How did an ordinary dinner turn into this?

Feeling the smooth, warm silk sensation creeping up from her ankles toward her calves, two pairs, one on each side, it was like the slight chill of an unwrapped ice cream bar, yet simultaneously like white shackles confining her movements. Astrid pressed her knees together, her sleek, glossy black-stockinged legs parting slightly.

The tablet remained quiet. Amalia and Lyra each continued eating the delicious food on their plates. Yet beneath the table, unseen currents surged, transforming the scene into a literal "battle of wits and legs."

Astrid’s peripheral gaze flickered toward Lyra’s side. The pink-haired girl, who always upheld knightly decorum and never resorted to such underhanded little gestures, bit gently on her cherry-pink lip, her ears tinged faintly pink.

Unlike Amalia, who completely regarded herself as her sister’s possession, Lyra had indeed contained a period of inner struggle before doing this. The moment her two delicate white-stockinged feet slipped free from their little leather shoes and met the cool air, her heartbeat involuntarily quickened.

Amalia had been so intimate with Astrid during the meal, yet the latter hadn’t shown any displeasure. Perhaps she could do the same, after all, if sisters were allowed such closeness during dinner, why couldn’t she, who had shared a kiss with Astrid, do the same?

And... Astrid had done far more inappropriate things to her before...

Back then, she and Astrid had sat face-to-face at the office roundtable. Astrid had even taken off her high heels and provocatively teased her like that.

With a plausible justification, and also to ease the strange, bitter sensation in her chest, Lyra used her knight’s sharp perception to locate Astrid and, just as Amalia had done minutes earlier, gently wrapped her snow-white, silk-clad legs around Astrid’s.

Lyra hadn’t adjusted her seat previously, so she was slightly farther from Astrid, and her movements were relatively smaller. Yet even this subtle closeness was immediately detected by Amalia, who craved zero-distance contact with her sister.

Surprised that Lyra dared to continue moving after she herself had initiated the touch, a faint glint flashed in Amalia’s blue eyes. With her silver fork, she speared a small tomato and fed it to Astrid.

This time, however, Amalia used her right hand to hold the fork. The other hand, needing to stabilize her leaning body, had to find a nearby support point.

The most suitable target was naturally Astrid’s black-stockinged leg, left uncovered by the napkin. The golden-haired girl gently placed her hand atop it, her expression completely calm.

"..."

Amalia... surely isn’t implying anything, is she?

Half of Lyra’s heart rationalized her clingy little sister-in-law’s actions, after all, she had seen firsthand just how deeply Amalia adored Astrid. The other half intensified the earlier sense of crisis. If stripped of their sisterly relationship, the other girl’s gesture was clearly a countermove to her own, brimming with the intention of taking ownership.

"Um... Astrid..."

After a while, Lyra’s voice came out soft and low, her cheeks burning.

"May I... taste the wine in your glass...?"

At her words, Astrid noticed Lyra’s gaze resting on her highball glass. Her own glass still contains some juice, clearly unsuitable to mix.

Before Amalia could speak and call the maids to bring another cup, Astrid softly replied.

"Yes, go ahead and try."

Sensing the faint, tense atmosphere in the air, like that of a battlefield, Astrid understood the situation well. She wanted to cross her legs to gather her thoughts, but the under-the-table antics prevented her from doing so.

The crisp sound of high heels echoed in both Lyra’s and Amalia’s hearts. The pink-haired girl picked up Astrid’s glass, gently blew on it to ease her shyness, then placed her lips on the rim, exactly where Astrid had just drunk.

She took a small sip. The wine, still carrying a faint floral fragrance, slides into her mouth. Lyra then carefully set the glass back down, her ears now even redder.

"It’s... very delicious..."

Only later did she realize her action was no different from Amalia’s, both seemed childish, foolishly declaring how close they were to Astrid, just like children upset over not being someone’s best friend.

With these halting words and a face as red as an apple, it wasn’t just Amalia, who had already guessed Lyra’s feelings, who could see it. Anyone could tell that the young knight’s beloved was the silver-haired regent who had just shared a drink with her.

Amalia exhaled slightly through her nose, as if urging a draw in this round. Seated at the table, the white-stockinged girl lightly licked her lips, her blue eyes glancing at Lyra a few extra times.

Beneath the table, her soft, silk-clad foot gently pressed against Astrid’s leg. Amalia then spoke.

"Sister, for tonight’s performance, I specially changed my outfit..."

"It should look... not bad..."

After speaking, as if to emphasize her point, Amalia deliberately rubbed her leg a few times, then tugged the silver-ringed top of her white stockings upward. Her milky thigh was lightly cinched by the fabric, and following the graceful line downward, the stocking bore an embroidered pattern of thorny vines entwining a cross.

Astrid had noticed this detail before, when she gave Amalia a massage in the carriage. Of course she hadn’t forgotten how the Empire’s Empress had dressed herself on that decisive night.

Gazing at Astrid before her, Amalia curved her lips into a gentle smile, elegantly manipulating her knife and fork before picking up another piece of meat to feed her.

Can Lyra do this?

And in the next second, Amalia felt the back of her foot accidentally brush against another warm patch. Concentrating her spiritual sense, she realized Lyra had unintentionally touched her foot.

On the other hand, although she didn’t grasp the hidden meaning behind Amalia’s words, hearing them prompted Lyra to subconsciously increase the pressure of her leg, thus breaking the artificial boundary line that had previously divided the two on the battlefield named Astrid.

After the brief contact, both pretended nothing had happened. Amalia, benefiting from her seat’s proximity to Astrid, managed to claim more territory. But Lyra, having barely convinced herself, proved equally formidable in combat.

Thus, the advantages of youthful physiques gradually emerge. At least in this "battle of wits," having longer legs was indeed a tremendous advantage.

After a while, the maids arrived with the wine and glass Amalia had requested earlier. Amalia glanced at Lyra, a faint smile on her lips.

"If Lyra likes it, she’s welcome to have more."

"...Actually, one sip was enough."

This dinner was indeed not as relaxing as Astrid had imagined. Throughout the meal, she not only had to savor the food, but also remained constrained by two pairs of delicate, silk-clad feet, varying in thickness, clamped around her legs.

Picking up a silk handkerchief to elegantly wipe her lips, Astrid finally reclaimed her silver high heels and the black patent leather shoes beside her. She turned her head to glance at Lyra, who was bending down, using her fingers to hook the back of her shoe. Astrid’s pink lips parted slightly.

"Tonight I’ll sleep with Amalia. Lyra, remember to rest early."

Through the lace doily on the table, Lyra saw Amalia also fastening the thin buckle on her high heels. After a brief exchange of glances, both girls stood up.

"Mm, I understand," Lyra replied.

From the moment she learned Amalia was coming, Lyra had guessed that Astrid would spend the night with her.

After all, it had been so long. She should spend time with her younger sister.

"Let’s go," Astrid said.

The head maid stepped forward to direct the maids in clearing the table. The three who had finished dinner left the dining room, heading toward the residence’s inner resting area.

..............

Amalia and Astrid’s bedroom was right next to Lyra’s, just like three years ago, when Anno first brought the Fourth Princess out of the old castle, the room arrangements remained unchanged.

It wasn’t yet bedtime after dinner, but Astrid and Amalia hadn’t seen each other for months. Naturally, they just wanted to talk and catch up on what had happened during their separation.

So the moment they returned to the bedroom, Amalia pulled Astrid toward the washroom for a bath. On their first night reunited, it was only natural to do things just as they had in the castle days, Astrid guiding her through it.

Having already shared intimacy, Astrid couldn’t help but feel complicated doing this again, especially when Amalia moved around in the water, her smooth back pressing against Astrid’s skin, bringing back memories of that night.

It was supposed to be a "lesson," but Amalia was different from Lyra. That time, she hadn’t indirectly guided, she had taught her step-by-step, hands-on.

The difference seemed minor, but from a romantic standpoint, it was significant.

It was like the difference between a girlfriend and a close friend. Guiding someone could still be rationalized as simple friendship education, but actually doing it yourself, guiding them all the way to the final release, there was no justifying that.

Between her and Amalia... it had long ceased to be merely the relationship of Third Princess and Fourth Princess, Regent and Empress...

Before their bodies fully heated up, Astrid finished cleaning Amalia. The two wrapped in bathrobes left the bathroom and changed into comfortable nightgowns.

A faint incense fragrance permeated the air, serving as a medium to induce sleepiness. Yet at this moment, Amalia, sharing the bed with Astrid, had no intention of sleeping.

She still had so much to say to Astrid, just one afternoon wasn’t nearly enough.

"Tomorrow at noon, Lord Losterling will host a welcome banquet for Amalia at the mansion. All notable nobles will attend, including the Arcanist mages who contributed to the recent campaign."

"Mm, will the award ceremony be scheduled for the afternoon then?"

"It’s up to Amalia. If you’re not in a hurry, the day after tomorrow works too, giving the local nobles time to prepare."

Astrid continued.

"By the way, how long do you plan to stay in Losterling?"

In her letter, Amalia only mentioned coming to reward the soldiers, not how long she’d stay.

"Depends. At most, no more than five days." The golden-haired girl, curled in Astrid’s arms and exuding a milky bath scent, replied softly.

"The journey from the capital to Losterling takes time, and with the stay, round-trip will take nearly half a month."

From a personal standpoint, Amalia naturally wanted to spend more time with Astrid. But with official duties piling up, she couldn’t afford to be irresponsible as the Empire’s highest authority.

"Then let’s do it the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow morning, I’ll have Elise notify the local nobles to start preparing immediately."

"Mm."

Under the covers, the girl’s smooth, silky legs wrapped around again, just like during dinner. Astrid gently rubbed Amalia’s head and whispered.

"Still not satisfied?"

"Sister... underestimating her own charm..."

A single dinner couldn’t possibly fill the long void of months of waiting.

Gently placing a kiss on Astrid’s collarbone, then her neck, and finally her lips, none missed.

After finishing, slightly suppressing her rising passion, Amalia spoke softly.

"In such a long time, Lyra has already broken through to the early tier of Arcanist mage."

"What about you, sister...?"

Previously, it had always been Astrid testing Amalia. Now, it had reversed, Amalia was testing her older sister.

"I’m still a peak tier Magnus, but I probably won’t be for much longer."

"And you, Amalia?"

Hearing her sister’s question, Amalia replied softly.

"The Emperor’s Scepter holds an incredibly rich knowledge base. Combined with the memories of the First Emperor, my understanding of all magic schools has been exponentially accelerated, saving me much effort in the pursuit stage."

"Without amplification from the Imperial Scepter, my current strength is at the early tier Arcanist mage level. But with it, my temporary combat power can reach the peak of middle tier Arcanist mage."

To reach such a level at just eighteen wasn’t only due to the above reasons, but also her powerful imperial bloodline and her own innate magical talent.

After all, those two princes, right before their deaths, had never truly broken through to Arcanist mage status.

"It seems Amalia not only surpasses me in status, but in strength as well," Astrid teased gently.

The golden-haired girl pursed her lips, her feet intertwining as she whispered.

"No matter if my sister wishes to overpower me... or be overpowered by me... it’s entirely up to my sister’s will. Amalia will accept it all."

The implication was clear: whatever made Astrid feel comfortable, she would comply.

Her blue eyes gazed at the silver-haired princess before her, the shimmering light in them seemed stretching into midair threads. Astrid suppressed a faint stirring in her heart, pinching Amalia’s freshly washed, smooth cheek.

She had only taught Amalia how to act, she never said anything so strangely suggestive.

Feeling her sister’s subtle, almost imperceptible embarrassment, Amalia continued.

"Speaking of which, sister."

"That question I just asked... I wasn’t only asking about my sister’s strength... but also about Lyra before us."

"Sister..." Amalia buried her face in Astrid’s neck, breathing softly.

"Have you... slept together...?"