TM 01

Chapter 01…

 A Guest from the North

To the Honorable Sir Lancelot Hayes,

I don’t even know how long it’s been since I last wrote to you. Do not think I have neglected to send my regards only to you; you know that is not the case. As always, I trust our long-standing friendship will allow you to forgive my delay.

I returned home three days ago. When I left, Windberg was frozen solid, but now summer has quietly arrived. In just three months, winter will begin again.

This recent journey to the South was incredibly enjoyable. As you said, perhaps my wanderlust is innate, so it may not seem remarkable—but I swear, this trip was the finest experience I have ever had. If you doubt me, I’ll stake my grandfather’s treasured twin-handed greatsword on it. You know well how dearly I hold that sword.

Lance, have you ever heard of the Trisen estate?

Even someone as unworldly as you could not have missed it. Surely you must have heard, at least once, of the tragic circumstances of that household.

Febrante El Trisen. Recluse of Light. The ill-fated young lord.

Ah, but the lord of Trisen is no longer a boy. At least, the one I met was not a boy. Lord Febrante invited me to his estate and hosted a dinner in my honor. I can see your surprised expression clearly as I write this.

There were many impressions that day, but none so vivid as the portrait of his mother. Good heavens, what a beauty—unmatched in this world. If compared to our dear Laurelia, whom I consider the most beautiful among living women, my beloved eldest daughter might feel slightly slighted.

Lance, I have so much to tell you about this journey.

If it’s agreeable, I plan to make your estate the destination of my next journey, so I hope you will reply quickly. One bottle of your newly bottled wine will be an indulgence for this wanderer. Even if you filled a bath with Mendelsan wine, it would still not be enough for me.

I shall prepare my luggage with the expectation of your warm hospitality.

July 3, 1582
Cedric Glenn

The southern wind swayed the swing. Laurelia tilted her head in delight. The breeze brushing against her cheek was fresh and fragrant.

When the guest from the North arrived, she was in the garden. A willow basket hung from her left arm, and in her right hand, she held pruning shears, buried in a cluster of golden flowers. Marigolds were everywhere to welcome August, their sun-like blossoms cherished by her.

“Miss! Miss Laure!”

Even hearing her name, Laurelia did not look up from the flowers. She focused entirely on selecting the largest, most beautiful blossoms and clipping their stems with her shears. The sun would soon set, and she needed to finish picking flowers quickly.

“Oh, Miss, here, now—”

“Alicia, perfect timing. Could you hold this for me?”

Without glancing at the panting maid, Laurelia thrust the basket into her hands. She then tilted her face toward the reddish sky, her expression serious.

“The sun will set soon. I have to arrange all the flowers in vases. The godfather will arrive by tomorrow morning.”

The maid, catching her breath, accepted the basket brimming with flowers.

“Sir Cedric has already arrived!”

That explained why she had run full speed to this spot.

“What? Already?”

“Yes, Miss. He just entered the castle.”

Alicia looked at Laurelia, whose eyes had grown wide in surprise. Standing amidst the vast golden field in full bloom, Laurelia looked like a picture. Her soft green eyes and chestnut hair shone in the twilight. Even after years of seeing her daily, one could still be spellbound by such beauty.

Alicia recalled a song once sung by a minstrel at Laurelia’s eighteenth birthday feast:

Oh, newly blossomed flower,
Fairest among living women.
If this be untrue, may the gods blind me.
Oh, beautiful lady,
Laurelia Lorelia.

“Alicia, put these flowers in vases and bring them to the guest room.”

“Shall I go now?”

“Yes.”

Her reply was swift. Laurelia handed the shears to her maid and hurried out of the flower bed. After untying the reins from the oak where her swing hung, she lightly stepped onto it with her right foot and gracefully settled into the saddle. Her movements were light and practiced, revealing experience.

“Let’s go!”

With a gentle nudge to her side, the chestnut mare began to trot. Laurelia was a tiny girl to manage such a tall riding horse alone. Her flowing dress and long hair made the powerful muscles of the horse seem even more contrasting.

Alicia frowned as she watched Laurelia and the horse move farther from the castle, worried she might be scolded—but then reconsidered. Today would be fine. Even if her mother saw Laurelia riding recklessly, nothing serious would come of it.

“Well, the lord is here too,” she muttered, smiling as she admired the flowers in her basket.

The scent of marigolds filled the air. The petals glimmered in the sunset. The long summer day was drawing to a close; the sun would soon set.

Laurelia’s land had been the territory of the Hayes family for hundreds of years, located in the central-eastern part of the continent.

Although all lands of the kingdom technically belonged to King Delmas, this depended on the nobles’ sworn loyalty to the crown. Located near Kingsburg, Laurelia was a particularly trusted and favored territory.

The lord’s castle in Mendel, the capital of Laurelia, was bustling with preparations to welcome a distinguished guest.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” Lancelot Hayes said.

“Who’s to say? Cedric, you’re just the same as two years ago.”

“Two years? Has it been that long since we last met?”

Laughing at their old friend’s teasing, Lancelot was embraced by Cedric Glenn, confirming their unchanging friendship. As was customary, Cedric then bowed and kissed the hand of Marilyn Hayes.

“You remain as beautiful as ever, Lady Hayes.”

“Thank you for coming such a long way, Sir Cedric.”

“My thanks, but the effort was more mine than yours.”

“Your horse will be well taken care of by the stablemaster. Come inside.”

“Have you prepared my wine?”

“Enough to fill a bath, if you wish.”

“Oh, gods! Is there a well of wine in Mendel?”

Cedric laughed heartily, following Lancelot. The dark blue cloak over his back fluttered as they walked.

The trio passed through the corridor in light conversation, followed by the steward, the head servant, and two footmen. Few guests were greeted by the lord and lady at the estate entrance; usually only heads of great noble families, royals, or daughters returning from northern marriages.

Even more unusual was the addition of the lord’s youngest daughter.

“Godfather!”

A voice called from behind, and everyone stopped. A small girl ran forward, her face flushed with excitement. The northern guest looked down at her.

“Laurelia.”

Meeting Cedric’s eyes, Laurelia smiled broadly and curtsied, holding the front of her dress.

“Sir Cedric Glenn, honorable knight of Windberg. I am pleased to see you in good health.”

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Laurelia Hayes El Lorelia.”

The middle-aged man replied with an exaggerated, courteous bow, smiling gently at the young girl.

“And your lady and siblings are all well?”

“Very well indeed.”

“And is Ellen doing well?”

“Our future lady is diligently attending to her heir training.”

Laurelia’s sister Elenia had married a northern heir and recently given birth to her first son. For Cedric, he was both godfather and uncle-in-law. Imagining her elder sister struggling before the infant made Laurelia giggle. Her godfather had a talent for humor.

“You’ve grown even more beautiful, Laure.”

“You went to the South, didn’t you, Godfather?”

“Ah, I see now, it’s not me you’ve been waiting for, but the news I bring.”

Cedric feigned a scowl, and Laurelia replied with a light laugh. The four of them began walking again toward the banquet hall.

“Yes. I visited Trisen.”

“And Issen too?”

“Of course I wouldn’t skip the capital on such a journey.”

“How was the weather in Issen?”

“Absolutely marvelous.”

“The South is sunny all year round, right?”

“The exact opposite of my home, where half the year is harsh winter.”

“You also visited the lord’s castle? Trisen estate?”

“Laurelia, you haven’t had a sip of water yet.”

Marilyn reminded her, and Laurelia pursed her lips. From Windberg in the northern capital to Mendel, even the fastest horse ride takes three weeks. Asking questions right after such a long journey was certainly rude.

“Your courtesy is appreciated, Lady Hayes, but I am fine. Soon I shall pour a bathful of wine to drink. Right, Lance?”

Lancelot chuckled quietly at Cedric’s jest. Laurelia smiled.

“Eldest daughter, do you know anything about Trisen?”

She began eagerly to answer:

“Trisen is rich in resources and densely populated, a very developed region. People in Issen are known for their pride. The great noble family Febrante is especially exclusive and rarely allows outsiders into their estate.”

“Good choice of tutor for the youngest, Sir Hayes,” Cedric remarked as they reached the entrance to the dining hall.

The massive oak doors swung open to reveal a grand hall decorated with banners, candelabras, and flowers. A large round table stood at the center, surrounded by eight chairs, with the lord’s high-backed chair at the head.

“Your capable heir is not in sight.”

“He’s gone to Kingsburg, invited on a hunting trip with the crown prince.”

“Oh? All three princes?”

“Yes, moving quietly among peers, I hear.”

Cedric showed interest in the princes’ hunting trip, while her father seemed proud of his son’s invitation. Worried the conversation might stray, Laurelia quickly spoke as they sat at the table.

“Godfather, they say the Trisen estate hasn’t opened its doors in thirteen years, is that true?”