Chapter 86
Once Anne had finished adorning herself with all her accessories, Victoria and André’s faces lit up brightly.
“As expected, my dress is perfect on you!”
“It fits you so well, truly~! …But Anne, don’t you have any other necklaces? You’re always wearing either that one or the one your younger brother gave you.”
“Since this one was given to me by my lord, I think it suits today’s dinner best.”
Instead of admitting she had none, Anne made an excuse. Perhaps not wanting to pry further in front of André, Victoria closed her mouth.
Still, she added, as if it lingered in her mind:
“Next time, let’s go shopping at a jeweler’s. Since my brother’s here too, we’ll buy some expensive diamonds.”
“Miss, where would I get that kind of money?”
“Anne! If Clayde doesn’t have money, who in the world does?”
She wasn’t wrong, but Anne still wasn’t used to spending Clayde’s fortune as if it were her own.
That’s why even though she received a monthly allowance for personal use, she only spent what was necessary for maintaining the manor, never touching the rest.
Occasionally, Victoria would gift her dresses and accessories, but Anne always declined the truly expensive ones.
It wasn’t that she disliked their kindness, but no matter what, she couldn’t bring herself to feel that those things belonged to her.
Not Victoria’s, not Hannibal’s, not even the emotions she herself held for them.
Every moment that seemed so excessive and dazzling—felt fake. As if the life she had been granted anew might simply be a dream.
What if she woke up from this happiness, only to find herself once again the struggling Duchess of Benton, clinging desperately to Gray’s side?
At times, the thought terrified her.
She was, after all, just a maid. The memories of her downfall in her previous life—brought on by greed—remained vivid.
Anne knew she was drawn to Hannibal.
But she didn’t dare to love him. Nor did she dare to believe she deserved his love.
“Anne, let’s go!”
Victoria, now dressed in an equally splendid gown, called out.
The two, finished with their preparations, walked down the long corridor and stopped before the dining room.
As soon as the servant opened the door, the lavishly decorated banquet hall came into view.
Inside, the room was filled with people of such high status that a mere maid like her should never have dared meet their eyes.
“Anne?”
She faintly heard Victoria’s voice. Her vision blurred, and then—strong hands grasped her arm and shoulder, holding her up.
“Are you all right?”
“Ah… forgive me.”
Somehow Hannibal had come to her side, supporting her.
“Are you unwell? If so, you shouldn’t push yourself. You should rest.”
He was ready to send her straight back to her chambers. Behind him, curious gazes lingered—
Oliver, Miss Mighty, Arthur… and Gray Benton.
The moment she met those red eyes that still held traces of old longing for her, Anne’s mind snapped into clarity.
She straightened her back, lifted her chin high, and responded to her fiancé’s worried look with a gentle, elegant smile.
“It was only a brief dizziness. Forgive me for worrying you.”
“I’ll summon a physician. We can dine another time—”
“No.”
Anne quietly caught Hannibal’s arm.
“I’m truly fine.”
It was a crucial moment, with both allies and enemies gathered for the banquet before the peace negotiations.
Anne knew what it meant, so she restrained Hannibal and guided him inside, hand in hand.
“All right. But promise me you won’t overexert yourself.”
“Yes.”
She answered his concern with a smile, sitting beside him at the table.
All the guests had arrived, and at last, the servants began serving.
“For the aperitif, we have apple champagne. The canapés are prepared with…”
The head chef came out and began explaining each dish in detail. The strained atmosphere loosened a little.
“Delicious.”
Miss Mighty praised while eating a cabbage roll filled with drumfish, and Count Arthur, having just emptied his glass, chuckled.
“Had I known such distinguished guests were coming to Teneges, I’d have prepared a grand feast myself. Ho ho ho—.”
“Western chefs have skill as well.”
Seated beside him, Gray nodded, his words somewhere between a compliment and an insult.
Hannibal’s forehead vein twitched at the capital man’s tone, but Oliver quickly laughed to smooth things over.
“This is so good. Eating at the lord’s castle again—it tastes like heaven!”
Anne turned to Oliver with a warm expression.
“I’m truly glad you returned safely, Sir Oliver. You must have suffered much on the battlefield.”
“You can’t imagine. I nearly wept with joy the moment I finally lay on a proper bed again. I fell asleep right away—almost missed dinner altogether!”
“You told me earlier you couldn’t sleep and were bored.”
“That’s just a manner of speaking, just words~.”
Their chatter carried on, gradually easing the banquet’s initial stiffness.
“Once the peace treaty is signed, perhaps such things will no longer happen.”
Anne naturally added, and Hannibal nodded, turning to Miss Mighty.
“By the way, we’re arranging schedules with the delegation, and I believe it would be faster to use the teleportation circle inside the castle. The problem is, I don’t know if it still functions. Would you, Archmage, be willing to take a look?”
“Of course.”
Miss Mighty nodded easily.
“I too hope these negotiations conclude quickly. It would be best to inspect the circle together tomorrow.”
“That’s fortunate.”
Just as Hannibal and Miss Mighty were closing the matter warmly, Gray interjected.
“I hear there’s no one in the West capable of repairing magic circles?”
“Magic vanished from the West long ago.”
Hannibal answered curtly, and Gray spoke again, sounding disappointed.
“But isn’t Clayde praised everywhere as the bloodline of the witch? It surprises me to hear such ignorance of magic.”
Hannibal’s brow twitched, about to snap at the provocation—
“Truly regrettable.”
The voice came instead from Miss Mighty.
“For the witch’s bloodline to go untrained in magic… wasting such talent.”
Her towering frame and husky voice, coupled with her fame as an Archmage, made her words overwhelming.
The force of her presence drew Hannibal’s attention away, tempering his wrath somewhat.
Then Victoria’s eyes sparkled with interest.
“Is it really possible to learn magic? I thought Ruto’s mages were all born with it.”
“Even so, none can be born with it as strongly as a witch. Why has Clayde never tried?”
In the neighboring kingdom, magic dominated everything, yet here in the West—where the witch’s legacy was closest—none practiced it.
When Miss Mighty raised the question, Hannibal answered on her behalf.
“Because we can protect this land without it. Clayde will guard the West with our own strength.”
“But I thought Clayde still worshiped the witch. And yet you’ve never once tried to inherit her power?”
Hannibal had never considered it. For him, learning tactics and battle had always been natural. To rely on magic felt wrong.
Wasn’t it already proven that Hyman’s military strength surpassed Ruto’s?
He fell silent, lost in thought, and Count Arthur clicked his tongue to answer in his place.
“In Hyman, no one studies magic. Isn’t it only natural here as well?”
Still, Victoria’s mind seemed to turn over possibilities.
“Maybe I should ask the witch to teach me.”
Her offhand remark made Miss Mighty whip her gaze toward her.
“You’ve met the witch?”
Victoria flinched under those sharp blue eyes and stammered.
“E-every year, I visit the Witch’s Forest. When my… brother—no, the lord—was away, I acted in his stead, so I went several times.”
While they spoke, Hannibal too turned his gaze back to Miss Mighty.
To react so sensitively to mention of the witch… she clearly had her own agenda.
Especially since she already knew about the Golden Key, a secret even within Clayde.
And her mention of Assad lingered in his mind. That he had been a mere, unimpressive mage from Ruto—something little known in the West.
Perhaps her decision to venture into enemy lands, even becoming a hostage and following them to Teneges, was tied to all of this.
“But since one can only visit once a year, it would be difficult to learn properly, right?”
At Victoria’s words, Miss Mighty made a suggestion.
“What if I taught you instead?”
“Really?”
Unlike with others, Miss Mighty’s gaze on Victoria was warm, almost like that of an elder toward a child.
“Victoria, you mustn’t trouble our guest.”
At Hannibal’s dissuasion, Victoria’s expression fell.
But Anne, thinking it a valuable chance, cautiously spoke up.
“My lady has been feeling lonely these days. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if she learned magic?”
Anne thought it would only be beneficial for Victoria to grow closer to the future King of Ruto—especially since Miss Mighty herself had offered.
“Right! I think so too, Anne!”
Victoria seized on her words eagerly, while Hannibal, intrigued, waited for Anne’s reasoning.
“With exchanges between Ruto and us sure to increase, it would be useful to maintain the magic circle regularly. Of course, we could always rely on Ruto’s mages, but wouldn’t it be much more convenient if my lady learned magic herself?”
