CHAPTER 462: "THE EMPEROR WISHES TO SEE YOU... ONE LAST TIME.”

Under the warm sunlight, the royal process snaked slowly down the street. Spectators lining both sides stood still, watching, some even standing on tiptoe, straining their necks above the crowd just to catch a glimpse of the royal family.

As part of the new empress’ inaugural parade, the entire Valeria Imperial procession consisted of several lavishly decorated carriages. The empress’ carriage stood at the center, its exterior intricately carved with delicate honeysuckle patterns in gold and silver, its corners and wheels adorned with jade.

Every meticulous detail exuded the opulence and prestige of the royal house. Even the horses pulling the carriage had been meticulously groomed, their tails and manes combed perfectly straight.

Feeling the faint vibrations beneath her palm, the smooth wooden surface cool and polished against her skin, Amalia did not relax. She maintained her posture, knees pressed together, locking Astrid’s neck between her two arms as soft and delicate as tender lotus roots. The woman’s smooth, silvery hair fell gently over Amalia’s white lace cuffs.

Outside the window, citizens eager to catch a glimpse of the new Empress pressed close, separated only by a thin layer of silk curtain. Yet Amalia showed no restraint. She lowered her lips, her sharp little canine lightly pricking the snow-white, tender skin beside Astrid’s neck.

Astrid’s bare shoulders, untouched by silk, were smooth and fair, like a freshly peeled hard-boiled egg. A soft pink lip approximately, and the cool, fragrant scent of her body instantly filled with Amalia’s nostrils.

Perhaps fearing her teeth might actually break Astrid’s delicate skin, Amalia applied only the lightest pressure, barely more than a fleeting touch. Her blue pupils reflected a stretch of blinding white.

To Astrid, the sensation was as if her shoulder were gently wrapped by two dew-kissed petals, soft, warm, slightly ticklish, yet not unpleasant.

"Sister..."

Amalia’s voice suddenly dropped, tinged with a huskiness Astrid couldn’t quite describe.

If describing the little girl’s usual voice, Astrid would use words like crisp and cool, like a quiet mountain stream flowing through a secluded valley. But right now, Amalia, adorned in ceremonial robes and crowned, seemed to carry a hidden restraint beneath the surface, like a quiet touch through layers of fabric, gently brushing against Astrid’s heart.

Rather than a bite, Amalia’s action was closer to a soft kiss.

Not to mention their current position, Amalia had nearly enclosed Astrid within a confined space. The lace-trimmed silver cross-patterned white thigh-highs brushed against Astrid’s knees, faithfully transferring the warmth and softness of the girl’s legs to her skin.

Was this... perhaps too delightful?

A flicker of surprise passed through Astrid’s eyes. One crimson pupil narrowed slightly, the other broadened, her long lashes trembling as she looked at the golden-haired girl leaning on her shoulder.

In just half a minute, the pure white fabric had completely covered the night-colored hem of her skirt. Even the side-cutout stiletto heels Astrid wore had lifted slightly with the motion of her knees, half the shoe slipped off the heel, revealing her delicate, silky black-stockinged foot.

"From today on, I’ll try even harder," Amalia whispered gently.

Whether it was governing the empire, or expressing her love for her sister.

Hearing Amalia’s words, Astrid fluttered her lashes a few times, the dazed look in her eyes quickly faded.

"Mm, I’ll always believe in you."

The changes Amalia had shown over this period were already the best report card she could offer the empire.

After a moment, Amalia reluctantly released her teeth, gently touching her pale forehead against Astrid’s chin. Then, as if reminding something, she pressed her cheek against her sister once more.

Her temperature was slightly higher than expected.

So the sister wasn’t always as composed as she seemed. At least, she did react to Amalia’s actions, her dear Regent Princess wasn’t as indifferent as she pretended.

Realizing this, Amalia’s lips curved into a faint smile. She slowly withdrew her arms from either side of Astrid’s neck, but instead of returning to her own seat across from her, she scooted closer and sat right beside Astrid. She rested her two slender legs, clad in finely patterned white silk stockings, on Astrid’s thighs, slightly swinging her shoes.

Anyway, behind the thick carriage walls, no one could see what was happening inside. Astrid simply allowed Amalia to keep her legs there, her fingers carefully smoothing out the wrinkles in the girl’s stockings, straightening the hem of her skirt.

There was still plenty of time. The two-hour parade was more than enough to ease the tension they’d felt earlier at the ceremony.

"By the way, Amalia..."

Resting her hand on the empire’s empress’s delicate, pink-tinged white knee, Astrid spoke softly.

"After inheriting the Imperial Scepter, how did it feel?"

She’d previously heard Hibbort recount the origin of the scepter and its unique oath-binding effect. Astrid was deeply curious about its other abilities.

Although its status might not surpass the Holy sword in Lyra’s hand, a blade rumored to contain the primordial light of creation, the Imperial Scepter, as a pivotal artifact, was repeatedly emphasized in the original novel as being of great importance.

Hearing Astrid’s question, Amalia didn’t hesitate. She immediately handed the scepter, the symbol of imperial authority, over to her sister, her calm voice.

"After I dripped blood onto it, I could feel a unique connection forming between my soul and the scepter, as if a binding had been established."

This feeling should be similar to what Lyra experienced when she drew the Sword of Light. No matter where the Imperial Scepter was, as long as Amalia wished, she could instantly sense its presence.

"Moreover, the Imperial Scepter isn’t just capable of unleashing powerful forbidden magic. When I hold it, my mental energy seems to use it as a medium, enabling much higher-quality mana output."

"It even gives me the impression that, as long as I hold the scepter, I could easily cast magic at the level of an Arcanist mage."

Amalia was currently only a peak tier Magnus, separated from Arcanist mages by a vast chasm. If the scepter’s amplification alone could bridge that gap, its value was naturally immeasurable.

Hearing this, Astrid couldn’t help but recall the confrontation that had taken place within the palace, the fated heroine against the tyrannical little girl, the Sword of Light against the Imperial Scepter.

Thankfully, in this timeline, the little empress will likely never come into violent conflict with the empire’s barriers.

Listening further as Amalia described the scepter’s abilities, beyond combat enhancement, it also functions as a storage device with an immense independent space. Inside were treasures accumulated by successive Valerian to emperors, a small-scale national treasury.

"Besides these, there’s... one more thing."

Amalia gazed at the Imperial Scepter in Astrid’s hands, her pink lips parting slightly.

"After completing the soul-binding, I saw fragments of memories belonging to the First King."

"Seemically related to the decline of the Lorin Empire, and parts of his experiences establishing the Valeria Kingdom alongside the four founding Dukes."

Memories?

Astrid’s delicate brows furrowed slightly at the word, then she asked,

"Any particularly valuable intelligence?"

If memories could be passed down through the scepter instead of being stored via a retroactive barrier, such soul-related arcane magic was incredibly complex. The First King’s mastery of magical theory must have been astonishingly profound.

"I only felt a portion of the moment I touched the scepter. The Valeria bloodline might be the key to accessing these memories, or rather, the key to unlocking this long-sealed door."

"The specific content is blurry, fragmented and incomplete. It might take a long time to sort through and extract anything useful."

Amalia had only just inherited the scepter. It was natural she didn’t know much yet.

Astrid nodded slightly upon hearing this, not particularly rushed.

"Let’s study it carefully after the coronation ceremony ends."

Simply gaining these insights upon inheriting the scepter was already an unexpected bonus. Information on human history can be sorted out slowly when they have time.

Amalia nodded gently in agreement.

"Mm, that’s what I was thinking too."

With the new emperor’s ascension, they still had much post-ceremony work to do to demonstrate imperial benevolence, various bills to improve people’s livelihoods, pre-arranged grain distributions. Each task requires careful attention.

They needed to handle immediate matters first, then consider the rest.

Astrid hummed in agreement, her hand casually resting on Amalia’s leg, feeling the smooth silk fabric against her fingertips, like holding a soft, delicious cake.

The victory on the frontier had prevented the Kingdom of Velys’s forces from penetrating deep into the heartland, allowing them to properly address security threats within and around the capital.

The carriage continued forward. Another fifteen minutes passed. Astrid’s peripheral vision caught Amalia’s shoelaces coming loose, her silver heels half-slipping off, revealing her snow-white silk-clad feet.

Gently grasping the girl’s soft instep, Astrid carefully re-laced the crisscrossing silver straps, her movements tender. She watched Amalia instinctively flex her toes, stretching the thin silk into elegant translucent patterns. Astrid’s crimson eyes shimmered with a faint warmth.

In a way, the time spent in the parade carriage was one of the few rare moments of relaxation and rest they had during the entire coronation period.

Amalia gazed at Astrid’s face, her eyes moving from her earlobe down to the tempting shoulder she had just bitten. The white skin bore a faint pink mark, like a discreet seal, half-hidden beneath strands of silver hair.

As a younger sister, this was the furthest she could go.

But... it still felt insufficient.

Her gaze settled on Astrid’s slightly pursed lips, as if coated with glossy lacquer. Amalia couldn’t help but recall the moment earlier in the carriage, the look of confusion in Astrid’s eyes.

The pale, smooth legs resting on Astrid’s knees swayed slightly. Amalia leaned back against the carriage wall and slowly closed her eyes.

According to Hibbort’s plan, right after her coronation, she will have to undergo the Coming-of-Age Ceremony, no later than mid-July.

Although she hadn’t expected this father to remember her birthday, and though she didn’t particularly care about the date, Amalia had no intention of skipping the ceremony.

She truly had been born into this world many years ago, that fact was denied. And now, she no longer resented her birth. On the contrary, she felt fortunate.

If that woman hadn’t craved wealth and given birth to her, how could she have ever met her sister?

On the day of the Coming-of-Age Ceremony... she will pour out all her feelings to her sister...

That unyielding desire to get closer, and the burning passion that flared like fire.

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

As the imperial parade concluded, the carriage halted before the palace. Astrid and Amalia, having rested, stepped down and walked together towards the dining hall.

The prepared Imperial Guards welcomed them enthusiastically, allowing the nobles gathered outside the palace to witness their esteemed emperor, wearing exquisitely crafted silver-white dress shoes, being gently led by the Regent Princess into the palace gate, their actions intimate and charming.

Without needing the Empire Weekly to heavily promote it, this deeply enjoyable scene naturally spread rapidly among the nobility. Within days, everyone will know just how close the newly enthroned empress and the Imperial Regent truly were.

After lunch, the brief moment of warmth ended. Amalia and Astrid returned once more to Elizabeth Academy of Magic to observe the imperial military exercises, display royal prestige, and talk to the troops.

Under the scorching early summer sun, their entire day consisted of riding carriages, giving speeches, and visiting troops. By evening, they still had to attend an imperial banquet with the nobility, marking the conclusion of the coronation rites.

Changing into new attire, Amalia decisively abandoned the high heels that didn’t quite suit her petite frame, switching instead to softer-soled little leather shoes, adding some insoles to make her small stature less pronounced.

Astrid naturally supported this decision, she even imagined Amalia wanting to govern while sitting on her lap, perhaps due to remaining conservative about her height.

But these concerns were unnecessary. As long as one delivered results and demonstrated strength, what did it matter if one had a little girl’s body?

In another timeline, the nobility had never ignored Amalia’s tyrant reputation just because she was a little girl.

Holding Amalia’s hand as they walked through the ballroom, tonight the white-stockinged little girl was the absolute centerpiece of the banquet. Even Astrid, with her striking beauty and social grace, couldn’t overshadow the presence of the new emperor.

Watching the many powerful figures holding wine glasses and conversing with Amalia, Astrid leaned against a table, sipping her drink slowly.

Hibbort hadn’t come tonight. According to Trin, after the magical potion’s effects wore off, the old emperor had collapsed onto his bed, unable to stand again.

Thinking of this, Astrid’s flawless face, pale with a faint blush of wine, showed a trace of inner conflict, her translucent crimson eyes softened slightly.

Despite everything, she couldn’t remain indifferent to the approaching death of Hibbort, the father who had raised her for over a decade.

Her heart remained heavy, tinged with bitterness, and Astrid unconsciously tightened her grip on the wine glass.

"Lady Astrid..."

Terin suddenly approached with a message.

"The Emperor wishes to see you... one last time."