At eight in the morning on October 13, the Queen summoned every officer under Medith. The mood turned light, a stale wind swept clean; smiles opened like blossoms in spring sun.

Your humble servant… bows before Your Majesty.

Rise, my band of heroes. The Queen’s smile swayed like a flowering branch, her beauty bright as fresh dew.

Your humble servant dares ask, what joy makes Your Majesty so radiant? Medith asked.

The Queen lifted a red card from beside her chair and flicked it toward Medith. Commander, why don’t you read it yourself? Her delight shone through her face, a snow lotus on Tianshan—pearl-white teeth, crescent brows.

Medith’s slender hands fluttered. She drew out the letter and read aloud:

“To Her Majesty, the Eastern Queen:

On the tenth day of the Ninth Month, I heard dire news. After forty-eight years without contact between us, such a vile event befell you. Anger seized me, and guilt as well.

The Mountain Bandits have long been a stubborn blight. Their power runs tangled, spread across the continent, hidden in forests and caves. Their conduct is heinous, their arrogance so brazen they even dare strike royal guards.

The blame lies with me. I tried every means to uproot them, and failed.

Just as sorrow pierced me, I heard Your Majesty was safe. Under your lead, you struck back at that swarm of demons. Though the price in blood was not light, you cut down their chiefs [Mad Lion Nessos] and [Wolf-Star Soledo], and slew the tens of thousands who came raiding.

None of it would have happened without a rising star under your banner. My heart is eased, and I am truly honored for you and your people.

I have never forgotten the aid you gave me. Without your deed, my bloodline would have ended.

A great feast awaits your arrival. To prevent a like disaster, my royal guard and personal troops set out days ago. By the time you receive this letter, they should have arrived.

Eunomia warmly welcomes you and your soldiers. When we strike the music and open the feast, our covenant continues.

As for those petty thieves, be at ease, Your Majesty. I have formed a purging legion. Results have been excellent. For a long time, they will not dare show within our sight.

By my own hand, Ogathas the Tenth.”

When Medith finished, she let out a soft gasp. The allied nation had sent condolences, set a feast, and even dispatched personal troops to escort the Queen. Their bond with the Queen was as firm as iron warmed by a hearth.

Between the lines, an old fox’s scent curled like incense. First the rumor of calamity; next, a show of helplessness—he lays down his own failure, so the Queen won’t blame him. Then he lifts her high—brave, godlike in war. Suddenly the blade turns: a hint that his hand mattered too. And the last line carries a monarch’s resolve and methods—results “notable,” bandits cowed. Likely the eastern bandits have been slaughtered so hard their doors won’t open to dawn.

This King Ogathas… the invitation for the Queen is the veil; he wants to court me, that’s the hand beneath, Medith thought, insight sharp as a whetted edge. As if the Queen could just up and leave whenever she wished.

He means to use the feast to win me over. If Nessos had lived, we’d be watching a different play. The world culls the weak; kingdoms do it faster.

So… so that means… he’ll host us himself? Milia dropped her usual composure. Excitement trembled through her like a taut string.

We’ve discussed it. I won’t go. This mission falls to you. Medith, hear my order!

By this decree, you are our special envoy. Choose the banquet party yourself. As a rule, no more than three officers.

You carry our city’s honor and face. I trust you won’t let me down.

That is all! The Queen rose, Scepter in hand. Everyone stood. Their right hands flattened like knives at the chest, then slashed down to the right. A single sharp motto rang like steel.

Medith knelt, her black-sun cloak swaying. Your servant accepts!

Dismissed! Medith, stay. The Queen stood and swept out, dragging her long skirt like a falling cloud. Medith followed. In the familiar study, the Queen tore off the heavy crown and tossed it onto the table. Thud—

She shook out her hair. Azure strands flew, a thousand-foot waterfall catching sunlight.

She kicked off her pure white heels and sat barefoot among the book piles.

Is this really okay, Sister? You’re a Queen, after all. Medith stared at those smooth, swinging feet, stunned. Since yesterday, Queen Laxis seemed to have unlaced something—no guard left when it was just the two of them.

You have no idea. These shoes are torture. The skirt drags like a net. The crown’s heavy. The Scepter’s heavy. And I have to keep a stiff mask on. Body and soul—exhausted. She stretched her long legs and idly swung them, easing tight calves with her fingers.

Medith copied her and plopped onto a hill of books. Is Sister afraid someone will steal me away?

How could that be? How would our Commander ever abandon me?

Don’t be so sure.

You dare!!! The Queen’s shout cracked like thunder. Her gaze looked ready to swallow Medith whole. Haha, I wouldn’t dare, I wouldn’t dare—just joking…

Not funny at all. Crystals welled in the Queen’s eyes. She propped her cheek with one hand, wronged as a drizzle-soaked willow.

Medith nearly died of fright. She soothed and coaxed for a long time before the storm calmed. When a gap opened, she slipped away like a shadow.

That night, long after the city hushed, she lay awake, plotting the feast, thought by thought, until sleep finally took her near midnight.