"Good afternoon."
Russell gave a polite nod, while Charlotte beside him merely let out a simple "Mm," which counted as a greeting.
"Your rooms are already prepared for the two of you," Mycroft said, half-turning aside.
"If you don't mind, you may go take a look first—see if there's anything else you need, and feel free to bring it up. Buckingham Palace will do everything in its power to meet your requests."
"We're only here to stay a single night—is there really any need to make such a... grand fuss of it?" Russell couldn't help speaking up.
"Even if it were only for a day, so long as you are guests of Buckingham Palace, then naturally you must be received with the most fitting courtesy," Mycroft said with a smile.
"And besides, I must correct one point, Mr. Watson—it's two nights."
Mycroft made a gesture of "after you," and led the two of them into that resplendent, glittering palace.
The interior décor was even more lavish than Russell had imagined.
Although he had been here once before, that time he had, after all, come with a purpose.
Time had been tight, the task heavy—he'd had no mind whatsoever for sightseeing.
This time was different.
Exquisite frescoes were painted across the soaring vaulted ceiling, and the enormous chandeliers, like frozen waterfalls, scattered down a brilliant radiance.
Beneath his feet was marble flooring polished smooth as a mirror, and the walls on both sides were hung with portraits of monarchs through the ages, each worth a fortune.
The attendants and maids were all dressed in crisply pressed uniforms, moving soundlessly through the various corridors with the most impeccable bearing, and whenever they passed, they would of their own accord bow in greeting toward Mycroft and the others.
"The rooms you'll be staying in are on the third floor of the west wing," Mycroft said as he led the way, explaining as he went.
"The view there is open and unobstructed; you can look out over most of the garden, and it isn't far from Her Highness's bedchamber either—it's the best vantage point."
He explained at an unhurried pace, while Russell listened with only half his attention, his gaze falling on the security arrangements all around him.
Compared to last time, the strength of the security this time had clearly taken a qualitative leap.
Roughly every ten meters one could see a fully armed royal guard.
Their positioning was meticulously considered, capable of forming perfect crossfire with one another, and without any blind spots whatsoever.
"You really did go to no small amount of trouble," Charlotte remarked.
"Mending the fold after the sheep are lost is still not too late," Mycroft replied calmly.
The three of them soon arrived at the guest quarters prepared for Russell and Charlotte.
Mycroft pushed open one of the doors.
"This is your room, Mr. Watson."
Russell walked in. The space inside was even larger than he'd imagined—nearly the size of an entire floor of the Baker Street place.
"If you need anything, you can pull the bell-rope by the bed at any time."
Having said this, Mycroft then pushed open the door next to it.
"Charlotte, this one is yours."
Charlotte walked in, swept a casual glance around, and then walked back out again.
"When does dinner begin?" she asked, not a trace of politeness in her tone.
"Seven o'clock sharp, in the banquet hall." Mycroft glanced at his pocket watch.
"That leaves two hours. You may rest for a while first, or wander about the palace."
"I need a complete security deployment map, as well as the few intrusion points where Moriarty is most likely to appear," Charlotte stated her requirements directly.
"Of course," Mycroft nodded. "I've already prepared it—it's right there in your room. Any other questions?"
"None for the moment."
"And you, Mr. Watson?"
"I have none either."
"Very good." Mycroft smiled. "Then I shall not disturb the two of you any further."
With that, he turned and departed, his tall, upright figure soon vanishing at the far end of the long corridor.
Russell tossed his luggage bag carelessly onto the bed, and then sank down into it himself along with it.
"So soft..." he sighed with heartfelt feeling, then rolled over.
"So, when the time comes, do I follow your arrangements, or Mycroft's?"
"Mine," Charlotte said without a second's thought.
"All you need to do is stay by the princess's side. The only requirement is this: don't let the princess leave your field of vision."
That simple?
"That simple," Charlotte nodded.
"I thought you'd have me go out on patrol or something," Russell said, sitting up from the bed.
"We don't need you for the patrolling—Mycroft has already arranged the royal guards for that. Compared to a layman, they're obviously the professionals."
"Then why aren't you the one guarding the princess?" Russell asked again. "Isn't the princess exactly Moriarty's target?"
"I don't like staking out a spot to catch someone—there's no fun in that," Charlotte said. "Moriarty's ultimate target is the princess, but before he reaches that target, there has to be a process, right?"
"So you want to... intercept him along the way?"
"You could put it that way," Charlotte said noncommittally.
"Tonight I'll tell Mycroft the arrangement and have him pull away all the guards from the princess's side. Tomorrow night, it'll just be you and the princess alone, and the only thing you have to do is one single thing—"
"Aside from me, no one is allowed to approach the princess, right?"
"Exactly," Charlotte nodded.
"No matter who you see, or whose voice you hear. Me, Mycroft, even Her Majesty the Queen herself—it makes no difference. None of us will come near, nor even appear within your field of vision. If someone else really does appear, then that person is certainly Moriarty. Understood?"
"Understood," Russell nodded. "But is this really all right?"
"All right how?"
"Uh, like... reputation, that sort of thing?" Russell said.
"I have to remind you, Watson—the princess is only fourteen."
"Obviously, I know that perfectly well," Russell rolled his eyes. "What I mean is, what I mean is that some people don't care about that, and if word got out..."
"If word got out, Mycroft would be finished—it's not something for us to worry about. And even if some gossip and rumors really did spread, the male lead would be Moriarty, so what's it got to do with you?"
Charlotte said, then turned and walked toward her own room.
Only he was left in the room now.
Russell rolled around a couple of times on the soft, large bed, savoring the comfort of that luxurious fabric against his skin, and couldn't help letting out a satisfied sigh.
"How long has it been since I slept on a bed this soft."
He lay on the bed, gazing up at the dazzling, brilliant chandelier on the ceiling, wrought of crystal and gold, his mind beginning to race at high speed.
Charlotte's plan seemed, on the surface, utterly flawless.
Clear away all the security forces around the princess, make himself the sole line of defense, and then she herself would go intercept the prey midway—putting on a fine show of the mantis stalking the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind.
The single most crucial point in it was this—Moriarty would not casually harm anyone.
That was precisely why she could so unscrupulously place him—seemingly the one with the least combat ability—right beside the all-important princess.
After all, no matter how useless a person is, surely they can at least open their mouth and shout, right?
And you know what?
He'd left his vocal cords at home.
This was, quite simply, handing him a perfect stage.
And who could ever have imagined that the fellow planted at the princess's side was, in fact, Moriarty himself?
When the moment came, all he had to do was use his marvelous little gadgets to stir up some commotion or other, then leave the princess's line of sight, find somewhere to hide, and he could openly and brazenly strike in his Moriarty guise.
This move, ah—this move was called:
——The enemy is at Honnō-ji!
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