After the magical demonstration concluded, the courtyard slowly returned to normal. The knights, soldiers, and servants busied themselves with their usual tasks, leaving the air tinged with quiet anticipation. But Saphy… she remained firmly trapped, caught against her will. Her protestations were meaningless. She was now pinned in front of a polished dressing table, surrounded by her mother and a battalion of attentive maids.
The reason was simple: dress-up.
Just moments ago, Saphy had been ready to dash out of the castle, eager to explore the city streets. But her mother, Lisa Rosabelle Astley, had intervened. With a stern expression that brooked no argument, she had demanded that Saphy appear as a proper noble lady before venturing into public. It was, according to Lisa, a matter of aristocratic dignity and preserving the honor of House Astley. No matter how much her father might allow, her mother's vigilance was absolute. She would personally oversee every step, ensuring that Saphy could not sneak away.
Saphy had tried the only tactic she knew — playing the victim card. "Mom… are you treating me like a prisoner?" she asked, her voice heavy with mock despair.
"Yes."
A simple, unyielding answer from her mother crushed any hope Saphy had of immediate freedom. Now, she sat before the mirror, unmoving, her small frame slumped in exaggerated defeat. Her face was the picture of injustice, the kind that demanded empathy from any onlooker.
For hours, the maids worked tirelessly. They combed and braided her long, silken white hair, tied intricate lace braids, applied delicate makeup, and changed her into no fewer than twenty different outfits. Every change was a small act of torture for Saphy, whose desire to roam freely burned like a caged fire within her.
Finally, the transformation was complete. In the mirror sat a girl who seemed almost otherworldly in her innocence. Her gown was a pale, milky hue, reminiscent of a peeled peach — soft, gentle, and radiant. Layers of light, cloud-like fabric created a voluminous skirt that billowed softly with every movement. The bodice was understated yet elegant, allowing the purity of the ensemble to shine through without distraction. Fine ruffles cascaded down the hem, delicate as the first blossoms of spring.
Her hair, the color of freshly fallen snow, was arranged in half-lace braids, interwoven with a garland of pale roses and small white blossoms. The flowers formed both a crown and a flowing capelet over her shoulders, enhancing the ethereal quality of her appearance. Moonlight seemed trapped in every strand, illuminating her with a soft glow, while her large sapphire eyes sparkled like gems crafted by the finest artisans.
Even Lisa herself, ever critical and demanding, could not hide the awe in her eyes. Her daughter — the same mischievous, lively Saphy — now seemed like an incarnation of pure, delicate beauty.
"Saphy… I changed my mind," Lisa said, her voice trembling slightly. "I don't think you should go out."
Saphy frowned, exasperation rising. Hours of dressing, makeup, and styling, only for this declaration? She snapped, her voice tinged with irritation. "What happened this time?"
"You're… simply too beautiful," her mother replied, a faint tremor of admiration in her tone.
Saphy blinked, her lips pressing into a flat line. (ー_ー゛)
"You shouldn't go out like this," Lisa continued. With deliberate care, she removed the makeup, exchanged the elaborate gown for a more modest dress, and tied Saphy's hair into twin ponytails. The transformation was subtle but effective, stripping away the ethereal flourish and leaving her looking like a normal, elegant little girl. Lisa knew it was unreasonable, but she had to maintain control — for Saphy's safety, for the dignity of the Astley name, and, perhaps, to curb the unstoppable charm of her daughter.
Outside the castle, the carriage awaited. It was a grand, six-to-eight-person vehicle, adorned with intricate carvings along its polished wooden panels. Two sturdy, horned horses pawed the ground impatiently, their harnesses embossed with gold accents. The Astley family crest — a majestic deer drinking from a river flowing through mountains and forests — gleamed on both sides, a testament to generations of nobility and prestige.
Saphy was cradled gently in her mother's arms, while her brother and several maids flanked her. Charles, overseeing the departure, issued precise instructions to the coachman and soldiers, ensuring every detail of the journey was accounted for. Soon, he approached with five knights following in disciplined formation.
"Saphy," he said, his deep voice carrying authority, "they will be responsible for your protection."
The brown-haired knight, Ramond, stepped forward with a polite bow. "Good morning, miss. We will take care of your safety."
Behind him were the rest of the knights: Luke, Surgery, Pata, and Rista — the lone female knight. Their light armor, designed more for mobility and elegance than brute protection, was enhanced with intricate magical enchantments, ensuring that danger would meet no success. Six additional soldiers, clad in gleaming plate armor, flanked the group, their helmets off to allow clear visibility. Each bore the Astley insignia on their chest.
With final instructions and cautious reminders from Lisa, the entourage began their journey, passing through the massive, arched gates of the Astley estate.
The Astley estate was located in Edelgard, a thriving port city on the southern edge of the Kingdom of Lionheart, bordering the Ashen Bay of the Emerald Sea. Edelgard was renowned for its fertile soil, fed by a vast freshwater lake to the north, and its strategic significance as a trade hub. For decades, the Astley family had ruled the region, a lineage that owed its favor to the founder's heroism in saving the first king's life on multiple occasions.
As the carriage moved through the bustling streets, Saphy's excitement grew. She pressed her small hands against the polished window, eyes wide with wonder. The coachman glanced back and asked, "Where shall we go, young lady?"
"To the market!" Saphy exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement.
Half an hour later, the carriage arrived at the heart of the central marketplace. One of the knights leapt from his horse, opening the carriage door with efficiency and practiced grace. Maya stepped out first, followed by Rista.
Saphy, brimming with anticipation, attempted to jump from the carriage — but Rista's strong, steady arms caught her immediately. As agreed with her parents, Saphy, though physically a child, was forbidden to walk unaccompanied. Her embarrassment burned faintly, but she knew better than to protest. She was, after all, a grown man trapped in the body of a five-year-old — and easily lost in a crowded city.
The salty, bracing wind of the port city whipped against her face, ruffling her snow-white hair. As she gazed around, the market's chaotic symphony of merchants calling out, carts rattling over cobblestones, and the scents of fresh bread, fruits, and spices mingling in the air, Saphy's eyes sparkled like twin sapphires.
Every building pressed close to its neighbor, leaving barely a lane between stalls and shops. The streets were alive with color and motion — banners waving, children darting between legs, and the sounds of clinking coins echoing against the stone walls.
Saphy's heart leapt. This was freedom — a bustling, vibrant stage for her curiosity. Her shopping spree was about to begin. The thrill of adventure, combined with the intoxicating sights and smells of the city, made her practically tremble with excitement. And though her small hands clutched her dress in Rista's embrace, her mind was already racing with plans — where to go first, what to see, and which stalls might hide the most fascinating treasures.
The city was alive, and Saphy's adventure was only just beginning.