174. Contractor (1)
The name Protector Cromwell was one etched indelibly into British history. To some, he was the great leader of the republic; to others, a tyrant no different. After all, he was the man who beheaded the king he served, seized the throne, became a dictator, and unleashed massacres and countless ills upon the land. Many of the dysfunctions plaguing British society even now stemmed from his deeds, and the reason Britain clung to its constitutional monarchy was the deep trauma inflicted by the Protector's tyranny.
Alicia had denounced the Protector before her as inferior to Cromwell—a failed version, in essence. Yet...
"What an honor. Doesn't that mean I'm like the great Protector Cromwell?"
The Protector himself twisted her intent, taking her words as a compliment for resembling Cromwell—and he seemed genuinely pleased. Well, when you thought about it, hadn't Cromwell succeeded in his usurpation? True, his regime hadn't lasted into the next generation and he was eventually ousted, but in his own time, he had seized power, reached the pinnacle of England, and reveled in authority. So Alicia calling him Cromwell was like saying he could succeed where the original had. She stared at him in dumbfounded disbelief for a moment, half-worried about the mental state of a man who took what was essentially an insult as praise.
"No, I meant the second Protector, Richard Cromwell. Who said anything about comparing you to Oliver Cromwell?"
She quickly corrected herself, clarifying that her Cromwell reference was to Richard. The Protector's face darkened instantly, fury etching his features as he glared at her. Of course—Cromwell the Protector was most famously Oliver, the first, but his successor Richard had held the title too. Unlike his father, however, Richard hadn't lasted even a year before being driven out, paving the way for the king's restoration.
"...Her Majesty has quite the sense of humor."
"Wow. Look at you switching tactics now that you're on the back foot. Did you get your family education from a fantasy novel?"
It was only natural for his expression to turn murderous after she'd called him worse than Richard—essentially mocking that he'd be ousted soon enough too. Unable to stomach the insult, the Protector wanted nothing more than to punish the impudent child right then and there. But officially, she was the queen—the very sovereign he served. As her regent leading the cabinet in her stead, he couldn't utter harsh words outright and tried to pass it off as a joke.
Alicia pressed on, mocking whether his family education came from fantasy. He shot back in kind...
"It seems Her Majesty received her family education from a fantasy as well."
"Well, isn't my regent and guardian the one who got his from a fantasy? How could the queen's words not sound cheap by association?"
He implied she was no different, but Alicia turned it around, blaming all her shortcomings on him and suggesting that if it irked him, he should just quit as regent and guardian. Officially, yes—the Protector was her regent and guardian, so her education fell under his responsibility. She merely reminded him of that, and his face twisted in irritation at this upstart queen who knew no bounds. He posed a blunt question.
"Do you have no intention of yielding quietly? Do you really want to see blood spilled?"
Continuing like this would inevitably lead to war with the Protector. The moment that happened, rivers of blood would flow across England's soil, and countless lives would be lost—a stark warning. Yet...
"You think I'd just hand over this seat easily? My own ministers are saying I'm the last queen. Tell them to fuck off. I can't just give away the throne my grandfather and father defended for free."
Alicia couldn't yield the position left by her forebears so easily either. Who would want to be the final monarch of a dynasty? Moreover, Europe had a special "event" reserved for defeated royals.
"On top of that, in this Europe, kings who lose power struggles go straight to the guillotine. As if you didn't know—collaborating with that frog saintess and all."
"Hmph. How barbaric. Whoever educated you..."
"The one who got the most fantastical education educated me in fantasy."
Yes, the guillotine. A punishment abolished in modern times, but in this apocalyptic era, it could easily revive just to sever one queen's head. Calling himself Protector meant he had to chop off a royal neck or two anyway—he'd slice Alicia's off lightly if it secured his throne.
"So you're saying you have no real intention of killing me?"
"Of course not... Am I not the loyal regent and guardian who watches over the young queen?"
"Liar. To solidify your claim to the throne, the entire royal line is just an obstacle to usurpation, isn't it? And you dare call yourself Protector instead of regent, lying through your teeth without a twitch?"
It was obviously a lie. If the Protector were truly loyal, there'd be no need for this pointless war of words—he could simply step back with an apology. But...
"If I lacked the power, you'd assassinate me without a trace. Yeah, I see right through you."
"Heh. Her Majesty is quite the expert at pissing people off."
Stung by the assassination remark—he'd indeed considered it before she grew too strong—the Protector replied with weary annoyance. Alicia recoiled in disgust.
"Well, someone turned me into this, didn't they? As if the great Protector of the world doesn't know. The whole world knows, but you're clueless? Utter incompetence! Why not hand the seat over to someone else pronto? Plenty of people are lining up for Protector."
"You seem confident dealing with others besides me."
"Yeah, I am. Want me to shoot a Dragon God beam your way? Kicks ass."
Mentioning the dragon Bahamut made the Protector's face shift dramatically. That was precisely why, despite Alicia's defiance, he hadn't acted—the existence of the Dragon God Bahamut. The Dragon Priestess under his divine protection made him hesitate.
"......"
"Watch yourself. If I snap, I'll go full water ghost on you—no holds barred."
Amusingly, if the Protector truly threatened Alicia's life, Bahamut might descend for real to protect his contractor—and blast the culprit with a beam. The Protector would surely die. Imagining that worst-case scenario, his face paled, and...
"A truly enlightening conversation, Your Majesty."
He backed off, ending the talk and vanishing into the distance as if conceding.
"You call this enlightening? The Protector's brain must be like those parliamentary windbags spouting nonsense."
[She has a real talent for verbal sparring.]
Alicia proved far more adept at verbal combat than expected. Sure, as royalty with a claim to succession, she'd received imperial education, but this familiarity...
"You pick it up arguing with MPs."
[That's brutal.]
She had no choice but to rack up the experience. As queen, she had to endure parliament's bullshit. Her eloquence grew whether she wanted it or not—a structural inevitability.
[By the way, we've only just faced the Protector—what kind of chemistry will spark with the next one?]
"No idea. But I won't lose. And I won't let them look down on me."
[I'll help as much as I can.]
Even this single encounter with the Protector had been an exhausting war of words. Bahamut worried what fresh hell awaited with others, but Alicia steeled herself, vowing no defeat.
"Your Majesty, it's time."
"Right. Let's go."
The queen moved toward the meeting with her attendant.
"To think Her Majesty would grace Paris in person. What an honor."
"Tch."
En route, she ran into the one she least wanted to see: the Orleans Saintess, ranked second. The saintess greeted her warmly, but Alicia clicked her tongue, knowing she'd picked the wrong fight.
"No time."
Expecting some twisted logic or nonsense, Alicia tried to brush past, but...
"I actually have business with you, Your Majesty. Today... I think I finally understand how you feel. And it makes me so happy."
"Understand what?"
The Orleans Saintess claimed to grasp Alicia's feelings, patting herself on the back. Irritated, Alicia snapped curtly—what the hell did she think she understood? Half of Alicia's suffering stemmed from this woman before her; her restraint was already at its limit.
"Contract."
"...What?"
"I, too... succeeded in a contract, just like Your Majesty."
Alicia couldn't let that slide. A contract? What did that mean? So...
"L-Lord Bahamut! You didn't contract with her, did you!?"
She panicked, pulling out her spirit mirror right in front of the saintess and demanding answers from Bahamut.
[N-no such thing!?]
Bahamut sounded equally baffled and indignant in denial. Of course not—he had no memory of it. With his main sphere of activity on the Korean Peninsula, contracting with foreigners required Alicia's mediation, which hadn't happened. America might request one, but they'd only facilitated Alicia's—no further moves. Thus, the sole European contractor with Bahamut was Alicia.
"Heh. You look flustered. Naturally so—you contracted thinking the Dragon God invincible. But alas?"
Grinning with genuine amusement and smug superiority, she continued.
"The one I contracted with... possesses power no different from that Dragon God."
She boasted of her own contract with an entity equal to the Dragon God.