"Lady Tilly!"

Led by Nightingale into the Lord's Castle, the Fifth Princess didn't expect Sylvie to be the first to greet her. She ran to her joyfully, neglecting formalities, and hugged her tightly, "Why are you here? It's still autumn!"

"It's no different from winter," Tilly chuckled, "Where is everyone else?"

"Lotus is building houses for the refugees, Evelyn and Candlelight should still be in the industrial district, and Honey is training messengers in the back garden," Sylvie counted on her fingers, "His Highness has already sent someone to notify them."

"Don't worry, I think you'll see them soon," a voice that sounded familiar yet strangely foreign came from behind Sylvie.

Tilly looked up, a gray-haired man was smiling at her. His appearance hadn't changed much from what she remembered, but his smile and demeanor were completely different from before.

"Welcome to Border Town, my dear sister."

...

Thoughts swirled in Tilly's mind. She had too many questions she wanted to blurt out, but she maintained a calm expression and followed Roland Wimbledon into a room that looked like a study.

"Please sit," he poured a cup of warm red tea and handed it to her, "It's been a whole year. I know you have a lot to talk about with me, and so do I… but there's no need to rush," he glanced at the snowy scenery outside the window, "This winter is still very long."

She held the cup without replying, and sat down at the mahogany table, quietly sizing up the Fourth Prince.

From this opening alone, Tilly felt that it wasn't something her impression of her brother could say. He was weak and timid, outwardly strong but inwardly hollow, and most importantly, he was used to avoiding things, never thinking of facing them head-on. The Roland Wimbledon in front of her was completely different. He was trying to take the initiative in the conversation, although his tone was gentle and calm, it was completely the bearing of a superior.

"Nightingale," Roland tilted his head.

"But Your Highness…" The voice of the guiding witch came from the room.

"It's alright, she's my sister."

"Alright," Nightingale was silent for a moment, then revealed herself and left the room reluctantly.

"Now it's just you and me," he smiled and returned to the square table.

Tilly was silent for a moment, "Who… who exactly are you?"

She thought he would hesitate or act mysteriously, but she didn't expect him to answer very quickly, "I am your brother, Roland Wimbledon, the Fourth Prince of Graycastle." Then he smiled, "I know I've changed a lot, but I'm willing to explain it to you slowly."

Tilly suddenly remembered what he wrote in his letter: As for what made me make this decision, and what made me no longer indifferent to everything like in the past, these trivial matters can be discussed slowly when there is a chance. It was probably this sentence that prompted her to decide to come to this remote town.

She couldn't help but curl up the corners of her mouth, "I'll be listening carefully."

The whole story wasn't complicated, but it was very gripping. After listening to Roland's entire experience after being assigned to Border Town, Tilly found that her teacup was already empty. She breathed a long sigh of relief and reviewed this narrative again. In short, a witch named Anna touched Roland. Through the witches who were saved, he saw the Church's evil and the bewitchment of the people. Then Garcia's assassination made him feel the darkness under the power of the royal family, and even hiding in the corner could not escape the ever-present malice. He finally decided to change all this.

This section sounded a bit dramatic, but it could barely be considered an explanation, but the problem lay in the strange knowledge. Whether it was a steam engine or a musket, it was impossible to know it because of a moment of realization.

"So, the ultimate factor that caused all this is still the memory that suddenly appeared in your head that you mentioned?" Tilly asked.

"Indeed," Roland said seriously, "I know this is hard to believe, but that's the truth… I understood these things after I narrowly escaped the assassination by my Third Sister and woke up from a coma. If meeting Anna was the trigger, then the content in the memory is the assistance I want to change the status quo with."

Is it a witch? Tilly thought to herself. The possibilities of replacement and control were unlikely. Sylvie had already confirmed that the abilities of the Witch Cooperation Association were not mysterious. They had to conduct specialized exercises every day, and no one's ability belonged to these two categories, not even slightly close.

The only possibility was possession. She didn't rule out the possibility of such an ability, which could acquire the other person's thoughts by invading the body. But this guess was equally slim. Roland Wimbledon, no matter how much he was not favored by his father, was an undeniable Graycastle prince. God's Stone of Retaliation was not rare to him, and he was always protected by knights and guards, so it was impossible for a witch without hiding abilities to easily approach him.

Moreover, even if there was such a witch, how could she know so many extraordinary things? When she was a child, she searched through the royal palace's library and received instruction from several gray-haired, erudite court instructors, but even they had never talked about using steam and snow powder to replace animal power and swords.

In this way, the bizarre knowledge and the bizarre experience seemed to match a little.

"How do you prove that you are Roland Wimbledon, and not that extra part of memory?"

Tilly knew that this question was quite rude. If it were the Fourth Prince from before, he would definitely fly into a rage and slam the table and leave.

"Because I still remember those things that happened in the court," his tone was still calm, "I think the essence of distinguishing a person lies in unique memories. If a witch becomes exactly like you, if the memories are different, she is still essentially another person. I have a lot of strange memories, but I don't remember where these memories came from. And the expression of you crying after I left you on the broken glass is still vivid in my mind, so this is the proof." He paused, "Of course… I never had time to apologize to you, I hope it's not too late now."

Tilly was silent, the Roland in front of her was dressed neatly, and his expression was sincere, as if he was stating an indisputable fact. Obviously, no matter how you look at it, he was much better than the previous纨绔 Prince, but she still had doubts in her heart.

"It's really… unbelievable."

"That's normal," Roland seemed to see through her thoughts, "Many things will seem incredible until you've experienced them firsthand. I didn't expect my sister to awaken as a witch and deceive everyone in the royal palace. But… as I said at the beginning, this winter is still very long, we can get to know each other slowly."

This was probably the most suitable solution at the moment, and Tilly nodded, "Then for the next few months… I'll trouble you."

"Leave it to me, you'll like it here."