Three long weeks after the Night of the Purge, the city of Seiron had finally begun to breathe freely. No longer were the smells of choking smoke, burning mana, or even fresh blood the dominant scent in its alleyways.
In their place came the fragrances of a reassured daily life: the smell of fresh bread rising from the ovens at dawn, the dust of construction from the walls being repaired, and the fragrance of mountain spring flowers that the citizens had begun planting on every balcony and courtyard to celebrate the new era of the Williams family.
But if the streets had reclaimed their peace, inside the palace walls the struggle had not yet ceased, only transformed into a different and tedious variety. It was no battle of swords or phoenix flames, but of papers, seals, and ink.
Dex Williams found himself drowning up to his knees in an endless flood of diplomatic correspondence with neighboring cities, labor guild complaints, reconstruction plans, and budget reports.
He sat behind his father's massive desk, surrounded by mountains of files. Under his two blue eyes, faint dark circles had begun to appear.
This time they were not from the sleeplessness of fear and pursuit as had been the case in Falus Forest, but from the heavy burden of responsibility carried by the province's new heir.
A light knock came at the study door, then it opened slowly to admit Lumia.
Dex raised his tired head, and was surprised. Lumia was not wearing her practical battle robe, or the light armor she had grown accustomed to. She wore a simple summer dress in the color of pale lavender, flowing smoothly down to her ankles.
The dress was not lavish like a noblewoman's gown, it was simple and elegant, reflecting an innocence that the wars had concealed.
Her long hair was gathered with a blue silk ribbon, yet her mysterious aura still filled the room with a refreshing coolness that swept away the dreariness of the papers.
"You look as though you are fighting a rank S beast alone and unarmed," said Lumia, a small, very rare and radiant smile playing at the corners of her lips as she gestured toward the pile of papers that nearly buried Dex's head.
Dex sighed deeply, and threw the quill pen onto the table as though casting down a broken weapon, and leaned his back into the chair.
"Believe me, Lumia, I would rather fight three monsters at once in the western swamps than painstakingly review the delayed wheat tax accounts of the merchants' guild. I am suffocating in here. I need air, real air. And we, we need to go down and see with our own eyes what we nearly died for."
Lumia looked at him, and understood his pressing need for rest. But going out in their official capacity was not an option at all.
The appearance of "the Savior Heir Dex" accompanied by "the mysterious sorceress" would mean the complete halt of daily life in the city. Crowds would gather, sessions of sycophantic pleasantries would be held, and speeches would be delivered.
They were not seeking reverence today, they were seeking something rarer and more precious: ordinary life.
In the side dressing room attached to the study, Lumia stood opposite Dex.
"With the visual illusion enchantment I recently learned from Lord Marcus, called 'Light Spectrum Adjustment,'" Lumia whispered, raising her slender hand.
The air rippled slowly around her head and around her distinctive silver hair, its color shifting gradually to a warm, very ordinary chestnut brown.
The blazing silver luminance of her eyes disappeared, replaced by a deep, dark brown, and her prominent angelic features softened to become those of a beautiful yet unremarkably captivating girl.
As for Dex, he removed his heavy formal jacket and dressed in a white linen shirt and simple brown trousers resembling the clothes of middle-class merchants' sons or craftsmen.
He placed a pair of spectacles with thin wire frames to alter his sharp features slightly, and concealed his hair beneath a soft wool cap.
When they looked at themselves in the tall mirror, they did not see the formidable heir and the lethal sorceress. They saw two ordinary young people, adolescents at the prime of life, preparing to spend a day off.
"In the cold forest, we disguised ourselves with rotting mud and monster blood to hide from demonic wolves," said Dex as he adjusted the collar of his linen shirt, his voice carrying a sudden brush of painful memory.
He turned to look at Lumia who was contemplating her reflection with bemusement. "And here, in my own city, we disguise ourselves with ordinary clothes and magic to hide from the people's love and their surrounding us. A strange and amusing irony, is it not?"
Lumia nodded, and her smile faded for a brief moment, as though the ghost of the forest passed before her disguised brown eyes. "In the forest, Dex, concealment and covering ourselves with mud meant winning one additional day of life. Here, concealment means winning one single day of freedom."