The Backbone of the Kingdom

A slight curve appeared on Leon’s mouth - no kindness there, no gentle glow... just understanding.

"This kingdom," Leon said slowly, his voice calm but carrying weight, "is where you grew up. You’ve seen it breathe. You’ve watched it move when no one else cared to look."

A breath shifted between them when he moved nearer, gaze steady on her. Not like royalty speaking down, yet like one soul judging another’s weight.

"You notice things," he continued. "Routes. Supply. Flow. The invisible threads that keep everything alive."

Foots shifting beneath her, arms folding - no guard up, simply steady. At ease inside the quiet of herself.

"Someone has to notice," she said, her tone edged with quiet pride. "When things don’t arrive on time. When numbers don’t add up. When people start making excuses."

Some of the women standing there looked at each other. Behind her, a couple shared quiet expressions.

Syra tilted her head, a playful grin forming. "That explains why she always knew when the kitchen was short on supplies before anyone else."

Kyra gave a small nod, more serious. "Or when shipments were delayed during winter. She flagged it before the officials even reacted."

Natasha didn’t look back at them, but the corner of her lips twitched. She’d heard.

Leon noticed that too.

Good, he thought.

He gave a slow, approving nod.

"You will oversee logistics."

The words landed with weight. Not a suggestion. Not a test. A decision.

"Supply chains. Resource movement. Trade routes. Internal distribution."

Each phrase came sharper than the last, like stones being set into place.

Johny let out a low whistle, unable to hold it in.

"That’s... not a role. That’s an entire kingdom’s backbone."

Rui muttered under her breath, eyes wide, "If she messes that up, everything collapses..."

Lilyn shot her a quick look. "She won’t."

Natasha exhaled softly, then smirked—slow, confident, almost dangerous.

"Good."

Not hesitation. Not fear.

Acceptance.

Leon’s gaze sharpened at that response. He stepped even closer now, close enough that the air between them felt heavier.

"This isn’t about comfort," he said quietly, but every word carried steel. "If the army starves, we fall."

He didn’t break eye contact.

"If cities lack resources, we fall."

The room had gone completely silent now.

"If trade breaks..." His voice dropped just a fraction. "...we fall."

The weight of it pressed into everyone present.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

Natasha didn’t look away.

She held his gaze—steady, unshaken, her eyes clear, almost burning with something deeper than confidence.

Responsibility.

Challenge.

Promise.

The air between them tightened, not with tension—but with understanding. The kind that didn’t need to be spoken aloud, yet demanded to be acknowledged.

"Then we won’t fall."

For a brief second, silence lingered.

Then—Leon smiled.

Not wide. Not arrogant.

Just... real.

It softened the sharp edges of his presence, like a blade catching light instead of blood. There was pride in it. Approval. And something quieter beneath—relief, maybe, or trust finally taking root.

"My sharp wife..." he said softly, nearly under his breath.

A small smile touched Natasha’s mouth, yet her body stayed still. Her position tightened instead, his voice fitting around her like something solid.

A couple people looked at each other after she walked past.

A sudden tilt brought Rias closer to Aria, mischief flickering in her red gaze. Noticing it, she let a slow smile form - his attention had clearly landed somewhere specific

Aria smirked, folding her arms. "Or maybe she just earned it."

Mia stayed silent, though her hands pulled at the fabric of her dress, eyes jumping from Leon to Natasha - still, watchful.

Softly, Leon let out a breath. His gaze moved next.

Across the row of women they walked, slow, never reckless. One by one caught his eye, weighed in silence, till he stopped at her.

Tsubaki.

A spill of dark hair ran down her spine, pulled tight behind. Not a curve broke the line of her stance - still, rooted, quiet. Fabric held close to her frame, suggesting something firm underneath, while she stood without noise or need. Attention came anyway.

That wasn’t necessary for her.

"Tsubaki."

Black hair, long and neatly tied, fell like ink down her back. Her posture was flawless—straight, grounded, unwavering. The fabric of her uniform clung just enough to hint at strength beneath it, her presence calm yet commanding. She didn’t try to stand out.

She didn’t need to.

"Tsubaki."

She stepped forward with perfect posture.

Every movement precise.

Controlled.

"Yes, my king."

Her voice was steady, low, and disciplined—like a blade drawn cleanly from its sheath.

Leon studied her for a moment longer than the others.

"You carry discipline like armor," he said.

A pause.

She didn’t respond immediately.

Not out of hesitation—but because she chose her silence carefully.

Her eyes met his, unwavering. Accepting the observation, but not needing to affirm it.

Behind them, Black let out a quiet breath. "That’s putting it lightly..."

Syra nudged Kyra with a grin. "She probably sleeps standing straight like that."

Kyra didn’t smile, but her eyes softened. "That’s why she’s trusted."

Leon continued, his voice steady but firm.

"You will oversee the knight order."

A subtle shift rippled through the group.

"The training of elite soldiers."

Now even the quiet ones were paying full attention.

"The code that binds them."

Black’s expression shifted slightly.

Respect.

"That’s not a small role," he muttered.

Leon nodded.

"It’s not meant to be."

His gaze returned to Tsubaki, sharper now.

"You will ensure that strength is not just power... but honor."

For the first time, something moved in her expression.

Not surprise.

Not doubt.

Just... weight.

Understanding the responsibility. Accepting it without flinching.

Tsubaki bowed her head slightly.

Not submissive.

Not hesitant.

Just acknowledgment.

"Then I will ensure no blade under this kingdom loses its purpose."

A quiet weight settled over the hall after her words—something steady, unshakable. It wasn’t just a promise. It felt like a line drawn in steel.

Leon watched her for a moment... then a faint smile touched his lips. Not loud. Not proud. Just... approval.

"You always were precise," he said calmly.

Tsubaki didn’t lift her head immediately, but the slightest shift in her shoulders betrayed it—she had heard him, and it mattered.

From the side, Syra let out a soft whistle under her breath.

"Scary... in a good way," she muttered, crossing her arms with a grin.

Kyra, standing beside her, gave a small nod. "That’s what discipline looks like."

Rias smirked faintly, crimson eyes flicking between Leon and Tsubaki. "You’re collecting monsters one by one, Leon."

"Not monsters," Cynthia corrected quietly, her tone smooth and composed. "Weapons with purpose."

Leon didn’t respond to them. His attention had already shifted.

His gaze softened slightly.

"Mia."

"Cassidy."

The mother and daughter stepped forward together.

There was a noticeable difference in their steps—slower, more uncertain. Not out of weakness... but because what stood before them wasn’t just a man.

It was a king.

But still... they didn’t step back.

Mia’s fingers brushed lightly against Cassidy’s for just a second before she spoke.

"Yes... Love," Mia said softly.