My King! Reliable intel says the Elvenfolk are likely moving their homeland, like a forest uprooting its roots in the night.

She wore a custom silver knight’s suit, like moonlight forged into cloth. A slim short-sword hung at her waist, like a willow leaf under moon. Below— a skirt, fluttering like a pale wave.

Yeah, she was a woman, the kind you see on certain little booklets, like ink-stained daydreams. Such lady knights usually arrive with tent— ahem, shadows creeping like vines. Off-topic; such things shouldn’t be discussed here, like shutting a window on rain.

The lady knight’s outfit echoed Artoria’s style, no hindrance in battle, yet beautiful like frost on steel. It felt crafted for the profession, like a seal carved in jade.

She addressed the one upon the throne, which sat at the same height as hers, like a calm lake without stairs. No arrogance of a dais climbed by flights of steps, like a mountain hoarding clouds.

How solid is the intel, like stone or sand?

My King! I can guarantee the likelihood is approaching a hundred percent, like sunrise chasing off the last star.

Her words made the person on the throne blink, like a ripple across still water.

Oooh— darling, you know you rarely make guarantees like that, like a cautious cat under rain.

She rose slowly from the throne, her pink hair trailing like a rosy stream, then falling straight like a silk curtain. She wore a white nightdress that laughed at imperial decorum, like snow draped over fire. Her long legs added a cool grace, like cranes by a riverbank. With features almost perfect and lashes long as swan feathers, what beauty could be added, like gilding the moon? From first among beauties to a sharper first, like a blade polished again.

The so-called King smoothed her rose hair, like a hand over ripples. She hopped lightly, like a sparrow taking flight, and the distance between them vanished like mist.

Standing above, the pink-haired girl looked down, her hair swiping the knight’s cheek like a petal, leaving a scent like rain on plum. Heat flushed the knight’s face, and something warm threatened to flow from her nose, like a spring overtopping stone.

Hey, can you tell me what made you suddenly speak with such certainty, like thunder under clear skies?

Warm breath left the girl’s lips like a spring breeze. When it slid past the knight’s ear, her whole body itched, like grass waking under dew— in a certain sense.

Be— because of the King, I became like this, like a moth drawn to flame.

That answer didn’t satisfy the girl, like a cup left half-full. Her mouth, once near, now pressed to the ear, and the knight trembled like a struck wire.

Can you say why it’s because of me, like tracing a path through fog?

This time her breath flowed over the ear’s rim like warm mist over jade. The itch sharpened; the knight’s string named reason drew taut like a bow and neared breaking.

Of course— it’s for the King♡, like a prayer under lantern light. For the King, I can do anything♡, like crossing fire and river. For the King♡, I must do my best, like a blade honed on stone. King♡, everything is for the King, like stars circling the moon. The King is my all♡, like sky to a wing. A world without the King♡— I refuse it, like a flower without spring.

Her zeal, no different from a cultist, made the girl pause like a clock catching. After a few seconds, she let the knight go, like releasing a kite string.

The knight lost her support and folded to the floor, blush blooming like peach blossoms.

The girl seemed satisfied, and she sat back on the throne, the opaque white nightdress making her more bewitching, like moonlight behind a screen. Especially when she sat, curves settled like dunes after wind.

Clap, clap— like raindrops on stone.

She clapped twice, and another girl in a knight’s uniform came in, kneeling on one knee like a reed bowing to wind. She treated the collapsed knight as air, like a stone ignoring foam; she’d seen scenes like this often.

What does the King need from me, like commands carved on bamboo?

She skipped unnecessary ceremony, getting straight to the point, like a blade drawn clean. The pink-haired girl felt no offense, like a river welcoming a leaf; perhaps she wasn’t a stranger to this one.

Dear♡, did other nations get this message besides us, like birds carrying seeds from grove to grove?

The knight stood from the floor and, after a quick search in her arms like rummaging in a satchel of autumn leaves, took out a golden envelope. Powdered gold flecks were set in it, glittering like sand under noon sun. The envelope itself screamed nouveau riche, like a gilded ox.

But the girl knew better than anyone that the sort who wrote with such envelopes wasn’t simply a nouveau riche, like a storm hiding in bright clouds.

Let me see, like taking the pulse.

She nodded and handed it over, like passing a torch. The girl drew the letter out and tossed the envelope aside, like shedding a husk. She skimmed the gold-dotted letter, then it too met the floor, like a leaf dropped after its color.

This guy, honestly— he actually opened a Three Kings Council, like beating drums across valleys. Emmm… what’s his name again, like a fish slipping the net?

He’s Gill, like a short hook.

Oh right! Gill. Well, I can’t help it; men’s names never stick in my head, like water on oil. Especially the kind who kills as easy as breathing, like frost at dawn. And he maimed two super-cute girls— underline that— like cutting petals from buds. Someone like that can’t earn my goodwill, like ash in tea.

Do you need me to kill him, like snapping a dry twig?

At some point, the girl left the throne again and held the knight’s cheeks in both hands, like cupping a warm bowl, her brows serious like a night line of mountains.

Don’t joke. How could I bear to send you to die, like tossing a swallow into a storm? He’s not someone you can handle, like iron cliffs against silk.

Her words carried a sharp mental edge, like a bell rung close. The knight’s face flushed red too, like embers under ash.

All right. Remember: stop thinking about ‘I can give everything for me,’ like dropping a stone from your sleeve. Okay?

The knight nodded; it wasn’t that she refused to speak. She just didn’t know how, like a tongue tied in ribbon.

By the way, what’s the new girl’s name? I don’t have much impression of her, like a cloud passing behind sun.

She’s called Niyaki, like a bead on a string.

Oh— unexpectedly cute name. Bring her to my room; I want to play a game with her tonight, like lanterns lit at dusk. We played something called chess a while back, and it was fun, like lines crossing on snow. Tonight I want to play that with her, like knights riding on a board.

Her words left the knight a bit downcast, like a leaf touching ground.

Not me?

As a King, the girl read feelings well, like wind reading wheat. She stepped close and hugged the soft body, like silk held to cheek. She bowed her head and set her pink lips on the knight’s forehead, a light touch like a dragonfly on water. Two seconds later, she parted, like a petal drifting free.

Don’t overthink it. I like you, and everyone— and of course, chess, like stars and constellations together.