As soon as Helia entered the Magical Hall, she called for Lette. Like mist parting, Lette gracefully revealed herself. The magical prowess on display was as astonishing as ever.

“You’ve arrived?”

Lette greeted her with a warm smile. Helia nodded lightly in response.

“I’m tired.”

“I see Sir Ikael has been troubling Your Majesty again.”

From just one word of complaint, Lette had swiftly grasped the situation.

“Let’s step outside for now.”

Lette led Helia not to a room but to the outdoors. The attendants and guards following Helia instinctively maintained a respectful distance, a familiar scene.

The two made their way to the Magical Hall’s backyard. What had once been called a garden was now an unrecognizable space, filled with fantastical plants: grass tall enough to blanket the sky, roses as large as two people combined, sunflowers shrunk to the size of a pinky, and wandering dwarf trees that uprooted themselves to move around. It resembled a jungle more than a garden.

The garden, which Helia had personally bestowed upon the witches along with the Magical Hall, was once beautiful. It has been thoroughly transformed by magical experiments and the cultivation of rare potion plants. The original elegance is nowhere to be found, but Helia finds herself oddly fond of the place.

“The dwarf tree is closer today.”

Helia remarked with amusement as she sat on a prepared chair. The tea table before her held fragrant truffle soup and a plate of savory veal cutlets.

“Perhaps it heard Your Majesty complain about the distance last time,” Lette said with a smile, pouring tea into Helia’s cup.

It was only recently discovered that dwarf trees could understand human speech. The Mage Tower’s revelation that the trees often pretended not to understand humans sent shockwaves through the field of botany.

The discovery also suggested that dwarf trees could act as interpreters between humans and other plants, opening up endless possibilities. Naturally, botanists worldwide were eager to collaborate with the Mage Tower.

Of course, Helia received many heartfelt diplomatic requests through every available channel, begging for partnership with the Mage Tower. How to best utilize this opportunity became a subject of deep contemplation for Helia and her administration, a period of both joyful and taxing deliberation.

“It seems the only ones who truly listen to me are the trees,” Helia remarked.

“That makes me feel quite left out, Your Majesty,” Lette replied with mock indignation, her pout unmistakable.

Helia chuckled dryly. “When have you ever been one to listen well?”

“Where else could you find someone as loyal as I am to Your Majesty?”

“Loyal?”

Helia clicked her tongue in disbelief.

“What kind of master has to ask their servant for favors?”

“Other people don’t even ask; they beg witches. The fact that I stop at asking shows how loyal I am, doesn’t it?” Lette responded smugly.

She wasn’t wrong. Today, countless nations across the continent are desperate to curry favor with the Mage Tower.

Witches were free-spirited, capricious, and refused to be bound by any rules. They acted on whims, yet everyone clamored to earn their favor.

“You’re probably the only one in the world who doesn’t care about a witch’s whims, Your Majesty.”

“I don’t care about anyone’s whims. That’s my prerogative.”

“Even the Emperor of the Empire caters to us witches.”

“The Emperor is just that—an emperor.”

The monarch of a fledgling kingdom casually dismissed the supreme ruler of a thousand-year-old empire. Yet, her expression betrayed no trace of disdain or mockery. Helia’s face was calm, almost indifferent as if she were merely stating a fact. Her composure was so unapologetic it bordered on brazen.

Lette suppressed a laugh, amused by her.

Lette admired the unique, cold confidence that Helia exuded. It was a grace entirely unlike the ease of those who merely inherited and maintained their authority. Helia’s composure came from what she had built with her hands—mercy and generosity that only the self-made could possess. Of course, it wasn’t true mercy, for it lacked kindness nor true generosity, for it was devoid of warmth. But Helia was indifferent to everything beyond her achievements, which, in a way, made her impartial.

“They likely never imagined their founding myth would become their shackle,” Lette remarked.

Helia gave a slight nod in agreement.

Roughly seven hundred years ago, Emperor Alexander I had founded the Pteria Empire, leading five sorcerers. At the time, it was no more than a small kingdom, but to elevate its stature, Pteria declared itself an empire and hailed Alexander as its first emperor.

To justify its founding, they exaggerated Alexander’s abilities and grandeur and the extraordinary power of the five sorcerers who followed him. Over time, the scarcity of sorcerers led to their eventual extinction, adding an air of mystery to their legend. Their abilities became so exaggerated that they were said to rival the gods.

The Empire replaced magic with the divine power of its pope, shamelessly amplifying the mystical allure of its founding myth.

“They must have assumed that if magic ever returned, it would naturally be theirs to command. Typical imperial arrogance,” Helia said.

The existence of witches came to light when the Kingdom of Bailey fell. Witches who had lived in hiding emerged from all corners of the continent, converging in Carden. Skilled in stealth and secrecy, their journey to Carden was unhindered. Night after night, witches arrived at Lette’s quarters, where they embraced each other silently, finding solace in their reunion. In the mornings, Helia was briefed on the arrival of new witches—a peculiar spectacle she had grown accustomed to.

Meanwhile, the rulers of the continent expressed alarm. They had watched with unease as Helia ruthlessly used the newly revealed power of magic to destroy Bailey. Many believed the witches’ growing influence needed to be quashed before it spiraled out of control. However, no one dared to act, unsure how to combat magic. Could it be overpowered by military force? Would even a million soldiers falter before a single witch? The myths described magic as flawless, devoid of any weakness.

Anxious, neighboring kingdoms turned to the Empire, the only nation with any historical experience with magic. Reluctantly, the Empire found itself at the forefront of efforts to oppose the witches.

But Helia’s actions after founding Carden caught everyone off guard.

“The witches are not subordinate to Carden. They simply lent us their strength,” she declared.

Contrary to expectations that she would use the witches to conquer the continent, Helia officially severed ties with them after Bailey’s collapse. She maintained that the witches’ assistance was temporary, akin to hiring mercenaries. Effectively, she had unveiled their existence to the world, only to stand aside as though releasing wild beasts into society.

Left to their own devices, the witches established their power structures. They formed guilds, openly used magic, and roamed freely across the continent, doing little to correct the fearsome reputation that preceded them. Instead, they seemed to revel in amplifying their mystique.

This led to rising calls to dismantle the guilds before their influence grew uncontrollably. It was then that Carden stepped forward with a proposal.

“Let Carden act as the mediator for the witches. We will provide them a place to gather and ensure their powers do not threaten peace.”

The witches, who had previously operated independently, surprisingly agreed to the negotiation table. Carden built a magic tower, offering the witches every convenience, and in return, the witches pledged their cooperation. The arrangement was finalized swiftly.

Afterward, the magic tower shifted its stance, openly sharing its research and advocating for collaboration with human society. Carden positioned itself as the indispensable intermediary in this arrangement, at least on the surface.

“By now, everyone must have realized it was all part of the plan,” Lette said.

“And yet, there’s nothing they can do about it. In the end, things went just as we intended,” Helia replied nonchalantly, lifting her teacup. Lette lightly touched the cup with her fingers, reheating the now-cold tea, sending wisps of steam curling into the air.

“Thanks to Your Majesty, we’ve become a force everyone fears.”

“Better feared than ridiculed,” Helia retorted lightly.

Lette smiled, teasing, “As expected of someone once called a tyrant. Your instincts are remarkable.”

Helia shot her a sidelong glance, and for a moment, their gazes locked. It was Helia who broke the silence.

“You’d expect no less from someone who could summon you, wouldn’t you?” she replied with an air of casual affirmation.