The Australian government, naturally, denied involvement. It was the UK that had linked Australia and the Great Asian Alliance; if Australia admitted the facts, the trail would likely lead back to their puppeteers. If the British military was revealed as the true mastermind, their influence in the Western EU would plummet. Aware of this, the British Military Intelligence was thick with tension.
Yet, it hadn't become a public scandal. Even inside the Defence Intelligence Staff (DIS) headquarters in Whitehall, people spoke in hushed tones, fearing leaks. This only made the atmosphere heavier.
MacLeod knew he was being watched with accusatory eyes. He had already been asked for an explanation; he didn't need to be told his position was deteriorating. But MacLeod himself showed no sign of caring. Even when questioned by military brass in front of government officials, he maintained his leisurely, aristocratic composure.
Part of this was the calculated certainty that the British government would never discard him, given he was one of the 'Thirteen Apostles.' However, the fact that he didn't seem shocked—despite having personally traveled to Australia to direct the operation—suggested his confidence went beyond mere job security.
Leaving the DIS building, MacLeod entered an old building a block away. It housed a branch of the Government Communications Headquarters (GCHQ), responsible for SIGINT. To an outsider, the purpose of the building was a mystery. It was MacLeod's workplace—or more accurately, a private room within the GCHQ branch was reserved for him.
Due to its nature, the building had very little foot traffic. MacLeod's office was in a corner of the machine floor where even internal staff rarely ventured. By using a private elevator, his presence there remained a secret.
Locking the door, MacLeod switched on a state-of-the-art communication device that looked out of place in the old building. A man's face appeared on the display; he had been waiting before the appointed time.
"Hello, Sir William MacLeod. How is your health?"
"Hello, Doctor Clark. My body is well enough, for my age."
"I didn't mean it like that... my apologies."
"No, forgive me. It was a mere joke."
The man MacLeod was speaking to—who was now smiling awkwardly—was Edward Clark. A scholar at the USNA National Science Agency (NSA) and an expert in large-scale information systems.
"You are a difficult man, Sir. By the way, regarding 'that matter'... it seems it ended in failure, as planned."
"I can keep no secrets from the Doctor, it seems."
The connection between a mere scholar and one of the 'Thirteen Apostles'... MacLeod knew the man on the monitor was no ordinary academic. He knew Clark possessed a 'system' capable of catching information as quickly as the British government had the day after the incident.
"You flatter me. So, did the 'Trojan Horse' manage to slip in?"
"..."
"Sir MacLeod? Has our plot been exposed?"
"I cannot say for certain... but it seems that after being detained by Japanese police, they were deported on a civilian flight to Sydney under suspicion of terrorist activities."
Edward's surprise was palpable. The original plan was to have the Strategic-Class Magician Jasmine Williams catch the eye of the Yotsuba family via the Defense Force and infiltrate them. Alternatively, she was meant to probe the unpredictable Kagurazaka or Kamizumi families. That plan had been completely derailed.
"If the Yotsuba gave up that easily, it is troublesome."
"The one who detained 'Jazz' was Kagurazaka Yugen—an associate of Kagurazaka Senki, the hero of the Third World War. Our list of concerns has grown."
"I see... regardless, information is essential to ruling the world. Sir William, the USNA thanks you for your cooperation, regardless of the operation's success."
"The honor is mine. I hope you will continue to lend your wisdom for the prosperity of my Britain."
"Of course. We are allies, after all."
After ending the transmission, MacLeod didn't just turn off the device; he meticulously locked the system before leaving the secret office. As he stepped outside, he noticed a grand limousine waiting. A well-dressed man stood beside it.
"Sir William MacLeod, I presume?"
"I am. May I ask what this is about?"
Normally, such an abrupt greeting would be suspicious. But MacLeod recognized the man as a butler from the palace where the British Royal Family resided.
"Her Majesty has commanded your presence at the palace. Since this is not a formal audience, she says your current attire is acceptable."
"...Allow me to stop at my home first."
"As you wish."
Surprised by the summons, MacLeod thought for a moment before deciding to go home and freshen up. Even if told it wasn't formal, his pride wouldn't allow him to enter the palace looking unkempt.
After changing, he was driven to the palace. Guided by a servant, he was shown into a drawing room and sat down quietly. He hadn't expected a summons from the Sovereign, but he guessed it concerned the recent incident. At worst, he planned to explain that he acted for the future prosperity of the Commonwealth.
The doors opened, and he was led into the audience chamber. MacLeod kept his distance from the monarch sitting in the magnificent chair—no, the Queen. He knelt on one knee and bowed his head.
"Forgive the sudden summons, Sir William MacLeod."
"Not at all. When the Queen calls, it is my duty as one who holds the title of 'Sir' to show the utmost respect."
The current Queen of England had ascended to the throne at the young age of eighteen (she was now twenty-five). Normally, her older brothers would have succeeded, but her father, the previous King, took the conflict between magicians and non-magicians seriously. He believed the nation needed a ruler with a merciful heart—like his late grandmother, the former Queen—and thus passed the throne to his daughter.
At that time, he had enlisted the help of a Japanese person he had known years ago to ensure the young Queen's rise.
As a child, she had left her homeland to study in Japan, honing her skills within a "certain famous family." As a result, she carried herself with a grace befitting British royalty. Her aura was such that no one dared look down on her for her youth.
Even for MacLeod, a nationally recognized Strategic-Class Magician, he found himself naturally assuming a posture of submission before the majesty of the Queen of England.
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