The Revolution in Londinium
Thankfully, my women were all gathered in one corner of the hall.
"Erika, Seraphina. And Major Elise."
"…What's the matter, Lieutenant Colonel? You look so grave…."
Elise spoke first. Seraphina must have already sensed something was wrong; she kept a wary eye on our surroundings while slipping a hand beneath the hem of her dress — toward the spot where her concealed pocket pistol waited.
I whispered, barely audible.
"The situation's gone bad. The ballroom is crawling with rats."
"……!"
"Don't let it show. Grab Hanna. Get your weapons ready, and we withdraw to the residence immediately with Minister Josef."
Seraphina began moving at once. Elise swallowed hard and glanced around uneasily, while Erika's lips fluttered — she almost asked something, then thought better of it and simply nodded.
"Minister."
I made straight for Josef. He was in the middle of an animated conversation with a cluster of United Kingdom bureaucrats.
"So as I was saying, the Empire's economy these days is— ah, if it isn't Lieutenant Colonel Jaeger! Just the man. Allow me to introduce the head of the Londinium Chamber of Commerce—"
"I have urgent business with you, sir."
Charming Speechcraft.
There was no time to explain.
"You need to rise from your seat. Now."
Keeping a smile fixed on my face, I took the Minister's arm in a gentle grip. The skill laced my voice with a pressure that was very hard to refuse.
"The air outside has grown quite foul, you see. As the officer responsible for the delegation's safety, I'm offering you my word — or rather, my *recommendation*."
Target 'Josef' has accepted your 'recommendation' as a grave and immediate threat.
The color drained from Josef's face in an instant. His panic lasted only a moment. Then he leaned in close and whispered into my ear.
"Reds, is it? The League."
I was genuinely impressed for a heartbeat. The title of Foreign Minister clearly wasn't just for show.
"…Afraid so."
My eyes alone confirmed the answer. Josef began untangling himself from the gathering with hurried, but scrupulously natural, grace.
"Forgive me, gentlemen of the United Kingdom. My age has caught up with me, and I fear I haven't the stamina to enjoy the evening much longer."
"…Heh heh, indeed. No arguing with the years, my friend."
"Ah, such a shame — we had our finest champagne set aside for you."
We extracted ourselves from the ballroom as quickly as we reasonably could.
Status Analysis. Status Analysis. Status Analysis.
I triggered the skill on every single person we passed.
Affiliation: League of Nations, 3rd Operations Bureau
Hidden Desire: Wants to shoot the Imperial envoy dead and become a hero of the proletarian revolution.
You're kidding me. He wasn't just a waiter.
Affiliation: Victoria United Kingdom Gendarmerie (bought and paid for)
Hidden Desire: Wants to escape this mess without taking a single bullet, pocket only the fat payoff the League promised him.
Even the gendarmerie's compromised. Their security is an absolute joke.
Affiliation: League of Nations, Covert Operative
Hidden Desire: Wants to die together with the Empire's hero and be enshrined as a legendary martyr of the Party.
Martyrdom, my ass.
Pushing the Minimap to its absolute limit, I wove us between red dots left and right as we worked our way out of the building.
They're closing in.
Then the picture grew even clearer. Several of the red dots in the central hall began to move along our exact route. Not a coincidence — a pursuit, with unmistakable intent.
But we were one step faster.
We piled into the waiting car without a second's delay.
"To the embassy residence! As fast as this thing will go!"
The scenery flashing past the windows was sheer madness.
CRASH!
"Hand over the bread!"
"Loot the rich bastards' warehouses!"
Shattered glass everywhere. Crowds poured into shop windows like swarming ants, stripping the shelves bare. Scattered through their ranks, agitators wearing red armbands bellowed into megaphones, whipping the citizens into a frenzy.
"Rise, brothers! Wash Londinium clean in the blood of the capitalists!"
"Build a paradise for the workers!"
CRACK!
"……!"
And then, at last, that sound began.
Crack! Craaack—!
Heavy gunfire tearing through the night air.
"Gyaaagh!"
"Sh-shit! They're shooting! The cops are firing on us!"
Someone at the head of the protest column collapsed in a spray of blood. Mounted police in uniform began pouring out from the far end of the street.
Needless to say, there was no time to stand and watch. I ordered the driver.
"Kill the headlights and run flat out."
"Yes, sir!"
VROOOOM—!
The driver floored the accelerator.
The car tore through the burning streets like a thing possessed.
The same night. The rooftop of an abandoned building somewhere in Londinium, where flames were climbing into the sky.
A man wearing a red armband gazed down at the city.
Beneath his feet, the howls of an enraged mob and the crackle of police gunfire rolled across the rooftops like surf.
Psshhht — krrrk.
A voice crackled from the radio set clutched in his hand.
"Flawless, Comrade."
Chief of all League agitators.
Viktor curled his lips into a cold smile.
"Half of Londinium is already running red. The swinish police of the United Kingdom have begun firing on the crowds we stirred up."
A satisfied voice. The man on the other end of the radio pressed on.
Everything was going according to plan.
"As it happens, the Imperial delegation's visit overloaded the Intelligence Service's operations. Between guarding the royal palace and defending the Foreign Office, they haven't even managed to establish a proper defensive line."
"Mark this well, Comrade. The most crucial kindling in this entire operation is none other than the Imperial delegation itself."
"I know it well."
"Max Jaeger, their celebrated war hero. And Josef, their Foreign Minister. Kill those men without fail. If the Emperor's favored heavyweights die in Londinium, the Empire and the United Kingdom won't merely fail to join hands — they'll be pointing naval guns at each other."
That was when it happened.
"Comrade! Comrade Viktor!"
An operative came bursting through the rooftop door. Viktor pulled his hand from the radio and furrowed his brow.
"What is it."
"Th-the targets got into a car and fled the ballroom! Before we could even form the encirclement — they slipped out like ghosts!"
"What did you say?"
Viktor's face hardened. Escaping through hundreds of civilians and a wall of heavy security.
Truly worthy of the name 'hero,' I suppose.
"Don't tell me they've left Londinium entirely?"
"N-no, sir! Not that!"
"Good. That's more like it."
Viktor relaxed. This was Londinium, after all — an island a thousand miles from the Empire. The only place those men could possibly run was the Imperial embassy residence.
"Contact the strike teams immediately. Tell them to condemn the imperialists by any means necessary. A measly setback like this will not stop the revolutionary spirit!"
"Understood, Comrade!"
The operative scrambled back down the stairs. Viktor raised the radio to his lips once more.
Click.
The transmission went dead.
Viktor stared down at the streets in silence.
Beneath the abandoned building, Londinium's night burned — red flame and black smoke climbing into the dark.
The red revolution was beginning.
Screech—!
The car skidded to a violent halt inside the embassy residence's iron gates.
"Everyone out! Seal the embassy doors — bolt them shut, now!"
I shouted as I jumped down. The guards stationed at the residence came running, visibly rattled.
"Lieutenant Colonel Jaeger? The protesters outside—"
Charming Speechcraft.
"Those aren't protesters! Get barricades up and defensive positions manned — immediately!"
There was no time to bring anyone up to speed. I drove the order home with the full force of the skill.
Charming Speechcraft (Lv. 3)
The soldiers snapped into motion without a second's hesitation.
"Major Elise. Escort Minister Josef to the innermost safe room."
"Yes! Understood."
Once the noncombatants were moved, I turned my gaze straight to the rest.
"Everyone else, over here!"
In a corner of the embassy lobby sat a stack of large wooden crates. On the surface, they were diplomatic pouches sealed with the label 'DIPLOMATIC DOCUMENTS AND ATTIRE.'
"Get me a crowbar! A steel pipe, anything!"
Together with the soldiers, I smashed the crates open.
CRACK!
"Th-this is…?"
The soldiers gasped.
As the wooden lids tore away, the neatly packed contents within came into view—
Imperial 9mm submachine guns, bundles of improved grenades, and case upon case of ammunition.
Items that a mere diplomatic delegation could never have legally brought into the country.
The Field Marshal's foresight.
A brief memory flickered through my mind. The night before we departed for Londinium — Field Marshal Ludwig's office.
"I've packed a few 'special items' into your diplomatic pouches, nice and generous. I'd rather you never need them, but the situation grows uglier by the day, you see. Guard them well."
"Understood, sir."
So this is what experience looks like.
When I'd first received them, I'd wondered if it wasn't all a bit excessive. It absolutely was not.
"Over here, eyes front! Come up in order and grab your weapons!"
I hauled the weapons out without wasting a moment.
Clack.
The cold bite of steel. That familiar feel in my hands. I worked the charging bolt with practiced ease, then handed the rest of the weapons to my subordinates.
"Seraphina — conserve your mana as much as possible. Until I give the order, hold the line with firearms only."
"Understood."
"Hanna. Take a rifle and get up to the residence roof. From this moment, you are my eyes."
"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel!"
Hanna grabbed her weapon and sprinted for the stairs.
Tap. Tap.
Erika was already rigging her pistol and grenades to her gear without being told. Her face was taut with tension.
And as the defenses came together—
I kept my eyes glued to the Minimap.
……So many.
Within a five-hundred-meter radius of the embassy residence. The sewers, the rooftops of neighboring buildings, the narrow back alleys. Dozens of red dots were tightening around us like a noose.