To my dearest Master:
The cold winds of the Northern Territory are as sharp as knives, and the snow falls like cotton. Here in this silver-clad wasteland, Maggie thinks of her Master’s warmth at every mont.
Whenever the wind and snow beat against the carriage window, I am reminded of the warmth of your embrace in Duval Castle. It is my only solace in this world of ice and snow.
The hardships of this journey are truly beyond words.
We passed through the muddy trails of White Maple Territory. Their roads are as muddled as the local Lord’s mind.
That old fox from the White family actually thought he could win my favor with his crude wine. How utterly laughable.
But please rest assured, Master. Maggie has already "borrowed" five thousand Gold Coins from him. Let’s just call it tuition for his foolish notions.
Archbishop John has been droning on and on about his doctrines this entire journey, as if that could drive away the northern cold.
A pity, then, that even the God of Truth seems unwilling to favor this stubborn middle-aged man. His Scepter beca so covered in frost from the blizzard that it actually quieted him down for a while.
While passing through Black Rock Territory, the Lord there actually tried to amuse with his vulgar jokes.
Hah. Did he really think a Royal Princess has the sa tastes as his hunting dogs?
But for the sake of four thousand Gold Coins, I managed to endure his nauseating flattery.
Master, Maggie has already raised enough Gold Coins for you.
Those foolish Lords, one by one, obediently handed over their purses at the sight of my smile.
These Gold Coins are enough to pay the taxes for Duval Territory. Please do not trouble yourself over it, Master.
In the dead of night, as the carriage travels alone across the snowy plains, I can’t help but think of that night in the bedroom.
Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a starlike glimr in your deep eyes. In that mont, it was as if Maggie saw eternal truth.
Your fingers gently stroked my hair, and every touch made my very soul tremble.
To this day, I can still clearly recall the warmth of your embrace, a warmth that could lt the ice and snow of the Northern Territory.
On those sleepless nights, I find myself savoring the mory of your deep voice over and over. It’s like the richest wine, leaving intoxicated and unable to break free.
I can still feel your ■■■■■ in my ■■■■■. Every ■■ made ■■■■.
The mory of your breath against my ear that night still ■■, making feel ■■■■ even on these cold winter nights.
Whenever I am alone, my ■■ can’t help but recall every ■■ of that night, ■■ to be ■■■■ by you again.
How I wish I could feel your ■■■■■ again, to let your ■■ leave its mark on my ■■■■■■.
On those nights when I toss and turn, I always ■■■■■■■■■, imagining it is your ■■■■, ■■■ to be ■■■■ by you again.
Oh, Master, how Maggie wishes to break free from these tedious affairs and return to your side, to feel your presence and listen to your heartbeat once more.
I long to lie in your arms again, to feel your breath brush against my neck, to have your whispers linger by my ear.
Your loyal slave,
Margaret Leonice Purple Eagle
P.S. As for the scriptures you require, Master, I have arranged for my most reliable Attendant to deliver them to Duval Territory.
I believe they will be in your hands shortly.
...
The letter, sealed with a minor Magic spell, was quite exquisite.
If it wasn’t opened using the agreed-upon Spiritual Power thod, the words on the paper would simply vanish, preventing the contents from being leaked as much as possible.
But even with such protections, Murphy couldn’t help but frown.
’If I were the one writing this letter,’ he thought, ’I would never have been so long-winded, let alone write down such overly direct displays of emotion.’
’It would have been enough to concisely report on the tax fundraising and the delivery of the scriptures. I wouldn’t even need to state it plainly; a few subtle hints would have sufficed.’
He knew that if Magic existed in this world, then so too must counterasures.
Murphy never believed in any foolproof security asure. Even the most brilliant encryption Magic could still be broken by soone more skilled in the art.
’For Margaret to so brazenly write such private content is far too risky.’
Still, he understood Margaret’s temperant. The Princess had clearly been suppressed for too long. Once unleashed, her actions were always willful and reckless.
Murphy’s eyes darkened. He had already decided that the next ti they t, he would have to properly punish this reckless Princess and teach her the price of having a loose tongue.
What infuriated him most was that the letter didn’t ntion a single word about how to contact the Attendant.
Omitting such crucial information was a mistake a Princess with a strict courtly upbringing should never have made.
Murphy held the parchnt to a candle fla, watching as it burned to ash.
Although he was displeased with the many indiscretions in the letter, at least the problem of the taxes was temporarily resolved.
’Of course, if Margaret ever dared to betray , it’s not like I’m unprepared.’
’I just hope she doesn’t go down the wrong path.’
Now, all Murphy had to do was wait patiently for the arrival of those Wizard’s Scriptures.
...
「By mid-January, the cold in Duval Territory had beco bone-chilling.」
Days of continuous snowfall had painted the fields outside the castle a sheet of silver. The howling north wind whipped up fine flurries of snow, which danced wildly under the gloomy gray sky.
The Guards on the castle towers had to take turns retreating into the sentry posts for warmth. Even the Northern Territory hounds, normally the most resistant to the cold, were now curled up in their kennels, refusing to go outside.
Into this silver-clad world, a jet-black warhorse ca treading through the snow.
The magnificent steed, standing a full two ters tall, was a mass of knotted muscle. Its hooves left deep prints in the snow, and on its back were several heavy boxes, tightly wrapped in oilcloth.
The middle-aged man riding it wore a deep blue cloak. Despite the wind and snow lashing his face, his back remained ramrod straight, and his sharp eyes scanned his surroundings like a falcon’s.
"It’s the Royal Guard Captain!" a sentry on the battlents cried out, hastily ringing the alarm bell.
Over the past month, on the frontiers of the Northern Territory, Richard de Monte’s iconic black warhorse had already beco an unforgettable symbol.
The warhorse ca to a steady halt before the castle gate. Richard pulled the reins tight, looked up at the gatehouse, and shouted, "Have Baron Sylvan co out and see !"
His voice, carrying an undeniable authority, was clearly audible even through the wind and snow.
A commotion instantly erupted within the castle.
Guards scrambled to form ranks as the heavy oak gates slowly creaked open.
Through the swirling snowflakes, one could see the frost clinging to Richard’s cloak and the thick white plus of breath from his warhorse.
The boxes, strapped securely to the horse’s back with leather belts, were particularly conspicuous in the blizzard.
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