Chapter 261: A Mother’s Love

The sole survivor of the expedition had spent eleven days praying that the Grand Duchess would refuse to see him.

Unfortunately, Mariya Karlovna Belozerskaya had personally requested his return to the Northern Palace, and refusing an audience with the Grand Duchess was something no servant of House Belozersky would ever consider.

He arrived shortly after noon, accompanied by two household guards who escorted him through the palace’s eastern corridors.

His left cheek remained covered in bandages, concealing burns that even the family’s physicians had struggled to heal. Every movement of his jaw brought discomfort, although the pain was tolerable compared to what he remembered from the Imperial Capital.

The woman had burned his companions alive.

He could still hear their screams whenever he closed his eyes.

The guards eventually stopped outside the Grand Duchess’s private sitting room. After announcing his arrival, they opened the doors and permitted him to enter alone.

Mariya was seated beside the fireplace, reading a book while afternoon sunlight filtered through the tall windows. She wore an elegant cream-colored dress, her golden-blonde hair resting loosely over one shoulder. A porcelain tea set occupied the table before her, accompanied by several pastries.

Upon noticing him, she closed her book and smiled.

"Welcome home. You must be exhausted after such a long journey."

The man immediately lowered himself to one knee and apologized for his failure. Mariya, however, seemed more concerned about his injuries, gently insisting that he take a seat before they discussed anything important.

"You’ve been through quite enough already. Would you like some tea?"

He accepted, although his hands trembled so badly that he nearly spilled the cup. Mariya noticed his condition and instructed a maid to bring additional refreshments, thanking the young woman before dismissing her.

Only after the doors closed did she return her attention to him.

"Now, tell me what happened."

The man swallowed.

Their original assignment had been straightforward enough. They were to investigate the mysterious woman who had recently become involved with Young Master Ilya, determine her background, and establish the extent of her influence over him.

Very little was known about her. She appeared to have connections within Holy Trinity Academy, but their attempts to establish her identity had produced contradictory information. Even the contacts maintained by House Belozersky throughout the capital had been unable to provide anything reliable.

Eventually, the investigation had led to a confrontation.

The survivor explained how they followed the woman into a secluded alley, intending to question her before deciding whether further measures were necessary. Their captain had been confident that the group possessed sufficient strength to handle an ordinary wizard.

That confidence had lasted until the first sword disintegrated.

The man described how she defeated several experienced knights without appearing particularly troubled, before eventually using a spell unlike anything he had witnessed.

"Muspelheim," he whispered. "That’s what she called it, Your Grace. The entire world changed. We were standing in an alley, and suddenly there was nothing around us except fire and molten rock."

Mariya listened without interrupting. Her expression remained gentle even as he described the unbearable heat, the screams of his companions, and the horrifying realization that their opponent could have killed them whenever she pleased.

Of the entire group, only he had survived.

"Oh, you poor thing," Mariya murmured. "That must have been terribly frightening."

He lowered his head, ashamed of the tears gathering in his eyes. Fifteen years of service had taken him across the northern frontier, where he had fought monsters and witnessed comrades die under circumstances that would have broken less experienced soldiers.

Yet nothing had prepared him for that woman.

"My Lady, please forgive me, but I must ask that you abandon this matter. Whatever she is, she’s beyond anything we can handle. She spared me only because she wanted someone to deliver a message."

Mariya gently encouraged him to continue.

The man repeated the warning as accurately as his memory allowed. The woman had instructed him to return north and inform whoever employed them that they had provoked a Tenth Circle mage, supposedly the only one in existence.

He expected the Grand Duchess to react with disbelief or alarm.

Instead, Mariya laughed.

It was a quiet, almost affectionate sound, the sort of laughter one might hear from a mother listening to her child exaggerate an otherwise ordinary story.

"How clever of her."

The man stared at her, unable to understand how she could find anything amusing about his account.

"Your Grace, I’m telling the truth. I saw what she did with my own eyes. If she decides to retaliate, even the Northern Palace might—"

"Oh, I believe you completely," Mariya interrupted gently. "I’m simply saying that she was lying."

She placed her teacup on its saucer before continuing.

"A Tenth Circle mage, dear? The only one in existence? That’s quite an extraordinary claim to make to a frightened man who has just watched his companions die."

The survivor struggled to explain that the woman had demonstrated power beyond anything he understood, but Mariya appeared entirely unconvinced by the title.

"She killed your companions, spared you, and sent you home with an unforgettable story. Had she killed everyone, we would have learned very little about what happened. Instead, she arranged for someone to return with proof of her abilities and a warning intended to discourage further investigation."

Mariya smiled at him.

"And judging from your reaction, I’d say her little performance was extremely successful."

The man’s mouth went dry.

For eleven days, he had imagined that delivering the warning would finally bring an end to the nightmare. Now he was beginning to understand that the Grand Duchess had interpreted the entire affair differently.

"Then... what should we do, My Lady?"

"Nothing, of course. You’ve already done more than enough."

Her answer brought a wave of relief, although it disappeared when she began asking about the woman’s remarks concerning Ilya.

The man explained that she had accused their employer of attempting to keep the young master isolated, miserable, and dependent on the people around him. She had spoken about teaching Ilya magic, offering him somewhere else to go, and helping him recover from circumstances that had left him deeply unhappy.

Mariya’s expression softened.

For several moments, she appeared almost lost in thought.

"Ilya really has been through so much," she said. "Ever since he was little, he’s always tried to endure everything alone. Even when he was suffering, he’d smile and tell me that he was fine because he didn’t want his mother to worry."

She spoke with obvious affection, remembering the quiet child who had once spent entire afternoons sitting beside her in the library.

After everything that happened in Rabelle, he had become even more withdrawn. Mariya had devoted herself to comforting him through his nightmares, reassuring him whenever he began doubting his own worth.

She remembered those years clearly.

Perhaps better than anyone.

"And now there’s another woman telling people that she’s the one who saved him."

Mariya laughed again.

"How strange. I don’t recall asking anyone to take care of my son."

The survivor lowered his eyes, increasingly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

"Do you know what Ilya used to do when he couldn’t sleep?" Mariya asked. "He’d come to my room, sometimes in the middle of the night, and ask whether he could stay with me. Such a sweet little boy. He always apologized for disturbing me."

Her smile became tender.

"I told him he never needed to apologize. A mother should always be there when her child needs her."

The man couldn’t understand why she was telling him this.

Mariya continued, seemingly unaware of his discomfort.

"Children grow older, of course. They make friends, discover new interests, and eventually begin believing they don’t need their parents anymore. That’s perfectly natural."

She took another sip of tea.

"But sometimes, they trust the wrong people."

The survivor thought of the burning world and suppressed a shudder.

"Your Grace, I promise I won’t approach that woman again. I won’t even speak about her. Please, I only want to return to my family."

Mariya regarded him with quiet sympathy.

"Of course you do. You must miss them terribly."

He nodded, struggling to contain his emotions.

"I have a wife and two daughters, My Lady. My youngest only turned six this spring."

"Six? What a lovely age."

Mariya rose from her seat and approached him.

"Does your face still hurt?"

He admitted that it did, particularly during the colder evenings.

She examined the bandages with a concerned expression, carefully avoiding the damaged skin beneath them. Her touch was remarkably gentle, and the man found himself remembering why the household servants spoke so fondly of their mistress.

"You’ve been very brave," Mariya assured him. "And I want you to understand that none of this was your fault."

The words nearly brought him to tears.

"Thank you, Your Grace. I don’t know how I can possibly repay your generosity."

"There’s nothing to repay, dear. You’ve served our family faithfully."

Her fingers settled against the back of his neck, supporting his head as she bent slightly to examine his injuries more closely.

"Now, there’s just one more thing I’d like to ask."

"Anything, My Lady."

"Did you tell anyone else about what happened?"

He shook his head.

"No, Your Grace. I came directly here after returning north. The physicians know about my injuries, but I haven’t told them anything about the woman."

"Not even your wife?"

"No. I didn’t want to frighten her."

Mariya’s smile widened.

"How thoughtful of you."

For the first time since entering the room, the man felt genuinely relieved. The Grand Duchess had listened patiently, expressed concern for his injuries, and assured him that his failure would not be punished.

Perhaps he had worried unnecessarily.

Mariya gently brushed a loose strand of hair away from his forehead, much as she might have done for a frightened child.

"Then everything will be alright."

A sharp crack interrupted the quiet afternoon.

The man’s body jerked once before going limp.

Mariya released his head, allowing him to slump sideways in the chair. His neck had been broken so cleanly that there had been no opportunity to struggle, much less understand what had happened.

For a while, she remained beside him, examining the bandages covering his ruined cheek.

"What a terrible thing to endure," she murmured.

She straightened his collar and closed his half-open eyes.

Then she returned to her sofa.

The room was peaceful again.

Mariya resumed reading her book, although her attention remained occupied by the report she had received.

The unidentified woman was undoubtedly powerful. A Domain capable of producing an entire world of fire was something even experienced wizards would struggle to comprehend.

But power and honesty were entirely different matters.

Whoever she was, she had deliberately sent a survivor back with a warning.

Mariya found that rather presumptuous.

More importantly, the woman seemed to have developed an unfortunate attachment to Ilya.

That was worth investigating.

A few minutes later, Mariya rang the small silver bell beside her teacup.

The maid entered and immediately stopped upon noticing the motionless man.

Mariya, meanwhile, appeared completely untroubled.

"Have someone take care of this, please. And make sure his family receives a generous pension. He served us faithfully for many years."

The maid bowed without asking questions.

"Of course, Your Grace."

"Oh, and I’d like you to arrange a discreet inquiry into the people Ilya has been spending time with at Holy Trinity. Particularly anyone involved in teaching him magic."

"Shall I contact the household intelligence office?"

"That would be lovely. But remind them to be careful. I wouldn’t want anyone else getting hurt."

Once the maid departed to carry out her instructions, Mariya returned her attention to the snowy gardens beyond the window.

She wondered how Ilya was doing in the capital. He had always been careless about his health whenever his studies became particularly interesting, and she worried that nobody was reminding him to eat properly or get enough sleep.

Perhaps she should visit him soon.

It had been far too long since she last held her son in her arms.

Mariya smiled at the thought, then turned another page of her book.