171. European Union Conference (1)
In truth, there was nothing that Bahamut or Choi Yu-na on the Korean Peninsula could do about such talk emerging from America. Rather, for Bahamut...
'Well, it's not surprising they'd say something like that. Yeah. You can't always expect friendly gazes.' He merely reflected that such opinions were bound to surface here and there.
After all, this wasn't even domestic territory where the Balhut Cult held sway as its main base of operations. Could Bahamut really retaliate just because some overseas voices piped up? The reality of physical distance made it impossible for him to fly all the way to America for payback—and that very fact allowed those hostile to him to rally public support without cost. Besides, the opinion wasn't outright selling out the country, and doubts about his reliability were, admittedly, grounded in truth.
'Still, can't help feeling annoyed.'
His mood soured at being dragged into another nation's politics when he wasn't even on the Korean Peninsula. Especially since he couldn't openly retaliate, their carefree mentions grated on him all the more.
'But it's not like there's no way to get involved in American politics.'
Yet involvement in America wasn't entirely out of reach. After all...
"Public opinion in Europe, you say?"
Through a contract brokered by the current regime, Bahamut had gained leverage in both European politics and the American political sphere. Officially bound to the Queen of the UK—the head of state no less—using her connections could serve as a warning to those exploiting him at will... or so one might think. But the current regime surely knew this too, and the queen he'd contracted with had precious little foundation to stand on.
[Right. Hasn't it started spreading among the public that the queen is the Dragon's contractor? Domestic opinion matters, of course, but shouldn't we check European sentiment abroad too? Don't you think?]
"Sound advice, Your Majesty. It's about time we built our own foundation."
Alicia, Bahamut's contractor, had ascended the throne at a young age, leaving her with scant loyalists or supporters. Parliament and the Protector treated her as little more than a puppet on the throne. She'd managed to carve out a foothold as a player in British politics only through America's mediation and her contract with Bahamut.
"True enough. Relying solely on my domestic backers has its limits."
Unlike Parliament and the Protector, who had monopolized vast gains early in the apocalypse, what Alicia had scraped together were mere scraps—remnants too trivial or bothersome for the old guard to bother absorbing. Without them, survival in this cutthroat British political arena would have been impossible, so gauging not just domestic but international opinion toward the queen was far from a bad move. In a pinch, she could even forge political alliances with overseas European factions, much like the unholy pact between the Protector and the Orleans Saintess.
"I get that, but the proposal feels so sudden. I've only summoned Lord Dragon God once or twice at most."
[Even that gives plenty of intimidation value, doesn't it?]
"Yes. Summoning too often would invite its own problems."
Yet Bahamut's suggestion did feel abrupt. Summons had been reserved for pivotal moments, totaling just twice since the contract. Proposing to probe foreign opinion now, before solidifying internal strength, seemed premature—Alicia's side could easily push back on the urgency. Bahamut insisted it was enough as is, turning to her maid, who nodded in agreement.
But Bahamut's true intent in floating the idea was...
'Can't admit it's about my own reputation...! Helping Alicia on the side is true too!'
A proposal laced with personal pettiness. Of course, it wasn't a loss for Alicia—it benefited her too—so he'd pitched it without hesitation, aiming to resolve both issues at once. The pettiness was unbecoming of a Dragon God, but the intent wasn't malicious.
"Well, using that immense power twice already? It's practically like deploying nukes twice over."
Still, Alicia trusted those close to her. Her maid Mary had served faithfully since childhood, always offering sage counsel. As for Bahamut...
'There must be some crucial insight I haven't grasped.'
She figured a Dragon God's mind surpassed ordinary human intellect. If Bahamut knew, he'd be flustered—it wasn't that profound—but dragons evoked images of profound wisdom, especially with his track record of nation-building amid the apocalypse. It'd be stranger if he didn't seem wise.
"The issue is... my forces are still so feeble. Will there even be favorable opinion toward me?"
Surveying opinion was one thing, but for a queen with scant power, finding it would be tough.
"You've become a new player, after all. Your personal means are limited for now. But as a player, there must be factions backing the queen."
[No contact with other factions?]
"W-well, about that."
First, her faction was treated as upstarts in the current British scene. Its leader hailed from the pre-apocalypse royal family—which had been virtually wiped out—leaving Alicia to cobble together the remnants. She lacked real authority as queen yet, but time would yield results.
"On the flip side, they're wary of getting swallowed by Her Majesty's rapid rise. They're open to cooperation but nothing tight yet."
Second, her political weight exceeded expectations. As the crown prince's illegitimate daughter with some legitimacy as a royal successor and a Dragon God contractor, her recent feats placed her power just shy of the Protector's. Factions hesitated, fearing absorption into her growing sphere rather than true alliance.
[Don't they all despise the Protector?]
"Yes, but they dislike Her Majesty dominating the cabinet entirely too. She appears to monopolize the apocalypse's most vital military might."
If she triumphed over the Protector and established absolute rule, Parliament would become her tool. They guarded against dictators, and a Dragon-contracted queen fit the bill perfectly. With no one left to check her post-Protector, wary factions even eyed uneasy alliances with him.
[I see...]
Grand as it sounded, it boiled down to the classic royal vs. parliamentary WWE.
"Plus, with the Protector's throne grab now impossible, everyone's relaxing. Whatever."
Parliament's checks stemmed from the Protector's failed physical coup. Her newfound might made usurpation a fantasy; now, they'd oust her politically—their specialty. They welcomed it.
"They get to play to their strengths, so they're all fixated on politicking. Not helpful at all!"
"Who else does politics if not Parliament?"
"Right! Without politics, Parliament's just livestock fattening on stipends!"
But that's what they gathered for. Alicia grumbled, only to sigh at her maid's sharp retort.
"Ahem! Anyway, isn't there some smooth way to get the intel we want?"
They aimed to probe foreign opinion per Bahamut's advice, but her forces hit limits. Her guards were loyal but unfit for espionage—and such networks had fallen to the Protector, risking irreplaceable losses.
"Well... there's a conference, though inconvenient for Your Majesty."
"Really?"
[Such a place exists?]
The maid offered a seamless intel source. Alicia and Bahamut blinked in surprise—they'd assumed intel gaps would hinder them, yet she claimed it easy.
"Yes, but awkward cohabitation from our view, so I withheld reporting."
She'd skipped it to spare the queen discomfort. How awkward to delay even for this loyalist?
"What is it!? I'll endure a little inconvenience for queenly duty!"
It was...
"Attending the European Union Conference."
"Huh? Doesn't sound inconvenient."
The European Union Conference. Seemingly innocuous—even prestigious. Alicia frowned in confusion.
"Founded under the Protector and Orleans Saintess."
"...Huh?"
Fine on surface, but its founders were nightmares. Attending meant facing at least one.
"Participating means encountering those two?"
"Yes."
Alicia's face soured; she burrowed under the covers, shedding secret tears.
"...Motivation just tanked. The world outside bed is too dangerous."
[I understand...]
Both were her enemies—one out for blood, the other...
"Still causing catastrophe-level screwups!"
A genius unleashing unforeseeable disasters. Alicia wailed at the blue sky, terrified by the Orleans Saintess' antics.
"She actually mobilized forces to retake Paris, for reconstruction talks!"
"British politics erupted over it!"
Turning conference rhetoric into reality: conscripting national troops for Paris. Madness that silenced even fake-crazy pirates. They'd dismissed it as hot air—now, one wondered if she had any common sense.
"...But conversely, it's where key European intel converges, right?"
"Yes. Secrets flow freely."
Europe's paradoxical hub drew information too. Alicia peeked from the covers, face screaming reluctance; Mary confirmed sadly.
"Where's the current headquarters?"
"Paris, Your Majesty."
"Ugh. Where'd that throne-usurping gusto go? Why base such a key body in Paris?"
Paris elicited sighs about the Protector's vanished ambition. Blame him—all his fault for yielding on the coup!
"...W-well, less the Protector and more..."
Mary averted her eyes, sweating. Truly, not his fault but...
'Ah. Just classic British karma, huh?'
Pre-apocalypse sins. Weird world events? Blame Britain—today's oddity was no exception.