The dining table was laid with a noble-exclusive silk tablecloth, its trailing portion of moderate length adorned with lacework. To protect the guests’ privacy, maids observing from outside typically couldn’t see underneath the table, but with Lyra bending forward to grip her wine glass, even without carefully looking, she couldn’t help but catch glimpses of the subtle movements below.

Directly opposite her, Amalia’s pair of delicate silver open-toe high heels sat quietly in front of the chair. Her two smooth, silken-white feet were no longer confined within, leaving only slender silver straps dangling onto the floor, the metallic floral patterns at the toe glowing faintly with scattered light.

As for where they’d gone, Lyra gripped her wine glass, her blue eyes shifting to her right.

A pure-white, tender foot resembled freshly made vanilla cream, now pressed against the mysterious elegance of midnight black. Her finely sculpted ankle, slightly raised, was snow-white and smooth, one side lightly pinching the satin black stiletto heel, the other climbing upward to meet the straight, silk-clad calf, like rich milk chocolate embracing aromatic milk.

If that were all, perhaps it wouldn’t be too much.

In Lyra’s view, Amalia gently moved her agile, silk-stockinged foot, using her ankle to clasp the woman’s leg. The smooth, delicate toe tied to an elegant bow at the back, the milky-white instep pressing against the soft black-stockinged calf, resembles a layered velvet cake perfectly assembled.

Soft rustling of silk echoed beneath the table, muffled and shielded by the trailing tablecloth, forming a half-hidden natural barrier. Had Lyra not noticed just now, she might have mistaken it for the usual sound of Lady Astrid crossing her legs, the smooth black silk sliding against one another.

What... are they doing...

Her pupils trembled for several seconds, her pink lips parting unconsciously. Lyra tightened her grip on the stem of the wine glass, her fingertips momentarily turning white.

Quickly, Lyra realized she shouldn’t hold the glass like this for so long. Her long white-stockinged legs pressed together as she straightened her posture.

Her gaze traveled upward. At the head of the table, Astrid rested her fair arm on the table, her snow-white chin and flawless cheek appeared even more exquisite in the candlelight, still maintaining that aloof, noble demeanor, giving no hint of the undercurrents beneath the surface.

The other woman, current Empress Amalia Valeria, was likewise composed. Her golden hair cascaded over her smooth, rounded shoulders. The slightly higher neckline intentionally ignored her naturally petite figure, aiming instead to highlight her slender swan-like neck and the delicate, snow-white collarbones that seemed to have been soaked in milk since birth.

Her blue eyes were fixed on Astrid, yet her peripheral awareness seemed focused on Lyra, especially after Lyra had picked up her glass, that sensation growing even stronger.

Only now did Lyra notice that although both were seated at the main table, this white-stockinged little girl was actually very close to Astrid, and seemed to have deliberately adjusted her chair so that even the slightest movement could bring their elbows into contact, completely violating noble dining etiquette.

Is that sort of thing...normal?

Is it necessary for sisters to express affection by insisting to uncross their legs even during a meal, and not with their hands?

Placing the transparent glass gently on the table, a maid promptly poured red wine beside her. The shimmering liquid cast shadows on the tablecloth, mirroring the faint doubts stirring in Lyra’s heart.

Her fingers lightly touched the fork. Instinctively lowering her gaze, she looked at her skirt and the white stocking cuff that half-concealed and gently hugged her soft thigh.

If she were doing this with Astrid... the meaning would be completely different, wouldn’t it?

Having witnessed Amalia’s dependence on Astrid, Lyra hesitated to venture into absurd dreams. Such thoughts were too advanced, she couldn’t make an accurate judgment.

When it comes to emotions, even a tiny bit more or less, only the person enters truly understands.

Trying to forget what she had just seen, Lyra lifted her wine glass and took a small sip, then heard Amalia speak first.

"Lyra, it’s been a while since we last met."

The golden-haired, blue-eyed aloof little girl leaned the imperial scepter against her chair, showing none of the overbearing authority an empress might exert over her subjects.

"In private meetings, there’s no need to be so formal about court etiquette."

"We’re friends, aren’t we?"

She addressed her by name without adding the title "Baroness." In appearance, Amalia was not noticeably different from the Fourth Princess of the past, only perhaps more confident and composed from having stood at the top for so long.

Lyra glanced at Astrid, then set down her glass, her voice gentle.

"Yes... it has been a long time since I last saw Amalia..."

Compared to Astrid, who had come to find her months earlier, the time since she last saw Amalia was even longer.

"I’ve heard Lyra has broken through to the rank of early tier Arcanist Mage, becoming the Empire’s first Arcanist Mage at the age of twenty-two."

Amalia gazed quietly at Lyra, her blue eyes revealing little emotion.

"Very impressive. Truly worthy of being called the Empire’s bulwark."

The pink-haired girl gave a slight nod. She knew modesty wouldn’t be appropriate in this situation, so she replied.

"Amalia... is also amazing..."

"If not for Amalia organizing logistics, preparing supplies, and recruiting and training new soldiers from behind the scenes, the frontlines might have already been breached by the Church’s knightly forces."

The success of military operations depends on both the frontline and rear efforts. Amalia had done everything an empress could, ensuring sufficient weapons and food supplies, while refraining from any amateurish interference in military command.

Just this alone earned Lyra’s deep respect for the golden-haired girl before her.

Hearing this, Amalia fluttered her eyelashes, her clear pupils reflected Lyra’s face as she tried to glean more from the other’s expression.

Lyra also sensed a hint of probing and confusion from Amalia. She bit her lip slightly and whispered.

"What is it, Amalia..."

Could it be... they haven’t done anything yet...

Amalia’s brows prepared furrowed with relief, a flash of confusion crossing her watery eyes, so brief that even Lyra failed to catch it.

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"What kind of reward would be most appropriate for Lyra?"

"After all, Lyra was the overall commander at the White Maple Town incident and a key breakthrough force during the battle. The commendation should be carefully considered."

It needed to convey imperial dignity while avoiding excessive generosity that might provoke envy among other contributing nobles.

Hearing Amalia’s words, Lyra instinctively looked at Astrid beside her, her cherry-pink lips pressing tightly together.

In that very second, a bold idea suddenly flashed through Lyra’s mind.

She didn’t actually need much reward. With her current power and status, she and her parents could already live a comfortable, carefree life.

If there was one thing she truly wanted... it would probably be the silver-haired princess in the elegant black dress beside her...

Have Her Majesty arrange a marriage.

Passion surged in her chest. In just a few seconds, Lyra’s mind spun through countless possibilities, but quickly, she abandoned the idea.

First, the Regent Princess held immense power. Discussing marriage now, especially between two girls, was simply too soon. Plus, the affairs of the Kingdom of Velys weren’t fully resolved yet.

Second, arranged marriage requires mutual affection. Astrid hadn’t even properly accepted her confession yet. Pushing for an arrangement like this would seem to disregard the other’s feelings.

"I’ll follow Amalia’s arrangements. I don’t have any particular requests," Lyra replied softly.

Fortunately, she hadn’t voiced that thought, otherwise, tonight’s dinner might have become unbearably awkward.

"Then... what does Sister think?"

As Amalia finished speaking, Lyra heard a crisp sound in the air, like high heels touching the floor.

The Empress had long since unfastened her shoes and neatly placed the metal heels side by side. The sound at this moment was most likely from Astrid.

Beneath the table, what exactly was happening?

Lyra raised her eyes, looking toward Astrid along with Amalia, her heart trembling slightly, partly from curiosity about what was beneath the table, partly from an indescribable sourness.

Even if they were sisters, this level of intimacy was excessive.

And in a dining room... she’d never been this close to Astrid...

Feeling their gazes on her cheek, Astrid calmly lifted down at the table edge, catching sight of two smooth, tender slices of pale jade nestled together. She spoke softly.

"Perhaps bestow upon Lyra the title of Countess. The land grant can remain temporarily unassigned, to be considered in the future."

Lady Charlotte’s countess title had been granted due to her dual status as a Early tier Arcanist Mage and a reformer of magitech devices, along with numerous other contributions to the Empire, not limited to magitech alone.

"Granting Lyra the title of Countess..."

To Amalia, this seemed slightly excessive. Lyra had indeed earned merit, but other Arcanist Mages hadn’t done significantly less. However, considering the title came without a specific land grant, and given Lyra’s obvious talent, which made her eventual promotion to middle tier or even peak tier Arcanist Mage inevitable, giving her the honorary title ahead of time wasn’t unreasonable.

"Then I’ll follow Sister’s suggestion," Amalia replied.

Countess Lyra, achieving such status in just over a year. This rate of advancement was no slower than her progression in cultivation.

They continued eating and chatting, finalizing some details of the honor. Then, hearing another crisp tapping sound of heels against floor tiles from beneath the table, Lyra paused, her hand gripping the fork.

"Sister, this baked goose liver with finger lime is quite delicious. Try some."

Amalia cut a small piece from her own plate and offered it to Astrid. As Astrid reached to take it with her fork, she saw the arm beneath the lace sleeve move closer, delivering the morsel directly to her lips.

She could only open her mouth to accept.

Astrid parted her lips, gently biting the goose liver fed to her by Amalia, chewing slowly before responding.

"It’s indeed fragrant. The fruit’s freshness complements the liver’s creaminess perfectly. The slight tartness cuts through the richness just right, eliminating the need for another drink."

"The city lord truly put effort into this. Would Sister like the kitchen to prepare another serving?"

"No need. One portion of goose liver is enough. Eating too much makes it greasy and ruins the initial impression."

"That’s true~"

Having spoken, Amalia raised her glass for a small sip, her eyes continuing to fix on Astrid, filled with tenderness.

When the other’s glass was empty, Amalia thoughtfully took it and refilled it.

"Sister seems particularly fond of Losterling City’s wine?"

"When we return to the capital, I’ll have someone bring more every quarter. I’ll also try expanding vineyards and encourage more winemaking."

"Just... be careful of the quantity. It can harm your health after all..."

Hearing Amalia gently urging her to drink less, just as she used to do to others, Astrid’s lips curved slightly upward.

"I don’t particularly love drinking. It’s just that the wines from the Northern Region are truly different in taste from those in Imperial City. Paired with local cuisine, they offer a unique flavor."

Besides, she’d only drunk slightly faster than usual. Even if the Regent Princess personally enjoyed wine, the Empress wouldn’t go so far as to encourage grape cultivation for such a reason.

Otherwise, wouldn’t she resemble the infamous Su Daji, a woman blamed for a kingdom’s downfall?

Watching the intimate interaction between Amalia and Astrid, Lyra took small bites of the goose liver on her own plate. As Astrid said, the dish was indeed delicious, but it left a lingering sourness in her mouth.

Combined with the warm, sisterly atmosphere of their back-and-forth conversation, this feeling grew even stronger.

It was as if... she had been excluded from this dinner...

The soft rustling of silk beneath the table continued without pause. At this moment, she acutely heard as an early tier Crusader refused to obey her, faithfully transmitting sounds she didn’t want to hear into her mind.

Was she... jealous?

But Astrid and Amalia hadn’t seen each other for a long time. A little intimacy was natural, just as she had once been overwhelmed with excitement upon reuniting with Astrid. Besides, they were sisters after all.

She shouldn’t... be this petty.

If she truly ended up with Astrid in the future, Amalia would become her sister-in-law.

Jealous of a sister-in-law? That would be too narrow-minded.

Internally reminding herself not to overthink, Lyra brought the fork to her mouth. The sweet-sour orange slice touched her taste buds, instantly making her stomach clench with acidity.

The sudden contrast caused Lyra to lift her eyes, just in time to meet Amalia’s gaze, which had been secretly observing her and hadn’t yet fully withdrawn.

There was a hint of inquiry, a touch of pride she couldn’t decipher, and a complex tangle of other emotions.

Lyra didn’t understand why Amalia was looking at her like that, but in this moment, she distinctly felt a faint sense of danger.

A knight’s intuition was rarely wrong.

"..."

Half a minute later, after taking a sip of red wine, Astrid noticed that her other leg, the one not clasped by Amalia, was now also receiving warm contact.

She turned her gaze slightly, only to see a pale-white, silken leg, barely lighter than the golden-haired girl’s pure-white foot, now equally embracing her.