Глава 11

Here comes the Vampire.

Have the Corps and our operators keep their distance.;Let Amiya and Logos know.

Okay, Doctor.

It's pretty much going exactly the way you said it would. He's heading straight for the top of the command tower!

The vampire's twisted stubbornness is really giving away his movements... I won't be affected by that, will I?

How are we doing with the drones?;We gotta pick up the pace.

Good news. This command tower is very close to the city walls. I've already located the best route to the control area.

The modern communication methods that the Defense Forces are using are much easier to take advantage of than all that witchcraft the Sarkaz use. I went and disguised my drones' identification codes. None of our long distance signals will be jammed, guaranteed.

Though... drones are very fragile. If they get attacked, that's gonna be all our hard work down the drain.

I just hope that Amiya can stall those guys who really know how put up a good fight up there...

You're weak <i>and</i> foolish, Liberi.

You know a Sarkaz can easily end your life, and you choose not to run?

I am the commander...

This is my tower.

My men... They're all still here.

Perhaps I should consider cleaning them up first, then.

Hm? These Arts.... This scent...

Ah... I see, the foolish pretender is here.

This is our first proper meeting, 'King of Sarkaz.'

I've met you plenty of times before, Vampire.

Countless Self-Salvation Corps fighters sacrificed themselves because of you. I remember all their names, and their lives won't carry any less weight than they deserve just because you look down on them.

So, what do you intend to do, <i>King?</i>

Will you use that... pitch-black axe of yours to end me?

Caster team, sniper team, join me and tear down his blood defense! No time to lose. Seize the target!

All at once, black lines and bolts dart into the thick, blood-colored layer.

Nothing has changed.

You disappoint me.

Cautus, you assume the stance of a warrior, yet you deny the necessity of killing in politics. You are even weaker than Theresa.

Theresa was a ridiculous one... She tried to have the Sarkaz bow down to our invaders, namely Victoria.

And the most foolish of her actions was undoubtedly her decision to make you her successor.

Focus fire!

What a pointless struggle...

Disperse.

Hm?

Right before the tide of blood reaches Amiya, it's suddenly sliced apart in one clean cut.

I see.

In addition to the assassin who was your vanguard, you brought another servant with you.

I am Amiya's employee, not her servant.

Banshee.

Are you perhaps afraid?

You think... by hiding in that shell called Rhodes Island, you can refute your relationship with this counterfeit, and escape Kazdel's judgment on its traitors?

Your words are always riddled with falsehoods, Vampire.

Although only for the time being, I took off my Rhodes Island elite operator uniform the moment we decided to come to Londinium.

I'm the Lord of the Banshees.

Wheresoever I speak, there lies the Elegiac Court.

The young Banshee raises his hand.

On his dark-colored robe, his incantations quiver softly like the first drop of dew dripping down under morning sun.

It is not the crown that I follow.

It is precisely Her Majesty Theresa's ideals that have driven me this far. You took her life and desecrated it, but you can't extinguish the flame that she lit before our eyes.

How can someone who has seen daybreak return to an eternal night?

So this is...

The giant door lies solemnly in the underground area. There is not a sound to be heard aside from the breathing of those who have made their way here.

Of course, death is silent. Not even the most glorious reign can change that fact.

The Mausoleum of Kings... Just as its name suggests... this is the resting place of all Victoria's kings.

Do you hear something?

Nothing besides our breathing.

There is no mistaking that there is some kind of sound echoing throughout this space.

Is it a murmur she hears, having woken up from her dream, or is it a groan she owes to her fatigue?

They are staring at her.

<i>Victoria</i> is staring at her.

The moment she comes to realize this, a sense of agitation immediately follows.

What do they expect? What kind of future are they envisioning for her?

She grew tired of these days on the run long ago.

And it has been a very long time since she last heeded the call of that golden creature.

Golden mane...

Come. We need to finish this mission as fast as we can.

Rhodes Island and the Corps will need our help.

Stop!

What's this... on the ground...?

It's too dark here... I thought this was some of that upper crust posh decor.

This is blood.

Signs of a fight here.

An utterly tragic battle... No, this place is a mire soaked in death.

A meandering trail of blood can be found having slithering down the pathway and past the gap beneath the door. Or perhaps it crept its way out the large door.

The trail of blood has long since dried, leaving the shattered bricks on the ground covered in its twisted, dark crimson stains.

Likewise, there are tattered bolt heads, sword fragments, and craters left behind by Arts explosions, all submerged under the bed of dried blood.

There are also marks more massive in scale, such as the numerous scars on the door, each one by itself more than enough to tear the silence of this place asunder.

Although there are no bodies to be seen, everyone who seen war before can easily work out what transpired here.

Two groups, both prepared to fight to the death, battled each other. Evidently, they got their wish.

Judging from the color of the blood, this must be at least several years old.

Several years... You don't mean...

The Sarkaz.

Sarkaz died here.

I recognize their weapons. They're... the same ones the Sarkaz warriors who attacked the Knights of the Tower used all those years ago.

They're different from what the Sarkaz outside are using.

Completely different.

The blades that the Sarkaz use now are all made in the munitions factories in Highbury, and they're very similar to the standard weapons used by the Victorian Army.

They're not as crude, and nowhere near as... barbaric.

I still remember... the sounds of their rusted blades cutting through my fellow knights. They were heavy, and they'd shatter bone before crushing armor.

Dagda, are you alright?

I'm fine.

If the sight of these battle scars was enough to stop me in my tracks, I probably wouldn't have been able to manage a single peaceful night since my escape from Londinium.

Vina... The situation's not quite what we expected.

The sound hurts her head.

They are urging her. They are speaking.

The Sighs of Kings is still inside.

Keep calm and carry on.

Who fought the Sarkaz?

There's no way to tell.

The other side left no traces?