Northwest of East Chester County, where York Mountain met the Khoy River, a jet-black castle stood in a valley brimming with spring.
It was neither particularly towering nor solemn, nor did it seem grand or imposing. It merely possessed an artistic air out of step with the times, along with a sense of comfortable refinement.
Around the castle ran smooth roads paved with bluestone, while neat, uniform lawns stretched out on both sides. On either side of the castle were meticulously tended orchards and fields. What was noteworthy, however, was that the crops were not tended by tenant farmers or servants, but by tiny fairies no bigger than a palm, with butterfly-like wings.
If it had any flaw, it was that its roads were far too narrow.
They were clearly fine for pedestrians, but absolutely insufficient for carriages to travel normally. For an aristocratic estate, that seemed rather fatal.
However, for this castle, it apparently was not a problem.
As afternoon approached, an abrupt sphere of light rose from the gaps between the bluestone slabs on the path, gathering in midair to form a simple door.
The door slowly opened, and a young woman stepped out, looking at the exquisite castle before her with curious interest.
However, she did not observe it for long before following the path to the black gates and lightly knocking on the door knocker held in the jaws of a beast-head carving.
A crisp, penetrating sound rang out as the knocker struck the door. Soon, accompanied by the atmospheric creak of the gates, two rows of maids and a slightly older butler with a gentle smile and an impeccably meticulous bearing appeared before the young woman.
"Welcome, madam."
"Ah, I'm here for the tea party. This is the invitation..." The young woman seemed somewhat nervous.