The Knight of Chaos
An ancient castle in northern Wales. Conwy.
The old man standing on the terrace turned his head.
"Where is Lady Sophia?"
"We just received word that she arrived at Roze Station."
"Any injuries? She's unharmed, I trust?"
"Yes. She's safe. There appears to have been a clash aboard the train, but Charles and Olivia seem to have handled it well."
"Good. That's a relief."
The old man let out a sigh and gripped the railing.
You should have at least given me a hint, Your Majesty.
The crisis had erupted without warning.
Elysia Jerry Windsor — the forty-second monarch of the United Kingdom — had dropped a bombshell announcement without the slightest prior indication. A declaration that she would abolish the current hereditary system and personally name the next sovereign.
Even then, people had been shocked, but they hadn't grasped the true gravity of it. Then a name no one had expected left her lips, and the British royal family and the entire political-financial establishment erupted into chaos.
"I bequeath the throne to my granddaughter, Sophia Marcia Windsor."
Until that moment, people had spoken with one voice. No — they had been certain. The next king would be Widrik, who had become first in the line of succession after losing his parents in an unfortunate accident. And so vast sums of money had flowed to Widrik, all to curry favor with the future king. For quite a long time, and in quite considerable amounts.
Naturally, the royal family and the political-financial world rebelled. Suddenly changing the hereditary system — passing the throne to someone whose very existence they hadn't even known — was impossible, they said.
But Elysia produced an ancient royal chronicle and declared that if the first in line of succession had a serious problem, the monarch had the discretion to change the ranking. And if Widrik refused to accept her decision, she would announce what that problem was.
From that moment, a bloody wind began to blow through the royal house.
First, Queen Elysia collapsed into a coma. Next, the king's closest aides died one after another in "unfortunate accidents," and Sophia, traveling to London for the succession proceedings, was caught in a terrorist attack of unknown origin. Charles's protection had kept her from injury, but heading to London as things stood was judged far too dangerous. So they had summoned her to the safety of Wales, for the time being.
The old man's grip on the railing tightened until his knuckles went white.
Widrik Pallam Windsor. He had known the man was somehow unsavory. But he had never imagined it would go this far. Elysia probably hadn't known either — that her own grandson was a madman who would burn the entire United Kingdom to the ground if it meant seizing the throne.
"Any further news?"
"As I reported a moment ago, Lady Sophia, Charles, and Olivia disembarked safely at Roze Station. They should have joined the knight order by now. We'll be hearing from the knights shortly as well."
The man delivering the report smiled.
"Lord Philip, you needn't worry so much. The ones who went to meet them are the Golden Lion Knights, the protectors of Wales. Every last one of them trained as knights from childhood, and after awakening they climbed the Tower so swiftly that not a single one failed to surpass the sixtieth floor. Sir Edward, who leads the order, is a player of the seventieth-floor range, no less."
"That's right. That's right. I was worrying too much."
Philip ran a hand through his hair. He had seen Edward many times himself — the unshakable pillar of Wales. If that man had met Sophia, they could rest easy now.
He sat down in his chair. Gazing out at the sprawling garden, he prayed fervently that Sophia would arrive here safely.
And at that same moment, Roze Station.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Beneath the platform, where no one's eyes could reach, thick dark blood flowed down. Following the trail upward revealed a dozen or so corpses, dumped without care. Necklaces hung around their necks — lion-shaped pendants that had once been gold, their luster now lost beneath the blood.
"We've been waiting for you, Princess Sophia."
A short-haired man offered a courteous bow.
"I'm truly relieved you're unharmed. I am Edward of the Golden Lion Knights."
At his greeting, the twenty or so people lined up behind him bowed their heads as well.
"A pleasure to meet you, Sir Edward. I am Sophia Marcia Windsor. Thank you for coming all this way to meet us."
"Not at all. Protecting the royal family is the natural duty of every member of the knight order. We will escort Your Highness safely to Conwy Castle, where Lord Philip awaits."
Edward gave a slight nod, and the waiting personnel surrounded Sophia.
"Sir Charles, Dame Olivia. You've both been through a great deal. We'll proceed to the parking lot."
The group moved out with Edward at the lead. Leaving the crowded station and walking for some time, they arrived at a parking lot with scarcely a soul in sight — a shaded place where not a single ray of sunlight reached.
"We've prepared the cars somewhere inconspicuous, just in case."
"Is that so."
Sophia answered lightly and looked around. Aside from their own moving party, there was no one in sight.
"So then — who are you, really?"
Edward stopped walking and turned to look at Sophia.
"Who am I...? I'm not sure I follow, Your Highness."
Sophia drew a knowing smile.
"You're not Sir Edward."
The moving party halted. A heavy silence settled over them.
The man who had introduced himself as Edward curled the corner of his mouth.
"How'd you know? I thought I copied him pretty well."
The man's face began to melt away like running paint. A younger-looking man turned to his subordinate.
"Hey, you. Did you even use your awakening ability properly? We got made."
"No, sir. I reproduced the appearance perfectly."
"She says it was identical. So how did the little princess know?"
"Sir Edward and I were never strangers to begin with. There's no way he would have accepted my greeting of 'a pleasure to meet you' as if it were only natural."
"Huh."
The man let out a hollow laugh. Not just bold — she was sharp, too. No wonder she had royal blood.
"I underestimated you because you're young. My bad, my bad. I usually make a point of getting a thorough read on prior intel and personality, but there was just nothing on you."
Of course there wasn't. Sophia was the granddaughter Elysia had gone to great lengths to hide.
"But aren't you an idiot? If you figured it out early, you should've run or screamed. What are you going to do now? This is an abandoned place nobody comes to... huh."
Something dawned on the man, and his expression turned to one of surprise.
"Don't tell me you did it on purpose so the people at the station wouldn't get caught up in this?"
"I had a feeling you wouldn't care in the slightest about bystanders if it served your purpose."
"Pfft... Puhahaha!!"
The man clutched his stomach, roaring with laughter as if it were the funniest thing in the world. After laughing for a long while, he shook his head and spoke.
"A princess who looks after her people even when her own life is about to fly away. Yeah, this one's definitely king material. Compared to that lunatic who murdered the parents who gave birth to him and his own siblings just to climb the succession ranking."
"...!"
"Oh, you didn't know? We made that first-in-line for him. Of course, the reason I'm telling you this is... because dead men tell no tales."
Olivia, who had been listening, furrowed her brow.
"You know Widrik will be the worst king in history, and you're still going to support him? You're British too, aren't you?"
"Save a line like that for someone who's got their head screwed on straight."
The man pointed at his own head.
"Peace is poison to a nutjob like me. I'd either go stir-crazy or starve to death before long, I figure. Anyway, enough small talk."
He composed his breathing and offered another courteous bow.
A sharp épée appeared in Joypin's right hand.
"What I like is piercing things. I punched a whole lot of holes in those Golden-whatever guys I met earlier, too."
With those words, he thrust the épée. The blade drove straight through Sophia's forehead.
A rustle of dissolving air.
"!?"
Joypin's eyes went wide as the figure scattered into smoke. Then Charles and Olivia dissolved into smoke as well.
"The opposite direction!"
Three figures came into view, running some distance away.
"Huh."
Joypin let out a hollow laugh. They'd packed in tight around them, and yet the three had slipped the encirclement without a whisper of presence.
"Things have gotten so much more interesting since the Awakening, I tell you. Hey, hey — out of the way up front."
His subordinates stepped aside, and Joypin settled into a stance. The instant the épée pointed at the three—
BOOM!
With an explosive crack, Joypin's body shot forward at tremendous speed.
KAGAGAGAGAK!!
"Ohh?"
Having closed the distance in an instant, Joypin smiled. A massive silver shield had blocked the épée.
"So you're the Charles-or-whatever. The one who protected the princess in that last explosion."
Charles furrowed his brow.
That's no ordinary weapon.
That slender épée had collided with the shield at this kind of speed. The blade should have shattered as a matter of course — yet Joypin's épée hadn't broken. It hadn't even taken a hairline crack.
"This is a Unique weapon from the sixtieth-floor range. Worth over a hundred billion, easy. Hey! You lot, go after the princess."
Joypin's subordinates raced past Charles before he even knew they'd caught up. But Charles couldn't stop them. His long combat experience and his instincts had already told him: the moment he took his eyes off this man, his body would be run through.
Thunk!
"!!!"
A sharp pain drove through the joints of his armor. He swung the shield in a wide arc and retreated, eyes going wide.
Two of them...?
Slightly hazy, but another shape of Joypin had appeared. The épée that had stabbed him in the back had come from that figure.
"Told you. Expensive weapon. The longer the fight drags on, the worse it's gonna get for you. That Edward-or-whatever kid couldn't last past the tenth-something either. He died."
Joypin smiled leisurely and settled into his stance once more.
"Alright then. Let's see how many times you can last."
Charles clenched his teeth and exhaled a low breath.
I'm counting on you, Olivia.
He prayed fervently — that Sophia, the rightful heir to the throne, would not let the sun set on the United Kingdom.
Incoming bullets punched through Sophia and Olivia. Just as before, their forms scattered into smoke. The two of them appeared from a different direction and ducked into a ruined building.
"Hah... hah..."
"Olivia..."
Sophia swallowed the words she'd been about to ask — are you all right? One look was enough. Olivia's stamina was already spent. She had been intercepting every incoming attack with her awakening ability.
"Got you, you little rats."
An axe burst from the wall and swung. Once more they became smoke and appeared from another direction.
Blood burst from Olivia's nose and mouth. Using the ability any further was impossible.
"Y-Your Highness. Run... please. I'll..."
"It's all right. You've done more than enough, Olivia."
Sophia stepped in front of her. This was it. There was nowhere left to run. A dozen or so enemies slowly closed the distance.
"Hurry... run..."
Sophia wrapped her arms around Olivia's head.
"I'm sorry. Because of me."
She had no power of her own. And yet, shamefully, she wanted to save Olivia. She wanted to save Charles. She didn't want precious lives to be lost because of her.
How powerless I am.
Regret came flooding in, far too late. She should have done something. Anything. She should have climbed the Tower, no matter who forbade it. She'd said she hated living like a marionette — but looking back now, perhaps she had been content to settle into that life after all.
"Well then. Farewell."
The approaching enemy raised his axe. She did not look away. She stared straight at the descending blade.
And in that instant—
An unfamiliar rasp of friction cut through the air.