Lucan left the princesses' quarters.
As he stepped out of the attic, sunlight greeted his eyes. Dappled light shimmered across the palace courtyard. Though winter lingered until mid-April in Moscow, now nearing the end of May, the breeze had already brought the stirrings of spring.
Now serving as the empire's prime minister, Lucan still wore his priest's robes. He paused in the courtyard, his boots leaving faint impressions in the damp earth. Just as he turned to glance behind him—
A flash of silver passed his gaze, darting into the nearby grove.
Lucan smiled.
"Don't bother hiding," he said. "If you want to hide, you should've tucked away that blinding silver hair first. A little grove like this can't conceal your radiance, Anna."
"Ugh..." came a soft squirm from behind the trees. Glimmers of silver shimmered beneath the sun-drenched canopy.
After a brief pause, Anastasia stepped out. Her pale blue eyes peeked from beneath the curtain of her silver hair.
"Good afternoon, Godfather," she said, lifting her skirts in a dainty curtsy. Dressed in angelic down, the imperial princess's figure had become ever more alluring. Her curves rivaled even those of her mother, Empress Alexandra. If the Empress was a ripe, mature peach, then Anastasia was a perfectly developed but still dewy blossom.
She looked every bit the graceful royal ideal. But Lucan, used to her usual blend of shyness, mischief, and energy, found the act oddly out of place.
Still, Anna didn't wait for him to respond.
"Where are you going, Godfather?" she asked knowingly.
"To the Imperial Council," Lucan replied.
"Not to see Mother?" she blinked.
"You already knew—why ask?" Lucan replied, pretending to be stern.
"..."
Anastasia blinked again. Though well-acquainted with his shamelessness, she couldn't help but admire his nerve—was this what the legends called the Wailing Wall?
She had half a mind to tease him again, but before she could speak, Lucan added:
"If I don't visit your mother, how can I assign more homework?"
"No—please spare me!" Anastasia shook her head like a rattle-drum.
"So even you fear something?" Lucan laughed lightly. Of course, his daily visits to the Empress's chambers weren't about that. They were mainly for state affairs and strategic discussions.
Alexandra was a capable ruler. Her historical reputation for trusting Rasputin stemmed from religious fanaticism rather than incompetence. Her insight helped Lucan formulate effective national policies.
But there was no need to rush today.
"Your Highness, would you care to join me for a stroll in the garden?" he asked gently, having already guessed the reason she had followed him.
"Mm." Anna didn't refuse. She looked up at the clear sky and said softly, "Come to think of it... it's been a long time since we've walked like this."
"From the start of the war until now, it's been 173 days. More than half a year," Lucan said precisely.
"You've been counting the days?" Anna looked surprised.
"Of course," he replied, walking beside her. "Unlike you, Your Highness, whose heart is filled with nothing but romantic novels."
"Ugh..." Anna's face turned pink.
A spring breeze rustled the lush flora—rare, ornamental plants swayed and shimmered in the light. Her silver hair and long dress fluttered, and her porcelain-like face glowed faintly.
She paused. Beneath her flowing skirt, slender legs encased in silk shifted gracefully.
Suddenly, she whispered, "Your Holiness... I don't want to study those things anymore."
"What?" Lucan blinked.
"I don't want to study scripture and dogma anymore," she said, raising her hand to her chest. Her pale fingers clenched against her soft bodice. Blue eyes filled with resolution.
"I want to learn how to govern a country—from you."
"Govern a country?" Lucan narrowed his eyes. Was this another whim, like the time she asked for military strategy books to cover her real motives? But when he looked into those earnest eyes, he paused.
She was serious.
He could tell.
"Why?" he asked, truly curious.
"I haven't had time alone with you in so long," she said. Turning to face him directly, she stood tall under the sunlight, her gown trailing elegantly. "Back when we were in the library, I could read with you, bask in the sun with you. It was peaceful."
"But since the war began, everything's changed. Father left for the front lines, and you drifted further away. You entered the world of adults while I stayed behind..."
"At this rate, I won't be able to see you anymore. Just like my sisters Maria and Tatiana..."
Her soft eyes shimmered with sadness and fear. She wasn't wrong. Since Lucan stepped into government, their time together had dwindled. Their shared conversations, their shared world, had thinned.
That thought... she could not accept it.
Lucan, watching her so solemn and heartfelt, chuckled inwardly: if your sisters heard this, they'd be furious.
"What political system does the Tsarist Empire currently have?" he asked suddenly.
"Eh?" Anna blinked.
"Answer: an autocratic monarchy within a capitalist society," Lucan replied himself. "Next question: what was the fundamental cause of the world war?"
Anna looked completely lost.
"Uneven political and economic development among capitalist nations. Or, in simpler terms—unfair distribution of spoils."
He smiled. "These are just the basics, Your Highness."
Anna's face flushed deeper. She wanted to say she could learn, but even these elementary questions left her dizzy. Royal daughters rarely involved themselves in politics, and Nicholas II had shielded them from it all.
"There's no need to study any of that," Lucan said. "This... is fine."
"I've been waiting for you, Your Highness."
"Waiting... for me?" she gasped. Her blue eyes widened as Lucan leaned in, his warm breath brushing her cheeks.
"Anna, you're perfect as you are," he said.
"You don't need politics. You have a gift far beyond it."
"You've seen it... haven't you?"
Seen what?
Before she could respond, a sharp sound erupted—not rustling leaves, but shimmering steel.
An ambush!
Figures cloaked in black leapt from the shadows—professional assassins, magic users disguised as humans. Their mystic energy was unmistakable. But Lucan didn't flinch. These were magi—perhaps dangerous once, but now mere gnats against his fully established system.
He didn't even look at them.
He only looked at the girl before him. Her silver hair glimmered. Her blue eyes locked with his.
The blades flashed closer.
Lucan smiled.
"Did you see it?"
Of course she saw it—the assassins!
She wanted to cry out.
But then she truly saw.
She saw wind and snow.
She saw a swirling blizzard, and dancing within it—nature spirits.
Suddenly, she remembered.
When she was seven, she once got lost in a snowstorm, separated from her attendants. She should have died... but something saved her.
A spirit of nature, born of snow and hope, took form like a little straw doll. It had no self, no soul, no will—just a reflection of her heart.
That very same spirit now hovered before her.
It had always been with her. She simply couldn't see it.
Until now.
Lucan's words had awakened the forgotten.
'A devil or a sage?'
'Her teacher—both revered and feared—bestowed her destiny.'
'And thus—'
'Anastasia remembered everything. The spirit answered her call.'
—Excerpt from Russian Folk Song: The Final Princess
At that moment,
Anastasia awakened her Mystic Sight.
She could now see a world hidden from others!
The assassins faltered, chilled as though struck by midwinter itself.
Though spring had come—
For a moment,
Winter had returned with a vengeance!