"Your Majesty, you…"
Of course Sebas knew that the scene before him—Her Majesty Selene's nightly 'revelry'—was nothing more than a bit of post-work flirting and relaxation. It did not mean anything more than that. But still… the atmosphere was so decadent… so lavish…
It gave him the ominous feeling that the fall of an empire might be near.
Sebas opened his mouth, intending to offer some counsel. Yet he hesitated—after all, it was he who had arranged and selected the performers for these palace entertainments. It was he who had advised Selene not to spend every hour sitting solemnly upon the throne, and had even built her these pleasure gardens for rest and recovery.
His intentions had been pure. The results, however, were both unexpected and—somehow—completely predictable.
Was he… the very sort of conniving minister he always warned others about?
Ah, forget it… forget it.
Clap!
Selene flicked open her folding fan with a sharp motion, half-covering her face.
Instantly, the music ceased, and the dancers froze in place.
"Mm, since everyone's arrived, let's begin."
Her lips—rosy from wine—curved faintly behind the fan as her crimson eyes, gleaming like aged wine, lazily drifted toward the worried old man and the curious Esdeath standing nearby.
"As for the appointment of the next Sector Governor for the Type-Moon Composite Starfield…"
Sebas, carrying a data terminal and several files under one arm, hesitated. His eyes clearly said, This is official business, Your Majesty. Couldn't we discuss it somewhere more appropriate? This setting is… improper.
Selene only smiled. "No rush. We'll talk here."
"Those leftover insurgents who survived the conquest campaigns have already been dealt with by Esdeath. The Starfield Governor position no longer requires a general-governor like her. The replacement is easy to find."
"The unruly and the ambitious have been purged several times over. Order has been restored. The Empire's control and reach are now secure. Military administration can end—it's time to move into phase two: stabilization and economic recovery."
"For this, we'll pick someone from the Ministry of Internal Affairs. The Privy Councilors there understand the work best. Have them draft a proposal and submit a shortlist."
Selene spoke unhurriedly, her tone calm and even. As she finished, she sliced off a neat square piece of the Super Danger-Class Earth Dragon King's rib meat, lifted it with her fork, and took a bite.
"Would you like to try some? It's a rare delicacy—'Dragonblood' Earth Dragon King meat. Freshly prepared from the new strain bred in the Imperial Hunting Park. A new dish crafted by that fellow Susanoo—quite good, really."
"Thank you, Your Majesty, but this old servant still has military files to—"
"Oh! I want some! I want some!"
Under the astonished gaze of the gathered Flügel attendants, the woman in the black-and-white military cap—General Esdeath herself—swaggered past Sebas, knelt gracefully before Selene, and grasped her wrist lightly before biting off the piece of dragon meat straight from the fork.
"Ha—!"
You insolent brat! How dare she—!
"…Princess Alyssa, please… not so much force."
At the corner bar, the mermaid princess Shirahoshi, clad no longer in her dancer's attire, nearly dropped her shaker. The bottle in her trembling hand was about to burst from the dark, suffocating aura that radiated from Alyssa, who sat nearby, her entire body exuding killing intent.
"Hey! Hey! Big Sis! Who is that woman? She's so arrogant! She just snatched food straight from Her Majesty's fork!"
"Never seen her before. Doesn't look like she's from the Astartes Legions, nor the Imperial Guard… Maybe from the Inquisition, or one of the central ministries? No, she doesn't fit the type…"
Within seconds, the once-silent mental communication network among the Flügel attendants exploded in chaos.
"Silence! Have you all lost your minds?!"
"Everyone, stay in position and maintain order!" Azril's voice thundered through the Flügel network, her frustration barely contained. Honestly… these newborns are such a headache!
Do they really think they can compare themselves to her?
"Esdeath Partas. Former Supreme Governor of the Type-Moon Composite Starfield under direct Imperial jurisdiction. Marshal of the Imperial Capital's Royal Guard. Commander of the Imperial Special Covert Assassination Division, and Director-General of the Imperial Inquisition's Assassin Bureau—answering only to Her Majesty herself."
As Azril explained this to her curious younger Flügel sisters, her mismatched blue-and-gold eyes fell on the kneeling, smiling figure of icy blue beside Selene. A faint look of solemnity flickered within them.
Even after relinquishing the full manifestation of the Herrscher of Ice, Esdeath still wore her trademark appearance. Her blue hair, swept upward in front, peeked from beneath her custom white military cap. Her long hair flowed down to her hips like a frozen waterfall, adorned with two translucent ribbons resembling drifting clouds.
Each title Azril recited carried weight. And with every word, the chatter across the Flügel network grew quieter.
Especially when Esdeath's cold, confident smile lifted slightly—an expression that radiated a chilling aura, one even more frigid than the ice god of Disboard, yet containing a madness for battle far greater than that of any war deity.
She's strong.
She's no ordinary being.
Born as weapons to slay gods, the Flügel were prideful and cruel by nature. They were impulsive, yes, and often violent, but they respected strength—and the laws laid down by those stronger than themselves.
And Esdeath's string of titles alone was enough to command their respect. A frontier governor, a veteran general, a confidant of the throne, a political overseer—each role more intimidating than the last.
"It's full of familiar flavor, Your Majesty. You still prefer earth dragon meat, I see," Esdeath remarked with an easy smile, removing her cap with practiced grace. Her icy-blue eyes surveyed the relaxed, wine-touched figure of Selene amid the music and feasting.
If the setting was meant for leisure, she had no reason to maintain the formal stiffness of the grand hall. Yet Esdeath still held herself with measured decorum—just enough to show respect, without ruining the casual atmosphere.
After all, this balance was something she had long since mastered. She had served under Selene since her days as an adjutant, and knew exactly where that comfortable middle ground lay.
"Creatures once branded as 'Danger Beasts' now appear on the tables of the common people… The northern provinces' prosperity and stability are all thanks to Your Majesty's virtue."
Her words were flattery—but also truth. As a native of the Empire's northern territories and descendant of the Baruts clan, renowned hunters of dangerous beasts, Esdeath had grown up eating the flesh of such creatures. No one understood their ferocity—and their value—better than she.
Now, many of those once-feared species had become domesticated livestock.
"Mm-hmm…"
Selene accepted the compliment with a smile, continuing to chew delicately. Once she had finished the last bite of her rib and taken a sip of water, her crimson eyes glimmered with amusement.
"Enough small talk. I heard you've been challenging the Throne of Heroes?"
"Only a few minor duels with unremarkable figures," Esdeath admitted casually, spreading her hands with a relaxed shrug.
"You're the one who granted those old relics such autonomy, Your Majesty. Aside from those heroic spirits who walk freely outside the Throne, the ones who remain sealed within are the real prizes. Unfortunately… no matter how I tried to provoke them, none took the bait. Not one."
"How dull. If they had accepted my challenge, it would have been so much more interesting."
Her voice carried genuine regret.
"Oh, you're still putting on that act? If I hadn't foreseen this and assigned you a team of adjutants and secretaries several times larger than standard, you wouldn't be sitting here boasting so easily before me."
"As expected of Your Majesty… you know me too well."
Watching the two—master and general—converse so comfortably about the affairs of the Type-Moon, Sebas sighed softly and ascended the steps to the pavilion. Taking his seat to Selene's right, he finally spoke.
"This is more appropriate."
Selene waved away the attendants who were refilling cups, lifted her own hand, and poured a glass of wine for Sebas herself. Then, turning back, she picked up her knife and fork once more. With practiced ease, she sliced off a juicy, sizzling piece of rib, speared it neatly, and turned toward a pair of eager, glimmering eyes that had been fixed on her for quite some time.
"Here, Alyssa—catch!"
"Raaah—!"
A loud "dragon's roar" echoed as Alyssa, her eyes red from anticipation, lunged forward like a starving tiger. She snapped up the entire chunk of meat from Selene's fork in one bite, then squatted beside her like a hamster, cheeks puffed out, chewing furiously.
Watching the meat juice dribble down Alyssa's cheek, Selene unfolded her napkin and wiped her face with the gentle patience of a grandmother. "How old are you, really? Someone takes a bite, and you just have to take one too? Still sulking, are we?"
Once the wiping was done, Alyssa stretched her neck and nodded vigorously. "Mhm!" Then she raised her head proudly toward Esdeath. "Alyssa likes it!"
Selene sighed lightly. "I give up. Everyone gets their own serving. I'm not here to spoon-feed you all."
Shaking her head in amusement, Selene gestured to the dancers and musicians. Instantly, the once-stilled melody resumed—high mountains, flowing waters, strings reborn.
At the same time, delicacies from across the Empire's colonies were presented by attendants one by one.
Between sips of wine and bites of food—
"Your Majesty, this is a memorial from Governor Lelouch vi Britannia. He requests that Princess Nunnally vi Britannia be allowed to leave the palace and return home so that the siblings may reunite."
"Approved."
"This is the promotion list drafted by Grand General Budo for high-ranking officers of the Imperial Auxiliary Army. During his service in the Second Punitive Fleet, Auxiliary Lieutenant General 'Akainu' Sakazuki displayed both merit and virtue, showing outstanding bravery in battle and repeatedly turning the tide in favor of the Empire's conquests. He has made numerous exceptional contributions to the complete victories of Imperial campaigns—thus, a promotion to Auxiliary General is proposed."
"He's being promoted to General? What of Borsalino and Kuzan? Bring me their records… Mm. Not bad. Approved."
"Your Majesty, if you could grant me ascension to the Throne of Heroes—" Esdeath began.
"Denied."
"Your Majesty, this is the formal renaming document for the Inquisition's Demon Hunters—now to be called the 'Grey Knights'—and the authorization for expansion of their ranks. All procedures are complete, pending only your signature."
"Oh, alright."
"Your Majesty, I have something important to report too!"
"Oh? Let's hear it."
...
By the time the feast ended and the final notes of the music faded, everyone was thoroughly satisfied.
Unexpectedly, Selene's efficiency in governing affairs while eating and drinking was not diminished in the slightest—in fact, it was slightly improved.
Sebas sipped his wine thoughtfully. Well… at least this setting was far less rigid than the oppressive atmosphere of the Grand Hall.
He cast a subtle glance toward Esdeath, who was laughing and sharing amusing stories from her tenure as governor with Selene.
Among a field of dwarves, she was at least a tall one. Progress, at least. Sebas raised his cup and downed the last of his wine.
After finishing a spirited discussion with Selene on her recent duel against the heroic spirit—Chiron, the great Greek sage—and the martial art she had learned from him, Pankration (a fusion of boxing and wrestling, perhaps humanity's earliest mixed combat technique in the Type-Moon world), Esdeath abruptly changed the topic.
"Rather than that, Your Majesty… these angels here—are they the rumored Imperial Third Sequence, the Battle Angel Legion—the Flügel?"
Her sharp, icy gaze cut toward the Flügel girls hovering beside Selene's golden screen. Her pupils gradually transformed into vertical, crystalline shapes of pale blue—mirroring the golden diamond patterns in Selene's own eyes, both gleaming with mysterious, divine symmetry.
Unlike the cold, blade-like presence of the Imperial Guard or the silent lethality of the Sisters of Silence, the Flügel's aura was entirely different—holy, radiant.
Religious fanatics and the devout followers of the Scriptures of the Holy Word would surely worship them.
Their forms were beautiful and ethereal—halos of intricate geometric sigils floated above their heads; pairs of radiant wings, woven from pure light, extended gracefully from their backs; their hair shimmered like prisms, reflecting endless hues; and their eyes glowed with celestial brilliance.
"Impressive, aren't they?" Selene's tone was casual, her finger tapping lightly on the table. "Do you have any thoughts?"
"My hands are itching," Esdeath admitted with a faint grin.
"They're all yours."
"You're serious…? Huh?" Esdeath blinked, startled.
Selene had never allowed her to spar with the Imperial Guard or the Sisters of Silence before. The last time Esdeath had suggested such a match, Selene had personally beaten her for the idea. What was different now?
It had started as harmless teasing—but this? This was an unexpected reward.
"The Flügel have… a lot of energy to burn," Selene said lightly, patting Esdeath's shoulder. She then waved for Azril, who had been hovering behind the screen, to descend.
Without further explanation, Selene turned and began walking toward the back of the pavilion with Sebas.
Only Esdeath and the wide-eyed Flügel girls were left behind, staring at each other in silence.
"…"
In the rear pavilion, leaning casually against the railing with her chin propped on one hand, Selene let the evening breeze brush against her face. A faint smile curved her lips.
"Sebas, there's one matter… I'll have to trouble you a bit for this one."
The mild intoxication vanished instantly from Sebas's face. "Your Majesty?"
"I intend to personally tour the Empire's provinces—and our colonial worlds. First stop: the First Legion's primary Conscription World under Alex's command."
"'Black Bullet'."
"?!"
...
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