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All my works in Philander were finished.
As we prepared to depart for the north, everyone was in a frenzy: the servants and maids Lord Chamberlain had carefully selected, the secretaries who had agreed to assist me in the north, the personnel drawn from various departments, the contacts, and the royal guards for my escort.
With a massive move ahead, the palace was bustling. Amid this, Haven had been arguing with the maids in my dressing room since earlier.
"No, that dress is too thin. Isn't there one made of leather?"
"Your Grace, who makes dresses out of leather?"
"They do in the north. Aren't there any hats or gloves? No, we don't need lace."
"How about this one? It's made of fox fur."
"Just decorative fur won't do. The winter in the north is harsh."
"We'll acquire fur and make it immediately."
"If it's high-quality fur, there'll be plenty in the north. I should have sent it ahead; that was my mistake."
