Chapter 43: Fallout

The Academy declares a week-long break to deal with the fallout. All involved are recalled back to their parents for a dressing down and talking to, with Leon being summoned to the palace for an explanation; the girls following him to provide their eyewitness accounts regarding the lead-up to the duel.

Mylene is quick to drag Julius into a spare room to vent her frustrations at him while the girls follow their respective fathers to private rooms for their own reports– leaving Leon alone with Olivia.

They are ushered into one of the many side rooms of the palace by royal guards, who stand outside the room to give Leon a chance to collect himself while Olivia rests on the soft bed. She's since had the bleeding stopped and a fresh dose of painkillers applied, and the healer once again telling her now to do anything too stressful lest the injury open up. The commoner girl at least had the graciousness to be sheepish and bow her head at the lecture she got.

Leon and his men got a laugh out of it at least, which Angelica and Clarice quickly shut up with quick smacks to the shoulder. Though they only smacked Leon, which amused his traitorous underlings further– prompting him to promise them a nice training day together.

From his place on the comfy sofa, Leon rubs at his eyes as Hustler One… doesn't quite nag at him, but it's a close thing.

//"I will not fault you for your lapse in judgement given what the boy did to Olivia, but this does throw a wrench into our plans."// the A.I says through the Human+ comms link. //"Whatever punishment the royal family would give you is going to present a hurdle towards our long-term goals."//

"The Founding Households and the various political marriages that kept the Kingdom stable have been broken, meaning more opportunities for us to slip in and plant people for long-term maneuvering." Leon counters, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he stares out a window. "You've got 'noids to spare, use 'em."

//"Hmph. You're lucky your arguments hold up to scrutiny."// Hustler One huffs. //"Now, about the duel…"//

"I already told you what happened; Olivia told me to stop and my body obeyed against my will." Leon recounts. "It wasn't quite terrifying, but it was a little… off-putting I suppose."

//"The human body, Old or New, isn't supposed to be following external orders– at least not without something in the body to force that sort of subordination."// the A.I muses. //"You mentioned her having some kind of connection to this Kingdom's religious figure?"//

"Oliva is a possible descendant of the Saint, yes. Nothing confirmed about it, but she fits the various criteria." Leon sighs. "Healing abilities, using Holy Magic, a sweet and kind disposition– saint-like in every way that matters. No mention about her being able to order or command people to do as she commands."

//"We will need to do some testing, then. See if she has any idea about this power of hers."// the A.I muses. //"I'm curious, however. Her lineage to this Kingdom's Saint means she is also a powerful bargaining chip to leverage the church's–"//

"Temple's."

//"–temple's support. Yet you gave her to the Redgraves."// Hustler One hums. //"So why hasn't Duke Redgrave taken advantage of that to grow his powerbase?"//

"The continued stability of the Kingdom is my guess." Leon answers. "He's already a Duke, with significant support structure and a lot of followers. Your stunt with the Olfreys expanded it– any more and the crown would get nervous. If they reveal they have a candidate for the temple's Saint position, even if unconfirmed, now of all times would further weaken the crown's influence. It would be tense enough that even a sneeze could set off a civil war."

//"Is that a bad thing? It could see our plans further accelerated should we back a suitable side."//

"...not until we get the military somewhat modernized at least." Leon compromises. "We get automatic weapons made and mass-produced so Holfort stands a chance against outside invasion even during a civil war. Then we can consider setting up a controlled civil war."

//"Alright, I will concede to that point. I'll leave you to your thoughts for the time being."// the A.I titters. //"Do try not to embarrass yourself in front of the Queen."//

"Yeah, yeah…" Leon sighs as the connection cuts out, rubbing his face. "Fucking hell."

A hand settles on his shoulder. He glances up and finds Olivia looking at him worriedly as she takes a seat beside him on the sofa.

"Olivia." he turns to her, taking her hand in his. "Are you okay? Is the injury flaring up again?"

"It'sh okay Leon." she shakes her head, words slightly muffled by the cotton and gauze in her mouth. "I jusht shaw hyou being all gloomy. Hyou rarely look like that unleesh it involvesh something important."

"You got your tooth broken off by that dumbass and you're concerned about me?" Leon laughs. "You really are too kind for your own good sometimes, you know that? You can't keep doing that."

"I'll be fine!" she grins, a wad of gauze and cotton stuffed in the gap where her missing tooth is. "I'm more worried for you, Leon. What hyou did in the arena…"

"Yeah. Yeah, it was… pretty bad." he winces, remembering his lapse in self-control. "And it's worse since I'll be talking to his mom."

Olivia winces too, and her grip on Leon's hand tightens imperceptibly. Leon doesn't have to ask why– the consequences awaiting those that raise a hand against members of the royal family common knowledge. But the reincarnate smiles all the same and comfortingly squeezes Olivia's hand back.

"But hey, I've got faith that the Queen is a reasonable woman that understands the severity of Julius' transgressions and why what I did was necessary." Leon says, confident. "And I've done a lot for the Kingdom. She can't be blind to that, what with being the Queen– so there's another mark in my favor."

"I guess…" she frowns. "But shtill…"

"It'll be okay." Leon reassures her, reaching up and patting her head. "It's nothing for you to worry your cute little head over. I'll be fine."

"Mmm… if hyou shay sho." Olivia sighs. "And… thank you."

"For?" he blinks.

"Beating Juliush. I-I dun hate him and he musht be a good pershon deep down, a-and you shcared him really badly too, but… well." she looks away, equal parts guilty and embarrassed. "I-It'sh mean I know, but he… broke a toof."

Leon stares at her for a long moment seemingly uncomprehending. Then he laughs, loud and warm and honest, and hooks an arm around Olivia to pull her into a hug. The commoner girl giggles and leans into Leon's form with her own fond smile.

=X=X=X=X=X=

Mylene Rafa Holfort beholds the scarred young man standing before her.

She is alone with him, sitting on an ornate chair serving as a makeshift throne while he stands before her. Mylene watches as Lord Bartford puts his hand on his chest and kneels before her; head hung and bowing as low as he could without actually scraping the floor.

Now that she isn't preoccupied with the damning evidence of her son's infidelity, she could properly devote her attention to the young man. He wields the same unreadable expression as before, though his dark eyes are a little softer and his wide shoulders are relaxed. He wears the Academy uniform, cutting quite the figure– the lean athleticism of youth contrasting with the grizzled maturity that his scars project. He is tall for his age, as tall as Julius and a few inches taller than herself.

A boy who has gone through so much, who now wields the sort of power she had been taught to be wary of as a princess and remains wary of even as a queen. And he had been goaded into dueling four Founding Heirs and nearly killing Holfort's crown prince.

"Does this one have Her Highness' permission to speak?" he asks.

"You do." Mylene responds.

"This one thanks his Queen," he bobs his head. "This one admits to having committed a grave slight against the crown and the heirs of sworn liegemen, and allowed himself to succumb to base emotion– an act that very nearly killed the crown prince of the kingdom. This one begs for your forgiveness as he surrenders himself to your judgement, and humbly requests clemency on behalf of his followers."

Mylene inhales deeply and laments once again why she couldn't get a son who was half as mature as the young man before her.

"Rise, Lord Bartford." she orders, and he obeys. "There is no need for you to hang your head so low for a very understandable fault. You had been goaded into attacking, through insults that someone of your experience has found unforgivable. Not to mention the slights done to two high-ranking noblewomen as well as the injury of another young woman that I have been told is quite dear to you." her expression softens. "How is she?"

"...she is missing a tooth and is under medication to numb the pain from it." Leon winces. "My men and I witnessed the Crown Prince striking her. And during the duel, he… further insulted her, Your Highness."

Mylene's heart aches, as though someone stabbed a red-hot sword through her chest, and she buries her face in her hands with a distressed noise. Saint above, her son hit a woman?! And one of Angelica's followers too, if Vincent was to be believed?!

"Julius, you stupid boy…" Mylene mutters under her breath, words muffled by her hands. "What did I do wrong? You had the best teachers, a loving fiancee, all the Founding Heirs at your back, and you just…!"

Rage, at all the plans ruined and agreements rendered void by the short-sighted idiocy of her own son. Indignance, that years of planning and political maneuvering had been rendered moot. Shame, from the foolishness displayed by her son.

His infidelity, though unfortunate, was not something Mylene hadn't expected– side lovers are not uncommon in Holfort, something Mylene has intimate knowledge of given her husband's proclivities. It had been something Angelica was told of and prepared for, to accept another woman or even multiple if it meant ensuring the stability of their future. Such a thing could have been overlooked and easily explained to others without causing any further harm to the realm.

But this? Violence against a woman who had only been trying to keep her superior safe? Then insulting that same woman to her close friend during a duel? And then using his royal authority to force that same close friend, the greatest knight in the kingdom, to lose their duel?

There is no explanation that could fit this kind of stupidity, no recompense to the aggrieved parties that would see her son safe. Whatever choice she makes would see this kingdom divided, and all the threats in the shadows smelling blood in the water. This would place the kingdom in the weakest state it has ever been, and–

Mylene feels her chair nudge. She looks up and finds Lord Bartford looking at her with the kindest gaze she's ever seen, offering her a kerchief.

"I was raised by a strict father to aid any woman in tears." the young man tells her, voice firm yet paradoxically gentle. "Queen or no, my upbringing compels me to help."

"...you're too kind, Lord Bartfort." Mylene sniffs, taking the offered kerchief and using it to dry her tears. "Saint above, what a mess. I-I apologize for my show of weakness–"

"You need not apologize for anything. A parent is allowed to cry when their child does something horrible, to themselves or others." the young man walks behind her, so he's at least out of her line of sight. "That you shed such honest tears means you love him very much, and it hurts you that things have come to this. At least, that's what my men have mentioned."

"Hm. I see the late King Carkus was not mistaken in his choice of title." Mylene titters, the pleasant sound fades into a sigh. "I apologize ahead of time for the 'punishment' I will be levying to you, Lord Bartford. Appearances must be upheld, reputations maintained…"

"My Queen, I survived two whole wars. You needn't worry about my feelings." Leon chuckles. "I've been through worse."

=X=X=X=X=X=

It's been a week since she was brought out of the Academy to meet with the Queen and two very important people of the Kingdom; the Minister of Finance and the Vill… no, Duke Redgrave. She is under no illusions anymore, no more delusions or lies.

They had grilled her relentlessly for answers over the course of two days, and against such powerful figures it hadn't taken long for her Protagonist facade to fall apart.

She told them… almost everything, keeping the bits about her reincarnation and the fact that this world was a game in her past life a secret– because they wouldn't believe the former and wouldn't know what the latter was. But everything else, like her past and mountainous debts and family troubles, they forced out of her with all the ruthlessness of a Yakuza enforcer demanding a debtor repay his loans. And then they laid it out just how badly she fucked up.

A kingdom destabilized, political marriages and alliances broken, allies turned rivals or even enemies. The greatest possibility for civil war in the Kingdom's history, which could lead to the complete collapse of the country and allow their neighbors to invade so they could squabble with each other for the scraps.

Thousands, tens of thousands, dead or enslaved. Everything she knew and loved, gone.

It had been a hard pill to swallow, and even now part of her still refuses to believe it; that simply seducing a bunch of hormonal boys could lead a civil war and the possible collapse of a whole country.

It wasn't fair– how could the Protagonist get away with it while Marie couldn't? How could she get a happily ever after with a bunch of hot young men and live a life of luxury while Marie got slapped in the face with politics and consequences? And why hadn't the Protagonist been stopped in the game like Marie was by that scarred mob, whatshisname– Bartford?

And now, this.

Marie stares at the messenger in front of her; cold sweat and naked dread on her face.

"D-Disinherited?" she repeats.

"That's correct." the mustachioed man nods. "Their families have chosen to strip them of their titles and wealth as well as their positions as heirs for disrespecting a man as capable and with a storied list of accomplishments as Lord Bartford. All three of them are no longer acknowledged as nobles by the Holfortan court. As of today, they are all commoners." he turns to the three currently in the room with her, who are currently reading letters from their families. "In addition, once news of their duel against Lord Bartford reached their households, both them and their respective fiances called off their engagements. It is truly a shame that this must happen, but it is necessary to maintain the stability of the country."

"All this because they lost a duel with some no-name Viscount?!" Marie cries. "This is ridiculous!"

"I will remind you that Lord Bartford has fought in two wars, conquered two kingdoms, killed an enemy king in an honor duel, and single-handedly overcame various challenges all on his own." the messenger tells Marie archly. "In addition, he has pioneered new piloting techniques and earned the liking of a not insignificant amount of the Royal Army. He is very influential."

"B-But he's still just–!" Marie stammers, then waves at the three idiots behind her. "But they're important too, aren't they?! They– they're descended from the founders of the Kingdom! How could their families cut them off so easily?!"

"Marie." Brad says, a hand on her shoulder. "That's enough. You don't have to get mad for our sake."

"B-But Brad!" the short blonde cries.

"We knew what we were gettin' into when we signed up for this." Greg grins at her. "It was always gonna result in someone throwin' a fit– but at least it was a fit we'd expected."

"Indeed. With this, all our obligations have been relinquished from us; and now we can spend all our time together." Jilk smiles. "We so swear to love and cherish you with all our hearts, to provide for you as men should."

"This is our resolve." Brad gestures, and the other two fall into formation beside him.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Marie."/"Sorry to keep you waiting, Marie."/"Sorry to keep you waiting, Marie." they chorus.

"It's really cool to see them all pumped up, isn't it Mistress?" her Exclusive Elf Servant beams at her. "It's so inspiring!"

…

Marie honestly couldn't believe it. These– These dumbasses willingly threw away their wealth and status just like that. They didn't have a penny to their name, and their working experience only consisted of them looking handsome and dungeon diving. They couldn't even manage their finances right, given how they just gave her gifts and didn't even consider handing her cash. They were walking liabilities!

And… And worst of all…

She looks at the missive in her hands, signed by the Queen of Holfort, Duke Redgrave, and Minister Atlee.

She had to look after them and rein them in from doing anything stupid, like declaring another duel against a noble or embarrassing themselves somehow. All on her own dime, with no assistance from the crown or their families. And trying to shirk this duty or worm out of it would warrant a trip to the gallows. Or worse.

The short blonde tears up, her hand accidentally crushing the missive as her dreams of a luxurious life of expensive food, gorgeous dresses, and untouchable authority… gone! And she couldn't even blame anyone else for it! It was– it was all her fault!

She misses her brother! As big of an ass he was, at least he knew how to fix things!

"Look everyone! Marie's been moved to tears!" Brad sighs, happy. "Truly, we are blessed!"

"It's a shame Julius isn't here to see it." Greg laughs, sounding sad. "He would've liked to have seen this before he was shipped off."

"What? S-Shipped off?" Marie blinks. "To where?"

The boys glance at each other, and something unsaid passes between them. Then Jilk hobbles forward with a patient look.

"His Highness… No, Julius has been sent to join the military by his mother's order." the green-haired boy tells her. "He displayed behavior unbefitting for a crown prince, and thus has had his titles stripped and he himself… removed from the Royal Palace."

"Indeed." the messenger nods. "Until he earns the right to royalty once more, he is now merely 'Julius'."

Marie stares at the messenger, then at Jilk. Her mouth works as she tries to force out one of the dozens of questions that were bouncing about in her mind.

"W-What did he do?" she asks.

Jilk and the other two boys look away, ashamed. Behind her, the messenger sighs.

"Perhaps you can ask the commoner girl, Olivia of Freycross." he suggests. "I'm sure she would be more than happy to show you the answer to that question."

Notes: SNIFF* SNIFF* DO I SMELL A BI*CH HERE?Keep donating powerstones my boys and girls, exposure is the same of the game for fanfics and we are all here for it!