The Tip of an Iceberg

As a royal mage, Amund had lost count just how many times he had entered this glorious palace.

The smooth marble floor was clean enough to see even his own reflection. Hid surroundings were decorated with a luxurious crystal chandelier. The bright and soft lights gave off a warm and comfortable feeling. A hint of aroma spread around, bringing a warm and peaceful atmosphere. The thick wooden door from behind slowly closed and echoed a deep sound. However, Amund didn't show the slightest nervous expression. He smiled, then tidied up his red robe while walking toward the young maiden who was lying on the velvet sofa and slightly bowed his head.

"Your Highness."

"Hello, Amund." Lydia lazily lied down with her eyes half closed while looking at the elderly in front of her and smiled. "I hope you don't blame me for calling you here when you're busy."

"Not at all, Your Highness."

Amund lifted his head and gently looked at her.