When the plot-skips players into the game world

Today's White Ballet Shoes Club had a slightly different layout than usual.

All tables on the first floor had been pushed to the corners, and the counter where Arlen and the bartender usually stood was empty. The chairs were arranged into three groups, neatly lined up in front of and to the left and right sides of the stage.

Several groups of journalists gathered in small clusters in the gaps between the sets of chairs, whispering among themselves, with several flash lamps standing by. The largest camera, almost as tall as a person and resembling a giant accordion, stood on the ground; there were also smaller cameras mounted on tripods that could be held in the hand.

There were not many guests seated at the moment, and sitting in the most central spot in the front row was a fully armored knight, helmet included. No one was sitting beside him; the circle of chairs around him remained empty. Nonetheless, he sat upright and motionless in his place.

The knight occupied two seats by himself. On the seat next to his right hand lay a two-handed, silver-white sword. Its handle was very long, constituting over a third of its length, with a long, narrow, but thick blade. The blade was not flat, but rather a thin hexagon—looking less like a "sword" and more like a lance with a sharpened edge.

This was a weapon that favored thrusting over slashing. Clearly unsuited for urban combat... it was one of the most commonly used weapons by the Sky Cavalry when mounted on Gryphons.

It rested in a thick leather scabbard, its surface plated with silver-grey, inlaid with numerous tiny diamonds that formed the cursive word "Honor" under the lights.

This was the "Sword of Honor," temporarily bestowed upon Sky Cavalry retirees who had participated in wars and achieved at least three major victories. The word "Honor" on the sword was personally designed and inscribed by Queen Sofia, the diamonds meticulously embedded one by one by the royal craftspeople.

This sword, granted by the Queen herself, encapsulated a potent force of authority. If its inheritor didn't become a member of the Sky Cavalry, the sword would be reclaimed after seventy years; if a descendant chose to join the military, they could directly enter the Avalon Royal Air Force Academy with this sword—signifying an honor passed down through generations.

Although his face was not visible from behind, the sword had already revealed the identity of the silver-armored knight. He was Director Gordon, who had just been transferred.

Under Aiwass's signal, Lily pushed Aiwass's wheelchair slowly over.

Aiwass merely watched Gordon from a distance—he hadn't even approached, and Gordon had already sensed his gaze and turned his head.

Upon recognizing that the look came from Aiwass, the old knight nodded slowly. It seemed to be a friendly gesture, yet also one of acknowledgment.

But he then immediately noticed Princess Isabel by Aiwass's side. The old knight promptly rose and removed his helmet, clanging to one knee on the ground.

"O Dragon of the Silver Crown, I pay my respects to you, your Highness," Gordon said in an old and deep voice that, despite the noise of the club, was distinctly clear.

Those who, due to the crowd and din, had not noticed Aiwass immediately were now drawn by Gordon's voice.

Realizing that Aiwass had arrived, the journalists instinctively wanted to take photographs.

But before they could get their cameras ready, they noticed Princess Isabel following close behind Aiwass and were startled.

Taking unauthorized photographs of Aiwass was nothing serious; although he was an adopted son of the Moriarty Family, he had not inherited the family armor.

In Avalon, armor itself was a symbol of authority—those in armor had to be respected, but even knights allowed into the Round Table Hall, if they went out without armor, meant they were traveling as civilians. They could be photographed or drawn, touched physically, greeted without formality, and didn't require people to make way for them.

But Isabel's case was different.

Although Isabel, who had forsaken the sacred traditions of Avalon to follow the Path of Beauty, was not as highly regarded as her brothers, she was still a true princess.

If they were caught snapping photos of Isabel, they probably wouldn't make it to tomorrow... Their doors might receive a knock tonight from a pair of white gloves in a black suit.

Those present either knelt and placed a hand on their chest in a knightly salute or bowed while touching their chests to Isabel. The greetings, while not in unison and each unique, sounded one after another.

If it had been in the past, Isabel would now be so nervous she'd freeze up.

But now, she simply took a deep breath, mustering courage.

Giving the crowd a gentle smile, mimicking Aiwass, she waved her hand gracefully, "Good afternoon, everyone. Please rise. May the Dragon of the Silver Crown bless you all."

"When the ceremony begins, you may take photographs," she said in her crisp, pleasant voice. With that, the salutes ended.

A somewhat strange thought popped into their minds.

Perhaps... the princess who seldom ventured out wasn't as shy and inarticulate as the legends suggested?

She was actually quite poised, wasn't she?

At that moment, Aiden, who had been sticking close behind Aiwass, ran forward under everyone's gaze and boldly took the chair away from Gordon's left-hand side.

Lily gracefully reversed Aiwass's wheelchair into the cleared space, and Isabel sat to Aiwass's left. This prevented those who had wanted to come over to schmooze from daring to take the seats.