The day after the hearing, inside the royal palace in Londinium.
Xulie Aslan, dressed in military uniform, walked slowly into a reception room in the palace.
Under the dim lighting, his golden hair shone like fire, yet his sharply angled face looked as if it had been carved from ice.
Someone was already waiting inside the room.
A phonograph played soft wind music.
Herta sat on one of the sofas with a furrowed brow. On the opposite sofa, Sibyl lounged while holding a slender brass pipe.
Blue smoke curled upward, tracing shifting patterns in the light.
The main seat in the center of the room was empty.
Behind it, the red-haired Water God leaned against the windowsill, gazing out at the cityscape.
“Was it you who summoned me, Lady Vita?” Xulie asked.
“Not a summons. Merely an invitation.” Vita turned around.
“You helped Sibyl during the hearing. The hawks will now regard you as one of my people. I wished to express my thanks, but I am curious why you did it.”
“There is no need to thank me, Lady Vita. Among this country’s many factions, the hawks are the most radical warmongers. Everyone knows they long for a war that will restore the Northern Continent’s former glory. But as the person who manages the largest number of soldiers in this country, I understand that we have no chance of victory against the Southern Continent.”
Xulie raised his head slightly and met Vita’s gaze, still maintaining a perfect military posture.
“An interesting view. Would you care to share your reasons?” Vita asked lightly.
Our conventional armaments are still primarily cold weapons.
Firearms coverage remains extremely low.
Yet people continue to blindly believe that the individual strength of long-lived species is enough to resist thousands upon thousands of troops.
The hawks’ followers all hold this belief.
As for my own people, our ancestors were once lions galloping across the grasslands.
But today’s beastkin lords no longer practice mounted archery.
They have immersed themselves in the games of power and gold coins that their forebears once scorned.
I imagine the vampires, elves, and dragon race are much the same now. Without realizing it, we have all become more like humans.
When war truly comes, can we really expect those long-lived beings who enjoy high positions and generous salaries to charge into battle?
In the end it will still be the children of the peasants under my command who fill the front lines.
And they will be facing smoothbore cannons and steam armor.” Xulie’s voice was dignified, yet cold.
“You see very clearly. As expected of Aranro’s grandson. The Mane-Head of the grasslands now has a young talent like you. Your grandmother would be proud of you.”
Vita smiled faintly, as if seeing the shadow of an old acquaintance in this beastkin marshal.
Vita changed the subject.
“However, our current situation is even less optimistic than you imagine. His is not stupid, but he is only fifty years old this year. For a dragon, he is still in his youth. Over these years, under the hawks’ instigation, he has made quite a few mistaken decisions. The greatest of them was accepting the Kingdom of Garolin as a protectorate.
Although Garolin’s independence was personally facilitated by Christine, their diplomatic policy has always been to navigate skillfully between the north and south.
After the appearance of steam armor, the Garolin royal family has repeatedly shown goodwill toward the empire.
Many people suspect they wish to abandon the United Kingdom’s protection and return to the empire’s embrace.
Yet how could we possibly release a protectorate on our own initiative?
Doing so would strip the United Kingdom of all dignity.
The noble lords of the three kingdoms would no longer recognize us as the co-rulers of the Northern Continent.
Therefore, if the empire truly wishes to welcome Garolin back, there will inevitably be war between north and south.”
Sibyl tapped the ash from her pipe and set it on the gilded copper tray beside her. She picked up the thread of the conversation.
“Now the entire world’s eyes are focused on the empire, waiting for the result of the Imperial Electors’ Assembly. The new emperor’s attitude will decide everything.At present there are three candidates for the throne: Prince Anthony, Princess Phine, and Princess Flora, who has only just come of age. Prince Anthony has the support of the conservatives.”
“Princess Phine, as a Steam Knight, has the support of the military. If either of them ascends the throne, war will likely break out.Only Princess Flora has no political resources. Therefore her stance remains unclear. This autumn she will go to Cité University in the capital of Garolin to study.”
“So that is why Lady Vita protected Claire—because she bears an extremely strong resemblance to this princess.”
Xulie suddenly understood.
“Correct. Claire will infiltrate Cité University and meet this princess. She will convey the Northern Continent’s request to her. If the negotiations go well, Flora will become the new empress of Lucis with our assistance, and the Northern Continent will obtain a generation of peace. This is my Changeling Operation.”
Vita spoke softly of her plan. Her voice held no fluctuation, yet the plan would shape the course of history.
“The military will give your plan its full support.” Xulie bowed in salute, his voice firm.
“You catch on quickly. I called you here precisely to bring you into the fold. As for making a statement… the Cerberus Bureau will also devote itself wholeheartedly to the Changeling Operation.” Sibyl rose with a smile and bowed as well.
Herta, who had remained silent with a furrowed brow, finally stood up and walked quickly to stand before Vita.
“I do not agree with your plan. Claire does not have the ability to shoulder such a heavy responsibility. She is only sixteen years old this year. You all saw it—she is still an emotionally unstable child. How could she possibly become a competent spy?”
Herta stared gravely into Vita’s ice-lake-like eyes.
“You understand better than anyone that Claire will never refuse this plan. A mother cannot protect her child for a lifetime. Let go and allow her to face her own destiny.”
Vita gazed steadily into Herta’s eyes and spoke slowly.
“…If it must be her, then I need you to make a guarantee on her behalf.”
Both Xulie and Sibyl showed surprised expressions.
Herta had actually dared to demand conditions from the Water God.
“What do you want?” Vita showed no anger.
“The Fire Rose Medal. A permanently valid honor stating that Claire has the right to be exempt from all punishment within the United Kingdom.”
Herta bowed slightly.
“Such a medal was indeed conferred during the founding era, given to those who made outstanding contributions in the great war. You mean you want the United Kingdom to guarantee that it will never abandon Claire under any circumstances, is that correct?”
“Yes. This is a mother’s final request.” Herta spoke in a low, earnest voice.
Vita was silent for a moment. She removed a crimson object from the sash of her long dress.
It was a medal.
Fine craftsmanship had engraved upon it a burning rose.
The dim light gilded it with a layer of gold.
“I promise you that Claire will return to your side.” Vita spoke softly and gently placed the medal into Herta’s hands.
The room fell quiet once more, leaving only the soft music and the lights of Londinium outside the window.
***
Claire slowly opened her eyes.
It was a familiar ceiling.
The air was filled with the scent of machine oil and rust.
Through the ivory-colored linen curtains, fine rain continued to fall over Londinium, adding a touch of gentle light and shadow to the dim room.
She tried to sit up and saw that familiar figure sitting at the head of the bed, focused on peeling an apple.
The apple peel fell from her hands like a ribbon.
“Liz…?”
Claire called softly. She slowly reached out and her fingertips gently touched that familiar face, wanting to confirm whether all of this was merely a dream.
“I’m back.”
Liz took hold of Claire’s hand. The warm, real touch steadied Claire’s heart. Two lines of tears slid silently down her cheeks.
“Welcome back, Liz.” Claire spoke softly.
Liz smiled faintly and brought a small piece of cut apple to Claire’s lips.
“Eat something first. You were unconscious for two days. You need to replenish your strength.”
Claire obediently opened her mouth. The apple’s sweet freshness spread across her tongue.
“You were the one who hit someone. Why did you end up sleeping for two days?” Liz asked curiously.
Claire was silent for a moment, then the corners of her mouth curved into an awkward smile.
“That elf had a bunch of amulets on her. It took me the full thirteen seconds to break all of them. By the time I actually started hitting her, I was already exhausted…”
The two looked at each other and smiled.
The atmosphere in the room instantly became much lighter.
Claire felt an unprecedented sense of peace.
“What happened afterward?” Claire asked softly.
“You really stirred up a huge mess this time,” Liz shook her head helplessly.
“The Kent incident has been officially placed under investigation. That Dragon Guard with the long name and Miriel will both be questioned. Things are not peaceful in our bureau either. Alexander has been dismissed, and the Toriduo members loyal to him have all been suspended for investigation. A lot of people now hate you to the bone. That is why Herta had me hide you away. But the only place I have that is truly safe is this shop.”
Hearing this, Claire felt a surge of guilt. “I’m sorry… I didn’t expect it would drag you into this.”
“Why are you apologizing to me?” Liz waved her hand.
“That old bastard Alexander should have been removed long ago. Besides, the new head of the Second Agency is now my sire, Kate. In a way I’m actually part of the director’s direct line now. It might not be a bad thing for me.”
Claire looked at Liz’s deliberately relaxed expression and felt even more moved.
“Thank you, Liz. It’s really good to have you.” She spoke from the heart, making Liz’s face flush red. Liz quickly turned her head away and said nothing more.
“All right, once you’ve rested, get up and sign the papers.”
Liz changed the subject and placed a folder on the table in front of the bed.
“Lady Vita gave these to you. You are the core of this Changeling Operation. Sign them quickly. Ophelia and I have already signed. We were just waiting for you.”
“You and the class monitor are both participating in this plan?” Claire was slightly startled. Liz helped her out of bed and seated her at the table.
“I can’t just leave you alone. How could I possibly let you go to the Southern Continent by yourself? As for the class monitor… she was the one who dragged me to the hearing to testify for you. She cares about you more than you think. You should thank her properly later.”
Liz lightly tapped Claire on the head with a pen, then pressed it into her hand.
The first document in the folder was a transfer order jointly issued by the Cerberus Bureau and the military.
Signing this paper meant Claire would obtain military status while her records remained under the Cerberus Bureau’s management.
This was a transfer between two completely different agencies—something ordinary people would never even dare to imagine.
But for Vita it was merely a matter of saying a few words.
However, signing was not a simple matter.
There were over a hundred documents in total: transfer decisions, confidentiality agreements, army military registration, enrollment documents for Cité University, identity records for the Kingdom of Garolin, recurring bank checks… With every signature Claire made, another layer of her social identity changed, though she did not know what meaning any of it held.
Liz watched quietly from the side as Claire signed, occasionally handing her a new pen or turning a page for her.
“Let me comb your hair for you.”
Liz picked up a comb and walked behind Claire.
“You’ve been away from me for a few days. Your hair is completely tangled.”
Claire did not speak.
She simply smiled and nodded, allowing Liz to do as she wished with her hair.
They stopped talking. Liz silently combed Claire’s hair while Claire silently signed the documents.
The only sounds left in the room were the soft scratching of the pen and the gentle movement of the comb.
Londinium beneath the rain curtain spread out before them like a chessboard, stretching all the way to the southern continent.
This was a game played with heaven and earth as the board.
Every person in the world was a pawn upon it.
No one knew when the invisible hand suspended above fate would place the decisive piece that would determine their own destiny.
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