"I can only say that every country has its own unique national conditions," Texas replied, considering Exusiai's words carefully.
"Besides, commercialization isn't entirely without its benefits. At the very least, for the Commercial Federation, these corporate knights are meticulously cultivated commodities. So long as the commodities don't go completely out of control, the Federation will ensure their personal safety to the absolute maximum extent purely for the sake of profit."
Texas wasn't wrong. To the Commercial Federation, every named, competitive knight was a valuable product they had invested heavily to package and market. The cost of building those personal brands was anything but cheap; until they squeezed out every last drop of financial value, the executives wouldn't willingly let their assets get permanently broken.
Moreover, the Knight Tournament had existed long before the Commercial Federation seized control of Kazimierz, and back then, it was significantly bloodier and far more cruel.
Under the Federation's modern management, the matches preserved their high-stakes competitive appeal, but the vast majority of arena duels resulted in no knight casualties whatsoever. This allowed fan-favorite competitors to step onto the sand again and again.
Though match-fixing and backroom deals were rife for corporate gain, the Federation had ultimately transformed an ancient, barbaric blood sport into a sweeping spectacle that engaged the entire populace, attracting visitors from all across Terra and generating astronomical wealth for Kazimierz.
After hearing Texas lay out her perspective, the others realized her points were solid. For Flandre and Meiling, who had personally witnessed the electric fervor of the Knight Tournament in Kawalerielki, the logic hit home even harder.
"After Kazimierz, we went to take a stroll around Londinium..." Flandre set her fork down, leaning back against the plush booth seat. "To be completely honest, out of the three national capitals we visited on this trip, Londinium left the absolute worst impression on me. It's a pure city of heavy industry and churning steam. It lacks the vibrant, modern energy of Kawalerielki, and it completely misses the refined heritage and artistic taste of Zwillingstürme. I rate it as a stinky, mediocre place."
As she spoke, a faintly shimmering, ethereal construct resembling a shadowy Rabbit Head flared briefly behind Flandre's shoulders, accentuating her sharp critique of the Victorian capital.
"Sister Flandre, isn't that rating a bit too absolute?" Exusiai looked at her, blinking in surprise. "Londinium is famous across the world as the unbreachable fortress city. It shouldn't be that terrible, right?"
Flandre pointed across the table at Hong Meiling. "Sister Meiling toured all three capitals with me! She can testify!"
Feeling everyone's eyes turn toward her, Sister Hong Meiling couldn't help but touch her cheek, offering a wry smile. "Flandre isn't actually exaggerating. If we're strictly ranking the capital cities based on personal experience and overall atmosphere, Londinium was comfortably the worst of the three."
Even Zwillingstürme—a city practically crawling with secret agents, shadow political factions, and dangerous intrigue—didn't project the heavy, suffocating weight that crushed down on visitors in Londinium.
It wasn't merely because the city had fallen under the occupation of Sarkaz military forces. The relentless volume of smog and exhaust generated by Victorian industrialization kept Londinium trapped in a thick, permanent haze. That dense fog was saturated with chemical residue and particulate dust; staying there for extended periods would cause even the healthiest individual to contract chronic ailments.
Combined with the towering, oppressive city walls and the looming artillery batteries guarding the perimeters, Londinium felt less like the glorious heart of a proud empire and more like a gargantuan, open-air prison in Meiling's eyes.
"Tsk, and here I was thinking about visiting Londinium for a vacation someday," the lively, restless Sankta muttered, shaking her head. "I didn't expect it to be such a dump!"
"And do you know what else?" Flandre lowered her voice, leaning over the table. "There are massive numbers of Sarkaz operating inside Londinium right now."
"Huh?!"
Hearing this revelation, both Exusiai and Texas froze, genuine shock registering on their faces.
Though neither held personal prejudice against the Sarkaz—if they did, they never could have become close friends with Flandre in the first place—the idea of a massive Sarkaz military presence occupying the capital of Victoria sounded utterly surreal.
"Street patrols, security checkpoints, factory guard posts—the violent state institutions are almost entirely run by Sarkaz," Flandre counted down on her small fingers.
"How on Terra is that possible?" Exusiai asked, her tone nine-tenths skeptical. "That's Londinium! The absolute heart of Victoria! How could the Victorian Emperor ever agree to such an absurd arrangement like handing over the capital's defense to the Sarkaz? Oh, wait... the Grand Duke factions said the throne has been vacant for decades, so I guess there's no Emperor to blame."
"What about the Victorian Grand Dukes, then?" Texas asked, her brows furrowed in deep thought. "Are they just sitting by on their family estates and ignoring an active foreign occupation?"
"What if I told you it was those very same Grand Dukes who invited the Sarkaz inside in the first place?" Flandre replied smoothly. "The Emperor is long dead, and the royal lineage is fractured. With the throne sitting empty, every single Grand Duke naturally covets the crown. But their military strength is too evenly balanced. On top of that, Victoria sits right in the center of Terra, surrounded by rival superpowers waiting for a mistake—they don't dare trigger an all-out civil war for the seat."
She paused, taking a sip of her ginger milk curd before continuing. "They know that once a total war erupts, Victoria will fracture beyond repair. But at the same time, none of them are willing to let a rival Duke hold Londinium. So, they brought in the Sarkaz as a neutral, temporary enforcement force. The Dukes believe the Sarkaz can never truly rule Victoria long-term—whoever eventually wins the political game can simply purge the Sarkaz later and claim they 'liberated' the capital. And just like that, the heart of Victoria was handed over on a silver platter."
These complex geopolitical insights weren't analysis Flandre had come up with on her own; rather, they were Sister Patchouli's precise observations regarding the Victorian crisis, which Flandre had simply memorized and recited word-for-word.
Though Exusiai and Texas found the scenario deeply absurd, they had to admit it was the most logical explanation for such a bizarre political reality.
"If that's really what's happening behind those giant walls, then the common citizens of Victoria and Londinium are truly unfortunate..." Texas sighed softly, staring out the cafe window at the peaceful Lungmen street.
Siracusa under the firm grip of the mafia families was already bleak, but compared to Londinium, Siracusa at least maintained a predictable, baseline order. So long as commoners in Siracusa followed the unwritten rules and didn't cross family interests, they could live out quiet lives without interference.
In Londinium, however, nobody could guarantee when a rogue mercenary squad might decide to turn on the populace. Furthermore, for the scheming Dukes vying for the crown, the harsher the Sarkaz treated the residents, the greater the political reward for whichever Duke eventually stepped in to "save" the city.
"Looking at it this way, we're really lucky to live in Lungmen!" Exusiai sighed happily, taking another enormous bite of her apple pie.
"Yeah," Texas agreed with a gentle nod. "Living in a city like Lungmen means you're already happier than ninety percent of the people on Terra."