Глава 11

Miss!

Excuse me.

*sigh* Don't run so fast!

Sir, Madam, I need to fetch Mistress Allerdale. If you'll pardon me.

Well, then. Our Miss Allerdale seems to be a fine, outspoken young girl.

Ah-heh... I thought we wouldn't have the chance to meet Miss Allerdale until the function tonight. How lucky of us, wouldn't you say, Martha?

Children can always afford to be innocent and naive. But whoever you may be...

You won't get away without growing up.

Allerdale pants and gasps as she runs down a long, long passage.

She meant to seek her father, and she has no idea why she squeezes her way into this tiny room instead. It's far from both the ballroom and the Duke's study, practically neighboring the attic.

It's probably her fit of temper in this moment. She doesn't understand why her dad wants her gone, let alone why those posh-dressed visitors would say such things about the Cumberlands.

Every time life doesn't go her way, like when she loses a cricket match, or when her father the Duke misses her birthday party, this is where she comes, so she can have a chat with her old friend.

They've all forgotten! You were the mightiest knight the Steam Knights ever had!

But my father taught me that true heroes aren't afraid to give their lives, and they're even less afraid of being forgotten... so I shouldn't have argued with them.

I really want to grow up soon... and then I'll become one of the glorious Steam Knights too, and rout all our enemies!

I'll make every single person who ever talked down on the Cumberlands too ashamed to lift their heads!

I probably can't be as mighty as you were. But it'll be enough if I can just be half as... no... two-thirds as mighty.

Oh, but my father's said that as a Cumberland, I must hold the loftiest goals in mind! So...

You'll watch over me, can't you? I won't disappoint you, of course not!

(...Is someone here?!)

(Is it Ailshie?)

She doesn't want to be dragged back to the hall so soon, so she stoops down, and with a single step leaps behind the steam armor she knows so well.

The dilapidated suit shields her as if it was protecting the young desendant. Her dainty frame is completely concealed.

Strangers' footsteps encroach.

Most of her view is blocked by the suit; Allerdale can't make out their faces. The most she can glimpse is their distorted reflections.

Time's short, and chances are few. We need to confirm a few things.

Are you sure this place is safe?

It's as secluded as any nook or cranny gets. The rest of the visitors are all in the ballroom, still. No one's noticed us leave.

No, someone has.

Not everyone loves to hang around in opulent halls with nothing to do, Allerdale thinks to herself.

I don't understand. Why not choose today? The lion's finally left his den for once, and hardly any of the Guard are here.

An assassination can't solve anything, and it won't.

Don't tell me you're scared of the gallows, Mister Dutyman.

Compared to your fear of poverty, I'd say getting hanged's a lighter affair for me.

I'm SICK of spending my days with my brain and my wallet in others' hands. Chop-chop, please.

Even if the elder dies, there's still the cubs. The crown will remain seated firm on their heads, muzzling us like draft animals.

If we can kill one king, we can kill a second.

Easier said. Listen, we have to be patient.

The Steam Knights have all been sent out. By the time they return to Londinium, the dust will have settled.

What will they do then?

The same as those paragon few. They'll do nothing for their own gain, and everything for Victoria. Even if it won't be handy to support our actions, they'll understand the decisions from on high.

Then that leaves the Royal Guard.

At the parade...

...contain every Knight of the Tower... the key is seizing the city Defense Forces...

...some dukes got fed up with it long ago...

Allerdale's face presses against cold plate, but sweat nevertheless drips down her forehead.

It grows harder and harder not to move a muscle, not to mention keeping her breathing stifled. The voices of the two figures grow gradually out of reach, then suddenly are right before her.

For a blink, she quivers, trying as hard as she can not to let her body slip into view, curling even her toes in.

Has this lousy thing always been here?

First-generation steam knight armor.

First-generation! That's over two hundred years ago. It's antique by now, isn't it? I'm sure it'd fetch a pretty price.

Haven't you seen the family crest? It's House Cumberland's steam armor.

Its old owner once stood before the Gaulish artillery in this, braced for three whole hours, just so His Majesty could flee unscathed together with his shattered people.

Only during battlefield cleanup did people realize half this suit had been blown away, and the one inside may well have died soon after bombardment began—

—but even dead, knights still persevere in protecting their own king and kin, reluctant to fall so soon.

And here you're the one of Gaulish blood—I'm surprised you like reminiscing on these nobles' heroic deeds more than I do.

Fundamentally... I just bear respect for those we can call heroes.

Their belongings and your measuring of things don't mix. Even if this duke's home is razed to ash one day, the Cumberlands would never sell off this armor.

Hah... damned noble sense of honor, am I right? Utterly meaningless, in my view.

He's welcome to watch from his ivory tower all he likes, along with the rest of the dukes. No matter who the city's ruler nominally is, it won't make the dukes' authority any worse for wear, at least for the moment.

If he took the prudent path, then he wouldn't be Cumberland.

Why can't he just let go of his loyalty to the lions? With colossal change about to greet Victoria, you wish he'd recognize where his loyalty <i>should</i> lie, sooner rather than later.

What's going on down there?

More men than you can count have surrounded the Duke's manor.

What?!

Quiet. Listen carefully.

Intruders... Palace underground...

Blade... thieved...

Seal off all major streets in Auchterigg... no one in or out...

Can you hear what they're saying down there?

They're searching for someone.

Who?

His Majesty's entire Guard has moved out.

They couldn't know we're meeting here... could they? What do we do, sir?

A faint noise comes from in front of them, a sound like someone gently drawing breath.

Allerdale's heart pounds.

...Allerdale, it's no good habit to eavesdrop. Listen to your father, now.

Only lowly scoundrels would hide away in the dark to plot the demise of another.

Maybe they do it for their own benefit, but such stolen victories never last for long.

(Urgh... lowly scoundrels, both of them...)

(Dad...)

She doesn't want to be caught barefaced, especially not by these awful people. It'd disappoint her father, and bring shame on the Cumberland name.

If she can just climb out of the window...

We need to seize the moment.

The soldiers are counting heads right now. We'll mingle with the crowd in the confusion. That way, nobody will realize we were ever gone.

...Did you hear something?

It must be some little house pest. Don't overthink it. How's a room so cramped going to hide anyone?

Phew...

She carefully, gingerly cowers inside the shadow. Her most loyal ally—the tremendous suit of steam armor—becomes her shield.

Her fingers feel to the edge of the window, and if she can just climb over and out, she can avoid this duo's line of sight, and climb down the gutter pipe.

Her skirt's filthy by now. Ailshie won't be happy about this.

But as long as she's not caught...

Agh!

She doesn't understand what happened.

The sky and ground seem to spin before her eyes, the inside of Allerdale's head whirling with. Her hands and legs lose all purchase, her grasp and footing touch nothing but thin air. She plummets straight from the second story.

The garden scenery screams like mad towards her head, but before she hits the stiff soil, a soft yet ample cushion catches her.

A cushion from where?

No, it's not even a cushion.

Allerdale feels herself gently placed upon the ground.

She turns to looks behind—