Chapter 15 : The Winds of the Falklands and the Coming Storm
Inside the private jet bound for the Falkland Islands
“Lai? Are you listening to me?”
Lady Anya Alstreim crossed her arms and glared at me.
In public, she addressed me with razor-sharp formality, but whenever it was just the two of us, she immediately switched into “mother mode.”
Queen Marianne was dead, but unlike the original story, she had completely possessed Anya’s body.
“I apologize, Mother.”
“I dozed off for a moment.”
“What were you saying about Captain Kururugi?”
Tsk
“I said he can now fight evenly against the Witch’s Lover.”
The Witch’s Lover?
Since “the Witch” meant Ravenna—that is, Leila—did that mean Akito-level?
Suzaku had already grown that much?
In the original canon, he defeated Bismarck with nothing but Lelouch’s “Live” Geass.
Now that he even had a good teacher on top of that, it was like giving wings to a tiger.
By the way, how many times had I asked her not to call her the Witch, but Ravenna instead...
Never mind...
“And then there is Lady Kallen Stadtfeld.”
“I already proposed a compromise, didn’t I?”
“One piece of bad news, and one piece of good news.”
“Bad news first.”
“The Order of the Red Knights is having trouble recruiting new talent.”
“……”
“The good news is that not only Jeremiah, but even Lelouch has come to think highly of Kallen.”
“If things go well, she might even become his third wife.”
I calculated silently.
At present, Lelouch had Milly and Shirley.
Officially, that made him 0.02 Charles.
Two women.
One Charles equaled one hundred wives.
If the Pizza Witch was included, that made 0.03 Charles.
If Kallen joined as well, he would reach 0.04 Charles.
Steady progress, little brother.
A short while later.
The Falkland Islands.
The memorial grounds.
The wind was cold enough to bite into the bone.
Hundreds of gravestones stretched across the cemetery at a glance.
On the path leading to the chapel, two men were waiting for me.
Cielo, Grand Master of the Knighthood of Nueva Santiago, and Pascal, Grand Master of the Knighthood of Nueva Toledo.
In the terms of my previous life, their orders were rooted in Panama and northern Chile.
During the Atlantic War, their orders had served as the main strength of the Second Army under my command.
Until Ravenna began her counteroffensive from Toulon, those forces had won battle after battle across Mauretania and Iberia, advancing toward Rome with unstoppable momentum.
SPQR would have called those lands by their proper provincial names—Mauretania, Hispania, Lusitania, Gallia Nabonesis, and more.
In my own head, I still translated them into the map I had once known : Morocco, Spain, Portugal, and France.
“Saludos, Your Highness.”
“Mucho tiempo sin verla, Lady Anya.”
The two bowed their heads at the same time.
I deliberately lowered my voice.
“When the meritocratic faction recruits new personnel, aren’t they offering far better terms than before?”
The two men’s eyes widened.
“…How did you know?”
“I heard the veterans are saying they would rather get married and have children, join one of the Holy Knight Orders and go to Afro-Britannia, or take their compensation money and run off to Area 1.”
Cielo let out a long sigh.
“The conservative faction has it even worse.”
“Especially the territories of the Knighthood of the Pampas... their homeland itself was ravaged.”
At that moment—
“Greetings, Your Highness.”
The Archbishop of Pendragon, the papal-equivalent head of the Britannian Orthodox Church, approached together with the current Grand Master of the Order of Raphael, one of the Four Great Holy Knight Orders.
The Archbishop smiled gently and said,
“His Majesty the Emperor would be greatly pleased if Your Highness were to deliver today’s commemorative address.”
……Excuse me?
Who?
Me?
You want me to do what?