The Silver and Tin Palace was quite far from the harbor. If Iver and the others decided to go watch the excitement, they would probably need to borrow a griffin to reach the scene in time. However, it was very close to the Bureau of Supervision.
So Iver was in no hurry.
There was even enough time for Iver to take a bath and do his hair.
Although the room Iver was temporarily staying in was a guest room, it had once been used by deceased members of the royal family after all—and there were quite a few such empty rooms in the Silver and Tin Palace. There was a corner in the room where he could bathe; all they needed to do was bring over a folding screen.
After changing into a bathrobe, Iver sat in front of the mirror. Lily helped him arrange his hair from behind.
Isabel sat on the sofa, watching them from a distance.
Looking at his reflection in the mirror, Iver couldn't help frowning slightly. "Maybe I should just cut it."
It wasn't a matter of whether it looked good.
Iver actually cared quite a bit about his appearance.
Not simply because of whether he looked "good" or "bad"—to put it bluntly, Iver's looks were certainly top-notch. After all, he had inherited them from his father, the commoner priest with the kind of peerless appearance that could make a noble young lady from Iris elope with him and pursue him. And in Iver's mature, cool, and austere air, there were also his mother's gentle, soft features that gave others a sense of warmth.
Iver's emphasis on his appearance mainly came from its "purpose." In other words, what sort of impression his appearance gave people.
His natural air was warm, like the sun or a