Princess's Struggle for Survival-Chapter 496: Cherish your family

Philice Lerin, the most beloved daughter of Duke Charles, the cherished jewel of the Lerin family, whether in the world that Astrid now truly perceived, or within the original novel, this noble lady was never an obscure figure.

Throughout the entire story, Philice might not have had many personal scenes, only a new friend Lyra met in the North, coincidentally saved once by her, but she actually played a critical role in shaping the overall plot. The most obvious example was concerning Duke Charles’ stance on the war decrees issued by the Blonde tyrant after her ascension.

In the original storyline, Charles’s territory served as the closest barrier to the Kingdom of Velys, suffering the severe devastation and invasion throughout most of the Empire. Even his own daughter eventually died during a later battle, felled by the destructive magic of an Arcanist mage.

Thus, after the War of National Defense, consumed by hatred, Duke Charles became a powerful supporter of Amalia’ campaign of retribution. Standing alongside him were Duke Thomas, who had suffered massive property losses, and the Velmont family, who had profited enormously from wartime expenditures.

With the backing of these three great dukes, along with the Empire’s overwhelming public desire for revenge, the newly ascended Amalia was able to twist what began as a just pursuit of war criminals into something far bloodier, no different from, and even worse than, the Kingdom of Velys itself.

Of course, in the end, Duke Charles saw how the tyrant’s single edict had shattered countless more families. Eventually, thanks to Lyra’s relentless efforts, he abandoned his self-deception, gradually shifted his position, and attempted to contact other royal family members to stage a military coup, though Lyra’s infiltration of the imperial palace and battle with Amalia came later. Their true goal had always been to end the war.

As Astrid quickly reviewed the girl’s life trajectory in her mind, she crossed her arms and relaxed against the back of her chair, facing Philice with the elegant demeanor of a noble superior.

Meanwhile, as Astrid pondered Philice’s intentions, the girl herself was carefully observing the former favorite Third Princess, the current Regent of the Empire.

Astrid sat poised in her seat, her shimmering silver hair cascading like a waterfall. A silk black dress clinging to her graceful figure, exquisitely crafted with elaborate embellishments. A crimson gemstone pendant and a deep blue metallic brooch adorned the fabric like flowers blooming atop a grand hill. Her legs, pressed together, were tightly wrapped in smooth, delicate black stockings, radiating unparalleled elegance and nobility.

It was undeniable, Silver-Haired Beauty Astrid Calliste truly deserved her title as the Empire’s most dazzling gem. Whether the illustration of her Astrid had seen in the Empire Weekly, or even the brief glimpse she caught earlier at the military demonstration, neither could compare to being in the same room now, feeling the natural, overwhelmingly feminine charm Astrid effortlessly exuded.

Even someone of the same gender couldn’t help but be amazed by her presence.

Then there were the halos surrounding Astrid, the Regent with intimate ties to the Empress, the secret publisher behind the Empire Weekly, the revolutionary pioneer of magitech devices. Each of these titles commanded far more respect than Philice, mere daughter of a duke, could ever hope to achieve.

For a fleeting moment, Philice felt a pang of inferiority. But Astrid, experienced in dealing with all manner of nobles, had no trouble detecting that emotion. She pursed her lips slightly.

"I’ve heard about you from Lyra, Miss Philice."

"You’re a noble who treats every soldier well. And also, a remarkably strong warrior."

Lyra had indeed mentioned Philice, she wrote about many events that happened after arriving in Charles’ domain, mostly sharing good news while concealing her worries.

Making a new friend was naturally something worth sharing, and thus fell into the "good news" category. But just like in the original novel, Philice Lerin’s appearances in Lyra’s letters were also scarce.

Astrid’s words were based mostly on her memory of the novel.

More than her noble status, Philice preferred being a warrior.

At Astrid’s words, Philice blinked in surprise, then quickly replied.

"Thank you for your praise, Your Highness the Regent..."

She hadn’t expected Astrid, someone so busy, to know anything about her, especially not through Lyra.

Thinking back to the letter she once received from the capital, the clear emotional shift Lyra displayed must have stemmed from the letter’s author, Astrid, who was then still the Third Princess.

They truly were close... closer than the rumors suggested...

Seeing that Philice still hadn’t gotten to the point, Astrid elegantly crossed her long legs. The silk fabric rustled softly, a delicate sound that carried with it a cool, refined fragrance spreading through the air.

"So, Miss Philice, what brings you here?"

Could it really just be to see her in person, to get a close look at what the Imperial Regent truly looked like?

Philice took a small breath and spoke gently.

"Well, it’s not anything particularly urgent..."

"It’s just that Your Highness has only recently arrived in the North, and I was worried we might have failed in some way to properly accommodate you. After all, there are certain private matters you wouldn’t want to discuss with my father."

Astrid raised a delicate eyebrow, her tone calm.

"Did Duke Charles send you?"

Philice shook her head. "It was my own decision."

Having said that, the girl added,

"If I’ve disturbed Your Highness’ rest, I shall take my leave now."

...

Watching the brunette girl standing nearby, Astrid could roughly guess why she had come, to exchange a few polite words, make her presence known, or simply out of curiosity naturally sparked by Lyra’s frequent mentions.

Astrid didn’t call her out on it. Instead, she gracefully lowered her arms and, following Philice’ lead, lightly remarked,

"Duke Charles’ hospitality has been quite proper. I am fully satisfied."

"Thank you for your concern, Miss Philice."

The words were polite yet distant. Philice nodded in response, murmuring softly,

"I’m glad to hear that."

"If there’s nothing else, Your Highness... I’ll take my leave now..."

Although it had only lasted a few minutes and assumed entirely of formal pleasantries, Astrid’s presence had exerted no small amount of pressure on Philice, so much so that it felt impossible for her to ever match Astrid’s effortless poise.

It was as if everything was under Astrid’s control, her own petty thoughts laid bare and exposed.

No wonder Lyra referred to Astrid as... her best friend...

"Mm."

Astrid nodded in response, shifting her posture slightly as she tucked her crossed black-stockinged legs beneath the desk. Sunlight illuminated them, casting a soft, delicate sheen.

Realizing she might never measure up to the woman before her, Philice took a deep breath, placing her hand on the door handle. Just as she was about to step out, she suddenly heard Astrid’s voice, soft and lingering.

"Miss Philice."

At the sound of the woman’s voice, Philice halted, turning her head back to look at Astrid.

Before the desk, the silver-haired Regent in her form-fitting black dress held a quill, her exquisite profile glowing brilliantly in the sunlight.

"As someone who’s been through it, there’s something I’d like to say to you."

In the fragrance-laced bedroom, a clear female voice echoed.

"Duke Charles dotes on you deeply, Miss Philice."

"Life is short. Spend more time with your family. Listen more to your father. Don’t constantly place yourself in danger."

"He worries about you deeply."

In the original novel, Charles never wanted Philice near the battlefield, repeatedly urging her to stay in the rear. But her personality was stubborn, she always wanted to do something to prove herself, repeatedly joining military campaigns.

In the end, when the Arcanist mage suddenly appeared, another tragedy unfolded, a parent burying their child, on this very land.

Philice was slightly taken back. Then she remembered the recent funeral of the previous Emperor, laid to rest in the imperial mausoleum.

Astrid’s words, "as someone who’s been through it", must have referred to her own experience as the princess most beloved by the late Emperor, helplessly watching the father who loved her most die before her eyes.

She was telling Philice: while you still have time, cherish your loved ones.

"Thank you, Your Highness, for your guidance. I will remember your words forever."

Reflecting carefully, she realized her father’s hair had indeed grown grayer since the war began.

After exchanging a final farewell with Astrid, Philice left the room, stepping into the noticeably colder outdoors.

Hearing the door close, Astrid let out a soft sigh, relaxing back into her seat.

As someone with foresight, she couldn’t outright tell Philice: if you keep being this reckless, you’ll die on the battlefield.

Lyra could save her once, but not twice, not three times. Although the current storyline had already changed drastically due to the butterfly effect, no one could predict whether the timelines might converge at that critical point.

She could only hope Philice truly took the advice to heart, thought of Duke Charles, thought of herself. That was all Astrid could do.

...

To Astrid, Philice’ matter was merely a minor episode in life, insignificant compared to the war between nations.

After sitting at her desk and contemplating the severe consequences the plague might bring, Astrid made up her mind to inspect it personally.

If the force behind it all was Brennild, the so-called deity capable of freely chanting ancient incantations, then perhaps Astrid, who could also read divine language and exists as an anomaly outside this world and era, might achieve a different outcome.

For example, using an ancient incantation with purifying effects to cleanse the plague.

Astrid was now at the peak tier of Magnus. Although her mental reserves weren’t particularly large, her high elemental affinity and the sheer power of ancient incantations meant that her short-term burst output could rival, even possibly surpass, Lyra’s, who was already close to Arcanist.

In actual combat, she might even hold an edge.

With her next steps decided, it was also about time for lunch. Led by the head maid, Astrid headed to the private dining room Duke Charles had prepared, bringing Lyra along as well.

Astrid had initially wanted to invite Charlotte too, but unfortunately, the latter had to leave right after the military demonstration to provide technical guidance on the magitech airship Astrid had arrived on the previous night.

The blockade on Siyak Town was already a certainty, other towns might soon face the same fate. If more transport hubs became paralyzed, aerial transport might become their only way to bypass infection zones and deliver supplies to the front lines.

Upon arriving at the dining room, the dishes were served one after another. Lyra didn’t appear until twenty minutes later, her pale pink hair dusted with fine snow, clearly just returning from the front.

Seeing this, Astrid picked up a silk handkerchief and gently wiped the snow away. Lyra obediently leaned her head closer to Astrid’s hand and whispered a soft "thank you."

Astrid replied softly, "For the Regent to personally wipe the snow from our Empire’s Bulwark, it certainly displays the dignity and majesty of the royal family."

Her tone carried a teasing lilt. Lyra’s ears turned even redder, her slender fingers gripping tighter.

"Astrid... teasing me again..."

Hearing Lyra said that, Astrid finished wiping the last bit of snow and spoke gently.

"Didn’t you say ’thank you’ first?"

’So I was merely reciprocating professionally.’

Knowing she’d been overly formal, Lyra sniffled softly, stretched out her slightly red fingertips, and placed the small warm stone she’d been holding onto the table.

"If Astrid dislikes it, I won’t say it like that next time..."

"By the way, Astrid, this stone."

The small stone landed on the table, its surface still carrying the faint, delicate scent of the girl’s soft palm.

"I checked. The other soldiers’ warm stones don’t have any patterns."

Lyra spoke softly, her sky-blue eyes shimmering.

"So... is this one... specially made for me?"

There had been no unusual activity from the Kingdom of Velys that morning, allowing Lyra to relax and properly examine the warm stone Astrid had given her.

No matter how she looked at it... it truly seemed to be unique to her...

The more she thought about it, the warmer her heart felt. Holding it in her hands was like cradling a small, glowing flame.

Astrid gazed into Lyra’s bright eyes and softly admitted,

"You figured it out?"

Judging by Lyra’s expression, she had clearly guessed already. Asking now was just to hear Astrid confirm it, so she could rejoice all over again.

Sure enough, the joy in Lyra’s eyes became even more evident, her lips nearly curving into a crescent moon she couldn’t suppress.

"Luckily I studied Lyra’s sword sheath a few extra times back then, or I really wouldn’t have been able to recreate it."

Recreate?

"Huh?"

Astrid’s words made Lyra suddenly realize something she’d been too giddy to consider.

The design... was identical to her sword sheath, down to the finest detail...

Only someone who had seen it in person could have carved it so perfectly.

That meant Astrid probably hadn’t commissioned a craftsman, she must have carved it herself.