“My dy, please be careful with your hem,” Adrianne reminded, bending down to adjust the fabric of her mantle so that it wouldn’t catch on the footrest of the carriage. “You mustn’t trip and hurt yourself just because of a moment of carelessness—especially in the Margrave’s estate. Not only does it reflect poorly on yourself, His Lordship will certainly take note of your—”

  “I get it, I get it.” Estel gave a sheepish smile as she lifted herself into the carriage. “Have all the preparations been made?”

  “I’ve checked everything twice,” Adrianne confirmed. “When you arrive in the border town, head straight to the inn and look for a retainer named Balian. He has already received word of your arrival and made arrangements for lodging and food.”

  “Mm, then I shall take my leave now, Adrianne,” she said softly. “I promise I’ll be back right after the festival.”

  Her dy-in-waiting nodded and took a step back, her hands clutched tightly in front of her.

  “I’ll be waiting, my dy.”

  With a tip of his hat, the coachman closed the carriage door and cracked the reins, stirring the horses into motion. Estel waited until the carriage had rolled past the gates before opening the window and poking her head out.

  “Sir, please stop by the woods for a while!” she shouted. “I’m meeting someone there!”

  “Understood, my dy.”

  The coachman turned the carriage onto the trail leading into the woods, where Alice was already waiting under the shade of an oak tree. She waved her hand in greeting and picked up her valise while the carriage rolled to a stop.

  “Sup, Este! What’s good?”

  “Hmm…oh!” Estel smiled when she managed to decipher the Witch’s bizarre greeting. “I’m fine, what about you?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be for a long carriage ride through the kingdom,” Alice quipped, jumping into the carriage beside her. “I even brought a neck pillow along. See?”

  “A neck pillow?” Estel noticed the peculiar U-shaped pillow wrapped around her neck and gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me such an invention exists?!”

  “Hehe, I made it myself. Not bad, right?” With a smug look on her face, Alice opened her suitcase and took out an identical pillow. “But don’t worry, I made one for you too, Este~”

  “Woah…” Estel held the strange curiosity with the same care as a masterpiece, marvelling at the softness of the filling. “So, how do I put this around my neck?”

  “How? I mean, you can just…” Alice giggled as she forcefully stuffed the neck pillow under her chin. “Never mind, let me help you.”

  Leaning forward, Alice lifted up the back of her kruseler and gently positioned the pillow around her neck, careful not to get any loose strands of hair caught in it.

  “There you go,” she said, rearranging her veil around the neck pillow. “Comfy, right?”

  Estel blinked in astonishment as she tried to lean her neck against the pillow. “Oh. Oh, that’s…rather clever, actually.”

  “You’re welcome.” Alice gave a pompous smirk. “Modern—er, medieval problems require modern solutions, that’s right.”

  “Mhm…by the way, you certainly packed light for the journey.” Estel tilted her head at her suitcase. “What are you bringing along?”

  “Oh, the reason why my luggage is so small is because I didn’t bring any spare clothes,” Alice said nonchantly.

  For a moment, she was speechless. “Pardon?”

  “W-well, I don’t have much clothes on me in the first pce,” she admitted. “And after borrowing one of your gowns for the Viscount’s masquerade, I realised that it fit me perfectly, so I have a small request to make…”

  Estel heaved a sigh. “We will be sojourning in a town named Nordertor before crossing the border into the margravate. I’ll ask the dressmaker there to make you the finest ball gown before we set off again.”

  Alice hastily waved her hands in front of her face. “There’s no need to go that far for me, Este! Lending me a normal dress will be enough…”

  “Alice,” she said in a sterner voice than she meant to, “have you forgotten that you are the escort of a duchess? How can I allow you to show up to the Margrave’s estate looking like a common noblewoman?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Perfect. You should start thinking about what you wish to wear to the festival, then.” Estel pursed her lips in thought. “On that note, the Margrave will be holding a soiree before the festival. Are you confident in dancing?”

  “Confident?” Alice muttered, hesitating. “I mean, I know how it generally goes because I’ve written about ballroom dances in my stories, but I wouldn’t say I know how to dance…”

  “Hm, so you mainly ck practical experience.” She nodded her head with a smirk. “We have about seven hours until we reach Nordertor, which will make plenty of time to drill the basic techniques into your head.”

  Alice swallowed. “E-Este, why are you smiling like that?”

  -

  “Heda! Bleiben Sie gef?lligst stehen!”

  Estel slowly opened her eyes, stifling a yawn as she realised that the carriage had stopped. The buzz of noise and activity drew her gaze to the window, and she curiously pulled the curtain aside to peer out.

  “…und was ist dein Zweck hier?”

  While the coachman handed the mailed soldier a scroll, Estel gazed up at the formidable gate of sun-bleached stone before them in awe. The portcullis loomed high and menacing, its iron teeth suspended just above the heads of travelers passing beneath. Narrow slits and overhanging towers lined the upper walls, revealing the watchful eyes of soldiers patrolling the border.

  “Alice, wake up.”

  She gently poked the sleeping Witch, who had long dozed off on her p. “Wake up, we’re here.”

  “Huh…” Alice barely stirred, slobber drooling out of her mouth as she mumbled incoherently to herself. “Forward, left foot, forward…right foot…”

  With a sigh, she carefully tucked a lock of raven hair that had fallen in Alice’s face behind her ear.

  “Ptz machen!” The soldier outside hollered a command. “Make way for the Duchess of Livroche!”

  At once, the bustling crowd parted. Merchants hastily gathered their horses and wares, wide-eyed children clutched their mothers’ hands, and soldiers raised their halberds in solemn salute at the carriage rolling forward.

  “…mm, Este, why is it so noisy?” Alice groaned, rubbing her bleary eyes as she sat up. “Where are we?”

  “Nordertor,” Estel said, nodding at the window. “This border town is the final stop before we enter the Northern March, which makes up the territory of Selvern. Many pilgrims and Temprs stop by here before making the journey to the holy nd.”

  She paused mid-stretch. “The holy nd?”

  “Luminarias. You know, the pce where the Goddess…” Estel saw the dumbfounded look on her face and shook her head in resignation. “Should I give you a lesson on history?”

  “Uh, no thanks. I’m not really fond of exposition disguised in dialogue.”

  “H-how can you just call the parable of Lumina ‘exposition’?!”

  Past the archway, the city became alive with noise and movement. Swarthy traders from the far south in bright linen robes hawked goods from carts den with fruits, pottery, and bolts of cloth. A troop of royal guards marched past with their gonfalons high, their steel breastptes glinting under the te afternoon sun. Pilgrims and peddlers alike jostled for space, their voices rising in a cacophony of myriad tongues.

  “Friede sei mit euch.”

  “Schalom, que paz.”

  “Ignosce po! Ich würde das gerne kaufen…”

  The raucous shouts of merchants and cngour of smiths gradually died down as the carriage passed the market and drove deeper into the city. Here, the thoroughfare narrowed to a single ne, forcing the carriage to slow to a crawl. Banners and pennants bearing the royal coat of arms fluttered overhead, casting colourful, dancing shadows over the cobblestones.

  “Friede ern?hrt…Unfrieden verzehrt,” Estel murmured, reading the inscription on the banner.

  “What does that mean, Este?” Alice asked curiously.

  “Something along the lines of ‘peace is good, discord is bad’, I think?” she replied with a shrug. “I’m not very fluent in the Northmen nguage.”

  Alice raised an eyebrow. “If they have to pster such a message all over the city, things must be pretty tense around here.”

  “It’s an unfortunate reality,” Estel expined, “since the Temprs have their demesnes nearby. Marcus told me in the past that when he was stationed at the margravate, he had to intervene in affrays between the Temprs and locals almost every day. That’s also the reason why the Margrave wields significant power in the royal court, even though he’s only a count. Without His Lordship’s authority, the Northern March would rapidly fall into civil strife.”

  The carriage cttered past a small square where an old stone well stood in the center, surrounded by townsfolk discussing the harvest as they filled their buckets. A pair of soldiers gave the carriage a cursory gnce before returning to their idle conversation. Further down, the buildings opened up into a slightly broader street, where a modest but well-maintained inn stood waiting. As the carriage rumbled to a halt in front of the shaded portico, an old man slowly limped towards them.

  “Your Ladyship, you’re finally here,” he greeted in a kind, raspy voice. “I offer you my sincere welcome to Nordertor. How was your journey?”

  “You must be Balian,” Estel replied, gathering her skirts in one hand and stepping down from the carriage. “Adrianne informed that—?!”

  Before she could fully step on the footrest, the trailing hem of her mantle caught beneath her shoe. Her bance faltered, and in the next moment, she found herself stumbling forward onto the cobblestones—

  A pair of firm hands caught her by the waist.

  “Woah, careful there,” Alice said, half-ughing, half-scolding. “Are you trying to kiss the ground?”

  Balian quickly supported her hand. “Y-your Ladyship, are you alright?”

  Estel felt her cheeks redden as she straightened herself with as much dignity as she could muster. “Yes…sorry, it’s been a long day.”