Chapter 680: The Proactive Lyra
In that warm, cozy little room, the noble Regent, fresh from her bath, personally changed into sumptuous attire.
Legs crossed, she sat at the edge of the soft bed, holding a celebration feast for the Holy Light Knight, Miss who had rendered meritorious service to the Empire.
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In a sense, it really was a celebration banquet.
Only, what they were "eating" wasnât the food set before them, but another kind of special existence, one that could bring an even more extreme kind of pleasure.
As soon as the words fell, Astrid lifted her wineglass and took a small sip.
The smooth tip of her foot, sheathed in black stiletto heels, tilted slightly upward.
The other black-stockinged leg used to steady her body pressed down a little harder, and the crisp tapping of the shoe tip echoed through the room alongside the womanâs cool, clear voice.
"Calling it a âcelebrationâ might not be accurate enough. For Lyra, wouldnât ârewardâ be more fitting?"
The first word was fine, but if she used the latter from the start, no matter how you heard it, it just sounded... a bit too indecent, didnât it?
Thinking back to last night, whether it was the outfit, or other, more private aspects, how Astrid had struck every single one of her weak points dead-on, Lyraâs delicate face flushed.
She drew her fair legs together, white stockings hugging their slender softness, and hurriedly tossed those ambiguous images out of her mind.
"Th-that can only count as..."
"...mine alone."
After saying that, Lyraâs face was practically dripping with allure. She took a sip of juice to calm her rising heat, then spoke again.
"Donât bully me, Astrid. You clearly know I meant the wine-and-meat reward I promised yesterday evening, in front of everyone."
A speech, besides rousing emotions and emphasizing the reasons for marching, had one most important point: painting the pie.
To celebrate the Imperial Expeditionary Army breaking into Coldwind City, Lyra had said she would slaughter cattle and sheep for the entire force, rewarding those with merit.
Only, the exact timing of that reward hadnât been set, it depended on the logistics arrangements.
After Grand Duke Charles left the main army, those matters were handled entirely by Astrid.
Lyra was responsible only for forming tactics and strategy, and commanding the troops at key times.
"According to the message from the southern intelligence agents, the Churchâs Knight Order has already begun sending troops toward Coldwind City. At their usual marching speed, theyâll arrive the day after tomorrow."
Before the troops move, provisions move first.
The fact that Lyra could already receive news of the Churchâs advance basically means Inshibre had long intended to deploy. Even this estimate was on the conservative side.
"If we donât do it today or tomorrow, it may have to be postponed again."
The front had just scored a great victory. The sooner rewards were made concrete, the more obvious the effect on morale.
And the Imperial Expeditionary Army now wasnât fighting on home soil, facing life-and-death trials, their hearts were far less steady than when theyâd resisted foreign enemies.
As she listened to Lyra, Astrid casually cut into a piece of steak and chewed it slowly. Only after Lyra finished did she speak.
"When I went to inspect the new farmland in the north, I reminded the logistics corps along the way to stock up on cattle and sheep so we could celebrate for the soldiers later."
"After we learned the Churchâs Knight Order was coming, I knew you would launch the general assault. So I sent word and ordered the logistics corps to work day and night transporting this batch of goods."
"The first batch arrived while you were off restraining Duke Grant. By the time we count it out, the second batch should be arriving soon as well."
Tonight, giving the soldiers a proper reward, letting them eat and drink their fill, was essential.
For a long while later, they might have to collide head-on with the Churchâs Knight Order.
Those were nothing like the private troops Duke Grant recruited, or the temporarily conscripted mercenaries.
These armored knights were the Kingdomâs true elite, and the pressure theyâd brought to the expeditionary army would certainly be greater.
Astrid took a light sip of juice, gently rubbing her legs as she spoke in a soft voice.
"Tonight, have the cooks put in extra effort. Letâs properly celebrate this victory for the soldiers."
"And since we have fine food, how can we lack wine? The prohibition in camp can be lifted for this one night only. But one thing must be observed, no soldier is to cause trouble while drunk or disturbing the normal order within Coldwind City."
Warâs oppression, prolongs, makes a little relaxation no bad thing. But if relaxation went too far, people became lightheaded, and unnecessary disasters sprouted.
Having lived in the military for long, Lyra understood that well. But drunk soldiers were indeed hard to restrain; it was easy for them to stir up chaos.
The best approach was to solve it at the source, have the overseers step in so they couldnât drink themselves into a stupor.
"Everyoneâs threshold constitution is different, and drunkenness varies. But fortunately, each soldier has a household registry file on record. Iâll set each personâs maximum alcohol allowance according to knight rank."
Knight rank didnât directly reflect drinking capacity, but once physical fitness rose, tolerance for alcohol naturally became stronger, the lower bound was higher. That was indisputable.
She cut a piece of potato and put it into her mouth, continuing.
"As for those with merit, if they canât drink their allotment, they can store it for later, or exchange it for more meat. The celebration banquet is a good opportunity for the soldiers to recuperate and relax, but relaxation is never indulgence."
Hearing that, Astrid smiled sweetly. Her fingers curled around the transparent stemmed glass, and she gave it a gentle swirl.
Catching Astridâs smile, Lyra blinked. Beneath the table, the tip of her black shoe lightly poked, and she asked in a small voice.
"...What is it?"
Had she said something wrong?
Astrid shook her head and replied softly.
"Nothing. Itâs just that your last line makes me think of certain teachers or instructors."
The kind who repeatedly emphasizes classroom discipline, who often says things like: donât overindulge during holidays; be sure to seize the chance to overtake on the curve.
The reasoning was sound, but hear it come from this girl in front of her, cheeks faintly red, wearing a pure, school-uniform-like outfit, a youthful white-stockinged maiden, felt oddly mismatched.
Perhaps it was because she didnât look mature enough?
"Eh, really?" Lyra sounded puzzled, pink lips parting slightly. "I donât... feel it..."
They participated in the same academy, didnât they? The professors at Elizabeth Academy of Magic didnât really talk like that. If you wanted to study, you studied; if you didnât, you didnât, either way, the exams stayed put.
"Thatâs because Elizabeth academy of Magic is the highest institution in the Empire. The people who make it in have already been filtered once. They know what they should do and shouldnât do. Professors donât need to stress discipline," Astrid said gently.
Commoners who wanted to rise through researching magic would study hard; noble children, eager to prove themselves and bring honor to their families, would study even more earnestly.
As for those young nobles with limited talent who entered only to gild themselves with a thin layer of prestige, it didnât matter what the professor said.
Better to let them grow wild and learn management methods for inheriting their estates in the future.
"..."
That feeling again... Astrid seemed to have more experiences than what she showed, things Lyra didnât know about...
Lyra lightly bit her lower lip, lowered her head, and slowly cut a piece of meat, yet didnât lift it to eat.
A few seconds passed. Astrid felt her leg being wound around by two warm bands. She looked down to see a pair of white-stockinged legs, smooth and delicate like mutton-fat jade.
Back in Capital City, the one who usually did this was some unknown blonde empress.
Lyra only followed along after Amalia did it first, like it could ease her embarrassment. See? She did it too. Then there was nothing wrong with her doing it.
At other times, Lyra almost never made such an out-of-line move, at least by her standards.
"Tap..."
The little shoes on her white-stockinged lotus feet slipped off and landed with a soft sound.
Lyra lightly twined around that limb, clamping Astridâs calf with the arch of her foot covered in creamy-white stockings, black and white blending perfectly, like milk mixed with chocolate.
Although she didnât know what Astrid had been through, things she didnât understand, at least right now she could clearly feel her existence.
With that thought, Lyra overcame the shame pounding in her chest. Her small, delicate ankle rested atop Astridâs black-stockinged leg.
The pure white silk and the smooth, glossy skin beneath it seemed to make up for the lack of ankle support in Astridâs heels today, white tinged with pink, like a ribbon tied around a gift.
Astrid wouldnât run away. Like this, right now, was enough.
She wasnât some greedy little thing.
Her cheeks grew hotter from the overly bold movement, her ears unconsciously dyed red. Lyra continued eating, forcing herself to ignore the glance Astrid had just cast under the table.
If Amalia could do it proactively, then so could she.
And in the very next second, the pink-haired girl felt the hard side of a high heel lightly scrape against her sole, not unpleasant, more like teasing. Lyra looked up.
Those vivid crimson eyes were fixed on her. Astrid parted her lips slightly, her soft, damp tongue sweeping over them, licking away the lingering juice on her lip surface.
Wait... had she accidentally flipped some switch on the succubus princess...?
Words were replaced by the exquisite, gentle friction of silk. Amid the soft rustling, Astrid slightly lifted her chin. Under candlelight, her cool, delicate features looked even more bewitching.
The knight girl wanted to challenge her, her experience points were still a bit short.
She needed more training.
...................
That afternoon, following the Regentâs military order, the logistics staff began slaughtering fresh cattle and sheep, cooking them in great cauldrons, and distributing alcohol through the ranks, building momentum for the upcoming celebration banquet.
Upon learning that Lyra had lifted the prohibition, the expeditionary soldiers, who had long gone without a drink, and had been craving that one mouthful of rough barley ale, were in high spirits.
They lined up to receive their ration according to military merit and knight rank. The distribution alone took nearly an hour and a half.
But that also gave the logistics troops time to cook. Counting from the moment they received orders after lunch, after an entire afternoon of hectic work, by eight or nine at night, this feast, enough to feed the whole army, was finally barely ready.
The city, once swept by ceaseless cold gales, was now filled with the scent of barley ale.
Beyond that, a strong muttony tang of cattle and sheep meat drifted through the air. Yet to the soldiers, that smell wasnât unpleasant, it greatly stoked their appetites.
As for the star of the celebration, Lyra didnât linger long at any table. She merely walked back and forth, inspecting the overall state of the army.
When not issuing commands, Lyra didnât put on airs as a superior. So most soldiers didnât become trembling wrecks because she appeared.
At most, they reined it in a little, swallowing back crude language unfit for a superiorâs ears, and taking advantage of their silence to shovel down even more meat.
For this banquet, Astrid had even taken a large amount of spices from Grantâs private collection and given them to the logistics corps to use in cooking.
After seasoning, the already nourishing meat became even more tender and delicious. It warmed the belly pleasantly, and with alcoholâs inherent cold-resisting effect, the soldiers almost couldnât feel that they were in the frigid northern borderlands.
Entering a bedroom decorated with warm orange lamps, Lyra at once saw Astrid sitting by the window, watching the soldiers dining not far away. She spoke softly.
"The celebration banquet was very successful. Everyone is really into it."
Fine wine, fine food, and soon, beautiful dreams where they could set aside their worries and rest, nearly every soldier was savoring the joy of capturing the city.
"I heard quite a few people praising your kindness, Astrid. They say youâre an Imperial noble who cares for the rank and file."
"...They also said Her Majesty the Empress is wise and mighty, a brilliant sovereign."
The earlier discontent over the relief grain had mostly disappeared within this one reward.
After all, when they werenât in the army, the only time in a whole year they could eat meat in big mouthfuls like this was on New Yearâs Eve, and even then, it was often tight.
Although Lyra had set drinking limits, in daily life these men rarely reached even that cap.
The reason was simple: barley ale wasnât exorbitant, but in an underdeveloped agrarian nation, alcohol brewed from grain could never be truly cheap.
Hearing Lyra, Astrid opened at the pink-haired girlâs lightly flushed cheeks and said quietly.
"You drink?"
"Yes. Just a few cups."
With the camp atmosphere so fervent, as the supreme commander, Lyra had symbolically drunk a few cups to warm the mood.
Astrid continued to sit with her legs crossed, as though she could feel the distant bustle through the air.
Her long lashes fluttered. Her gloved hand, sheathed in black silk, lightly stroked the tabletop. Two glasses of wine, glowing a rich crimson, appeared before them.
"Then have one more with me, my dear," Astrid said.
Once tonight passes, they will face the Churchâs Knight Order head-on. Only this time, the Valeria Empire was no longer as feeble as before.