"Geography, topography, folk tales, accounting book, music sheets…"

Deep in the bowels of the risen Golden Castle, early into a winter's night, Marcille Donato, loyal advisor to King Laios Touden, First of his Name, was going through the horribly messy study of the previous Court Magician. Heavy clothes and work gloves kept the chill at bay, as breath frosted with every mutter.

"Joke book, more music sheets," at the next book she couldn't help but smirk. "Thistle Poetry book, volume five."

It was boring, dusty work. It was clear that Thistle had long since abandoned this study, leaving pile after pile of barely read book and scroll tossed all around, with the old central table and chairs having long since buckled under the weight of forgotten literature. Organizing it all was the work of afternoons with nothing better to do, with Ambrosia and her owner getting their daily workout by moving and levitating the books into various piles. Most of it would be put into the castle library, where hopefully they would gather less dust.

"Ecology book, masonry book, cook book…" The last one slowly went under Marcille's arm. Senshi's birthday gift, acquired.

One more book was shifted from a groaning bookcase, and something peaked out from behind. Something that slightly reflected the light of her light orbs, that didn't look attached to the bookcase.

"Hm?" Bringing her light orbs closer, she saw, though covered by a layer of grime and dust, an oval mirror, with a thin silver frame. It was completely stuck behind the bookcase, clearly forgotten long ago.

With a sigh, Marcille put down the cooking book and picked up a discarded rag from her pockets. "Honestly Thistle, I know you didn't care by the end, but how does this even happen?"

She reached out with a hand to clean the mirror a little, to see if it was worth taking to her quarters. A stray tip of a finger touched the surface along with the rag.

And everything went black.

POP!

On top of a hill, surrounded by sparse fir trees powdered by fresh snow, all illuminated by a full moon, Marcille appeared, hand still outstretched and face unchanged.

… She took a deep breath…

Her scream resonated across the woods, scattering everything in every direction, rose over the trees, and was picked up by a lone set of ears, getting ready for dinner by the shore.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!" Marcille started running up and down the hill, looking in every direction for any familiar landmark. A teleportation spell, in the mirror?! Maybe the runes were hidden by the grime. But why would he make one like that, mirrors are used for scrying, not as gates! And where even is this, teleportation artifacts shouldn't have much range and neither should they have much power after being abandoned for so long and where in the kingdom am I we don't have these trees-.

Her spiraling thoughts stopped when she tripped on a hidden rock, unbalancing her and causing her to fall and roll down the hill, her staff slipping from her grip and rolling alongside her. Until, covered in snow and dizzy, she stopped at the bottom. Trying to right herself, Ambrosia finished her descent by hitting her in the back, flattening her again.

Suddenly, confusion and fear were replaced by annoyance and pain.

"Alright, alright." Picking herself and the staff up, she looked around her rather empty surroundings. She had landed in a small valley between two hillocks, fir trees all around and with only the full moon as a source of light. Tapping her staff on the ground and slightly shifting the snow, she could see that she was on top a stone road of some kind, and that the snow wasn't so thick that walking would be tough.

"Stone path means civilization is nearby, so at least it's not the middle of nowhere." But looking up and down the road, there were no visible signs anywhere, and the snow was fresh and untrodden. The wind made gentle howls echo through the trees, and there were a few clouds threatening to cut off the moon.

She held Ambrosia just a little tighter. "I hope…"

Holding up her hand and resummoning her light orbs, she ended up choosing the direction which went down the hills, if only to make the walking a little easier. As she walked slowly along, her eyes flitted over the trees, ears twitching and all too aware of the crunch of the snow underfoot.

Alright Marcille, let's think about this rationally. Teleportation magic is already taxing enough, just as you said! We only need to walk along, and the castle will be right there, with the dumb king and the warm meals and the mirror that needs to have its runes urgently cleaned off.

A bend in the path, with only more hills and trees in sight. But, why did Thistle have that mirror in the first place? He never wanted to leave the Golden Kingdom, and even if it was just an emergency exit, that couldn't have had power for more than one person.

Her eyes unfocused, her heart thumping hard as goat eyes framed by a mane flashed across her mind. Unless… he used infinite mana for it. Then that means the Lion wanted something from it, and if it had infinite mana then it could've launched me anywhere in the world oh goddess, please STOP THINKING MARCILLE.

Taking a deep breath, she managed to pull herself back together. With a shake of her head, she held Ambrosia in a vice grip, and with an angry grunt started walking with a stomp. I'm just going to find a town, pay anyone for transport, get laughed at by Izutsumi, and everything will be fine. The Lion is gone, everything is fine.

And so Marcille walked on, with the path snaking and gently sloping downwards. The breeze sometimes picked up, and with it, came the faintest traces of salty sea air, picking up her hopes of finding any landmarks soon. And if the mirror didn't send her to the other side of the world, then the positioning of the moon showed her that she was roughly heading west.

Around fifteen minutes into her march, as the moon was hidden by a broad cloud, she picked up a new sound. It was so faint, she initially thought she was imagining it. But then it got much louder very quickly, clearly coming from further down the path, and Marcille stopped dead in her tracks, her staff raised up and pointed forwards.

It was the clinking of metal against metal. Someone was coming towards her.

Clink-clink-clink, came the sound, and if only she had a half-foot's senses, she would be sure that it was just coming up the last bend on the road ahead, covered by a gnarled tree. Going through every offensive spell she ever learned through her mind as her feet threatened mutiny, she summoned all her courage, just as an orange light started peeking through the old branches.

"S-STOP RIGHT THERE!" Immediately, the clinking stopped. In the darkness, she could barely make out a silhouette, casted by what must be a lantern. "If you try anything against me, I'm prepared to fight, you hear me?!"

Silence reigned as the seconds stretched. Marcille wasn't bluffing, she was sure of it. Months of dungeon crawling had not left her in peacetime, the old battle adrenaline helping ground her and pulling all her body parts back in line.

"Forgive me if I scared you, friend, but I had to come with utmost haste. Are you the one that let off that scream earlier?"

The blush that came over Marcille's face almost worked as another source of light, but she barely registered her own embarrassment. Because there was just something she couldn't place about that voice. It was deep enough to be a tall-man's, but there was just something MORE to it. The quality that she usually found when talking to one of the long-lived races. Not to mention, a certain musicality to it…

Shaking off the reverie and the blush, she responded quickly. "Yes, that was me, but I'm fine." She lowered her staff a little. "I'm sorry if I scared anyone, I was just caught by surprise."

"Ah, no harm done. I'm just glad to hear you are safe." The lantern clinked again as the person moved a bit, but Marcille flinched as she realized the sound of snow being crunched was absent. The staff wavered as she debated between asking for the spell and wondering the intentions of someone that had to hide their steps in the snow. "May I approach? Even these days, it's no good to be walking alone in the woods at night, however strong you are."

"… Alright. But come slowly." She shifted her feet, ready to sprint for cover if need be.

The light came around the bend, just as the moon reappeared from behind the cloud. The man had both his hands raised above his shoulders, one carrying what was absolutely a silver lantern hanging from a chain. Marcille however narrowed her eyes, as even from a distance she could clearly see the glint of a sword's scabbard, hanging from his side.

As he got closer, the silver, orange and yellow lights brought more and more details into contrast, rising Marcille's confusion. For the man was clearly dressed in very fancy clothes, wearing deep blue silken robes underneath a grey cloak, with boots and pants that were just as expensive looking, though still obviously practical. His face was obscured by the hood, but a silver beard could be seen poking just beneath, well-trimmed and long.

… If that mirror somehow sent me to the backyard of a fancy tall-man magic academy, I'm personally melting it.

Ten paces away from her, the man stopped. And suddenly, shivers ran all over Marcille's body, divorced from the cold. She had studied enough magic theory to know that this man was clearly taking a good look at her, both inside and out. By the tilt of his head, he almost looked surprised.

"Will you stop that, please? I promise I have nothing illegal on me." Slowly, she shifted to a more casual stance, throwing up a few quick mental barriers as she relaxed. If she really was in the presence of a wizard of noble family, it was better to impress him than to immediately blow him sky high. Might even take pity on her, and pay for her fare.

Kabru might even thank her for a new alliance.

"Forgive me, it's simply that your…" His head tilted slightly upward, looking at the floating orbs. "Magic and appearance reminded me of someone a long time ago. Would you happen to know of an elf with brown skin and short temper?"

A bell rang through her head, bringing in a flood of both relief and worry. "Yes, yes, I know him! But I'm not WITH him, you know? So, if Thistle did any damages, I'm very sorry, but I promise that I don't know about them, I just found the teleportation spell he used by accident! Research, right? And- "

The stranger lifted his lantern hand higher, stopping Marcille's rant. "Don't worry, he caused no real damages. He just raised a lot of questions, which I thought I'd never get answers to."

Oh boy.

Lowering his hand, he took a couple more steps forward. His pale skin seemed to shine in the light, and his uncovered hands were rough and severely calloused. So, at least this noble didn't seem to be of the stuck-up, never did any work kind.

With his free hand, he lowered his hood, and Marcille stopped breathing. Long silver hair cascaded down his angular face, ancient, piercing eyes surrounded by weather-worn features. But that wasn't what really had her eyes transfixed, as her hand grasped the side of her own face.

Those ears! They're not that pointy, but I've never seen a tall man having that shape! And those eyes, and the magic! But no pure elf looks like- like that!

Could it be?!

"You may call me Círdan, friend. I'm an elf, same as you, though I feel not at all. And we have much to talk about."

What could only be an ancient noble half-elf had found her on a snowy moonlit road, and wanted to talk to her about unsolved and ancient mysteries?

She took back anything and everything bad she had ever thought, said, or felt about Thistle. For "The Dalchian Family" had just become real right before her eyes.