Author's Note: It's long since time I got off my tail end and started doing something with the stories sitting around on my computer.
So yeah! After bringing Kaito, Meiko, and Miku into the Nanoha universe as Device AIs (sort of) in Midchildan Music, I figured the next logical step would be Version 2, Code 02, the Kagamine twins. And given how much I enjoy Servant of Evil and Daughter of Evil, writing it as an Evils Kingdom story was pretty much inevitable. Needless to say, this is a sequel to Midchildan Music, so it might get a little interesting if you're reading this without having read that story. I'd like to believe it'll still be understandable, but time will tell.
Before we get to the story itself, there is one administrative note I'm going to toss in here, and that is that I'm going to start trying to post regular updates. Previously, I've been reluctant to commit to any hard deadlines. I've always been worried that I'll end up procrastinating and then forced into either throwing something sub-par together at the last minute or missing the deadline entirely. Given my track record, though, it does seem that unless I set a regular schedule for myself, I won't post anything at all. And as long as I've been thinking that I should make it a resolution for the new year to write more, this seems like a decent way to go about it.
I have a surprisingly substantial portion of this already written, so for the moment I'll be posting updates to it on a biweekly schedule, once every other Monday, starting today.
That should cover the fiddly details. I think it's about time we got to the story.
It was surprisingly quiet on the bridge of the Time-Space Administration Bureau battlecruiser Arcadia. Aside from the low thrum of the ship's reactor driving it through dimensional space, in fact, the bridge was silent. Techs stared at their consoles with the bored air of men and women who expected no trouble. And the captain's chair was empty; rather than the captain of the vessel, a lowly lieutenant served as officer of the deck, watching the bridge. It was mid watch, after all. Night may mean a lot less in the middle of the dimensional sea with no sun by which to judge night or day, but even so, the captain had to sleep sometime.
And why not now? The arrowhead-shaped LS-class battlecruiser was in the middle of a routine transit, from Bureau headquarters to one of the regional bases. Once they arrived, the battlecruiser on station there could be rotated back to Midchilda for maintenance and to give its crew at least a little time off. And then the Arcadia could assume the role of "senior" ship on station, giving the Bureau staff at the base more options for dealing with crises, or at least as many options as they had to begin with. Well, in theory that would be the Arcadia's role. More likely… there'd probably be the occasional flag-waving trip to some administered world or another within the base's sphere of authority, and probably endless dinner opportunities with local authorities and the base's senior staff. Sure, every senior enforcer and officer aboard the Arcadia dreamed of being the next Chrono or the next Lindy, whose careers gained a major boost from being the men and women on the scene when a crisis actually happened. But the Time-Space Administration Bureau's control over almost all of known space wasn't held together by that kind of heroism. Rather, it was held together by the mere presence of the main branch's powerful inter-dimensional fleet.
When a crisis did break out, perhaps it'd take a battlecruiser to deal with it. But then again, maybe not. After all, "crisis" almost always meant a new and unusual Lost Logia. It was rare enough to even find one of those, much less one that posed a credible threat to an entire ship. Anything that did come up would be for the ship's Marines (and for the enforcers who commanded them) to deal with, which they would no doubt do with all of the competence and skill that got them berths on the Arcadia in the first place. There was all of one Lost Logia in ten thousand that would get past them. And the idea that another person would actively threaten the Arcadia? That was even more unreasonable. Not even the Saint's Cradle from the days of the Belkan Saint King had managed to face down the Bureau fleet!
For all of these reasons, when the sensor tech's console pinged, he reacted with something considerably less than rapid attention. Lazily surveying the information presented, he turned up to the lieutenant to report. "Sir, we're seeing some unusual fluctuations on the sensors at extreme range."
"What kind of fluctuations?" said officer snapped back. He was well aware of the reasons why his bridge crew should be overconfident or less than attentive, and it was a source of continual irritation for him to be unable to break them out of that rut.
The sensor tech shrugged. "Hard to say, sir. We must have just brought them within range. From what little I can tell, though, it's consistent with a very high level of magical power."
"CIC confirms that, sir," came another report, this time over the intercom from the ship's combat information center. "This is what we'd see from an operational magical reactor, like the one powering this ship. To pick it up at this range, though…? The power levels on that thing must be immense - several times our own."
The lieutenant's back straightened slightly. "What's over there?" he asked intensely.
"From our charts…" the young woman manning her station in the combat information center called up those charts, fingers flying across her keyboard. "Unadministered world number three hundred and seventeen. Given that we've seen no movement from the detected fluctuations, I'm calling it highly likely that we're looking at a ground-based power station."
And just like that, calm settled over the bridge. Or at least over most of it: the sensor tech leaned back in his chair, and the helm and tactical stations relaxed noticeably. Even in the combat information center, there was a noticeable sight of relief, of tension eased. Anomaly detected, situation analyzed, threat negative, job done.
Meanwhile, the lieutenant tapped away at a console on his chair. Unlike the rest of the bridge crew, this wasn't the first time he had traveled from Bureau headquarters to this particular regional base. He was on his second tour of duty with the Bureau's navy, and the light cruiser he had served on previously had made the exact same trip. Twice, even. Once out, and once back. The sheer tedium of that trip might have dulled him to it, had he been less dedicated to his job. Now, though, it was an asset - for this was the first time in three passes that anything like a ground-based magical power station had ever been detected.
"CIC, confirm," he began, surveying the information he had called up. "I'm reading the data for three-seventeen, and have them at tech level… 2-null."
At that last word, everyone on the bridge woke up again. As part of the Bureau's records, every world they encountered had a data file. For many such worlds, that file was minimal at best, summarizing basic technology present on the world and otherwise giving anyone who might have to operate there some idea of what they were getting into. A key part of that, rolled into the tech level, was whether or not the world's inhabitants were aware of magic. Some were; most of those had either become fully administered worlds or had self-destructed. A few others were in the process of reaching the point where the Bureau would reach out to them. The number of worlds, however, that had reached that point and refused? That could be counted on one hand.
And the Lieutenant, with one quick word, had just identified unadministered world number three hundred and seventeen as not one of those. As a world without any knowledge of magic, much less the ability to build a power station rivaling any of the largest on Midchilda itself.
It took everyone a few precious seconds to fully process what that might mean. Into the shocked silence, the lieutenant spoke again. "Take us to Condition Two, and get the Captain up-"
His last word was cut off by a call from the sensor tech. "I have multiple unknown contacts approaching fast. Three distinct objects."
"Analysis indicates dimensional vessels," the woman manning the combat information center smoothly cut in. "Heavy cruisers, from what we can tell. Lighter than us, but not by much."
Without any further hesitation, the lieutenant brought his thumb down on the panic button. Alarms wailed throughout the ship - the general quarters alarm, forcibly wakening every single member of the Arcadia's crew. "We are now at Condition One," he said almost calmly. He continued speaking as he toggled the intercom system to project his voice to the Captain's quarters. "Captain, I apologize for the rude awakening, but we need you on the bridge immediately."
The screen filled with a bright flare, momentarily blinding everyone on the bridge of the Silent Lance. With a muttered apology, one of the bridge techs re-calibrated the screen, damping down the brilliant light and giving the bridge crew a good look at the coruscating energy that was all that remained of the Time-Space Administration Bureau battlecruiser Arcadia.
It took a moment for the reality of the situation to sink in. Once it had, though, cheers broke out on the bridge. The victorious crew gave themselves over, however briefly, to the nervous excitement of having survived a fight to the death. And the captain of the Silent Lance let the display continue for at least ten seconds before he cut back in.
"Here, now!" he yelled out in rebuke. "Is this really what I've come to expect from Her Majesty's crew? And with your High Admiral on the bridge with us, no less!" The cheering cut off instantly, giving the captain a chance to turn to said admiral and make himself heard. "My apologies for the unseemly display, Admiral Avadonia."
The man the captain turned to was tall and broad, with a full head of brown hair and an easygoing expression. High Admiral Leonheart Avadonia smiled broadly in response to the captain's apology. "It comes as little surprise, Captain, now doesn't it? Let them blow off a little steam; they've earned it." In response to that rolling, deep voice, the bridge crew smiled broadly, basking in the praise. Even the captain couldn't resist smiling slightly as Admiral Avadonia continued, "It speaks well of you and your men, Captain, that their first real operation should go this well. Although we did lose a ship…"
As he spoke, every eye turned back to the screen, to where the shattered remains of one of their cruisers was clearly displayed next to the fading light from the Arcadia's explosion. "Nevertheless, all of you performed your duties admirably, even in the face of an actual warship, rather than a merchant vessel. Don't forget, though," his voice hardened noticeably, "that this marks the beginning of the end. The next Bureau vessel won't come in so unprepared, and I expect that you will all take the lessons we've learned from this fight and be ready for the next when it comes."
"Yes, sir!" the captain replied sharply, with consummate professionalism.
Admiral Avandonia nodded. "Then I'll retire to my quarters. Take us home, Captain." With one further acknowledgment from the Silent Lance's captain, he departed the bridge, making for the flag quarters. Outwardly, there was little difference between the Lance and her consorts, however different the ships were from "normal" dimensional vessels or from the Bureau's warships. Unlike the Silent Lance's now single accompanying cruiser, though, she was designed from the beginning to be a flagship, and so possessed such amenities as living space for flag officers and other high-ranking officials. Along with a truly frightening degree of ostentatious decoration; Leonheart sighed heavily as the bare metal of a warship's corridor gave way to the thickly padded carpeting of what even he referred to scornfully as 'aristocrat country'. As the door in front of him opened, though, he smoothed his expression back to indifference and entered his quarters.
Well, not entirely his quarters. In point of fact, the flag officers' quarters aboard the Silent Lance were an entire suite of rooms, enough to accommodate several people. The common room just inside the door was thus not entirely 'his', but shared among all of the flag officers. Or whatever guests said officers had along for the ride, as was the case on this particular trip. Said guest was waiting in the common room: a young man, young enough to be Leonheart's son. He looked up as the door opened, acknowledging Leonheart's return. "It went well, then?" he said quietly.
"Well enough, Allen." Leonheart replied shortly, looking over the boy with whom he was sharing the over-decorated flag quarters. Allen Avadonia (or occasionally just 'Len', although that nickname was never used within his hearing) was nominally Leonheart's son, although obviously an adoptive one. Where Leonheart was broad and powerful, Allen was a small, slight person, still a teenager. Rumors had it that he was fourteen, although without his parents around, no one was quite sure. Where Leonheart was outgoing and boisterous, Allen was cool and reserved.
And while it had taken Leonheart years of hard work and effort to rise to command the palace guard, Allen had… pretty much just appeared a few months ago as the chief personal servant of the princess, in the closest confidences of the princess herself. There were those who whispered that there were too many unanswered questions about how suddenly he had appeared or how oddly similar he was to the princess, but when the last surviving member of the kingdom's royal household made her opinion clear on the matter, whispers weren't going to cut it. Oh, sure, nominally Allen needed a guardian - in some ways, so did the princess. Either way, Leonheart got the job of keeping an eye on Allen, along with a lot of other ones. After all, Allen wasn't the only sudden arrival in the royal court…
"Father, you're woolgathering again," Allen interrupted. "Is something the matter?"
"Oh, no," Leonheart replied easily. "I found it a little difficult to believe that this… Bureau? That they'd be so unprepared as to walk into that fight as casually as they did. And I'm not looking forward to the next time we have to fight them. That ship's main cannon was devastating." He stretched, sighing heavily as he walked over to the door leading to his personal bedroom. "I'd say it's about time for me to actually get some rest."
"But you're sure we can stand up to them?" Allen pressed him.
Leonheart looked back from the door. "Impossible as it would have been for me to believe six months ago… I think we can." With a smirk, he continued, "I guess I didn't know they existed six months ago, though."
Allen smiled as well, nodding in acknowledgment as Leonheart finally left the common room. He sat there in silence for nearly a minute, thinking. When he finally did speak, it was in a whisper intended for his ears alone.
"My sister will be pleased…"