Story:

Kicho stared, fan forgotten in her lap.

Stunning, she thought, her appraiser's eye working frantically. But different. Different from any Yamato woman I have ever seen. The cheekbones, the silver—like a sword drawn from a winter lake. Not our beauty at all, and yet...

She caught herself mid-catalogue and glanced sideways to check whether Nobu-kun was staring—which he was, but in the abstract, aesthetic way of a man admiring a particularly well-forged blade, and she decided, after a moment of judicial review, that this was admissible.

"Wen Xia is my good friend from the years I traveled and studied in the Ming Kingdom," Michiru-sama supplied, radiantly, carrying the conversational weight of two people with practiced ease.

"She is the finest sword I have ever seen drawn—and the most loyal friend this crown has ever held. She leads the Sword Guild Clear Stream, whose blades have protected the trade roads of the Ming for generations."

Wen Xia gave a small, cool nod that acknowledged the introduction without encouraging elaboration, and took a deliberate, unhurried sip of sake.

Her eyes said clearly, to anyone fluent in silence: I do not social. My liege does the talking. I do the sharp parts.

Michiru-sama merely smiled, a victorious look of getting back the focus of attention.

And across the table, Violet watched the entire maneuver with the dawning awe of a fellow professional: This Tenno is the finest hostess-politician I have ever shared a table with.

The warmth of the marvel curdled, almost immediately, into wifely dread.

"...Which means," Euphy thought, eyes drifting to her sister, pink silk and fraying composure, that if Tenno is actually serious about competing for our Nobu-kun—

then my poor little sister is walking into a duel of love with the finest political duelist in the realm, and I may need to intervene. For her heart's sake.

Or at least, Euphy thought, sipping her sake with the serenity of a queen and the vigilance of a big sister, to make sure the duel stays interesting.