The Returnee Wants Peace

Chapter 73

“Oh my, oh my!”

Berri kept exclaiming in wonder.

This was because Rosha’s A-class sacred artifact, the ‘Cape of Deep Dawn,’ had changed shape on her body.

The fabric of the previously long jacket-style cape tightened to fit her frame before transforming into a dress for today’s welcoming ceremony.

It was a pale blue satin dress with a soft sheen.

“How can such a wondrous item exist? We’ll never lack for clothes money again!”

...Your mistress is wealthy now.

Rosha watched Berri happily fixing the hem of her dress.

Thanks to occasionally selling magic stones at auctions, she had ample funds. And with the recent launch of ‘The Fundamentals of Magic,’ she was practically raking in money.

‘I’ve been so busy printing books with magic these past few days.’

Due to the overwhelming demand, she had printed the books at an unprecedented pace rather than delaying the publication.

Fortunately, covering the basic contents of magic made the writing relatively easy.

“Please have a seat here, Miss.”

“Mhm.”

Rosha obediently sat before the mirror. Koko had already taken his place on the vanity, fiddling with the blue butterfly necktie around his neck.

As Berri combed her hair, she chatted idly.

“It’s such a relief to see your gaunt face regaining its glow, likely thanks to your improved diet lately. Your hair has also recovered its former luster. Shall I braid and tie up half of it?”

“Yes, please do that.”

Rosha glanced at the purplish bruise on Berri’s arm from when she had tackled the maid wielding a dagger – it had yet to fade.

Berri seemed to regard it as a badge of honor, but there was no such thing as a ‘glorious wound.’

A wound was simply a wound.

“That was quicker than expected.”

After finishing her preparations and leaving her room, Cassis and Cedric were already waiting for her.

They too wore formal blue attire. It was common for unmarried siblings to coordinate their colors unless their relationship was particularly strained.

“You look lovely. As always, but especially today.”

Cedric’s face radiated a bright glow.

With his wavy golden hair like spun honey and soft, emerald-shaded eyes framed by dark lashes, he resembled the archetypal prince from fairy tales.

Moreover, his speech was as pleasant as his appearance, making it understandable why so many maidens admired him.

In contrast, Cassis offered no compliments.

Instead, after scrutinizing her for a while, he abruptly turned and said:

“Let’s depart. The delegation includes the second prince of Atica this time.”

“Atica?”

“The desert kingdom bordering the Empire’s south. I hear their second prince is a renowned swordsman.”

In the conservative Marcia Empire, such skinship was only acceptable between lovers.

“Oh my.”

Lysithea, who had been approaching Rosha, covered her mouth with widened eyes. Even Koko whistled mischievously, seeming amused.

Whether aware of the atmosphere or not, the man only looked at Rosha as he spoke.

“I sent you flowers, but I don’t know if you received them.”

“...Ah.”

“Not knowing your favorite, I sent all the flowers from the shop. I hope you liked them.”

...Just who was this man to suddenly appear and say such things?

‘Can’t he read the room?’

Utterly flustered in a way she hadn’t been for a long time, Rosha quickly examined the man.

With sun-tanned skin and a stocky frame, he had short gray hair and pale lemon-colored eyes.

At least two heads taller than her, his broad shoulders were sculpted with well-trained muscles.

The reason she could discern his muscular composition was because, unlike imperial attire, his clothing was quite revealing.

‘...It must be the traditional garb of another nation.’

Adorned in white and golden ornaments, he drew an unusual number of gazes from the ladies present. Not to mention the delegates fidgeting nervously behind him.

By this point, she could guess who this man was.

Carefully, Rosha asked:

“May I inquire as to who you are?”

“Nardil of the Atica Kingdom. If you have the time, I’d like to briefly converse with you. There seems to be an outdoor garden connected to this ballroom.”

The representative of the delegation and second prince of the desert kingdom was remarkably direct.

At that moment, a chilly voice interrupted their exchange.

“That won’t be possible.”

Slowly turning her head, Rosha saw Froy approaching the ballroom entrance after disembarking from a large black carriage.

‘...He didn’t mention he would be coming today.’

Despite having encountered him quite often, she had grown too accustomed to his presence.

Dressed in a dark formal attire with silver embroidery on the cuffs and collar, the man seemed to bring the night itself.

His violet eyes were unusually chilling today, and his sleek, unadorned movements exuded an inexplicable oppressiveness.

Cowed by his aura, his name was belatedly announced.

“D-Duke Froy Echerzen! The Duke is entering.”

The ballroom fell into another tense silence.

Froy Echerzen refrained from involving himself in central politics and rarely entered the imperial capital unless absolutely necessary.

This had been an unspoken rule upheld for the past few years and was expected to continue.

Yet now he had appeared so openly?