39. Avalon
“Painful… All rise.”
From the throne—after the Empire vanished, from the Central Military District Commander’s seat in the Republic—Kakuda Kazuo spoke in a solemn voice to the group of women prostrated on the steps far below. The first one to raise her head was the tall blonde woman with long flowing hair. In both hands she held the newborn infant daughter she had just given birth to. The former Imperial Princess, now a flesh slave, a breeding sow, and mother: Charlotte.
(No matter what she suffers, you remain beautiful, don’t you?)
Kakuda murmured to himself. Her golden-blonde hair was still beautiful, and the supreme, battle-forged body of the princess knight—refined by years on the field—now carried the lush, mature softness of a nineteen-century nude painting, thanks to repeated childbirth. Yet her snow-white skin still glowed, smooth and lustrous like alabaster. Looking at her again, every curve from her hips to her toes was filled with feminine roundness, her waist narrow, her breasts full. Every part radiated beauty and delicacy, and where softness was called for, it was present.
(Compared to her…)
Kakuda glanced at Henry Darger beside him. The old man had always looked aged, but recently his hair had grown noticeably whiter.
“You’re looking older, Henry.”
“You’ve got wrinkles, Mr. Kakuda.”
The two men exchanged a wry smile. They had dreamed the same dream, founded a utopian Republic, and spent more than a decade traveling the continent, conquering it from east to west. Most of the land was now under Republican rule.
But no matter how many times they crushed rebellions, royalist factions—small, scattered, like ants—kept springing up, shouting about the restoration of feudalism. Kakuda could no longer remember how many times he had cursed the masses. Moreover, this world already had more than ten other continents he knew of.
(Perhaps this world’s laws remain unchanged, just as Charlotte’s beauty does.)
Kakuda laughed bitterly at himself. Behind Charlotte stood her three daughters—Aisha, Alma, and Antigone—holding their own infants. At twelve, the twins had already become women and mothers. Each had taken one letter of the mother’s name: Aisha, Alma, Antigone. Their honey-blonde hair and amber eyes were those of beautiful, mother-like babies. Behind them were the twins of the same age—still prepubescent girls, but they trained day and night in the sexual techniques needed to become perfect flesh slaves. Further back was the one who still remained a virgin, yet among her sisters she had the best tongue technique. And all the way down to the youngest, for twelve years Charlotte had given birth every single year without fail. In total she had borne fifteen children. She was still in her twenties.
(A twenty-something with fifteen children and three grandchildren… impossible even in the old world.)
Kakuda chuckled and called to Charlotte.
“Charlotte. How does it feel, having given birth to your own daughter with your daughters by your side?”
“It is… truly a blessing. I am grateful for it.”
“Oh? Do you still not hate us—the ones who turned you into a flesh slave?”
“I once believed myself to be a proud princess, a true human. Master Kakuda showed me my real self: a breeding sow, a pregnant flesh slave. Is there any resentment I should feel other than gratitude?”
Charlotte looked straight into Kakuda’s face with her amber eyes.
“Then you no longer wish to return to being an imperial princess knight?”
“I have come to understand my true joy. Compared to this, the thrill of wielding a sword on the battlefield is childish. There is no pleasure in this world worth the pain of giving birth to my children. I wish only to remain the lowest flesh slave until my last breath, to be violated and impregnated day and night, and to reach the ultimate pleasure.”
“Is that truly your wish?”
“Not a single hair can be said to harbor any impure thought.”
She declared it with absolute certainty. Kakuda had watched her eyes for a long time. Then his face softened.
“Charlotte, you have spoken well! After carrying the sins of a thousand years of empire, enduring every humiliation, disgrace, and violation—yet your body and soul remain uncrushed, instead rising as a beautiful sex slave. Truly admirable. I commend you!”
“It is an honor beyond measure.”
Charlotte pressed her forehead to the floor and let tears of joy stream down her cheeks.
“You have been purified. Therefore, in the name of the Central Military District Commander of the Republic, I declare that all the crimes of the imperial princess have been erased. Charlotte, you are pardoned. You are free. Go wherever you like.”
The old, weathered door of the former royal palace creaked open.
Charlotte stepped out wearing a rough cotton dress and leather sandals, holding her newborn daughter wrapped in a cotton swaddle. Behind her followed a group of girls and young children in the same attire.
From that day, their new journey began. A gust of wind blew through her hair, and sunlight sparkled. Charlotte smiled at her baby. Kakuda felt a faint aura of the Virgin Mary in her.
“What do you think will happen next?”
Kakuda asked Henry Darger beside him.
“I wonder. If the people accept them, they will live quietly as ordinary commoners. If they are not accepted, they will return to the same life of being sex slaves. Either way, it is no bad thing for her.”
“Indeed. Charlotte has left her nest. What happens after is up to her and her daughters.”
Kakuda and Henry Darger returned to the official residence for afternoon duties.
In the shadow of the gate, a beautiful black-skinned woman watched the procession in silence.
“Farewell, Charlotte. Farewell… my Master, Princess.”
Spica murmured softly. A single tear slid down her black eyes.
The sun was already a red ruby, the dusk approaching. The crimson sunset dyed the wandering women red.