004 The Sudden Upheaval at Dimaca

Just as Theresa was earnestly adapting to life in Cervantes, an unexpected event occurred: Dimaca, a small town rarely visited by outsiders due to poor transportation, suddenly welcomed two young knights. One had golden hair and violet eyes, strikingly handsome; the other, with chestnut hair and green eyes, was gentle as spring water. Upon entering the town, the handsome knight pulled a round, disc-shaped object from his chest, shook it from side to side, then nodded. “It’s around here. Let’s go ask around, shall we?”

They rode into the town. It was a busy farming season; men and women, old and young, all who could work were out in the fields. The two had traversed nearly half the town before, under a sunlit tree, they finally found an elderly man dozing in the warmth.

“Excuse me, sir, may I ask you about someone?” The gentle young man approached politely.

The old man was hard of hearing. It took two repetitions for him to grasp the question, but when he did, he replied in a loud voice, “Who are you looking for? Tell me, my ears may be poor, but my memory is sharp.”

“Renee—Renee Brentor.” The young man raised his voice, repeating the name two or three times before the old man caught it.

“Oh, you’re looking for her. You’re too late. She’s gone, buried long ago.” The old man shook his head and sighed, perhaps reminded of his own future, his already dim spirit drooping further.

This answer was a heavy blow to the two young knights. The handsome one leapt up and exclaimed, “How can that be? The monitor still shows signs of life—how could she be dead?” As he spoke, he fished out the disc-shaped device, turning it over in his hands to check if it was functioning properly.

The gentle knight ignored his companion’s outburst and continued to inquire about the burial place. The old man pointed to the northern edge of the town. “It’s over there, beside the flower fields, in the little white house. See, nobles are always the same—even in death they have to be elaborate. An ice coffin—what a waste of effort and land, all for show! When you’re gone, what’s the point? Better to leave more for the children…”

The old man rambled on, but the young knights had no patience to listen. They hurried off toward the indicated place, barely hearing a word of the old man’s muttered complaints—and so missed a piece of astonishing news.

The small white house on the hillside was easy to spot, visible from afar as soon as one left the town. They galloped their horses, startling flocks of birds, and in no time arrived at their destination. Even before his horse had stopped, the handsome knight dismounted in haste, pulling out the disc from his chest. After a quick comparison, he exclaimed excitedly, “This is the place!”

Without waiting for a reply, he darted forward and pushed against the stone door. With a couple of heavy, muffled clicks, the thick stone door reluctantly slid open, revealing a cold gust that instantly froze his brows and lashes.

Ignoring the biting chill, the two knights entered the stone house. In the muted daylight from the doorway, they hurried to the ice coffin. Inside, a woman in her thirties lay on a bed of tricolored bellflowers, her black hair cascading like a waterfall, hands folded over her abdomen. Her features were gentle and beautiful, her complexion pale with a hint of rose, lips curved as if in a faint smile. She looked nothing like the dead—more like someone who had just fallen asleep.

The handsome knight produced a scroll from seemingly nowhere, unfurled it with a flourish, and compared the portrait with the woman in the coffin several times over. At last he declared, “No doubt, this is her. Well, is the lady all right?”

Even as he spoke, the gentle knight had already pressed his fingers to the woman’s neck, his fingertips aglow with golden light as if probing for signs of life. After a long moment, he said, “She’s fine. It’s only a state of suspended animation.”

At these words, the handsome knight’s face fell in dismay. “So that means—we’ll have to rush back day and night?”

“Exactly.” The gentle knight responded coolly, pulling out a soft blanket and wrapping the woman securely, then affixing several magical scrolls to the blanket with practiced ease—clearly a man well-versed in such matters.

Once finished, he straightened and pointed to the rolled-up bundle. “Carry her.”

The handsome knight made a face of mock suffering, about to protest when his companion cut him off, “We should be grateful the lady was entombed in ice, not buried in earth or cremated. Otherwise, we’d be returning home to answer for her death.”

At this, the handsome knight shivered visibly. The words he was about to say were swallowed, and weighing his options, he could only shoulder the bundled blanket and swiftly exit the stone chamber.

The two young men came and went as swiftly as the wind. With the blanket secured on his back, the horses sped off, and within minutes they had vanished from the town, leaving only the mayor—who had arrived a step too late—to sigh at the dust in their wake and the open stone door.

☆☆☆

Saint Alberta Academy—a renowned ladies’ college of the Empire, it stood alongside the Royal Academy for Ladies in the capital and the Audrey Ladies’ Academy in the southern province as one of the three great women’s academies. Saint Alberta was especially famed for its graduates’ versatility and talent. As a nationally acclaimed institution, its admission standards were notoriously strict: without a recommendation, one was not considered; without talent, one was not accepted; without virtue or appropriate appearance, one was turned away; failure in the entrance exam meant rejection. These many rules ensured both the academy’s reputation and the quality of its students.

Theresa, however, had yet to face such a rigorous entrance exam, for Saint Alberta’s autumn admissions took place after the Autumn Festival—and that was still more than half a month away. Though not yet enrolled, her days were full and lively. If not out shopping with Aunt Betty, she was accompanying her cousin Archer on various excursions. Every day was packed with activities, so much so that in less than ten days after arriving in Cervantes, she had already become familiar with most of the city—simply by exploring it.

After touring the city, she ventured beyond its walls. Autumn, the season of harvest, was also the best time for outings. The hills and fields abounded with wild fruits and game, perfect for picnics and hunts. Both commoners and nobles enjoyed their own forms of entertainment.

Outside Cervantes were several favored hunting grounds. Every autumn, riders and hounds could be seen weaving through the forests, and when prey was sighted, the dogs would bark, chase, and tussle, filling the woods with excitement.

On this day, Theresa rode a docile young mare at a leisurely pace through the sparse woods, golden sunlight warming her face. With eyes half-closed, she savored what might be the last mild spell of autumn, her whole body relaxed and lazy. In that moment, she looked for all the world like a drowsy kitten basking in the sun.