019. His Summons
A prince’s personal letter carries authority comparable to the prince himself. Therefore, the arrival of such a letter must be treated with the same formal respect as the arrival of His Highness in person.
The duke gritted his teeth. Anastasia raised her eyebrows and released the collar she had been holding.
“You’d better go receive the letter.”
The Duke of Etranje glanced at the corpses scattered around him, then turned and left the room without another word.
Even though the stench of blood and death filled the air, not a single scream could be heard. The maids on this entire floor must have already been cleared out.
Anastasia narrowed her eyes and surveyed the room, now in complete disarray.
“…The door is destroyed, there’s a hole in the wall, and blood is splattered all over the floor.”
A restoration spell could fix the structure.
However, corpses could not be removed with restoration magic. More importantly, she had no intention of storing bodies inside her spatial storage.
Still, there were things she needed.
“Anastasia?”
Artorius could not understand why Anastasia was collecting longswords and daggers from the belts of the dead, one by one.
“Why are you gathering them?”
“…Yes.”
Instead of answering, Anastasia handed one of the swords to Artorius.
It was well-balanced, light, and sharp… and the pommel bore the engraved crest of the Etranje family.
“Who knows—we might need them someday.”
Anastasia casually traced the air with her index finger, opening a small spatial rift, and dumped all six longswords and twelve daggers inside.
“‘Might need them’…”
It was easy to guess what she was thinking.
“And turn around. I need to change my clothes.”
Anastasia said this while glancing toward the window.
The prince’s letter… it was obvious who the recipient would be. Otherwise, a royal letter—especially one bearing Louis Yanpotz’s seal—would not be sent to someone she had barely interacted with in her life.
In the end, she would have to go out and receive it herself.
“Understood.”
Artorius began to say something about her casual attitude, but instead turned toward the broken door.
It was to ensure that no maid passing by outside would accidentally see inside.
“Thank you.”
To Anastasia, who had never received even the smallest kindness before, such a simple gesture felt warm enough.
Just the day before, the yellow dress from Lord Hawthongel had arrived.
Anastasia didn’t particularly like such extravagant and cumbersome clothing… but formal occasions demanded such things.
Extravagant, cumbersome, and decorative.
With the help of her maid Betty, Anastasia had her hair neatly braided and arranged into an elegant updo.
With a silver and white jade butterfly hairpin adorning her head, she looked like a fairy.
“…Lady, you are truly beautiful.”
Betty couldn’t help but exclaim in admiration, as though her breath had been stolen.
“Thank you.”
There was no need to react sharply to sincere praise. Anastasia gently adjusted her slightly exposed shoulders, then stood up and looked out the window.
A royal messenger carrying a letter from Louis Yanpotz was looking up at her.
“…How does he even know where my window is?”
Anastasia frowned slightly, then gave a light nod to signal she would come down soon.
By the time she stepped outside, the corpses in her room had already been removed by Enoch, who had arrived belatedly and ordered his men to dispose of them. The bloodstains on the floor had been thoroughly cleaned as well, leaving only the broken door to be repaired.
Anastasia left the room with Artorius and restored the shattered door with a spell.
“…It’s always fascinating to watch.”
“Don’t say that. I’m not nineteen anymore.”
Anastasia pouted slightly in complaint.
“Even considering your actual age, it’s still astonishing.”
Normally, one should not be able to discern what expression lay beneath that dark, rusted helmet… yet for some reason, Anastasia felt a warmth near her chest when she saw his smile.
“You smiled just now, didn’t you?”
“…How did you know?”
Finding his confusion amusing, Anastasia shrugged.
“There are ways to tell.”
The problem was that Artorius took her words quite seriously.
“…This armor shouldn’t be penetrable even by detection spells.”
“Artorius?”
“Could it be… that you have seen my true face? Oh, heavens. That must not be…”
Although Anastasia did not know what his true face looked like, she remembered the reaction of Lord Bowie.
She took Artorius’s large hand and held it, then looked up at him.
“Take a deep breath, Artorius. I didn’t see anything. I just somehow sense your emotions.”
“…You truly didn’t see it?”
“I really didn’t.”
She was a little curious, though.
But seeing how he flinched whenever she even reached up to touch his helmet… she wondered if it was really worth pushing him to reveal something he clearly didn’t want to show. Nothing would change just because she hadn’t seen his face.
“…I see.”
“Good. You’ve calmed down now, right?”
Artorius nodded slowly.
“I have shown an unseemly side of myself.”
“How could anyone always remain composed? Even I probably look like a bit of a tomboy right now, don’t I?”
It was a light joke.
A faint smile curved her small lips, and her firm blue eyes bent gracefully.
Artorius gazed at her as if enchanted, her appearance sculpted as beautifully as her soul.
“Not at all.”
This time, his hand—encased in cold metal—gently touched Anastasia’s cheek.
“You are always noble.”
Perhaps because he was a man from two hundred years ago, his words sounded formal and archaic, even when they were embarrassing.
“…Alright. Let’s go down.”
The royal carriage was as extravagant as a symbol of the class system itself. Its deep navy-blue wooden frame had been polished and oiled to a glossy shine, and gold and pure silver adorned it throughout.
All of this formality and refinement existed for a single letter.
Her entire family was already gathered. However, the gazes directed at her were far from kind.
“…Understandable, I suppose.”
Her recent behavior had been more than enough to make her an eyesore in their eyes.
The rumors had likely already spread beyond the estate.
That the second daughter of the Duke of Etranje had changed as if she had eaten something strange.
“…A letter has arrived for you, Anastasia.”
The duchess murmured in a low voice.
“I know.”
Leaving Artorius a few steps behind, Anastasia walked through the cluster of family members.
She could feel Zenith’s sharp gaze, and Aslan’s venomous murmuring.
But the duke remained silent.
Soon, a royal messenger wearing a red-tasseled helmet decorated in gold raised his voice.
“The recipient must kneel and show proper respect!”
Anastasia lightly gathered her skirt in greeting, then knelt gracefully like a praying nun.
“Anastasia Etranje, noble of the kingdom, vassal of the royal family, and subject of His Majesty, receives the prince’s letter.”
A startled murmur rose from behind her.
That was only natural. The nineteen-year-old she once was had been inexperienced not only in magic but also in noble etiquette.
Without proper instruction, she had no way of knowing it correctly.
But that was no longer the case. She was now well-versed in such formalities, just as she was with magic.
“I shall now read the letter on behalf of His Highness the First Prince.”
The messenger was merely a knight and not someone who could address a duchy’s daughter informally.
However, while reading the letter, he acted as the representative of the authority of the one who had sealed it.
His voice was effectively the voice of the prince himself.
“Anastasia Etranje, court mage, is hereby commanded by the royal family to immediately return to the royal palace upon receipt and fulfill her duties to the state. That is all.”
The letter was short, concise, and clear. Yet it carried an implicit meaning.
“Return to the royal palace.”
It was a stern reminder that Anastasia Etranje was not only the duke’s daughter and a noble of the duchy, but first and foremost a court mage of the kingdom bound to serve the state.
Anastasia gave a small nod and rose, extending her hand.
At this point, the messenger was just a messenger.
“That concludes the delivery of the letter. I am Knight Perry Collins, assigned to escort you on your return journey.”
With a brief introduction, the messenger removed his helmet and knelt on one knee.
He then took Anastasia’s small hand and lightly kissed the back of it.
“I entrust the return journey to you, Sir Collins.”
“I shall treasure this honor. If you require assistance with your belongings, please do not hesitate to command me.”
Anastasia shrugged slightly and turned her gaze toward Artorius, who stood at a distance.
“…That won’t be necessary.”
“Then I shall await you here.”
He was a steadfast man.
Anastasia shook her head and helped Sir Collins to his feet.
“You came all this way, so please have some tea before you go. It won’t take long—I don’t have much to pack.”
At that moment, the sound of hoofbeats struck the ground once more.
Anastasia narrowed her eyes and looked behind the royal carriage.
A modest carriage made of birch wood and adorned with walnut decorations.
It looked familiar.
It was the carriage of the Marchion of Gerland.
The carriage door opened, and a girl with bright red hair and freckles stepped down, her green eyes shining.
“Ah, I finally made it… Hello, everyone…?”
Trish seemed unable to fully grasp the situation.
Anastasia smiled lightly and approached her, her blue eyes shining as she extended her hand.
“…Huh?”
Seeing the confused expression, she whispered softly:
“I am Anastasia Etranje, court mage. I don’t have much luggage, so you won’t need to pack much. And… we must depart for the royal palace today.”
A maid accompanies her master wherever they go. In other words…
Trish had suddenly been promoted—by sheer chance—to a maid in service of the royal palace.
“…Huh? What?”
Still confused, the girl’s hair was gently patted by Anastasia.
Though slightly taller than her, she was not out of reach.
“Before that, please serve tea and refreshments to Sir Collins, who came as both messenger and escort. He is a guest who delivered a letter from the prince, so treat him with proper care.”
“…Yes, yes!”
“Good. I look forward to working with you.”
