Chapter 705: Interrupting
"So in other words, Her Highness Astrid’s core demand is actually to inflict effective casualties on the enemy’s top-end combat power as much as possible, rather than taking the city?"
Hearing Astrid’s words, the brown-haired man seated at the far end of the negotiation table took the initiative to speak, asking the highest-ranking imperial noble present for a more concrete strategic objective.
Astrid gave a slight nod, her gaze shifting off the pink-haired knight at her side. Her darkly gleaming red eyes quietly fixed on the speaker as she said in a low voice,
"Correct, Count Castren. The so-called ’leave them alive’ is merely a beautiful wish of mine, something that, in most cases, is difficult to realize. I also don’t want you all to end up fighting with your hands tied because of that idealized goal."
Castren Velmont, a middle tier Arcanist mage from the Velmont House, one of the Four Grand Ducal families. Perhaps sensing there was profit to be made, Duke Velmont, head of the family, had reached a partial agreement with Amalia and sent him to support the front.
Astrid didn’t know what kind of grand cake her younger sister had drawn for this mercantile family, nor how much profit she had ceded, but Count Castren’s arrival did indeed add bargaining chips to the allied army.
On an ordinary battlefield, the involvement of an Arcanist mage was enough to declare one side’s absolute victory; and in a brawl at the level of Arcanist mages, a middle tier Arcanist mage specializing in lightning, even if he couldn’t decide the battle with a single strike, could at least tilt the scales of victory a little more toward the Valeria Empire.
Receiving the silver-haired beauty’s reply, Castren fell into thought, his fingers resting lightly on his thigh. He couldn’t help but sigh inwardly at how daring this young Regent truly was.
A head-on clash between Arcanist mages, during Hibbort’s reign, and even if one traced back a hundred years, there hadn’t been a single precedent. Now, in the span of a single year, once wasn’t enough: a second was about to happen immediately, and they were the ones provoking it. A brutal melee with at least ten Arcanist mages involved.
Castren even suspected Duke Velmont’s judgment might be flawed. If something happened to him in this battle, how much benefit would it take to make up for the negative impact on the entire family from an Arcanist mage being wounded or killed?
But thinking more was useless. He was already here. All he could do was follow the agreement, accept Astrid’s deployment, and ensure the overall interests of the Valeria Empire suffered as little loss as possible.
Only then could his family’s profits be maximized.
Seeing Count Castren fall silent, Astrid curved her lips into a cool smile and continued issuing orders.
"What you specifically need to do, I’ve written in full in the plan. The documents will be distributed once the meeting ends. Time is tight for this operation, whether preparations before the battle or the battle itself, everything must be accelerated. Everyone, make sure you read it carefully."
"Next is the general arrangement for the conventional forces. It was personally drawn up by Commander-in-Chief Lyra. For the sake of overall coordination, I also ask all of you to pay some attention and familiarize yourselves with it."
"At dawn tomorrow, the bombardment camps composed of magi-energy heavy cannons will take positions to the east and south of the target city, continuously pouring out firepower until the defensive spell array above the city is shattered."
"Considering there are many high-tier mages within the city, the defensive spell array they sustain won’t be as fragile as in the previous few cities. Therefore, during the assault, we will coordinate with elite magic mentors for pinpoint strikes. The airship clusters will not enter the frontal battlefield until an Arcanist mage reveals themselves..."
After spending more than ten minutes giving these Arcanist mages a brief outline of the strategic plan, Astrid returned the stage to Lyra, letting her go into further detail.
Having experienced battles large and small along the way as both warrior and commander, and having once served in the maid corps and accompanied the Regent in person through all kinds of upper-circle social occasions, Lyra, now clad in silver-white holy armor, appeared completely at ease delivering a war briefing to these great figures. Whether her serious, orderly speech or her focused expression, it was easy to forget one simple fact:
She was the youngest person at the entire table. Not long ago, she had only just celebrated her twenty-third birthday in the army.
At this age, a noble girl would likely either be waiting to marry in her boudoir, or actively throwing herself into socializing for her family’s benefit.
Listening to the girl’s crisp, melodious voice, Astrid interlaced her hands beneath her chin. Beneath the table, her black-silked legs quietly crossed, and her night-sky-colored high heels lifted slightly with them.
This was Lyra, the heroine who could fight fate with a fragile body.
And also, her guardian knight.
---
After the military meeting, Astrid and Lyra personally made a trip to the [Holy Radiance City], where they once again conveyed the battle plan to Knight Commander Kales, who was preparing for war within. After confirming all parties in the allied army had received their orders and that all preparations were complete, they finally left the army and returned to their residence.
Calling it a residence was generous, really, it was the rest area inside the Cathedral of the Church of Light. Those rows of dormitories were originally meant for clergy, but after the expeditionary force took the place, they became the Regent and the commander-in-chief’s temporary quarters.
Astrid chose to stay here largely for the convenience of healing the city’s patients in the coming days. Lyra’s public image now was that of a Lightbearer, the Lord’s Knight. Keeping her close to the Church of Light wasn’t a bad thing; it could, more or less, raise her prestige and credibility among the faithful.
Entering the room, Astrid lightly kicked off her heels. Elise had already taken her place and poured hot tea for the two empire pillars who had labored all day.
"Right now, it’s really impossible to find even a trace of the old you in Lyra," Astrid murmured softly, her black-silked feet stepping onto the soft carpet.
"In the past, you’d get embarrassed just speaking in public, your face would turn red like a fully ripe tomato."
Especially that first night they met: Lyra in a little white dress with white stockings, standing in the corner like a fragile, helpless dandelion, her nervous shyness overflowing in plain sight.
Now not only had her aura undergone a world-shaking change, she even carried herself with ease before the very "big shots" Lyra once believed beyond her reach.
Astrid couldn’t help but marvel, experience truly was what changed a person most.
Lyra, following just behind her lover, quietly slipped off her own little leather shoes as well. When she noticed Astrid’s slender heels lying crooked near the entrance, she instinctively picked them up by their warm inner sides and placed them neatly together, as though an old memory of being a maid had suddenly stirred within her.
"If you do it often, you get used to it, and you won’t feel so embarrassed," Lyra replied softly.
With how often she had to step onto an arena, give outstanding graduate speeches, or lead pre-battle mobilizations, even if she’d once been a shy young girl, she should have grown up by now.
Astrid blinked, turned her eyes back, and looked at Lyra’s exquisite face outlined by moonlight. Her voice softened.
"What I mean is: you were amazing tonight, Lyra."
Clear in logic, neither servile nor overbearing, so much so that even Astrid, who was with her day and night, was a little stunned by her growth.
Hearing Astrid’s praise, Lyra narrowed her eyes slightly. The corners of her mouth rose unconsciously, her voice low and gentle.
"It was fine. I just said everything I was thinking. It’s not hard."
She’d long prepared what she wanted to say, of course she wouldn’t flail around like a fool, like some clumsy maid.
Noticing Lyra lean slightly nearer, her straight, snow-white stockinged legs held together, Astrid caught the knowing look on the pink-haired girl’s face, as if it clearly said, You didn’t actually think I was stupid, did you? At just the right moment, Astrid raised a hand and gently touched Lyra’s silver-white pauldron.
"Even if you make it sound simple, very few people can do it to this degree."
"Most people are so stupid they’ll try to hide a knight’s sword half as tall as a person inside a maid skirt that doesn’t even reach the knees."
The first half made Lyra feel wonderful, her tail was about to wag, but the second half sounded more and more wrong. By the time Astrid’s last word fell, the roots of her ears were already flushing red.
That embarrassing thing with hiding a sword under a skirt, could they please not bring it up again now?
Back then she hadn’t known! She thought it was some weird combat technique or magic she had to comprehend on her own.
"Th-that... it was an accident!"
As she stubbornly protested in a small voice, Lyra followed Astrid to sit on the bed. Her silver-white armor instantly transformed into points of light, dispersing into the air.
Watching the armor turn into a soft skirt, and a silver, engraved metal scabbard hang quietly amid layers of pure white lace ruffles, Astrid unconsciously reached out, lightly touching it.
It had to be said, whether it was the [Sword of Light] itself, or the scabbard Lyra manifested, the looks of this half holy relic were absolutely top-tier.
Even without considering practicality, as decoration alone, it would be quite nice to hang on a wall and admire at length.
Noticing Astrid’s fingers slowly stroking the scabbard’s surface, like feathers brushing against her, Lyra’s cheeks warmed. She quickly shut off the shared senses. Her white-stockinged lotus feet quietly pressed together, her cream-colored, delicate toes lightly tangling against each other.
Astrid... seemed to have forgotten something again.
As Lyra thought this, the silver-haired princess beside the bed soon realized the issue as well from her small movements. Understanding that what she’d just done was no different from directly touching a girl’s legs, Astrid curved her lips. She didn’t apologize, she merely withdrew her hand from the scabbard.
But it wasn’t stopping at the line.
It was putting it into practice, making that feeling more real.
"Huh?"
Seeing the hand that suddenly settled on her leg, Lyra froze, her face instantly flushing red.
W-why all of a sudden...
The shift was too fast. What had been an unintentional act now seemed deliberate.
Her heart thudding, shyness spreading through her body, Lyra quickly heard Astrid speak.
"Now it’s like before." After that, Astrid added softly, "It really is the easily embarrassed, silly maid."
The teasing words melted into the air, making Lyra’s ears burn even hotter.
Just moments ago she’d shyly pressed her stockinged legs together and angled them to the left. Now, unwilling to lose, she separated those ink-jade legs and spoke in a low voice.
"I’m not..."
"I’m not!"
She really wasn’t. The old her absolutely couldn’t have done something as bold as using her foot to push Astrid’s leg aside, just like what they’d been talking about. Practice makes perfect. Do it often, and you get used to it.
Seeing Lyra’s little movement, Astrid made no further out-of-line move, nor did she counterattack. She merely caught her with a delicate, silk-wrapped ankle, her pink lips parting.
"Alright, alright, you’re not."
As for whether she was or wasn’t, both of them had their own answer.
Hearing that Astrid was clearly just humoring her, Lyra blinked and then did the same thing Astrid’s hand had done.
These past days, they were either busy fighting or busy commanding the army. In their rare downtime, they still had to stay together at the Cathedral, treating the steady stream of patients.
Astrid was tired. Lyra was tired too, though more than physical fatigue, it was the exhaustion of the mind.
But as they had preached internally, this war wouldn’t last long. At this point, victory or defeat would be decided within less than a month.
If they could take Seville City, the imperial expeditionary force’s strategic goal would be eighty percent complete. If they couldn’t, Amalia’s letters had already hinted at a fiscal crisis, the Empress couldn’t hold out that long. If they still couldn’t break through, they’d be forced to turn back and digest these lands.
And once that momentum leaked away, not to mention what would become of the nascent Church of Light represented by Kales and Monica, the expeditionary force wouldn’t have the strength to fight a second time. They had to end it fast.
Tonight was the second-to-last night before the final battle, and the last night Astrid and Lyra could sleep deeply.
With the long absence of intimacy, their longing for each other grew stronger. After a few sips of hot tea to moisten her throat, Lyra soon tasted something sweeter from her lover, milk tea.
And in the end, no one knew how it happened. Perhaps it was because fairy-form Astrid used that exquisitely shaped ankle, covered in sleek black silk, to tease her lightly. The last chance of properly resting was washed away.
In the quiet room came the wonderful sound of fabric rubbing. Lyra freed a hand to place the silver engraved scabbard on the bedside cabinet, and just as Astrid lifted her hand, about to unfasten the deep-blue brooch on her chest,
The door knocked, inappropriately, at that moment.
The black-silked foot that had been lightly brushing against the white-stockinged calf stopped. Astrid’s half-lidded red eyes cleared at once. She immediately helped Lyra straighten her collar and said, "Come in."
At this hour, only one person could be coming: her efficient, decisive head maid, Elise.
And Elise understood perfectly well that the Regent’s bedroom at night was not a place to disturb lightly. If she was knocking now, something urgent had happened.
"Miss, there’s new information." Elise pushed the door open, her tone as severe as ever.
"Knight Commander Kales has sent an urgent report. There’s movement in the west."
"It’s suspected the Pope of Light, Hebrew, has taken the initiative to strike."