velys, her magical talent was exceptional, and her combat techniques were masterfully executed.
After several rounds, Philice clearly felt the gap between them. Yet the more she lost, the more she discovered her own shortcomings.
This was the true purpose of sparring.
Hearing her, Lyra gave a slight nod, instantly extinguishing the light particles on her blade. Without relying on elemental energy, she met Philice’s sword purely through the weapon’s material and her own skill.
A middle tier Master Knight against an early tier was a one-sided match. To provide her opponent valuable experience, Lyra had no choice but to hold back.
At that moment, Lyra thought of the head maid back in the capital. When she was still an apprentice, Elise, a peak tier Master Knight, had patiently taught her how to wield a sword, apply force, and attach spiritual energy.
Being a teacher was truly exhausting.
Five minutes later, the blade of light rested against Philice’s neck. Lyra looked at the panting brown-haired girl and gently spoke.
"Your strength and speed are fine. It’s just your reaction time that’s slightly off. But even that can be improved by refining the quality of your spiritual energy."
"Overall, Miss Philice, your combat skills are quite proficient."
Though this daughter of a duke wasn’t particularly skilled in magic, having grown up on the snowfields gave her a fundamental physical conditioning far surpassing ordinary knights. The improvement gained from attaching spiritual energy was therefore greater.
’I wonder if she’ll be able to use it well on the battlefield someday.’
Hearing Lyra’s praise, Philice smiled and nodded, accepting a cup of hot water from her aide, gulping it down.
Feeling warmth return to her stomach, Philice looked at the pink-haired knight and spoke softly.
"Thank you, Miss Lyra. I’m sorry to trouble you again today."
Lyra shook her head, returning her sword to the scabbard at her waist.
"No need to be sorry. It was nothing."
Without regular training, one’s reflexes and movements would be dull. Sparring with Philice had, in a way, served as a warm-up for herself.
After all, even within Duke Charles’s elite guard, soldiers who reached the Master Knight rank were few. As for the mercenaries and recent graduates of the Elizabeth Academy of Magic forced into border service, their skills were even more inconsistent.
At Lyra’s current level, sparring with lower-ranked knights probably wouldn’t even serve as a proper warm-up.
After hearing Lyra’s reply, Philice studied her a moment longer. Noticing a few snowflakes on the pink hair, she glanced at her own hot water and raised the glass, speaking gently.
"You’ve been training outdoors for so long. Would Miss Lyra like to drink something to warm your stomach?"
Lyra shifted her gaze from the scabbard to the glass in Philice’s hand. Seeing that Philice had just taken a sip, she hesitated for a few seconds before replying.
"Thank you for your concern, Miss Philice. I’ll pass."
Sharing a drink between two females, if she were fifteen or younger, or even more naive, she might not have cared about such minor details.
Back in Morin Village, it was normal for children from different families to share a juice brought back from town.
But now, having realized her feelings for Princess Astrid, Lyra could no longer ignore such actions, even if others wouldn’t find them strange.
Philice nodded lightly, about to say something, when a young attendant, shaking snow from his clothes, approached and stood beside Lyra.
"Honorable Baroness Lyra, a letter for you."
"It’s from the capital city, the Imperial Palace."
The capital city?
Hearing the familiar name, Lyra paused, then took the envelope from the attendant.
Who in the Imperial Palace in the capital city would think to write her a letter? There was probably only one person.
The Third Princess, Astrid Calliste.
The envelope felt slightly cold to the touch, but due to psychological suggestion, Lyra could almost sense the warm, floral-scented spring breeze of the capital city in early spring.
Removing the letter from the courier’s leather pouch, noticing snow had landed on the envelope, Lyra instinctively pressed it against her chest to prevent melting water from dampening the paper.
Philice was slightly taken aback. Her lashes fluttered as she lightly gripped her glass.
Having met only a few times, Lyra had always struck Philice as a reliable magic prodigy, calm, resolute, perfectly matching the image of the Holy Light Knight described in the Empire Weekly.
Beyond that, perhaps she was a bit aloof? Often standing alone in the square, gazing into the distance. Aside from training, she rarely left her room.
Despite both hailing from the empire’s north... Philice had never seen Lyra display such a vivid side, her nervous movements with the letter were practically begging to tuck the paper into her clothes.
Was this letter from someone extremely important to Miss Lyra?
As she pondered, Lyra politely thanked the courier, then turned to Philice.
"I’ll excuse myself for a moment, Miss Philice."
"Of course."
After saying this, Philice watched Lyra take the letter, step through the thick snow, and gradually disappear from the training square. Her gaze lingered until the other’s figure vanished completely.
’I wonder... who could make Miss Lyra act so out of character...’
Twenty minutes later, back in her room, Lyra removed her short leather boots, placed her sword and scabbard by the table, and gently sat before the desk.
A fire-elemental crystal stone emitted waves of warmth, warming the girl’s slightly reddened cheeks. Her legs, wrapped in thick white stockings, relaxed and stretched out, leaning against the wall behind the desk.
Opening the envelope, the format in the top-left corner matched exactly the one she used when writing to Astrid.
To be opened by Lyra Beckett.
The handwriting was cool and dignified, just like the person who wrote it.
Unconsciously influenced by the grim northern atmosphere, Lyra, who hadn’t smiled in a long while, now curved her lips into the faintest of smiles.
[Long time no see, Lyra.]
[Right now, I’m sitting by the window in my bedroom, writing this letter beneath the warm sunlight.]
[I received your last letter. It seems you’re doing well under Duke Charles.]
Reading line by line, perhaps considering the envelope might be exposed, or simply wanting to write this way, Astrid didn’t mention any politically sensitive topics. Instead, she casually chatted about daily matters, shared amusing anecdotes from Elizabeth Academy of Magic after Lyra’s departure, talked about her newly promoted Land Lord game, and mentioned some everyday trivialities.
[My original magic is nearly complete. I should be able to take the official evaluation next month.]
[The Royal Tailor’s Workshop has acquired a new batch of silk fabric that effectively retains body heat, especially suitable for winter wear. Let me know if you need some.]
[The Purple Dragon Restaurant released a new dish. Livia and I tried it. It was quite delicious. I heard the ingredients come from Duke Charles’s territory. If you’re interested, Lyra, you should go check it out.]
[...]
[Auri has been playing with yarn balls on the bed again. Livia said this is the third one it’s ruined this week.]
[Speaking of which, I suddenly thought of you, Lyra.]
[Back then, you were lighter than I imagined.]
Reading this line, Lyra blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing her mind. When she realized what Astrid meant, her frost-reddened face flushed with additional shyness.
Astrid was referring to that time...
When she pushed Princess Astrid, nearly defenseless while experimenting with a unidirectional transformation potion, onto the bed.
Astrid still remembered that.
She couldn’t describe the feeling. Lyra continued reading until the end.
[The northern cold is severe. Always remember to stay warm.]
[Also, I miss you too, Lyra.]
[You are the strongest knight I’ve ever known.]
Perhaps accidentally tucked into the envelope by the woman while writing, or perhaps intentionally placed by Astrid, Lyra noticed a silver-white hair in the back of the letter, strikingly visible against the yellowed parchment.
Lyra reached out, gently touching it, her fingers closing around the silken strand. Her heart surged with emotion.
Wait for me... Astrid...
My beloved princess.