Глава 10

Alright!

Go!

Amiya?

Amiya, careful. The train's moving.

Amiya... what are you looking at?

I...

The Cautus girl does not reply to you. Her body is still. Even her breathing seems to have stopped.

You can tell she's shocked. She's never let emotions as unveiled and intense show before the operators. This moment is incomparable.

At the same time, the Sarkaz chasing the train all come to a halt.

They all turn their heads, looking in the same direction.

A Sarkaz enters the ruins.

All smoke seems to part at her feet, all sounds of fire suspended about her.

Only wind remains, growing stronger and fiercer.

The ash laden on the ground is blown about, some sticking to her attire, some smudging her pale hair. She seems not to mind at all, only silently gazing into a point of the ruins.

It seems to have once been part of the defense artillery. A jet-black fowlbeast is there now, perched atop the still-warm cannon mouth.

Most likely disturbed by the train picking up in speed, it shakes off its wings.

As if somewhat in response, the pale-haired Sarkaz turns around.

She should have no sight of who is aboard the train, but her expression is as if she has recognized who is looking at her.

Her face is so warm, yet her eyes are so filled with sorrow. The sorrow is so much; perhaps not all of it comes from her, but comes from the one who stares at her too.

Amiya, are you alright?

The Cautus girl finally comes back to reality.

She still doesn't give you a response, and you're in no rush for her to give one.

In one ear, you hear the calls of fowlbeasts. You see a flock of them out of the window flapping through the air, rushing into the gale ahead of you.

The train takes you rapidly from the station.

The city wall, the war, and that pale-haired figure, all are left far, far behind you.

Rumble. Rumble. Rumble.

Is that the remnants of cannon fire lingering in your brain, the train bumping against the railway, or thunder in those gloomy clouds gathering not far away?

The center of Londinium is right before you.

And all of you are riding into this storm.

Londinium, Auchterigg Borough

Inside The Shard

Our project is near to its close.

I hear the sound of the storm, and so do they.

They're telling me now, how they like this sound. They're dying to become a part of the storm, to howl wantonly through the air, to go and devour this hateful city before us.

Perfect.

In ten days, our airship will be complete. From there, they'll be able to take to Londinium's skies, and serve as the storm's very pilots.

I'll be going with them.

That suits our plan. You are the optimal candidate to command our air forces, given I must be defending The Shard.

No, Theresis, that isn't what I mean.

They and I, as one, can but only go together.

Good.

Prior to their departure, you are to continue fulfilling your duty.

The Royal Court needs you, and our soldiers need their most trustworthy monarch.

Moreover, you are more proficient in building than I am, by all rights. Our construction rate has sped up by ten percent since you began attending Court meetings.

I would not forget what I am meant to do.

Also. I noticed you deposed of those... guards. The Confessarii have given you no end of grief for that, have they?

Deposing of the guards about you was the Military Commission's decision. We need more sentries, so we can answer to the greatest period of danger.

If needs be, I can enter the battlefield too.

Stay here. This tower... and the airship. Those lie at the core of our plans.

Once these two projects are through and done with, Kazdel will possess the power to fend off all nations.

Fend off all nations, you say...

I've always known of your ambitions, but it makes it no less unbelievable to hear every time.

Hasn't it always plagued you that they would not permit us to rise again?

Very soon, you will be plagued no longer.

Indeed.

—If even the bearing of the storm is ours to control, who would still be occupied by the dark clouds floating at its head?

In the past, we Sarkaz let our enemies pursue us.

Time and time again we stood up in the ruins, and time again we rebuilt our homeland, and time again we watched our home be torn to shreds by the wars they incited.

Sarkaz... Sarkaz. We are a rootless people.

Why is that? Solely because they have occupied our finest soil, and forbid our roots to take.

In the war two hundred years ago, it took all our might to drive the enemy back—yet we still could not preserve Kazdel.

After that, how much time did we have to devote, to just about reconvene our stranded remnants?

And how much more time—

To transport these bare shreds Victoria and Ursus could not see to a wasteland they were just as blind to, and rebuild Kazdel again right under their very noses?

Two hundred years?

Yes. It has taken us these two full centuries.

So what of the next time? Suppose our Kazdel is once again razed by flames of war? How much more time will we need to rebuild it?

Now five hundred years—or even longer?

Our enemies have almost gotten away with this, precisely because we've become accustomed to drifting.

Ruination after ruination may never snuff out the Sarkaz soul, but it has unarguably scattered us.

Kazdel today is merely crammed with houses. It is not home.

Still more Sarkaz wander the great land beyond, no dreams in their mind's eye further than tomorrow's bread.

Even the Royal Court... All Kazdel has is its Ten Kings' Court of tradition, and the majority of those ten have left their positions vacant.

This is why you wanted war.

It is not my want, but the Sarkaz's need.

This time, it will be beneath our feet where war's flames ignite. Victoria, Ursus, Leithanien... not one city, not one patch of soil will be fortunate enough to escape.

Within the next century, our enemies will no longer have the energy left to set their sights on Kazdel.

No, more than that. Once we have the ability to guide the storm—they'll come to fear the Sarkaz's gaze instead, just as they fear the storm descending.

The storm... gathers atop this tower we stand in.

They will see us, stood in the storm's eye. Every enemy of the Sarkaz will throw themselves at us with all they have, to stop us.

Then let them.

You... Don't you fear the inferno consuming your body too, when the first thunderbolt strikes?

When you built Babel, you too knew all opposers would point their swords at you—and did you ever once fear?

The tower you built with life has collapsed, just like another Kazdel.

And at this moment, we stand here—in a new tower, in a new opportunity.

Look at Londinium today. You only just presided over the meeting of the kings. How can you not have realized?

Not even before the useless war between us began, were the Sarkaz so close to unity.

「I'll return to the city's outer barracks soon, Your Majesty Theresa.」

「I understand, Nachzehrer King. Our meeting here will be as brief as possible.」

「You're always in such a hurry, Nachzehrer. You don't want to get together with us?」

「I haven't the time to spare, Vampire. A hundred thousand are stationed outside Londinium. Not I nor my soldiers can spare a second of complacency.」

「Then let's switch our duty. I'm already sick of the blabbering nobles inside the city.」

「And, Theresis, your little Gaulish friend is just as foolish and noisy as them.」

「I've got to warn you in advance. My patience is limited.」

「His head will have to stay on his neck for a moment longer. Don't add the city's Victorian Army to our troubles.」

「Fine enough. That said, don't you feel that some still haven't been put to use?」

「Do you speak of myself, Vampire? I have great affairs upcoming, don't I, Your Highnesses?」

「Of course. Control of Londinium is inseparable from the efforts of us all.」

「Has there been word from the Messenger you sent, Confessarius?」

「By Manfred's tireless urging, the Lich is now fast on the way to Londinium.」