INTERLUDE FOUR

Queen Elizard had finally arrived at the outskirts of London, but her horse was the one who had exhausted his stamina. After all, he had run the nearly fifty-kilometer distance entirely over an asphalt road he was unaccustomed to. For a horse, it had served excellently.

“I do apologize. I’ve been doing nothing but pushing you hard. If I’m able to regain my political authority, I’d want to make you the first decorated horse in the world,” said Elizard considerately.

Her hands held a bucket with water in it. They were on a plain, but a little farther ahead was a man-made pasture. She had gone there to pilfer the water from the stable’s supply.

In passing, the warhorse tried to point his head in the direction of London, as if to respond, What are you saying?! I can get there—I still have a lot left in me!! But even he wouldn’t last if she didn’t make him rest now. The queen decided to be a little more forceful with the reins. She pulled the horse’s head down and made him drink.

The horse was in a state of some excitement, but when the water passed down his throat, he came to realize how tired he was. He gave a low whinny, then folded up his four legs and sat down on the ground. In that position, he began to chew on the short undergrowth next to the asphalt.

…I truly am putting everyone through a lot of trouble.

It wasn’t just this horse. The queen thought of all those fighting in the United Kingdom and narrowed her eyes in slight amusement.

She glanced at the Curtana Second and thought, …I do feel like this would be faster if I put it on full power and rushed in, but I’d rather avoid doing that for too long.

Then…

“Ph-pheeew. As I thought, these things called warhorses are tiring if one is not accustomed to them.”

Coming in with the line that ruined the confidential mood was a blond woman whose hair reached down to her waist—Laura Stuart.

Elizard gave her a scornful look, the complete opposite of before, and said, “You’re too soft. You’re probably tiring him out more by not moving your body in time with the horse’s rhythm anyway.”

As if in response to her cutting tone, her horse stopped eating the grass and turned his head in Elizard’s direction. His gentle eyes seemed to be saying, Now, now. My job is to carry people and items, after all.

I swear. The horse looks far more competent than she does.

Then it happened.

Elizard heard a rough rustling noise.

When she pointed her sharp gaze toward it, she found a figure.

“Oh my. What a big appetite you have for a horse. Would you like one of these carrots?”

A mild voice belonging to a young woman struck Elizard’s ears. The queen, who had turned around with the nearly powerless Curtana Second in her hand, relaxed. “Limeia?”

“Yes, Mother. It is I, Limeia, the first princess.” The monocle-wearing royal, still holding orange carrots in one hand, grinned.

Elizard turned dubious upon seeing her daughter’s face. “What are you doing in a place like this?”

“Oh? Well, I was actually waiting for you, Mother. Based on what I’ve gleaned from the knights’ communications, and assuming you would head for London from the spot they lost track of you, I decided this route was the most probable one for you to pass through.”

“…What are you here for? Knowing you, we’re not about to shake hands and join forces. In fact, with the way you think, you’d want to beat me up, take the Curtana Second, then create a foothold for a strategy to attack Carissa.”

“Well, I had thought a bit about doing just that, but…Even though it’s lost most of its power, fighting the Curtana Second in a fair match seems painful to me. For the ‘brains,’ I’d like to play out my role a little more wisely, Mother.”

“…Very meaningful words and smiles coming from my daughter after dropping all sorts of incorrigible Soul Arms at her feet. Also, the wire coming from the bushes over there is a claymore mine, isn’t it? Civilian cars could be passing through here, so remove it.”

After Elizard offhandedly pointed it out, Limeia stuck out her tongue in jest, then pulled the wire strung across the road.

“And there we go. By the way, is it true that a horse’s favorite food is carrots?”

“…They’re vegetarians, so they’ll eat them. But they don’t particularly like them above everything else. His main diet consists of grass.”

“Oh. That ended up being quite similar to how goats don’t actually eat paper. I’m sorry.”

Limeia was about to pull the carrot away, but the warhorse stretched out his neck, seeming to say, But why? I’ll eat anything I can get, you know, and chomped down onto the orange vegetable.

“That’s a good boy.” Limeia smiled, petting the horse’s head.

Elizard gave a fed-up sort of expression. “You really do act honestly, even to those without influence or interests.”

“Of course I do, Mother. I am not about to place my trust in those who know who I am. I want to trust those who treat me kindly even when they don’t know I’m the first princess.”

“…I’ll admit that’s an important part of being a ruler, but…Confound it. Why must all my daughters be so extreme in one way or another? My eldest plots so much she has trust issues, my middle is so focused on fighting she gets everyone around her involved, and my youngest is too considerate of others to have any opinions of her own…” Elizard clawed at her bangs.

Limeia, on the receiving end, wore an unenergetic, thin smile on her lips. “Oh, how surprising. Are you in a position to lecture me? Is there no issue with the way you brought us up—with your hands-off, incredibly Spartan policy? Especially Vilian—if you had wanted to, you’d have been able to provide her a life where she wanted for nothing.”

“Rubbish. Not personally cultivating your own personality invites dependence. Especially for Vilian’s virtue. Twist it a little and she could become wholly reliant on others. Easy salvation is strictly forbidden. Looking at the long-term, the way I did things wasn’t wrong. Unlike the three of you, after all, I have my head screwed on correctly.”

“Oh. And who, pray tell, ten years ago when that crowd wanted to offer Vilian as bait to acquire South America, went in with her Curtana Second swinging, bowling over every single one of the self-serving politicians in the Royal Family faction?”

“D-don’t even go there. I only did what I had to as a parent.”

Elizard spoke out to deny it, but Laura, who was idling about nearby, said to herself, “…Well, that was a naïve thing to do.”

“That’s right, and in an extreme sense, Carissa has also set forth some quite extreme methods.”

“…Then you think Carissa’s aim is to expand the Curtana’s functionality, too?”

“Most likely.” Limeia nodded. “The Curtana Original, which applies the angelic leader Michael’s LIKENESS OF GOD to the head of state, only works within the United Kingdom. But if the Curtana’s effects could manifest even outside the country, the queen of England would turn into a man-made calamity trampling the whole of Europe—as an executor of a heavenly judgment decided by man, bringing forth on her own far more casualties than even a hydrogen bomb or the bubonic plague.”

“That sword is like a baton that controls the giant spell built into the geographical requirements of the four cultures that make up the United Kingdom. The knights will bring their full force to bear in the defense of the mainland, and in the meantime, Carissa with the Curtana will destroy Europe by herself…And she might just manage by doing that, too. After all, if she can fully unlock the Curtana Original’s powers, I’d bet none of humanity’s magic would even scratch her.”

If that really happened, then unless an actual angel or a magic god appeared, it would be very difficult to oppose Carissa.

“…But is that really the whole of it?” mused Limeia.

“What?”

“Edinburgh, in Scotland…New Light was acting as Carissa’s disposable limbs. I let some spies into their base of operations. Hu-hu. I can’t say anything until I know for sure—a clichéd line but one intellectuals are especially qualified to use, don’t you think?”

She used the word spy, but she wasn’t talking about the sorcerers under the British royal family’s employ or military operatives. Limeia especially disliked professionals and elites within such structures of authority. In all likelihood, the people working in Edinburgh whom she was referring to were her own comrades. Ones she’d built bonds with during her frequent escapades from the palace—but without wearing the face of the princess or using any of her authority.

That self-reliance, that independence to put in so much of her own effort is highest among the three sisters…If only a general distrust of people wasn’t at the root of it…Doesn’t exactly make me happy for my hands-off approach. Elizard sighed.

Then, she spotted Limeia giving her warhorse another carrot and eyed her dubiously. “Hey. Where in the world did you get that from?”

“Oh, you don’t know? The Puritans’ remaining forces were just gathered nearby and were having their last supper, too. It seems they left behind the devices and food they wouldn’t need for the battle with the intent of coming back for them if they won.”

“Wha—?”

“It’s fine. I made sure to have my pet taste test the leftover food and ingredients. There’s nothing here that would trouble anyone to eat, at least.”

Ch-ch-ch. The first princess made a soft noise with her tongue. It was the sign she used when calling over the small indoor dog she was always fawning over.

But even after giving the signal, there was no sign at all of her pet coming to her.

Confused, the first princess scanned her surroundings, and then saw a small cage, which was broken for some reason—and a calico and an indoor dog who had jumped out of it, now glaring at each other from very close range, rumbling and growling, as if to say, Who the hell are you?! and This is my nation’s territory!!

“Oh, oh, what a cute calico. I’ve always been interested in Asian varieties, but in person, they’re even more adorable than I thought.”

Smiling like a completely unguarded child, Limeia picked up the calico. The little dog began to whine, as if to say, Hey, wait! I’m the one who put my life on the line to taste test those carrots, remember?!

But Queen Elizard was concerned over a different matter.

“Oh, bugger!! They were having such a delicious time until just a moment ago?! I bet they were pulling photos of their loved ones out of their pockets, saying things like, We’re getting married after this battle is over, and such!! Damn…Am I fated to always miss the juiciest parts of everything?!”

“Everyone seemed to be quite adamant about heading into the heart of London for some reason, if it helps.”

“And they left me behind?! D-damn it all. Can you make it, horse?! We must get to London posthaste!!”

The warhorse unfolded his four legs and rose, as if to say, Sure thing! That’s how a queen should act.

Elizard hopped onto her mount, then used one arm to grab Laura Stuart, who, like before, was idling about, and soon situated her on the back of the horse.

“Hey. Is the flag prepared?”

“Fifty-fifty is about what I would say. The thing itself was blended into the general exhibits in the British Museum. Not many came to the realization that it is in fact a Soul Arm. Also, if the museum-employed Charles Conder did the work I had hoped from him, it might actually be somehow usable.”

“A normal member of society? His life would be on the line if the knights detected his actions…I need to give more respect to the gentlemen in this country,” said Elizard before falling silent for a moment.

She thought to herself.

She thought of the people who had prepared at this campground then headed to London. She thought of those assisting them, risking their lives even though they couldn’t use magic.

…Hmph. Being able to use the Curtana’s authority on the outside is a problem. And so is Carissa turning nearly invincible using the position of angelic leader to trample over Europe.

The queen’s face changed.

As she looked in the direction of London, her expression grew more dangerous.

But have they forgotten that Carissa, armed with the Curtana Original, can already bring out that power within the borders? The thing you’re about to fight is someone who might destroy all of Europe single-handedly, someone more terrifying than a hydrogen bomb—a man-made calamity in the flesh!!

“Damn them! They can say it’s for the fate of Britain, but they are idiots for going off to the final battle with nerve and guts alone, without any trump cards! They can get themselves killed for all I care!!”

“Ufu-fu. Despite your tone, Mother, you seem quite happy about it.”