"I'll prep my part first. Can you have yours ready when the banquet starts?" Elyu spoke, worry clinging like dawn mist.
Confidence steady as a bamboo grove, Medith nodded.
"Then, may your afternoon drift smooth as a cloud."
"And to you, Your Highness," she replied, a bell under clear sky.
...
"Medith! You scared me to death! What are you doing?!" The women sat on the manor bed by the palace, hearts fluttering like startled sparrows.
Sais hissed like wind through reeds. "Do you know how grave your mistake almost was?"
"If the prince had truly snapped, the wound between our two peoples would be irreparable."
She wore alluring white clothes, jade-slim fingers pressed to her heart like a talisman.
"You girls... mm... too young." Medith sat at the bedside, chewing a huge lamb shank, lips slick as oil.
"Mm, smells divine. In this setup, carve him as hard as you can, like a hawk on a hare."
"He’s the one asking, not me." Her tone rang like a teacher’s bell.
"Class time—listen. When someone seeks your help, remember this: you hold the reins."
"Their gear upgrades have vexed them for ages, like a knot in wet rope."
"Simple war tools can leap into killers once refined."
"Lightened giant bolts, carts that move like swallows, and most crucially, magic."
"Remember, their nation sprang from Wind Magic, a city born of a breeze."
"Yet they’re clueless about Wind Magic, a blind boat on an airy sea."
"With Wind Magic scarce, they still built this strength."
"So imagine how precious our knowledge is to them, like rain to a parched field."
"Flip it, their gear is optional for us, a pebble on the path."
"Lose the crossbow, we substitute with talent like hawks diving."
"Lose the ballista, we replace with mana like a tide."
"I don’t need his gear."
"He must have my knowledge, like breath in his lungs."
"Tell me, under this sky, even if I push harder, can he refuse?"
"Of course, I’m asking for what we urgently need, like water at noon."
"It’s tech they’ve long worn thin."
"Call it a favor, firming the bridge between us like stones in a river."
"Give and return."
"It’s never bad to lean on a kingdom like a tree leaning into wind."
The women fell silent, quiet as snow on pine.
After a long breath, they murmured, "Commander is Commander. We were frogs at the bottom of a well."
"Young. Sais, you too." Her words flicked like pebbles on water.
"You’re grown, yet you don’t get basics, wide-eyed like someone new to the road."
"Hand you a little trash, and you beam like sunrise."
"You yell ‘sis’ every day, setting a bad example."
Medith shook her head, shame hanging like dust.
Sais clutched the sheet, silence heavy as fog.
The words left her with no retort, head bowed.
Her body trembled like a leaf, small whimpers slipping out.
"Eh, you again?" Medith finished the glossy roast lamb, wiping her hands as steam curled like incense.
Sais loved to tease daily, so this had to be an act; if she went to soothe her, she’d get pinned like a moth.
"Medith... I think... Sister Sais is actually crying?" Milia laid both hands on her shoulders, panic rising like floodwater.
"Quit acting. I need you to help me refine these schematics and sort the magic notes."
"Eh, sis!" Medith flipped her hair like a waterfall.
"Mm—mm—... uhh... uhh..." Sais brushed off Medith’s hand and clutched a pillow, sobbing hard like rain on shutters.
"Hey, hey... you’re kidding, right?" Panic fluttered in Medith like sparrows.
Sais was truly crying; she saw tears soaking her hair like dew.
"Sister, I was wrong. Sister, it’s my fault. Do whatever you want, just don’t cry."
Medith’s comfort was clumsy, a cart on muddy ground.
Hearing this, Sais let go of the pillow and wailed, "Waa... waa—ah huh huh..." The sound spilled like a broken dam.
...
Between sobs Sais snapped, voice jagged like torn paper.
"What’s so... great anyway! So you were a... General in a past life?!"
"Does being a General mean... you get to look down on people?!"
She’d railed for nearly half an hour, still not appeased, wiping tears like rain off a window.
"Exactly! Sister, don’t cry." Milia and the others coaxed like warm hands by a hearth.
"Medith’s a silly fool who can’t talk. You’re the best! If not for you last time, the Mountain Bandits would’ve stormed the royal court."
"Every day... she just keeps a stiff face, even scolds... me!"
Sais dove into Milia’s arms again, crying in waves like a monsoon.
Medith knelt and tugged her ears like a penitent, frozen as a stone under rain.
...
"Finally finished!" Relief washed over Medith like sunset.
It was exactly 17:00; the appointment was 18:00.
One hour to bathe and dress felt perfect, like a warm spring.
The designs were close to Wind Magic, so the tweaks came easy, like wind guiding leaves.
She only needed to add pseudo-magic notes; with their skill, they’d understand.
"Um, would you like to bathe first?" Medith looked at Sais, fear fluttering like moths.
Her eyes were still red, tear tracks not yet dry.
"Hmph!" Sais scooped her clothes and rushed into the bath like a storm.
"Oh my..." A headache pricked Medith like needles.
Sais always seemed unshaken, a mountain under avalanches.
Yet one jab made her cry for half an hour.
She kept griping, until Medith felt full of flaws like a briar basket.
"Why do I feel her words tasted so sour?" The memory curled back like smoke.
She’d gripped the Queen-and-me story, ranting for twenty minutes about our drinking.
"What’s so great about an old hag of a Queen," blah blah.
She said my drunken fall and the banquet were a scheme, just to bed the Queen.
"Tsk... why are women so troublesome?" Frustration buzzed like cicadas.
She couldn’t find a thread through it.
She feared the Queen’s side wasn’t settled, and Sais might stir more.
Her knots felt endless, threads tangling like vines.
"Ai!" A thousand words sank into one sigh, like dusk into water.
Medith looked at her graceful, not-quite-sultry body and delicate face, emotions twisting like clouds.
...
"Where are the guests?" Paris looked over the soon-to-open banquet, eyes sweeping like a falcon.
This feast gathered all the nation’s elites—nobles, lords, vassals—hall packed like a river of lamps, the whole country rejoicing.
"They’re seated already, waiting for His Majesty to give the word," said the blue-haired man beside Paris, his hooked nose sharp as a blade.
"Everything smooth?"
"As you see, all normal," the man replied, calm as still water.
Elyu murmured, "Mm... I’m looking forward to it. It’s my first time dancing with the Elvenfolk."
"Hahaha, how can Your Highness be sure Commander Medith will dance with you?" Laughter bubbled like wine.
"Hahahahaha, you’re right. Then I’ll ask Milia and Iling instead, how about that?"
"Mm... I think that’ll do," the man said, nodding like a willow.
...
"Everyone! Today is a day of joy for Eunomia." Ogathas led Elyu to stand by the throne like a star beside the moon.
"First, our Prince Elyu has returned!"
"Oooooo—" The cheer rose like surf.
"Prince Elyu!" Voices rang like bells.
"Quiet a moment." Ogathas lifted his hand like a closing fan.
"That’s only the first."
"Tonight’s banquet has main guests some of you have met, and many have not."
"Their beauty can stir the stars; their aura outshines fairies like moonlight on frost."
...
"I’m so nervous!" In the side room, Milia rubbed her hands hard, nerves fluttering like moths.
She wore a low-cut white gown, snow-bright.
Iling and Phiby’s little hearts thumped nonstop like drums.
It was their first time at a grand human occasion.
"Relax." Sais and Medith felt little tremor, calm as a lake before dawn.
Sais tucked away her usual allure and transformed—flower crown set, a fire-red gown trailing like sunset, lips painted blaze-red.
Her aura was more princess than a princess.
Medith wore a green off-shoulder dress, not opulent yet perfect for her, paired with green heels like spring leaves.
She looked like a celestial descending.
...
"They are the great heroes of Sia City."
"They are the elite among their kin!"
"They are—the Wind Sprites—!"
"Ooooo—" The hall roared like a storm.
"Yehahaha—" Laughter cracked like firecrackers.
The nobles broke their usual reserve, shattering old molds like ice.
Expectation and respect bloomed on their faces like rising dawn.
