The Corridors of Aichenwald Palace, Early Morning.
Alice, the junior maid, leaned against the wall and struggled to swallow a yawn. Dawn had only just begun to paint the sky in pearlescent hues, yet she already needed to hurry to the kitchens—the ducal family rose early, and breakfast had to be flawless. She stretched, gathering her strength, when her attention was caught by a muffled but unmistakably excited chatter coming from a niche by the large arched window overlooking the inner garden.
There, like a flock of sparrows, several older maids had clustered together. They pressed their foreheads to the glass, their shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, and one was even bouncing in excitement.
“What’s going on?” Alice asked in surprise, drawing closer.
“Shh!” One of the girls, golden-haired Clara, grabbed her by the sleeve and pulled her to the window. “Look!”
Alice peered down into the garden, rosy with the dawn. And her breath caught in her throat.
On one of the benches by the pond sat two figures. Lord Randel, in his dark doublet, and… the Guardian. But not in her golden armor—in the very green velvet dress that Alice herself had pressed yesterday. They sat very close, their heads inclined toward each other, speaking quietly. The first rays of sunlight gilded their profiles, creating a scene so perfect it could have been an illustration from a romantic novel.
“They… they’ve been there *all night*?” Alice whispered, stunned.
“Since evening!” Beatrice, the redhead, squeaked in a stifled voice. “The gardener said he saw them before midnight! And look—they’re greeting the dawn together! Like a fairy tale!”
“Of course together!” Clara snorted, gazing at the pair with delight. “After that… *Yui*… put on her disgraceful performance! Oh, you should have seen it, Alice—how she screamed! How they led the poor thing away! And our Lord Randel—like a prince from a picture book! So cold and firm, everything he said to her! It gave me chills!”
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“And this new one… the Guardian,” joined in the quietest of them, Maria, who was usually lost in her own thoughts. “Don’t you find everything is different with her? Lady Yui… remember how she treated the servants?”
Identical grimaces appeared on all the girls’ faces.
“Oh, don’t remind me!” Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Fetch this! Bring that! You’re an idiot, do it over!” And always with that sweet, poisonous smile. Once she made my friend Sai crawl on her knees and remake the bed ten times because the sheets weren’t tucked right!”
“And she threw hot tea in my face once,” Clara added grimly. “Because, in her opinion, it was one degree too cold. And didn’t even apologize. Just said, ‘Be more careful next time, fool.’”
Alice nodded sympathetically. She herself had more than once been on the receiving end of the future duchess’s barbs.
“But the Guardian…” Maria spoke again, a note of surprised respect in her voice. “Yesterday, when I went into her chambers to tend the fireplace, I was so nervous! And she… she was sitting by the window, just gazing at the garden. I apologized for disturbing her, and she turned around and… you know, she *smiled*. Just like that. Easily. And said, ‘It’s all right, come in.’ In such a quiet, calm voice.”
“Really?” Alice’s eyes widened.
“And when I brought her supper after that scandal,” Beatrice picked up, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “she said ‘thank you.’ Can you imagine? *Thank you!* Lady Yui never once said thank you in her entire life, as if we were supposed to serve like slaves!”
“And she didn’t throw the dress when I brought it to her,” Clara added. “She just looked at it, touched the fabric, and nodded. Then she asked if it was heavy to carry such loads. I nearly fainted!”
“She’s… different somehow,” Maria concluded, gazing out the window at the pair who had now risen from the bench and were slowly walking toward the palace, still deep in conversation. “Despite all her power and those terrifying stories… she seems… well-mannered. Kind, even.”
“And Lord Randel with her—he’s completely different,” Beatrice said breathlessly. “With Lady Yui, he was always like a stone wall. But the way he looks at her… like she’s his personal sun.”
“Maybe good times are finally coming to the palace?” Alice ventured timidly.
The girls exchanged glances, and hopeful smiles bloomed on their faces.
“We got rid of that… homewrecker, and the new guest is an angel in the flesh!” Clara exclaimed. “And with magic, too! Of course good times are coming! Now our Lord Randel won’t make a mistake in his choice!”
Their happy laughter filled the niche by the window once more, while below, the two figures—unaware they were being watched—concluded their first, utterly incredible night. The maids, those unobtrusive chroniclers of palace life, had already rendered their verdict. And that verdict was entirely, unequivocally in favor of the mysterious Guardian.