Thinking about it carefully, it really did make sense. Lyra turned her head and saw the head maid already carrying over a small porcelain tray. On it sat two teacups and a silver-engraved porcelain teapot for brewing. After pausing for a moment, she answered Astrid in a small voice.
"Then... alright..."
She wasn't sure whether the wind around her body truly covered her completely, whether, in the midst of fighting, splashing blood might slip through gaps and stain the armor.
Washing up a little, washing away the dust and frost from the battlefield, could only do good.
Following Astrid's steps, she arrived at the hot-spring room meant for changing. Separated by a thin curtain, Lyra heard the soft rustle of fabric. A faint, indistinct silhouette, cast by warm yellow light, fell upon the cloth, outlining the supple curves within.
