Before her apprentice could finish explaining, Zeraya angrily chased after him, carrying a stick that she had somehow produced.
Seeing her master's menacing approach—this time she was truly angry—Alphonse, with the bewildered Desfield, fled for their lives along the deserted avenue in the pitch-black night.
Strange... Why aren't there any guards patrolling tonight?
Never mind! Escaping is the priority now! Escaping Master's stick is the priority!
"Who exactly is that woman?" Desfield gripped his shoulders tightly with her claws, pressing for an answer. She didn't know the woman, nor did she know where Alphonse had met her.
"She's the master I met after leaving the Ice Palace! My swordsmanship and everything else are thanks to her... But she seems really angry right now!"
Taking the Holy Dragon with him on the run seemed inconvenient, so Elphons sent Desfield away from the palace first, and then followed.
He didn't allow Desfield to revert to her original dragon form because he feared it would cause panic within the palace.
He swiftly traversed the palace corridors, turning several corners in an attempt to shake off his pursuers, but to no avail. As expected of her master, Zeraya possessed an uncanny understanding of Elphons's actions and reactions.
At the end of the straight road was a large, unlit room, which, judging from the current situation, was probably unoccupied for the time being.
As he got closer, he discovered that the door was not locked.
So he decided to use this room at the corner to shake off his master.
With a loud bang, Alphonse burst through the half-closed door and rushed into the room. It was dark all around, but by the moonlight streaming in through the window, the layout of the room could be vaguely discerned.
The room was decorated with lace and silk everywhere, and there were dolls on the tables and windowsills, and some crystal-clear stones that could reflect the moonlight on the chairs.
He glanced around and judged that this must be a noblewoman's private room.
Ignoring everything else, he looked around in the dim light, searching for another way to escape, preferably through a window. He figured that as long as he didn't run into the lady of the room, he wouldn't be discovered.
Before he had taken more than two steps inside, Alphonse immediately sensed a familiar breeze swirling around him.
"Who is it?" Priscilla shouted at the uninvited guest who had barged into her room as she emerged from the other side of the room.
Her appearance was accompanied by lingering floral fragrance and a damp atmosphere. Under the hazy moonlight, she was wrapped in a bath towel, her still-damp red hair swaying in the night breeze, and her eyes glared angrily at the newcomer.
When Priscilla got a good look at the person's face, her cheeks flushed slightly.
"You... how did you get here?" Sensing the lingering demonic aura on Alphonse and the insignia still faintly visible on the back of his hand, he immediately asked, "Who... did you fight with?"
"I'm sorry, I don't have time to explain now. Please let me through!" Alphonse thought for a moment, then quickly changed his tune, "No, please... help me conceal my presence! That way she won't find this place! Please!"
Alphonse clasped his hands together in supplication.
“Her?” Priscilla realized that he was being followed by a woman.
Faced with Alphonse's urgent request, Priscilla, though still doubtful, did not ask any further questions. She immediately deployed a wind barrier around the house, which was not easily detected by others, cutting off the magical aura of the people inside and severing the senses of outsiders.
As Zeraya chased after him, she turned a corner and was about to continue when she suddenly noticed that her disciple's aura stopped and disappeared from somewhere.
“That guy…” Zeraya looked around, and then sensed that soldiers were patrolling in her direction. Reluctantly, she gave up chasing Elfons, and with a light leap, jumped onto the roof of the palace, waiting for an opportunity to escape.
Hiding inside the house, Alphonse didn't dare to breathe, his cheeks flushed with anxiety and tension. Priscilla was completely baffled by this.
Who exactly is that woman who is chasing him so desperately, that she could make Alphonse so afraid?
"The people outside have left. Okay, now you can tell me what happened, right?"
After a long while, Priscilla crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked at Alphonse, who had suddenly barged into her bedroom, with a displeased expression.
He slumped into the chair, relieved to have escaped his master's clutches. However, he would then have to endure Priscilla's interrogation.
"Answer my first question first—who is that woman?"
As expected, Priscilla is very concerned about the women who are "hunting down" Alphonse. Why are they women and not men?
She asked with a stern face, "You wouldn't have incurred some romantic debts outside, would you?"
Alphonse quickly waved his hand, "Don't misunderstand! That person... she... is my master!"
He then recounted the events of the evening in detail, which cleared up Priscilla's previous doubts.
"I see... But why is your master hunting you down?"
Alphonse shrugged helplessly. "I don't know either! Her temper has always been very strange..." He then cautiously glanced around.
Seeing his frightened look, Priscilla burst out laughing, resting her chin on her hand and saying:
"But speaking of your master... to be honest, your master is really amazing, to have actually taught a disciple like you!"
The two had not seen each other for several months since the late king's death. This chance reunion led to more conversation between them.
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