"Now, now, we can save the competitivity for the morning. For the time being, it'd be best that you both see to a restful night, given what's to come. If it suits your taste, there's a guests' quarters not far from the pinnacle that you could use, although you'd be sharing the room. Fret not, though; there are separate beds."

"Tch, right, as if I'd go topsy-turvy over getting up-close and personal with this nut." Lyric yawned and waved her hand, conjuring a grumble from Kyoya and a cackle from Alexandria.

Though, sincerity soon found its way back to her. "But, hey. Thanks again, Altar, Alex. I know I can be a little tough, but we'll get through all this without a hitch, I promise. Kyoya, I'll meet you at our quarters—just come through this when you're done here."

As though flipping a coin, she tossed a small, shiny disc ahead of her, which projected some kind of static field into the air above it. She merely walked into it and disappeared in a shower of sparks.

Alexandria walked to the Miscreant's side, followed by her father.

"That would be Miss Lyric Seraphim, the current holder of the millennia-old Virtue of Hope. Can't you see the resemblance?"

"You'd have to spell it out for me; I can't see it at all."

Altar soon chimed in.

"I actually said the same thing, until she held her own against, and befriended Miss Ryder. Although Miss Seraphim is certainly not someone to scoff at, her partner-in-crime is arguably even more of a character, both on and off the battleground... And that's saying something."

"They really are something to see; no surprises there... but I guess I'm due for some downtime, myself—not that it hasn't been fun. I'll see you in the morning?" Kyoya started towards the electric portal, giving a glance back to the King.

"Of course, friend. Please do rest well."

With that, the Miscreant took his leave via the gate Lyric left for him. Walking through it left his hair up on end for what felt like an eternity, but he finally got it to settle after a generous application of patting down.

As somewhat expected, he ended up in their quarters.

It was quaint, if not a bit small for two, but it was a guest room, after all. It had a similar scheme of velvet, ivory, and gold like that of the pinnacle, with even more of the supple carpet letting each step leave tender footprints behind him.

The only furniture their space allowed was a single dresser that lay under a window parallel to the door. Furthermore, a nightstand separated two beds on the opposite wall of a dressing room's and restroom's entrances. The beds were about twin-sized and completely white, absent of any flashy elements beyond frilled sheets and fluffed blankets and pillows.

Lyric was already on the one she must have claimed as her own, a set of teal and grey pajamas on the floor between the two palettes. She'd taken off her running shoes and placed them down with the sleepwear.

The Seraph also had a pair of metal greaves with her extra clothes, this pair being fashioned from a stormy gray alloy with off-black serving as the joints' and highlights' hue. It looked like it could reach up to at least her knee, so there was intent for defense over flair.

She was reading a book with a tattered cover until she noticed his arrival.

"Oh, hey. Took ya long enough."

"Long enough? I wasn't even five minutes behind you."

"Slow by my book, newbie. You can take the washroom first, if you want. I've still got a bit of bookworm-ing to do... Just take some spare wraps in with you so you're not walking out in nothing but a towel."

She made a gesture to a set of clothes laid in front of the bathroom door. "Altar was really excited to have a chance to knit something for a guy for once, so you've got some wiggle room, courtesy of the King."

That rang differently than he was used to. A great king of an even greater kingdom who was actually an avid fan of knitting.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"Everybody needs a hobby," he thought. "How's anybody supposed to stay sane without 'em?"

He blinked in disbelief at the sight of the clothes. The top was a mid-sleeved, dark gray cloth coat sporting azure trims and highlights, opening fairly wide from the neck-line down. It was studded with blue and white fur at the left collar and both sleeves, as well as small metal bolts resting in the edges of the collar.

The bottom was similar to his own, ivory in color, with silvery circle designs travelling down the sides of the legs. It also appeared to fit somewhat looser: a gift in disguise with how much mobility he'd seen in only a single day.

Also included was a pair of gray and blue fingerless gloves: something he'd always wanted to buy, but never had the means. Next to those, a pair of greaves of his own stood. They were an identical dark-steel hue to his new top, with sleek and streamlined metal framework.

They, too, were roughly knee-high, and looked to be intended to wear alongside the knew pants he'd been made. Three vertical lines of rugged, two-inch spikes, each line a half inch from the other, extended from the lower shin to the knee. Finally, at the foot, three-clawed toes finished to a fine point for what he could already feel to be an exceptional boost to kicking damage.

Even without having tried any of all this on, he could already tell that this collection would be a contender for the most expensive items he'd ever touched.

But, after thinking of all the things he could do with this new getup, it wasn't until then that he remembered something considerably more serious than a King's affinity for the art of thread and needle.

He'd completely forgotten his backpack at the highlands.

His realization was cut short when Lyric seemed to pick up on the newly adopted rigidity about him. "Everything okay? You look like you just saw a ghost."

"All good over here! Just wrapping my head around the clothes," he lied, quickly finding some way to flip the topic. "Are you sure you don't want the bathroom first? I don't really have anything else to be—"

Lyric's eyes slowly narrowed and rose from her book.

"You calling me dirty?"

Kyoya's mouth opened in brief to reply, but closed after realizing that if this was what would come from making a genuine offer, there wasn't any reason to spare his jabs from that point.

"No, you said that. I was trying to be a decent roommate."

"I- wait, that's cheating! You can't just-—" She groaned and sat all the way up, apparently annoyed enough to put away her book and give him her full attention. "It's no fun when you hardly ever jump at me, y'know. Being so chilled all the time throws me off. Unfair."

"...Unfair?" The Miscreant drew a blank. There was a part of him that wanted to prod, but developing some sort of restraint would probably prove to be a more reliable plan of action. "Right... I'll get my licks in, eventually? I just gotta get used to this whole thing."

His response didn't seem to fix anything.

"That's what I mean!" She exaggerated a sigh again, falling flat on her back with outstretched arms. "How come you always comply without any convincing? You're so willing to take whatever I have to say as word and just be fine with it... What's with that?"

Finding a suitable reply took a bit, but even that was sooner than he'd thought.

"I told you already, dude: I've got intuition like nobody's ever seen. Believe me, I have some idea of how you feel. I might not know the thick of whatever it is that we're getting tossed into, but I at least know that being difficult isn't gonna make figuring that out any easier for you..."

The boy trailed off, still not quite content with his answer. "...But if it's really, really that important to you, I'll commit more to it. How's that sound?"

Lyric sat back up, heaving a breath with it.

"Honestly, it might be for the best that you take the bulk of that as banter, then. Looking back at it, I don't think I need any sort of interactions like that, at least not from you... They just keep me competitive, is all. No biggie."

Kyoya mingled with that thought for a spell. She was competitive, no doubt, but far from arrogant—at least not outwardly. Something about that made him curious.

"You're really set on this competitivity complex, huh? What's that about?" He walked to the other side of the room and sat at the foot of his bed, taking off his shoes.

"Don't bother, it's dumb. I'd only be boring you—"

"Not a chance."

Even more slowly than before, and with a tinge of hesitance, Lyric's eyes fell upon him.

"You got to workin' on that pretty quick, huh?"

"What can I say? I take pride in keeping my word."

"Well, in that case..." Lyric twirled a bit of hair on her right index before shooting a glance to the undoubtedly closed door. "I probably owe you another earful, huh?"

An aloof Miscreant placed a finger on his chin, giving a sly look of his own.

"I mean... I'm not saying you have to take it as law, but I've always heard that it's bad manners to leave your dues unpaid."

"Alright, you win..." The Seraph's stare wandered away for a moment. "That's a little more my style, Blue. I'll call that even enough for another lecture... But that means our tie gets bumped to three-two, my favor. How's that sound?"

"You've got a deal. I'm all ears."