"Bastard... how profoundly disrespectful! This is absolute blasphemy! How dare they... how dare Theresis do such a thing to her!"
Clever had previously maintained enough baseline restraint to refer to Theresis with the formal title of "Your Highness," but the sheer weight of this revelation shattered her composure completely. She was so thoroughly consumed by rage that she addressed the Regent by his bare name without a single shred of administrative courtesy.
Granted, for the vast majority of the Sarkaz race, utilizing the physical remains of the deceased had long since become a deeply ingrained survival instinct. Within the harsh reality of their history, once a person's heartbeat truly ceased, everything they once possessed vanished into the ether. Since the dead held zero practical value to a struggling nation, utilizing their leftover corpses simply became their final, pragmatic contribution to the collective.
One only had to look at the ancestral traditions governing the Wendigo, the Nachzehrer, and the Blood Demon lineages to understand this reality completely. The specific methods those three dominant factions used to handle the deceased were notoriously brutal—devouring flesh, recycling carcasses, and draining every drop of latent blood. In almost every single instance, a corpse was never left structurally intact.
And given that these three factions all held permanent, high-ranking seats within the Sarkaz Ten Royal Courts, their normalized attitude toward the dead made it remarkably easy to understand why the broader Sarkaz population viewed corpses with such detached pragmatism. To make matters worse, Theresis currently commanded the absolute loyalty of two of those exact three factions.
But everyone across the vast territories understood that Her Highness Theresa was entirely different.
She wasn't merely the former, legitimate Demon King and the pristine, unblemished "white moonlight" nestled deep within the hearts of countless Sarkaz loyalists; she was Theresis's own flesh-and-blood twin sister. How could Clever not be utterly enraged upon learning that the Regent would subject his own sister's memory to such a soul-profaning, necromantic violation?
However, before Clever's agitated form could even bolt from the sofa, a heavy, unyielding pair of hands clamped down firmly upon her shoulders, physically pressing her back into the cushions.
"What are you doing?!" Clever's eyes were entirely bloodshot, her features twisted in an expression of absolute, frantic desperation as she stared up at her captors. "Didn't you explicitly state yesterday that if I wished to leave this household, I was entirely free to walk out the door? I want to leave right now!"
"And exactly what do you calculate you will accomplish the moment you step out onto the public streets?" Sakuya Izayoi spoke up, her voice entirely cool, measured, and devoid of superficial panic. "Do you plan to actively spread this intelligence across the capital? You must realize that outside the fractured borders of the Sarkaz race, absolutely no one will care about her fate. To the rest of Terra, Theresa is ultimately nothing more than a Sarkaz leader, regardless of how grand or noble her personal ideals might have been."
"That is entirely enough... someone out there will rise up to halt Theresis's ambitions! Someone will..." Clever persisted, her voice cracking as she struggled against the grip.
"Stop Theresis? With what practical strength?" Hong Meiling, who was the one physically restraining the librarian, offered a low, sobering counter-argument. "The man is permanently surrounded by the most elite shadow vanguard in the world, and the supreme Lords of the Royal Courts stand guard at his immediate left and right flanks. If an opposing faction attempts to breach his perimeter with too few soldiers, they won't even possess the strength to catch a glimpse of his shadow."
The martial artist's gaze turned deeply solemn. "And if an opposing army rallies with massive numbers... they will see him even less. After all, he remains securely entrenched within the heart of that grand mobile metropolis known across the land as the Unfallen Londinium. If you wish to shatter those city defenses and infiltrate his inner chambers, go ahead and guess exactly how devastating of a physical price your people would be forced to pay."
As Hong Meiling's heavy words echoed through the quiet suite, the furious flush draining from Clever's face was replaced by a hollow, despairing paleness.
She understood with absolute finality that the gatekeeper's assessment was the unvarnished truth. Theresis was far from some fragile political bureaucrat who merely sat in a gilded chair boasting of his authority. As one of the fabled six military heroes of the Sarkaz race, his personal martial prowess was firmly secured within the absolute top tier of their entire civilization. When backed by his personal vanguard, the Royal Court sovereigns, and countless legions of battle-hardened soldiers, charging toward him without several times his total military weight was the literal equivalent of a moth diving directly into an open flame.
If Clever were to frantically spread this earth-shattering secret across the wilderness, the sole historical outcome would be that the fractured loyalists who still clung tightly to Theresa's gentle ideals would throw their lives away in a succession of futile, disorganized massacres until the very last one was cut down. And then, there would truly be only one absolute, terrifying voice left to dictate the future of the Sarkaz.
The crushing weight of this realization caused Clever's entire body to tremble uncontrollably. She slowly reached up, covering her pale face with her hands as a stream of silent tears rolled down her cheeks.
"I... I can do absolutely nothing..." she whispered, her spirit breaking completely.
Flandre looked toward her older sister, her brow furrowing slightly as she felt a bit troubled by the heavy atmosphere settling over the lounge. Remilia let out a soft sigh, gracefully stepping forward to press her fingers gently against the crown of Clever's head. A fraction of a second later, the young librarian's eyes rolled back into a peaceful darkness, and her trembling form collapsed softly against the sofa cushions.
"She will completely forget the entire sequence of the conversation that just transpired," Remilia murmured, her voice carrying a rare trace of profound solemnity as she pulled her hand back. "I had truly not anticipated that Lady Theresa was even more deeply beloved by her people than our prior data suggested. Flandre, I shall refrain from demanding to know exactly how you managed to unearth these heavily guarded secrets from the depths of your mind... but can you absolutely guarantee that the narrative you just delivered is the absolute truth?"
Flandre nodded her head with absolute, unblinking certainty. "I can!"
Remilia did not continue to press the issue or cross-examine the child any further. Instead, she swept her eyes across the remaining members of the room, her voice dropping into a tone of absolute command. "Bear this reality firmly in mind: under no circumstances are you to speak of this matter anywhere else outside the immediate confines of our own circle."
Every single companion in the lounge nodded their heads in silent, disciplined unison.
The following morning, the summer sun rose brightly over the Twin Spires. Clever slowly blinked her eyes open within her bedroom, instinctively reaching up to press a hand against her chest as a strange, melancholic expression washed over her features. She couldn't fathom the underlying reason, but the moment her consciousness returned, she felt a profound, heavy weight of sorrow and phantom pain echoing deep within her heart.
She quietly approached Flandre during breakfast to inquire if anything strange had happened, but the younger sister merely tilted her head with an innocent, curious expression.
"Could it simply be that you were caught in the clutches of a nasty nightmare last night?" Flandre suggested with a bright, easy smile.
"A nightmare...?" Clever murmured to herself, her fingers tracing her temples as she tried to recall any specific images, but her memory remained completely blank.
"Hahaha, it is also highly probable that your nerves have simply been entirely too tense over the past few days!" Flandre laughed the matter off with carefree ease, waving her hand to break the heavy mood. "I happened to overhear some local students mentioning that there is a highly celebrated water amusement park stationed right around this district. Why don't we all head out to play there for the afternoon!"
Clever harbored absolutely zero doubts regarding the child's explanation. After using a sleeve to wipe away the stray tears that had instinctively gathered in the corners of her eyes, she quickly followed Flandre out through the hotel doors. Although her baseline mood remained slightly weighted at the start of the day, under the infectious influence of Flandre's radiant, unbothered laughter, she soon managed to cast the lingering mental melancholy entirely to the back of her mind.
In the subsequent days that followed, Remilia strictly adhered to her own decree, never once attempting to pry into the deeper treasury of secrets locked inside Flandre's thoughts.
After spending a full week thoroughly exploring the various landmarks, plazas, and hidden architectural wonders scattered across the dual spires, the household decided to officially conclude their stay and depart from the capital exactly as they had originally charted. Even Patchouli, whose natural inclination favored locked rooms and endless reading, raised absolutely zero objections to the scheduled departure.
After all, the specific, ancient esoteric volumes she truly desired to analyze could not be found within the mainstream catalog of Ludwigs-Universität anyway. Furthermore, now that she possessed Fremont's specialized permission pass, navigating to the Liches' secure spatial archives didn't actually require her physical presence to remain confined within a static university tower; the token granted her access from any threshold.
Additionally, while the mobile capital of Leithanien was undeniably a masterpiece of artistic and structural beauty, the invisible presence of Empress Lieselotte and Empress Hildegard's extensive intelligence networks was woven into every single corridor, making it remarkably difficult for the group to fully relax and enjoy their leisure time. Consequently, once the initial novelty of the towering architecture had completely faded, the companions found themselves losing their fondness for the rigid environment.
The moment their carriage rolled out past the outer perimeter checkpoints of the capital in the bright morning light, the final surveillance log was swiftly delivered directly onto the desk of the Empresses' primary administrative attendant.
Because Her Majesty the Empress Lieselotte had explicitly delivered instructions stating that provided the strangers committed zero security infractions during their stay, there was absolutely no requirement to bother the throne with daily updates, the attendant merely performed a casual review of the accumulated data. Throughout the entire week, the detailed itinerary of these individuals who had briefly contacted Fremont's department was laughably mundane.
Three of the visiting women had done nothing but travel back and forth between the campus grounds and their hotel rooms to read, while the remaining three members had spent their entire existence wandering from one commercial district to another, behaving significantly more like wealthy, unbothered tourists than actual academic scholars. Furthermore, they had never once attempted to infiltrate any restricted military zones or politically sensitive sectors, restricting their movements entirely to public sightseeing attractions.
Seeing that the travelers had officially vacated the capital boundaries that morning, the attendant chose to simply stamp the document and archive the report away into the permanent records, completely closing the file.
As the carriage rolled steadily along the southern trade routes, Flandre and her companions prepared to chart a course heading down through the territories toward Siracusa, intending to use that region as a stepping stone to enter the industrial lands of Rim Billiton.
"Speaking of our upcoming trajectory... do any of you actually harbor a personal fondness for heavy, continuous rainfall?" Clever suddenly inquired from her seat inside the carriage cabin, having reviewed the route map Flandre was currently holding.
"Huh?" Flandre raised her eyes from the parchment, blinking in confusion. "Of course we don't. Is there a specific issue with the weather down there?"
"The summer season within the borders of Siracusa is almost entirely dominated by the annual rainy season," Clever explained, her brow furrowing slightly as she recalled the unpleasant climate of the southern valleys. "And when you combine that constant precipitation with the regional temperatures, the entire atmosphere becomes incredibly muggy, humid, and sticky. I personally harbor a deep dislike for the environment down there; every single time I am forced to cross those borders, it feels as though the very air is damp and clings to your skin."
"Ah...!" Flandre's eyes instantly widened to their absolute limits as a look of genuine horror washed over her features.
The rainy season! To her and her sister, that environmental condition was the literal equivalent of a catastrophe!
It was a universally acknowledged truth within the hierarchy of the Scarlet Devil Mansion that both Remilia and Flandre harbored an absolute, deep-seated hatred for running water. In fact, every single time Patchouli was tasked with helping Remilia capture a rampaging Flandre back in Gensokyo, the magician would invariably deploy specialized elemental spells such as water ropes or fluid prisons. That was simply because the unique nature of the vampire sisters meant that basic, mundane water was entirely sufficient to severely weaken their physical output and completely restrain their movements.
Now that Clever had explicitly detailed that Siracusa was currently locked under an endless deluge of humid downpours, Flandre instantly lost every remaining shred of interest in the southern route.
"Sister! Sister... why don't we simply alter our trajectory and march straight through the heart of Kazdel instead!" Flandre proposed enthusiastically, turning toward Remilia with an eager expression. "The atmospheric currents over the wastes of Kazdel are always completely dry, and cutting a straight line directly through the old territories is obviously going to be significantly more cost-effective than dragging our boots through a water-abundant country like Siracusa!"
"Are you absolutely certain about that choice?!" Clever's eyes widened in profound shock upon hearing the child's casual suggestion.