Far away from the frontlines, Avalon was just as before, lively and filled with people walking its streets. Before the cafés, they were sitting, sipping coffee or tea, enjoying the warm day while reading the latest news, unlike anywhere else on the continent, except maybe in Atuiva. In the two kingdoms, the papers constantly kept the population updated about the state of their crusade. Still... It was a shock to read about the fight against the monster, dubbed the Guardian, and learning about the brutality of the frontlines. Especially because the papers also included the printed image of its form, taken and redrawn from a slice of an image recorded by Camelot's Imaginary.

The city celebrated and mourned simultaneously as a new monument began to be erected at the entrance to Avalon's main gate, honoring the names of all the fallen Avalonian warriors. It was constantly visited, not just by the locals, but also by the arriving soldiers. Since the monster's defeat, Leon's policy of rotating troops home for a week at a time ensured that the city always had veterans returning from the front to rest before being transferred to their new assignments.

Among them was Lancelot, who got shipped back home just a day before, with the strict order to rest, and he obeyed in the same way one might abide by a jailer... Actually... He had someone acting like his supervisor, as Jila was coming with him, attached to his arms like cuffs.

"Stop sulking," Jila announced her arrival as she leaned against his doorway, watching Lancelot being stuck in his room. "We won't be missed and we won't miss anything either! Plus, our machines are still undergoing repairs."

To Lancelot's surprise, she wasn't in her uniform; instead, she wore a simple summer dress of bright green, which reached down to her knees. Her hair was loose, falling to her bare shoulders, and it was the first time he had seen her wear such girly clothes... except for the swimsuit she had put on once, but that was different.

"I am not sulking," Lancelot replied stiffly, finally moving her eyes up to her face.

"You're sulking," she repeated, grinning, not missing how he reacted while stepping into the room. Her bare feet made no sound against the floor as she hopped before him, and tiptoeing, she jabbed a finger into his chest. "And I'm not wasting a week of leave watching you mope! Come on. Date. Now!"

"Wha...?" He blinked his eyes because he wasn't planning on doing anything. That was the issue. Until now, Jila was also forcing him to rest and move as little as possible... what now? Walk? A whole day? Was his prison sentence finally over? "Date?" He asked.

"Yes," she declared, grabbing his wrist as if the matter were settled then and there, "You're mine, I'm yours, and Avalon is pretty today. We're going on a proper date. Questions?"

"A lot." He murmured as she began pulling on him.

Of course, Lancelot had planned to court her properly. Just... everything became a mix of nonsense with the war and all. Before that, he had thought of flowers, of long walks, some gentle words to show respect. A proper date... like the one he read about in books. Not the ones that Luna was writing, but... others. Yet, it seemed that Jila's plan was different, as after they got out of the palace, it involved dragging him through the marketplace before he could even lace his boots. Were they buying anything? Not really, yet he would be willing to spend money. Whereas Jila was the opposite, as seemingly, she was just browsing, holding his hand, and walking with him. It was... Weird, but not at the same time. Lancelot had already grown accustomed to not even asking if he should buy it for her after getting shot down four times in a row, as she would just shake her head. Yet, just as he stopped asking if she wanted it, Jila did purchase something... Food. Before opening his mouth, she was thrusting a skewer of roasted meat into his hands with a satisfied grin.

"Eat," she ordered. "It looks yummy!"

And it was... so he ate it, obeying by reflex.

So, this was... a date. It was his first date, and likely the first for Jila as well. He tried to recall what his father had told him about such things, but nothing came to mind. For a moment, he wanted Galahad's perfect memory... How was he doing it with Fila? Wait... did he ever take the Princess on a date? He didn't think so... As he thought about it, he suddenly felt a pull on his arm, and when he looked towards Jila, he automatically leaned into her pull... A 'mistake,' because he got a kiss on his lips from nowhere. It wasn't just a kiss, as Jila also stuck her tongue out, invading his mouth before letting go, grinning up at him.

"Nyahaha! Better? Don't think... just enjoy it, dummy!" She winked at him, throwing her empty skewer into the nearby trash can as they kept walking, Lancelot's face looking like a ripe tomato.

Yet... nobody really cared. Looking around, the people were used to something like this, even if it was their Sovereign's own son who did it. Kissing on the streets was nothing new... Nothing to be looked down upon or anything like that. Not that Lancelot was embarrassed about that part... that much.

"Am I really my mom's son?" He suddenly asked himself, sighing and smiling at the same time, knowing how Yuri is yet how he is acting right now.

"Hm? What was it?" Jila asked, looking at him innocently.

"Nothing."

"Suspicious..." She squinted but then just giggled and kept dragging him around, wherever she found something interesting to go and investigate.

Not that much later, at a fountain, she sat boldly on his lap as they took a little rest from all that walking, her arms looped around his neck. But, this time around... Lancelot didn't flinch, nor did he feel embarrassed. Not even when she rubbed her cheek against his with a purr of satisfaction, utterly unconcerned with the passerbys.

"You're heavy," he muttered.

"No, I'm not!" she pouted, "Hmph! You could lift me with one hand!" she added while pressing another kiss against his lip, "Try it... reach between my legs and lift me up!" she whispered into his ears.

This time around, Lancelot refused to be stumped by her teasing, so he returned it and moved his hands down to her waist, which was immediately welcomed by Jila, increasing the vehemence behind her kiss. It was one of the longest kisses they ever had, and after their lips parted, connected by a bridge of saliva, they just watched each other's eyes, saying nothing for a long moment.

"Jila," Lancelot finally spoke up, trying to put some sternness in his voice, "You know that if we..."

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"Just kiss me again." She whispered, and finally, her face also showed a good amount of redness.

"I am trying to speak seriously—"

She cut him off with another wild kiss. Whatever Lancelot was trying to say, Jila was telling him that she had already agreed to it a long time ago. She did not want to go through anything Lancelot was planning, at all... She wanted immediacy... And she wanted him, now, without ceremony or trying to dance around each other. She found that part a waste of time and... to be fake. What they were doing now was much more real and much more direct. It made both of them feel what the other was thinking without any masquerade. And it seemed... that finally Lancelot got the message because his hands eventually wandered down to her bottom as they kissed.

After that, there was no stopping.

They kissed against the bench, then in the shadow of a wine shop, leaning against a stone wall... Wherever they could get away with it. It was getting out of control as neither of them wanted to stop, and to keep... dating. Her fingers were constantly tangled in his hair, asking him to hold her and pick her up while kissing, enjoying letting control fall into Lancelot's hands as he became more and more assertive as time went on. By the time they reached an inn, knowing that they were both too fired up, so much so that they had given up pretending to make it home.

The innkeeper barely glanced up as they tumbled through the door, cheeks flushed, hands still holding onto each other. He had seen dozens of couples arrive like that, soldiers on leave who had decided home could wait one more night... Business was booming, and at first, he didn't even realise it was the Sovereign's son who came to his establishment. Only after a key clattered on the counter, and as he watched them hurry to the stairs, did it click for him.

"Whoa..." The middle-aged man watched them disappear, realization hitting him, "I should rename their room as the Princely Affair... That would double its price..."

He wasn't wrong... Because in the guest room's dim light, there was nothing to hold back anymore. For neither of them. While Jila was undressing him expertly, with enough experience in her fingers while taking care of him, Lancelot just had to pull off the dress from her body.

"Wait... You wore... nothing under it?"

"Why would I?" Jila chukled, letting him eye her naked body.

"..." Watching her sharp, athletic tone reflected on her tummy, standing before the bed, he was left speechless... For multiple reasons.

"Nice." Jila added, watching his honest reaction, pointing at his crotch, "That won't be easy to fit into me, but... Just jam it in, okay? Down to its base, no pussying out, soldier!"

"I didn't plan to stop..." Lancelot muttered, watching her sit down on the edge of the bed with her legs open, inviting him in.

"No need to be gentle..." She grinned, eyeing him as he walked up to her and soon leaned over her, brushing against her flaming, hot body, while he could hear her rapid heartbeat, "I can take it. I can take you... so... don't stop, okay?"

"I won't..." Lancelot whispered, kissing her, muting her voice while he made sure Jila would indeed be his... just as she wished for.

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

While Lancelot and Jila were having their moment, far from Avalon, a train hissed as it rolled into the station at Aldrim, the main city of the Goldlight Guild within the reborn Atuvia. Rashira, choosing to return from the front on her week of leave, decided to ride the railway from Horringar to here, wanting to see the world from the ground. Stepping down onto the platform, she felt a bit sore after traveling for days... but it was an experience she would not exchange for anything else. From down there, watching the desolate and empty world was much different than flying over it. There was a lot that needed to be done... and a lot of generations to come if they wanted to repopulate the now-empty swath of countryside. As she began walking, following the instructions in her letter, she listened as shouts from merchants competed with the rhythmic clatter of workers hauling crates onto empty railway carts on a secondary and tertiary line, preparing to head out towards the Third Pass. Just as she turned to her other side, the shrill whistle of a different train echoed across the city, coming in, blowing white smoke from its front, pulling in passenger carts from the direction of Ishillia.

Rashira paused a moment, scanning the massive, constantly expanding city. She had walked enough times in Avalon to get used to its design, but Aldrim was something else entirely. Where Avalon had the look of discipline, deliberate order, and foresight as it was built, Aldrim was the definition of chaos, expanding with new streets as needed. A true... organic hub, as merchants were haggling at every corner, runners sprinting between stalls, wagons creaking with heavy cargo beside steaming trains coming and going at every minute.

There was a constant rush...

And the more she looked, the more she realized that Avalon's fingerprints were everywhere in the city. From the clothes people wore, from the buildings being reconstructed to match those in Avalon, or the industry, working in overdrive to produce Avalonian machines... The noise, the endless buzz of trade and industry... She was glad Avalon was not as hectic as this city. She wouldn't be able to endure this kind of... madness.

But her thoughts were cut short as she finally saw the figure who had sent her the response letter, indicating where to meet. It was Tarsine. She was dressed in a flowing ensemble of her own design, her newest creation: a layered dress with a rich, indigo-colored outer layer trimmed with silver inside, cut to flatter but practical enough to walk without obstruction. She stood out from everyone else... Like a walking advertisement.

"Eldest sister," Tarsine said warmly, stepping forward and hugging her with a smile. Watching from up close, Rashira could tell that her hands bore faint marks of scissors and pins, which was a surprise as Tarsine rarely did any work by herself... It seems Avalon changed her more than she thought. "You came faster than I expected."

"Luckily, we weren't attacked by beasts," Rashira replied, letting her go from the hug. "How can you stand this city?"

"It's not that bad, and I will travel to many more places in the future," Tarsine answered with a smile while she gestured toward the bustling street beyond. "Come! Chairman Alvor and his son have already met with me this morning and managed to strike a deal. I'll tell you as we walk."

"A deal?" Rashira asked as they walked, "Huh... Sis, you look… different."

"Probably," Her sister laughed lightly. "I am different... Yes. I think it is the result of my eyes being opened after traveling and learning from actual people and not from books."

"The frustrating thing is," Rashira grunted, "you are right. I am still weirded out by how they are listening to us on this side of the world..."

"They don't just listen," Tarsine said, her eyes bright, watching the streets as they walked, "They ask for your opinions. Chairman Alvor himself wants my designs to be licensed. He says fashion can travel as quickly as the trains if you market it right. He's giving me contracts, Rashira. My dresses will be on the very trains they're sending toward Horringar and beyond. Wherever Avalon or Atuvia goes. Their workers will wear my uniforms and they will sell my clothes..."

"You have really changed..." Rashira muttered, making Tarsine nod, reinforcing both of their realization.

"You should too, Rashira." She muttered, "With everything that is happening at home... Perhaps it's time to realize Khulman is no longer for us."

"Maybe... I just don't know." She shrugged, following Tarsine into a four-story building, up to the top floor where Tarsine's rented room was, overlooking the city. Walking onto its balcony, Rashira could see the multiple, almost dozens of railways heading outwards in all directions at the edge of the city. They were not just going towards the East. But towards... everywhere. It was... incomprehensible.

"Would you believe that this city was nothing like this when we were born?" Tarsine asked, walking up to her sister.

"No..."

"Me neither." She chuckled, "But it's true. Yet... look at it now. I don't know what you are thinking, Sis... But I can see Avalon's influence everywhere. And honestly? It's a good influence. Or it brainwashed me. No matter... I like it. Jila likes it and Seltana, too. Meyli? She has never been this open before. I think I will follow suit... And become an Avalonian citizen."

"I guessed as much..." Rashira smiled, looking at her sister, "Maybe we all should. I just don't know what to do after. I never thought about it really."

"Whatever you want to do." Tarsine hugged her sister's shoulder, looking out towards the West, "That is the beauty of Avalon..."

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