She tried to recall what happened the previous night. First, there was a strange man appearing in front of her. He was entirely out of place. That long beard was significant. If nothing else, she could remember that. His beard, and his bald head.

“So he was a mage, you say?” the court mage asked.

“Yes. He used some kind of magic to make himself hidden, and then cast a spell to put me to sleep.”

“How did you find this out? If he cast a stealth spell on himself, how did you detect him?”

“I... I don’t know. I just felt that something was wrong.”

“That’s a knight’s instincts right there. But still, this is rather concerning.”

“Get to the point, Zeno,” Haein said, through gritted teeth.

“Yes, your highness. I will. Now, my lady, was this mage old?”

“Old? Yes, yes. Wrinkled skin, and a hunched back.”

“What are you getting at, mage?” asked the princess.

“Well you see, there are two types, or styles of mages. One of them is like me. We want to get closer to mana, which is also why we appear younger.”

“And they don’t want to get close? They want to distance themselves from mana?”

“Close. To be more specific, they want to control mana. So, since lady Katalina reports that the mage is elderly, he is most likely in the latter type of mage.”

“Well? Would that help you find Francis?”

“It narrows it down, somewhat, your highness. It at least gives us an idea of who to ask or chase down.”

“Alright, go do your thing then. Find him. As soon as you can.”

The princess looked down towards the floor. Something crossed her mind. If they needed help, then there were a few groups of interest she could turn towards. The first was already there. The mages on their side, mainly Zeno. But, there were more. And one of them would have a greater interest in rescuing him than the other. Ultimately, she chose to ask them. It made sense, after all. And they were bound to find out soon enough. Better now than later.

She made her way deep into the palace. Past long, meandering hallways, she pulled open a door. A maid, dressed in the new, foreign clothes that a man sometime ago brought to the country, greeted her.

“Your highness, pleasure to see you today. How may I help you?”

“The Quartz Screen, Rayleigh estate, please.”

“Of course.”

The maid retreated back into a backroom. And, several long, crucial minutes later, she returned. In her hands, was a large mirror-like object. That was the Quartz Screen. It was similar in function to the one she gave to Francis. And she had indeed thought of contacting him directly, but he was most probably knocked unconscious.

Though similar in function, the only other similarity between his more portable version and the ones reserved for emergencies were design. Adorned with a gold rim, it was a large waste of money. And so heavy that the maid wheeled it out.

“I shall take my leave, your highness.”

“Thank you.”

Another similarity might be how they’re used. Both worked the same way. With a tap, she was connected to whoever was on the other end.

“Hello?” Haein asked.

“Yes?”

“Who is that on the other end?”

“Estelle Rayleigh. And you?”

“The crown princess.”

“Ah. Well, his grace is currently not available.”

“I know. So you’re the one left behind?”

“Yes. What do you need?”

“It's about your brother.”

“Ah! What about him? Is he doing alright?”

“About that... He’s, uh, kidnapped.”

“What.”

“Yeah. Come to the palace. As soon as possible. Got it?”

“I can’t believe you let him get kidnapped. I’m coming now.”

Estelle hung up. It confirmed the truth for Haein. Really, how many loved him? Why him? His family would come rushing to his rescue. And that knight too. How inconceivable. Or was it jealousy? Haein tried to recall the last time anyone, not just her parents, had ever done anything like that for. It was always crown princess this, crown princess that. Not even her classmates that she attended the academy with treated her like a person. No! It was never Haein. Just crown princess. And if not that, it was ‘your highness’, and if not that, ‘my lady’ was the closest it got.

Haein leaned against the wall. Massaging her temples, she couldn’t help but wonder what went wrong. In the first place, how did a mage even get in? The captor snuck in, and got past Zeno. Did he not have any precautions in place? And what about that knight of his? If Katalina really did like Francis, surely she would have tried harder.

What was wrong with her? This was no time to be blaming people. If anything, she was the one to blame. Nonetheless, Zeno had the mage’s realm covered. But that was all. It was out of her hands then.

After a while, a butler knocked on the door to her chambers. It was a simple message, and one that she was expecting. She stood up, and left to greet her guest.

Eyebags hung on beneath her signature red ones. For the second time in her life, a Rayleigh entered Haein’s chambers. Despite her parents’ less than favourably relationship with that house, it was what it was. Yet, it was also within that same Rayleigh blood that she found solace, but now was not the time for that.

“Tell me everything. What happened?” Estelle started off with no greetings or formalities.

“A mage captured him. The court mage is doing his best to find out more about the captor.”

“Got a description of what he looks like?”

Haein nodded. And shortly after, Katalina arrived. In truth, the princess had issued orders for the knight to be brought to her private chambers when word of the Rayleigh arrived. That much could be foreseen with ease.

“Ask her. She saw the captor with her own two eyes,” Haein gestured towards the knight entering the room.

“Ms Katalina, am I correct?”

“I’m sorry. I failed in my duty,” the bodyguard muttered as she walked closer.

It didn’t take a genius to see that her condition deteriorated over the span of the last few hours. With sluggish movements, her arms and legs dragged on. Her hair too, with a normally vibrant and full brown, neatly brushed. None of that remained.

“It's alright. I’m not blaming you. Against a mage, a swordsman would have trouble.”

Internally, Haein breathed a sigh of relief. Had it been the other sister, Elise, a fight might have broken out. She was known as the more hotheaded of the two sisters, and Estelle as the more rational one.

“But, tell me what he looked like. Talked like, even. Everything you can recall. How he walked, how he moved. Even the way he casted spells. With an incantation? Without? And what about aura?”

“Alright. He was old, elderly. Bald, with a long beard. He didn’t say anything, or at least nothing that I could hear. And he casted spells with ease. No aura from what I detected.”

“Got it. Any emblems on his clothes?”

“None that I found.”

“Alright,” Estelle stood up and left. Just like that. She walked out with a determined look, but even Haein could feel her resolve.

***

Estelle was busy managing the estate. In a way, that was her way of helping. Similar to her father, stacks of paper lined her desk, and servants brought more and more in. Stacks, upon stacks, upon stacks. Oh dear.

With a quill made of a bird’s feather, she wrote. And signed, and stamped with her signature. Most of the paperwork was mundane. Permissions to expand a peasant’s farm, reports of taxes, imports and exports. She could understand it, but not understand it. The numbers of the logistics made sense, sure, and she could reasonably make a conclusion based on that. But what about a year later? Or ten? Even she couldn’t see that far ahead. But nonetheless, she worked her way through the pile that threatened to bury her.

Still, she couldn’t remove the worry from her mind. Her family won’t be defeated, right? Surely not Marianne, or Charles. And definitely not Elise. But what if? Instead of waiting for the reports sent from the Shadow Troop. She had attached half of them to the army moving, but was that enough?

She tapped her quill in the vial of dark ink, dipping its tip in black. Her hands danced along the parchment paper. Rinse, repeat. It took surprisingly long for her shoulders to ache. Then, just as she was stretching, using up that precious time, the device she swiped from her father’s desk began to act up.

“Yes?” she said.

It wasn’t as though she was unfamiliar with it. She was the one that insisted on her sister taking one on her journey to subdue the dragon, after all. But still, the one that sat on her desk was different than those that she had access to.

Estelle couldn’t quite believe the news. How? How? How had she not foreseen this? Without even putting on the proper makeup and cosmetics, she left. But what a coincidence. For a dragon to show up, and for him to get kidnapped. Almost as if it was fated. It was laughable.

“Alright,” Estelle said after her questioning.

Leaving the chambers of the crown princess was a strange thing. For so long, and even till when her family left to subdue the dragon, they hated the palace. Estelle herself was one of those who hated the imperial family. But was that what her brother felt everyday that he lived here? The complete air of hatred was hard to get used to.

Upon reaching her waiting carriage, she stepped in. She rummaged through her pocket, and pulled out a long chain. Attached at the end was not a pocket watch, but a similar device to the Quartz Screen, just on a smaller scale. If there was ever a group of people that could find someone, and quickly, it was the Shadow Troop.

“Yes, my lady!”

“I want you to find my brother. He was taken by an old mage, capable of using magic without incantations. Check around the Atlas Association.”

“Understood, my lady.”

Just like that, she had sent half of the Shadow Troop in hot pursuit. They were, one of, if not the most competent at gathering information. Although they were trained to listen, as well as get information by other ways they didn’t specialise in killing. That didn’t matter to Estelle at all. In fact, it was better. Gripping the rapier by her hip, she calmed herself.

The way back was rocky, and long. Even as a Rayleigh, she couldn’t run the distance. Was it a mistake? Should she have taken Katalina back to the estate with her? Somehow, during the whole ordeal, that thought didn’t cross her mind at all. She looked out of the carriage window. Trees that grew tall, nearly as tall as a building with several floors. Fauna that roamed the wilds, and the animals that were kept confined within fences.

She really couldn’t help it. Pressing her hands against the thin carriage glass, Estelle tried to distract herself. If not that, then her rapier would move without her command. And whoever would wind up on the receiving end of her blade, may the gods have mercy on their fate. Even the wielder of her blade had no idea about the damage she could inflict. A master was bad enough. But a Rayleigh? Estelle smirked at the thought.

Upon her return to the mansion, Estelle immediately headed towards her study. The whole matter was out of her hands now. The Shadow Troop would produce some results, sooner or later. And whether that came from eavesdropping or torture, that didn’t matter. Whoever that bastard was, he will face her blade. But the stacks of paper helped to calm her heart. It was somewhat poetic, she found.

Paper wasn’t exactly strong. That was an undeniable truth. Estelle often threw several sheets into the air, and practiced stabbing with her rapier. The tip pierced through with ease, much easier than human skin. And paper, when stacked on each other, was weak. If a strong gust blew on its sides, then there was a mess to clear up. But from above? It was difficult even for Estelle to penetrate through everything. Yet in that weak, unstable mess, she found some form of comfort. Or perhaps that was just her drowning herself within work, refusing to think about what might have happened.

She wasn’t aware of how much time had passed. Evidently, quite a few hours. If there was an ocean of paperwork before, all that was left was a lake. Granted, it still was a formidable amount, but it had decreased nonetheless. Estelle looked out of the windows. Night. She moved her attention to the knock at the door that dragged her out from her trance.

“Come in.”

“My lady. We have investigated the young master’s disappearance.”

“On with it.”

“He is not with the Atlas Association,” the man said, matter-of-factly.

Estelle slammed her fist against the hardwood of the table. Not enough. If it had been her father, the table would be split in half. But thankfully, the beautifully fashioned table of the dwarven craftsmen was preserved.

“Fuck. Try the Arcane Tower next.”

“We already did, my lady. I sent half of the remaining troop to the Atlas Academy, and the other half to the Arcane Tower.”

“Well?”

“There have been reports that he was sighted there.”

“Let's go then. Before the incompetent princess gets to him.”

The Shadow Troop’s representative stopped her. He held his hand out, his palm facing her. She stared at the man’s face.

“Hang on, my lady. You misunderstand. Reports are not concrete. They comprise of eyewitnesses, and we have yet to sight him.”

“Then? You expect me to sit on my ass and wait? Eyewitness reports are better than nothing.”

“Mages are the natural enemy of swordsmen. If Ms Katalina was defeated, then he is a threat. I suggest that you hold off on your attack, and wait for his grace to return.”

“Fran doesn’t have that time.”

“But you do, my lady.”

“No, I don’t. I need to get him out of there, now.”

“My lady, I suggest you wait for more troops. Just yourself, and even including us, might not be enough.”

“They’ll experiment on him.”

“Yes.”

“Do you even know how much pain that would be?”

“No.”

“Then?!”

“My lady. Forgive me for speaking this way, but. Your worth is leagues higher than his.”

“I can’t afford to wait.”

“Very well my lady. Your wish overrides my recommendations.”

The man bowed down. With that obstacle gone, Estelle made her way out. She still wore the regimental uniform that she donned when she visited the princess. She held her rapier steady, and walked out. To the Arcane Tower. She had to fight her way through, but she prepared herself for that.