Chapter 697: Is This… Me?

Whether for internal or external audiences, promotional materials always need to be packaged, embellished, and trimmed in order to emphasize a certain aspect, thereby achieving whatever goal the promoter wants.

Although the scene of Holy Radiant City being cleaved in two with a single sword was hardly a pleasant memory for the vast majority of the Church’s knightly order, it was precisely because Lyra possessed such overwhelming power, and the lofty status of one who could command holy light, that more people could be made to believe she was the chosen one and the only one, the guide who would lead them back to their original path.

After hearing this, Lyra nodded thoughtfully. Her gaze withdrew from the illustration scene and returned to Astrid. Her pink lips parted slightly as she spoke.

"Then I’ll start trimming from the moment I made my entrance before Hebrew... and cut all the way up to the shattering of the Holy Radiant City?"

"Mm. That’ll do."

Compared with certain unscrupulous propaganda outfits, at least they weren’t taking things out of context, cutting a line until it meant something completely unrelated, or even the opposite of the original. They were merely keeping the most essential parts to earn trust.

Astrid picked up the quill from the tabletop, lightly dipping it until it was saturated with the pitch-black ink. She took out a stack of parchments, then reminded Lyra,

"If there’s anything you want to ask, or anything you’re not sure how to handle, tell me anytime. Don’t worry about disturbing me."

"The speech is important, but Lyra’s battlefield ’performance’ can’t be handled carelessly either."

Text, visuals, sound, and the person herself, only when all these elements support one another could they maximize credibility, paving the way for the military plan that will follow.

Lyra answered with a soft "Okay," indicating she understood the key point.

"Let’s start working. The sooner we finish, the sooner we rest," Astrid said.

A faint warmth touched Lyra’s cheeks as she tucked a strand of pink hair behind her ear. Under the table, her feet, clad in white stockings, rested against the chair leg, the movement leaving delicate creases in the silk. In a quiet voice, she simply said, "Okay."

The earlier they wrapped up, the earlier she could hold her beloved and sleep on the soft bed.

Just a bit more, Lyra!

With those words, "Lyra the push-harder knight" and Astrid both fell silent, each focusing on their own work.

Outside the window, the bright moon hangs high. Its pure silver glow pierced layers of cloud and fell upon the bricks and tiles of Coldwind City, imprinting a whiteness like snow.

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

No one knew how much time passed before Lyra finished trimming according to Astrid’s requirements. She cut away a large number of scenes from the beginning of the battle, keeping only the crucial ones, the combat images that could prove she was walking the correct path.

To be honest, watching the campaign from a third-person perspective gave Lyra a feeling noticeably different from before.

So this is how reassuring my movements look... in the eyes of those behind me.

The Holy Light Manifestation Torrent of Light was separated by a single slash. The Holy Radiant City crumbled the instant it met the sword’s momentum, shattering into countless motes of light. In a daze, it almost seemed as though even the sky itself had been severed by the Sword of Light clenched in her hands.

’I’m actually... pretty amazing...’

Today, "Lyra the confident puppy" held the crystal stone. Her watery eyes narrowed into thin crescents, and her smooth, pale calves in white stockings held happily by the chair.

But soon, when she poured her mental power back in to peer into the crystal’s inner world, Lyra stopped being so happy. Her slightly upturned lips tightened into a firm line, as if even her tail had stopped wagging.

In the scene, as the Sword of Light fell, a huge number of Church knights who took the hit head-on were vaporized on the spot. Even those who were merely grazed at the edge, blood that splashed out would turn into white mist in the blink of an eye.

Mages who stood a bit farther away, using to cast in sync to keep a single spell node stable, suffered backlash when the field magic shattered. One after another they spat blood as if electrocuted, losing all combat capability.

In battle, as the frontline commander and the finest combat power beneath Arcanist mages, Lyra could discard any kindness she shouldn’t have. With the highest priority being the survival rate of her own soldiers, she will cut down every enemy before her without hesitation.

But when the battle ended, when she stepped away from the edge of life and death, and finally had to face the lives slipping away along her sword tip, especially when she clearly understood that someone else was responsible for this tragedy, and these people were merely brainwashed numbers sacrificed, an especially palpable helplessness rose within her, tangled from indignation and sorrow.

The interests of noble lords were bought with the blood of the young.

She truly didn’t like war at all, nor the filth hidden behind it.

Biting her lip with pearly teeth, Lyra, who had been leaning back, long snowy legs able to sway naturally underneath the chair like some white-stockinged loli, straightened those legs again.

At her ear came the fine, faint scratch of a quill tip against parchment. Lyra forced herself to gather her emotions, turning to Astrid at her side with as little danger as possible.

The empire’s succubus, silver hair and red eyes, rested her left cheek in her palm, gaze lowered. Her other flawless white hand holds a slender quill, quietly writing across the page.

The orange-yellow lamplight fell on the woman’s breathtaking cheek, illuminating the gossamer-thin lashes of the empire’s number-one beauty, the jewel-like crimson eyes, and the waterfall of silver hair spilling across the black skirt.

Without any words or expression at all, merely maintaining that focused concentration while writing was enough to seize Lyra’s attention completely.

"..."

No matter how many times it happened, when faced with Astrid submerged in concentration, Lyra had only one feeling.

’She’s really, really beautiful. I like her so much.’

The emotions in her blue eyes gradually shifted from the earlier complexity into pure gentleness. Lyra propped her face in both hands, elbows quietly resting on the table. The legs planted on the floor extended slightly as well, pressing against the wall behind the desk the way Astrid had earlier.

And it was exactly because of that unconscious motion that Astrid felt a soft touch against her legs. Her train of thought was cut off; her gaze shifted, and she immediately saw the girl’s feet in white stockings.

Lyra, who’d been watching Astrid all along, didn’t notice the warmth and softness coming from below. She only noticed Astrid’s gaze move, then realized she’d bumped into her, letting out a quiet "Eh."

"What is it, Lyra?" Astrid asked, placing the quill that was running out of ink into a crystal bottle, then turning her head.

Lyra pursed her lips and answered softly,

"Ah... nothing..."

"...I just bumped you by accident."

"Did I interrupt Astrid’s thinking?"

A powerful Arcanist had long since mastered exquisite control over every part of her body, but that depends on circumstances, and on whether she was paying attention. In such a cozy atmosphere, Lyra had been too busy watching Astrid write. She hadn’t split any focus to monitor her movements under the table, so she didn’t even feel her foot touch Astrid.

Hearing Lyra’s words, Astrid blinked a few times and shook her head, indicating no, then asked,

"Is the footage trimmed?"

"Foot... footage?"

"Mm. The stuff inside the crystal."

Form-wise, calling it a filmed documentary from a past life wouldn’t be wrong.

Lyra lowered her eyes to the crystal stone set by her arm. She ended the cute, girlish pose of holding her face and spacing out, and answered gently,

"It’s basically all trimmed."

The parts Astrid wanted emphasized had all been highlighted.

"Do you want to watch it?"

"Let’s take a look. I still have more than half to write, maybe it’ll spark some inspiration."

Writing dryly like this was indeed a bit dull. Proper sourcing will help stir emotions in the speech.

Lyra projects the scene from within the crystal outward. The two of them set aside everything else for the moment, seriously watching the old events re-enacted in the air, reconstructed from light-element particles and arcane factors arranged and combined.

"Nice trimming, Director Lyra."

"...What’s a ’director’?"

"Something like the mastermind behind the scenes, compiling the play and organizing the people."

Come to think of it, the Valeria Empire, overall in the late Middle Ages, barely touching the early Renaissance, really didn’t have much in the way of proper theater. At most, court performances were song-and-dance and ornamental magic. Watching that all the time did feel like something was missing.

When things were a bit more peaceful, and she was more or less retired, she could appropriately push and encourage cultural creations in that direction. Let the empire not fall behind in culture, even as magical technology advanced.

Seeing Lyra still seemed half-understanding, Astrid explained a little more: taking the plot of a bard’s tale and recreating it through real people performing it, presenting it on stage to an audience.

"Maybe in a few years, those deeds of yours that are circulating in bards’ mouths will get adapted into plays too."

If she had the chance, Astrid wanted to personally take charge.

Hearing her lover speak, Lyra blinked. She suddenly remembered that when she returned home, around the towns near Morin Village, she’d heard quite a few so-called "The Rise of the Honor Knight."

She couldn’t say they fully matched reality, but at least most of the plot had some basis. Only a small portion was a bit outrageous, calling down heavenly fire, stunning the entire hall the moment she appeared... overly exaggerated.

Fortunately, that wasn’t the point right now. Astrid was merely mentioning future possibilities. Seeing how Lyra was getting embarrassed by the end, so much that her delicate ankles under the table were practically tangling into a fight, Astrid smoothly brought the topic back to reality at the right time.

"No problem. We’ll use this when the time comes," Astrid said.

That counts as one task completed. She will add more to the manuscript based on this edited footage, focusing on her little knight.

Lyra nodded slightly. Hesitating for a moment, she still asked whether Astrid wanted to cut a little more, such as the segment where the Church’s knightly order suffered heavy casualties.

Astrid’s answer was concise and decisive.

"No need, Lyra."

"Only a blood-soaked reality can make them see the truth clearly, and remember this sinful history of invasion."

See clearly what they paid for a wrong faith... and who truly caused this tragedy.

After hearing Astrid, Lyra’s gaze sank a little. But she understood Astrid was right, and replied in a low, gentle voice,

"Okay. Then I’ll use this."

With that, Lyra asked how Astrid’s writing was going. Astrid directly handed over the half-written draft.

"Here. Lyra can read it herself."

Taking what Astrid handed her, Lyra lowered her eyes and flipped through it carefully.

"..."

Five minutes later, having finished reading in earnest, Lyra had only one feeling.

"...Is this really me?"

From start to finish it was nothing but praise and a retelling, almost a hymnal chanting, of the empire’s bulwark and glorious deeds. Compared with certain bards’ misinformed adaptations, it was not inferior in flattery in the slightest, rather, it surpassed them.

"Of course, Lyra."

Astrid’s lips curved faintly. Her nimble, slender fingers gently twirled the quill as she spoke in a soft, low voice.

"Those choir people aren’t very objective. What Lyra actually did was far more impressive than what they said."

When it came to raising Lyra, those people could step aside a little and let the imperial regent do it themselves.

After all, Astrid was practically someone who’d witnessed Lyra’s entire rise with her own eyes. Not to mention, she’d also come to know her intimately, inside and out, head to toe. Add a bit of personal feeling, and no one would be able to tell.

"???"

I-is that so? Is that really right?

No matter how she looked at it, Astrid was injecting far too much personal bias, praising her lover as if she were destiny’s darling, just short of writing that she was a once-in-ten-thousand-years incarnation of light, a flawless pure existence that rivaled the sun.

After finishing the fragment, Lyra’s ears warmed. The hand on the tabletop clenched, then loosened again, and for a moment she fell silent.

But... according to Astrid, this was outward-facing propaganda material. Exaggerating the wording a little was normal, right?