Chapter 68
“I only did it because the witch asked me. But since you were the one to show kindness first, I really want to repay it.”
Anne hoped that the Count of Arthur’s courtesy and the Clyde family’s loyalty would ease the witch’s mood.
Only then did Hannibal grow curious.
“Didn’t you say before that the witch must pay you something in return for this, Anne? What kind of price did you get for carrying out her request?”
“I made a request of my own.”
Anne answered, steadying her heart as it grew unsteady at the memory.
“I asked her to console the lost souls.”
Hannibal stared at her closely. That was not the answer he had expected.
Then he suddenly remembered how Anne had reacted strongly to Matilda’s inheritance as well. Perhaps she was simply the maternal type, some people were.
Still, it struck him as contradictory—wanting to live unmarried and alone, yet being so sensitive about such things.
“The witch must have readily agreed to that.”
“She didn’t agree readily—it was more like she granted me a favor. That’s why we absolutely must bring the Count.”
Anne’s resolve strengthened once more.
Until the next Witch’s Night.
Or sooner, if some opportunity arose to persuade him.
* * *
Tegenes was currently at peace—or at least, on the surface it was.
Though letters of negotiation had been exchanged with Ruto, they had produced no real results.
Amidst all this, word spread that the young ladies of the capital invited by Count Arthur, along with Prince Daniel of the south, would soon be visiting the lord.
“We must throw a party!”
At the Count’s words, Hannibal frowned, but he couldn’t object. After all, it was the Crown Prince himself who was coming.
Trying to regain his composure despite his father’s vexing behavior, Hannibal was inspecting the manor with the steward and head maid when—
“My lord!”
One of his men, who had been dispatched as an envoy to Ruto, came running to him in haste.
“What is it?”
The letter, held respectfully in both hands, was from the King of Ruto. Hannibal tore open the envelope and read.
“This insolence…”
His fingertips began to tremble with anger.
“Summon Oliver.”
Jack went to fetch Oliver, while Anne and Patrick stared blankly after their lord’s swiftly disappearing figure.
“Something seems to have happened, hasn’t it?”
“What does it matter? We have our own duties. Is the warehouse inventory nearly sorted?”
“About halfway. What if we distribute the unused tools and furniture to the townsfolk?”
“Most of it is old, and repairing it would cost both money and time. Still, let’s discuss it with the lord first.”
“Understood.”
Later that evening, after reporting the household repairs, Anne went to Hannibal’s office.
Unlike usual, he was flipping through the ledgers absentmindedly instead of carefully checking them.
“My lord?”
“Hmm?”
“If you’re tired, shall we go over this tomorrow instead?”
It was only the daily record of goods and expenses. With no major events recently, there was little need to examine it closely.
“Yes, let’s do that.”
“Then, if you’ll excuse me—”
“Anne.”
“Yes?”
“Daniel, the second prince of Haiman, will soon be visiting the castle.”
“You mean, at Count Arthur’s party?”
She had already been making careful preparations at Arthur’s insistence.
“Yes. Make sure it’s as grand as possible—so that the West is not looked down upon.”
“Yes, I’ll keep that in mind.”
This party was not meant to dazzle noble ladies with finery, but to achieve political ends.
Anne focused her imagination on creating an overwhelming and majestic atmosphere.
“When will he arrive?”
“In two weeks.”
“That’s rather soon.”
“We’ll display some magical artifacts at the entrance and in the banquet hall. As a welcome gesture.”
“I’ll do my best to ensure Prince Daniel is impressed.”
War would surely ravage the West.
To the Haiman Empire, eager to devour weakened lands, they must present the image of a strong, unyielding West—so strong that they would never dare to topple Clyde.
Though she was born in the capital, Anne felt a deep responsibility for this task.
“It would be good to light all the lamps and torches on the walls, and decorate the gardens with magic stones.”
Though the West was hot, the lord’s castle alone was kept comfortable with magical control of temperature and humidity.
Anne, who had never realized it until then, was surprised at how close magic was in the West.
Remembering the witch’s relics and other artifacts, she asked curiously:
“Do people here also learn and use magic, like in Ruto? Can the Clydes perform magic, like the witch?”
Hannibal tapped his chin and beckoned her closer.
When Anne leaned in, he whispered:
“Magic isn’t learned—it’s inherited, Anne.”
So, those of the witch’s bloodline naturally knew magic?
Anne, half understanding, nodded. Hannibal lowered his voice even further.
“The truth is, Asad Clyde was once the Grand Mage of Ruto.”
“What?! Truly?”
“The original manuscript of Asad Clyde’s chronicles lies in the underground library. The versions circulating publicly are less than a quarter of the whole.”
“Then only the heroic tales remain. But still, being a Grand Mage is something to boast of, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps he wished to hide his Ruto origins.”
So, he was not only a descendant of the witch but also a mage. He was even greater than she thought. Anne looked at Hannibal with newfound awe, instinctively stepping back to maintain more distance.
Her retreat pricked his pride.
“Well, it’s ancient history anyway. Anne Ferro, can you prepare all this in two weeks?”
Even without Hannibal’s orders, Count Arthur’s constant nagging left her little choice. Anne clenched her fists and replied firmly:
“Even if it seems impossible—I must do it.”
“Good. I’ll leave it to you.”
“I’ll need every bit of support available.”
She never said it couldn’t be done. Pleased, Hannibal handed her a blank promissory note, sealed with the lord’s mark.
“I believe in you. So be strong.”
Their fingers brushed as she took it.
His unusually warm skin made the cool autumn air feel even colder by contrast.
It was a blank check without limit.
No wonder her face burned.
Leaving the office, Anne rubbed her flushed ears.
Inside, Hannibal dropped his forehead onto the desk and sighed heavily.
* * *
Earlier that afternoon, before Anne had arrived, Hannibal had called Oliver in secret and thrown a crumpled letter onto the desk.
“They sent a reply?”
Oliver picked it up and read, frowning.
“To the lord of the West? To Lord Clyde? How insolent, right from the start.”
He began reading aloud.
[The Kingdom of Ruto has long suffered harm from the beasts of the West. Though we have endured out of respect for the efforts of the Clyde family, the attacks of last summer butchered our people mercilessly…
If peace and negotiation are desired, we demand compensation fitting the damage our kingdom has suffered…
As Asad Clyde was born of Ruto, so too must the West and his bloodline return to Ruto’s rightful dominion.
Therefore, as restitution, you shall offer the witch’s relic, the Golden Key, as a pledge of loyalty and good faith.
Should this be done, then in the name of Alejandro III, Grand Mage and respected King of Ruto, the West and the Clydes shall be forgiven and embraced…]
“What nonsense is this?” Oliver muttered, then looked up.
“The Golden Key? That actually exists?”
Until now, Hannibal had kept it secret, even from Oliver. Almost no one knew of it.
“It’s a secret passed down only to the lords. But how could word have reached Ruto?”
“If it’s written plainly in their king’s letter, then their high officials must all know.”
“It’s only recorded in the original chronicles of Asad Clyde. The witch left behind four relics, but records survive for only three: the Witch’s Compass, Asad’s Ring, and the Golden Key—which symbolizes prosperity, wealth, and eternal fortune for the Clyde line. This is the first time I’ve told you, Oliver.”
“I’d never heard of it. I doubt anyone in the West knows.”
“Then how could those across the desert know?”
Both men suspected the same person.
Arthur Clyde.
“Once we meet those from the capital at the party, perhaps we’ll know more.”
Hannibal’s eyes narrowed, suspicion of his father burning within them.
“There’s no avoiding war.”
Beside him, Oliver placed a hand on his shoulder in grim agreement.
* * *
As the winds turned cool, the day of the party arrived.
With Hannibal’s will clear in her mind, Anne spared no effort to decorate the castle in a way befitting the dignity of the Haiman court.
She wanted the nobles from Edith Tara to see not a rough and barbaric West, but a refined and noble Tegenes.
The castle gleamed as grandly as any ballroom in the capital.
Long rows of columns were draped with banners of the Clyde crest, embroidered in gold thread. On the walls, enchanted torches burned endlessly without flickering.
At the entrance and in the center of the hall, the Clyde crest and ancestral statues floated and rotated slowly for all to see.
In the gardens and courtyards, fountains poured ceaselessly, and mirage-like rainbows shimmered in the air.
Black ribbons adorned every corner of the castle, a reminder that the witch’s power still prevailed.
No detail was untouched by Anne’s hands and care.
“I never imagined the castle could look like this. Since the head maid arrived, everything has become brighter and finer by the day—I’m truly moved—”
Jack marveled at the transformation in just two weeks, especially inside the banquet hall.
“She has an eye for beauty,” Patrick replied proudly.
Listening to their words, Hannibal allowed himself a faint, satisfied smile.
