The wisps of magic wafted through the gown, and within seconds, Elisabeth’s dress was entirely engulfed by the haze. With a shake, the magic particles vanished, and the gown had undergone a remarkable transformation. The fabric glittered, and the details of the embellishments were exceptional. The maid and the mage gazed upon the masterpiece with satisfaction.

“This is absolutely gorgeous!” Teresa exclaimed. Her eyes glowed at its beauty, which made the aristocrat chuckle.

"I'll take the initiative to personally send the original back to where it belongs." Marianne moved her hand in a circular motion. “Peckegi thi urogonelam drissat. Stempaq thi ontindide eddrissat.”

The incantation carefully placed the original lilac gown into a sturdy cardboard box that was flown in before them. Then, some silvery gift wrapping paper swallowed the receptacle, and a spool of green ribbon tied it closed. For the finishing touches, a stamp smudged with black ink flew through the air to imprint an address. The concluding product was a silvery package with a shimmering emerald bow perched on the top.

“Sinde otu tu thi Lencestirsat.” The box darted through the space above them and merged through the walls. Teresa watched the process in awe.

The duchess smugly grinned and proudly handed the altered garment over to her. “Of course, this gown is beautiful. However, I’ll just make one final touch. I want to make sure of something before I proceed.” Marianne’s last sentence led the maid to stare at her with a confused expression, her usual tilt head, and furrow eyebrows movement. “Are you sure that girl didn’t do anything to you? I can easily take away all the enchantments as fast as a snap.”

Teresa placed the dress beside her and folded her hands properly. She dropped her head forward to formally speak before the Carabell duchess. “She has never been kinder, madam. Please, believe me. I would never lie to you. I know where my place is.” The statement made the madam gaze solemnly at the maid.

She slid off her floating illuminating orb and proceeded to search for a title among her many bookshelves. Teresa hesitantly rose her head to watch the duchess. “Ah! Here it is,” she cried out. The noble lady reached out for a thin book with a paper cover. “This...this is a book of my favorite fairy tales. Long ago, an aspiring writer had fallen in love with me. Almost daily, he would send me poems and stories. Although he no longer exists, his stories have given me the comfort I needed to look forward to another day. Grenada would go insane if he heard I still had items from him, especially now.”

The maid had a feeling of anguish clutching her heart. The duchess flipped through each page with a shining glow in her eyes. “Madam, do you still…”

“No, no, I don’t. I am not like that. That man passed when I was twenty. I met the duke a few years later. I love the duke no matter what,” Marianne said to Teresa with a pure smile. “I’m just upset about what he said at the dinner table some days ago. I may be the mighty mage of Whitensen, but I have feelings too. People forget that you’re human when they believe you have all the power and glory anyone could wish for.”

The mage gradually noticed how Teresa tightly clenched her teeth and hands. The maid was remorseful of her close-minded way of thinking. To believe that the rich were always fortunate and stuffed with food each night.

Yes, it was glorious to be able to fill your stomach with all the flavors of the world. Yes, it was splendid to be able to afford anything you desired. However, do not disregard how challenging it is to reach where these people are. Do not forget that, as a noble, if you make one single wrong move, people are waiting to call you out. This is why Duke Carabell labored for hours without repose. He was attempting to fix his mistakes with multiple patches and cover up the bruises that were exposed to the public.

Marianne approached the maid and reached her arms out, something she would never do towards her own daughter. She coiled her hands around the troubled maid and gave her a warm embrace. The maids that attended to the duchess thought she had become desensitized. However, the noble still had emotions. Marianne was showing her rare kindness to Teresa, so it gave the receiver a sense of jovialness.

“You have too much sympathy, and you’re an emotional woman,” the duchess told her before releasing her grasp. “Some people would never feel an ounce of pity for someone of my rank. You should learn to be that way before someone takes advantage of you. You know how high society is.”

The duchess is so beautiful, smart, and talented, Teresa thought, I never imagined she felt that way.

Without warning, the mage snatched the dress and whispered, “Barno thosat drissat loki e phuinoxay.” The fabric was engulfed with flames, and the maid gasped in terror.

“Madam!” she yelled, almost jumping onto the duchess. “Why are you doing that?!” Teresa clawed at the gown with desperate tears streaming down her face. However, the noblewoman had a robust arm that held her back. “Please stop! Stop!”

No matter how long the flames danced around the gown, it didn’t burn away. There was hardly any stench of the disintegrating material. Teresa’s heart rapidly bounced around within her chest.

“This is my gift to that girl for being kind to you. If you ever find yourself in an incident that involves explosions or fires, this golden dress will act as a barrier. Ah, but your arms and head will be burned or blown off, so be mindful of that.” The thought made the duchess laugh despite how morbid it sounded.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“What...why would we need a fire-proof dress, madam?” the oblivious maid questioned her.

“Just some precautions. I’ve been feeling scorching energy nearby here, and it could possibly be within the estate,” Marianne answered nonchalantly. She handed the golden gown back to Teresa. “Be mindful of what you do.” For an additional gift, the duchess held out the story booklet, and the recipient shook her head.

“No, no, I couldn’t possibly take something as important as this from you.”

“Just take it. I’m sure you’ll find a use for it in the future. I trust that you’ll know what to do when the time comes.”

- Karolina’s conflict with the servants in the dining hall -

A heel slipped between the soldier-like maid and her path. “You think you own the place the moment you step here?” The voice came from a shorter girl with cropped blond hair. Her light blue eyes were soft, but her mouth was shaped in a smirk. “I like the dominance you exude. I’m glad someone here has the guts to snap back at these frivolous nobles.”

“I don’t swing that way, comrade,” Karolina responded, making a small detour around the maid. Jillian took a step to block her. An idea dawned on Karolina. “Perhaps, you want to challenge me for a fistfight?”

The girl only grinned. “No, of course, not. I have something to discuss with you. Won’t you come with me?” the light blue-eyed maid proposed.

There was a moment of silence. Then, Karolina responded with, “Can’t you say it here? If not, I’d rather complete my work. I don’t work for you, I work for the Carabells. Don’t be a nuisance.”

The other servants watching the scene entail glanced at each other, their hands covering their mouths as they whispered. Jillian felt her face grow hot, and without paying any attention to her, the other maid proceeded to string up the other end of the “Welcome home, Allen!” banner. Karolina stepped atop a stool to elevate herself to tie the knot.

“Karolina!” one of the other maids shrieked.

Crash!

She effortlessly regained her balance, but the moment she did, a crowd of servants surrounded her.

“Karolina tore it! She tore the banner! The duchess will be furious!” Jillian shouted to those who didn’t precisely witness the accident.

A set-up. I’ve been set up, Karolina analyzed her situation.

“What nonsense. You tripped me.” The hardened maid approached the babied one. “Don’t be a lying wench. Doing that is not going to get you any favor.” The others overhearing what she said gasped sharply.

There was the tapping of footsteps. “What is going on?” a booming voice questioned them amid all the commotion. Everyone but a few trembled upon the sight of the person who had made the inquiry. All the maids curtsied, and all the male servants bowed.

Duke Carabell had entered the dining hall long ago. He was only observing what everyone was doing. They were all too distracted by their work to notice him. Grenada caught wind of the planned event his wife plotted behind his back. Only now did he think of checking on their progress.

“Jillian Esther and Karolina Blake! Come here!” he demanded. The atmosphere darkened as they stepped forward. Jillian, however, was pleased with the situation. As soon as both of them arrived before the noble, they waited for his severe reprimand.

Jillian’s bubbly happiness was abruptly cut short. The duke held back his hand, and neither of them flinched. Karolina was unphased by the posing punishment. However, Jillian was plainly ignorant.

Slap!

Some of the onlookers shot looks at each other, not recognizing what was transpiring. Jillian gasped, her hands glued to her sides. She didn’t dare to touch the mark upon her face.

“You have the audacity to attempt to destroy the welcome arrangements for my son, who I haven’t seen in years. Everyone here knows how long we have been awaiting his return. To try to do such a thing when the master of the house is here is utter disrespect. This was also thoughtfully planned out by the duchess. How dare you try to taint her work? You have a deathwish, young girl!” Duke Carabell’s anger crackled through his veins. “To think that you have served us so loyally these years, and now you’ve developed the behavior of an uncultured servant!”

The audience quickly dropped to their knees. “We apologize, Duke Carabell! We will repair the damage that Jillian caused immediately!” one of the decorators cried out.

“I’m disappointed in all of you! Couldn’t you pay attention and be more careful? I trust that you respect the newly hired maids. I would not employ them into the Carabell Estate if they were so clumsy. If you cannot meet my standards, I will not waste another moment with your presence in my household.” Grenada lectured the group. Then, he turned back to Jillian. His emerald eyes pierced through her, empowering her with his authority. “Go clean the horse stables. You are not to come back until dinner.”

Jillian gritted her teeth to refrain from blurting out anything repulsive to her superior. She darted out of the dining hall with shame. The duke turned, his coattail breezing behind him, and proceeded to exit the grand room after ordering the servants to fix the banner before Marianne could notice. Karolina silently trailed behind him, waiting until the door to the dining hall shut close with a slam.

“I apologize, Duke Carabell,” she said, dipping into an apologetic stance.

The man only patted the woman’s shoulder. “I appreciate your work, General Blake. You don’t owe the Carabells anything.”

“I am no longer referred to as ‘General Blake.’ I am now referred to as Karolina,” she quickly corrected him.

Grenada sighed when he saw how she refused to raise her head. “You had the position of general of Lotte’s ground military, being here is nothing compared to that. Such an esteemed person should not be the servant of some other kingdom’s duchy. At least, stand straight before me.”

At the suggestion, Karolina fixed her posture. “Your family has helped my family so much. I cannot repay you enough. I would have never become general without the duchess’s assistance. Let me continue to serve you.”

“Marianne didn’t recognize you,” the duke reminded her. “It’s a futile endeavor. You are an excellent soldier. To lower yourself to the likes of a maid doesn’t make me feel comfortable.”

“Soldiers serve their commander, and maids serve their master. There is no difference,” she returned. “And I think you’ve made an incorrect statement, duke.” Grenada raised his eyebrows at her confidence. “Duchess Carabell remembers me. There’s no doubt.”