The night grew deeper.
Stars dotted the skyline like diamonds, shimmering with gentle light. In this age before the Industrial Revolution, the Night Curtain was as clean as a breathtaking backdrop.
Ian and Riddle followed Miss Morgan through a dense forest. The pebble path beneath their feet gradually widened and smoothed out. The trees lining both sides of the road were tall and ancient, their branches and leaves intertwined. As they ventured deeper, the outline of a magnificent castle emerged in the distance—an imposing, ancient structure.
Its spired towers pierced the clouds, colorful banners fluttering above them. It had less of Hogwarts' mystery, but more of the grandeur and solemnity of something from a Legend.
"Welcome to my home, my most respected teacher." Young Morgan swung down from her horse with heroic flair, her voice carrying a trace of proud showing off.
She handed the horse to a waiting servant, ignored the servant's gaze toward Ian and the other two, and gestured for Ian to proceed before taking the lead.
Perhaps it was because she had returned home, where formalities were taken very seriously.
This princess had begun putting on airs.
Her steps gained the elegance of nobility, as though every stride had been carefully calculated. Her skirt swayed softly with her movements, making a faint rustling sound.
"Creak~"
The castle gates slowly opened.
They were greeted by maids dressed in splendid uniforms. They were well-trained and respectful. Unlike the servants outside, these maids showed little curiosity toward Ian and the other two.
To these "insiders" of the little princess, their mistress went out every so often in search of so-called wizards. Most of those she encountered, however, were frauds and charlatans.
For that very reason.
These maids might not have been skilled at much else, but they were highly