Walking across the dark gray frontline, the soles of her boots continuously emitted a dull friction sound. Facing her was a bone-chilling cold wind, blowing strands of her cherry-pink long hair out of the furry hood.
Lyra quietly exhaled, a thin white mist rapidly rising into the air before vanishing in an instant. She raised her hand, the fingertip wrapped in a pure white glove caught the edge of her hood and pulled it down slightly. Everywhere she looked was dry soil saturated with moisture, no insects, not even a single blade of grass.
It was already dusty. Having finished dinner, Lyra had come to the outskirts of Liya Tower Fortress, distancing herself from the noisy crowd, enjoying this peaceful and tranquil atmosphere.
As a noble baron awarded by the Emperor, an Honorary Knight who had brought glory to the Empire, and with her status as a middle tier Magnus along with repeated instructions from Astrid, Duke Charles had granted Lyra the utmost convenience.
