Author Note: I am a bit worried about my portrayals of the Queen and Princesses, as I have never really seen them outside of ACIP, and this situation is much different from the events of that story. I hope it doesn't bother people. Events are definitely heating up this chapter in terms of plot though.

Xxxx

Wednesday, Early Morning, approaching Buckingham Palace airspace

The flight had passed in near total silence, except for the "thwoppa-thwoppa" of the helicopter's blades biting through the chill early morning air, as they ascended from the back yard of Bayloupe's house and made a beeline towards London. They made good speed, as this was no civilian craft, but rather one sourced from England's military, its interior bare metal and canvas sling seats, designed for speed, maneuverability and endurance rather than comfort. Stiyl Magnus, the red headed Witch Hunter of Necessarius, sat with his back to the cockpit space, a cigarette clamped between his lips with a dull ember at the tip glowing with sullen heat. To either side of him were ranged the Knights of the "escort" squad he had been provided, their armor clacking lightly against each other in the occasional air turbulence.

Across from Stiyl sat Bayloupe of New Light, and Accelerator of Academy City. Stiyl was passingly familiar with them both, mostly by association with others, but he'd been given a full dossier on Bayloupe prior to being sent to collect her for questioning. She was a young woman, not a girl like some female mages he had been sent to apprehend, or even eliminate, in the past… age being no bar to ability or threat level when it came to Magicians, as Stiyl himself embodied, despite how he looked. Relatively full figured, healthy, fit, with a pleasing aesthetic if you went in for the sporty, bold and self-confident sort of girl… which wasn't really Stiyl's cup of tea, he liked academic girls. Platinum silver hair, turquoise eyes, and of course the distinctive head accessory of her Dragon's Horns, a magical artifact of no small power.

In truth the file on Bayloupe, and the other members of her New Light cabal, was fairly thin and lackluster, as for the longest time they had been considered nothing more than a Cabal Reserve Army… magical hobbyists and amateurs, rather than a true Magic Cabal. A clever ruse that had fooled both the Church and the Government's magical surveillance groups for many years. An oversight that was being corrected, which meant a lot more work for Necessarius, and Stiyl. Especially now that Kanzaki was… MIA. Stiyl sucked in a breath of calming smoke, feeling the heat fill his lungs as the tip of his cig glowed brighter and hotter with his irritation. This is a distraction I can ill afford… He thought with carefully concealed discontent.

Though he had the title of Witch Hunter, and it was his primary duty to hunt down and either capture or slay rogue magicians, regardless of where in the world they might be, at home or abroad, that did not necessarily mean Stiyl always enjoyed his job. Especially when politics started to interfere with it. Ideally, he'd be back in Academy City, watching over Index to make sure that damn Imagine Breaker didn't put her in too much danger, while also investigating Eve, and even some of the more suspicious figures within Academy City, whom he suspected of having something to do with Kanzaki's extended absence. That was where he wanted to be. That was where he would be able to do the most good.

Instead he was here, flying through the night at an unholy hour of the morning, escorting an admittedly dangerous Magician to an interrogation, under a royal edict. Well, not an official edict, but the orders for this mission came from within the Royal household, so that was effectively the same thing. Of course, as an agent of the Church, technically speaking Stiyl didn't take orders from the Royal family, even if he was a loyal Englishman in his very rare downtime. But after the events of Carissa's botched Rebellion, there had been a lot more cooperation between the Royals, the Knights and the Church, as all three major magical factions combined their efforts and shared… some… of their intel, in order to prevent outside forces from suspecting how damaged and weakened England had been by the failed coup.

Stiyl was sure that the Archbishop, damn that manipulative bitch, would have extracted a favor or two in exchange for cutting orders to send him out in support of the Knight squad to collect Bayloupe. Quid pro quo was how things worked at that level of power and authority after all. And he could not deny the psychological effectiveness of the tactic… any member of Necessarius was a veritable bogeyman to the independent Mages of England, and Stiyl especially so, as his reputation for hunting witches was well earned. And while he was not actually quite as brutal and merciless as his reputation hyped him out to be… he had a heart, even if it was a scarred and battered one at times… he only had so much empathy in him, and had to ration it carefully to avoid getting burned out by his duties.

So, if Bayloupe was terrified by his presence, then, well, that was too bad for her. He felt a little bad, but then again, she had every reason to be worried. Mages were not called to Buckingham Palace in the dead of night by express helicopter, escorted by Knights, and a Witch Hunter, for small, inconsequential matters. And his orders had been quite clear… she was to be collected, not invited, not requested, but collected… against her will if need be. Generally speaking, when his orders included language like that, it was a good bet that the Mage in question might never be seen again.

To her credit, the Magus of New Light showed little of her trepidation outwardly, aside from a slight sheen of sweat on her brow, and a certain tension and stiffness in her posture as she sat ramrod straight in her canvas chair. Her eyes were mostly shut, though he doubted she was asleep, more likely she was turning things over in her head, trying to figure out what was going on, and trying to keep control of herself. Stiyl wished her luck with that… he himself did not know why she was being brought in, merely that it was imperative that she be brought.

He shifted his sullen gaze away from the Mage, who, while certainly an enigma at the moment, was not what was giving him a vague sense of heartburn, though of course he absolutely did not show any hint of his own trepidation through long experience and training. It was the young man, probably a couple years older than Stiyl's chronological age, who sat at Bayloupe's side, hunched a bit forward, with his hands clenched around the shaft and grip of a a technologically advanced walking cane. Thin and weedy of build, his weak physicality did little to dampen the miasmic cloud of grim fury that clung to the boy, his crimson eyes glaring through his lank white bangs with the furnace heat of hell itself.

Accelerator. The Number 1 Ability User of Academy City. The Master of Vectors. Acqua-Breaker. Cainslayer. Potentially the strongest mortal being on the planet, maybe the strongest mortal being in history. His presence was like that of a caged beast, weighting the air with explosive potential for violence and death. Stiyl could tell that more than a little of the clacking and clanking armor noises from the Knights, came not from shifting in turbulence, but from the fact that many of them were quite literally shaking inside their armor with their own disquiet. Being near Accelerator was intimidating enough when he wasn't pissed, and right now he was clearly furious… and his brooding silence made that anger seem all the more potent and immediate, a volcano waiting to erupt with the force of a million nuclear bombs!

Stiyl had worked with Accelerator before, peripherally mostly, though they had coordinated a bit during the 2nd Princess's rebellion. He had a great and healthy respect for the Esper. Only a fool wouldn't, and Stiyl was no fool. But that wasn't to say that they were friends, not even of the sort that Kamijou imagined himself to be to Stiyl. They were acquaintances, temporary allies in the past, nothing more. If Accelerator decided to lash out, their prior history would be no shield at all.

Accelerator's presence in the helicopter was not according to plan, but Stiyl wasn't about to put his own neck on the line to keep the Esper out of Magic Side business. He'd tried that many times before with Kamijou's various friends and it never worked, so he had just given up on trying to save them from their own curiosity. But if anyone besides Imagine Breaker from Academy City could handle getting tangled up with the highest circles of Magic, it was probably Accelerator. And Stiyl had no illusions about his own ability to forcefully prevent Accelerator from coming along, and neither did the Knights. Though once they landed at the palace, things might get a little interesting, as the palace guards were not fond of unauthorized guests, especially in the wake of the rebellion.

But Stiyl's orders were just to bring Bayloupe to the Palace, by whatever means necessary, which thankfully this time had been simple words rather than flame magic and blood. Once she was delivered, his job was done, and he would be vacating the area… just to be prudent. Not to mention getting back to his real work, and maybe even catching a little sleep now and then… Mages were active at all hours, but even so, this was early for him. He was still a growing boy, in mind anyway, and needed rest from time to time.

A change in the pitch and tone of the helicopter's rotor alerted them all to its slow descent from cruising altitude. They had reached the London outskirts and were only minutes away from the Palace now. Stiyl watched Bayloupe open her eyes and take a deep breath, before she turned aside slightly to regard Accelerator. Stiyl could see the warmth in her eyes, feel her regard for the albino boy at her side, and deep down inside his heart twinged a little with jealousy. Though as a priest he was sworn to the Church in every way that mattered, the teenage boy in him was still wishful about receiving such regard from a girl of his own fancy… not that it was likely to be, given she had her eye on someone else, the least suitable person of all!

The aura of murderous rage that had built up around Accelerator receded slightly as he glanced aside at Bayloupe, giving the Knights a little more room to breathe, even though the sense of threat did not disappear in the slightest. Butterflies in Stiyl stomach accompanied their rapid descent into the palace grounds, light suddenly blooming all around them as they landed on one of the lawns, away from the public sectors of the palace, which were shut down for the night anyway. Attendants from the Coldstream Guards Regiment, part of the palace security forces, stationed by the landing area hustled forward, their ceremonial red coats flapping in the downdraft, tall, fuzzy black shakoes on their heads firmly buttoned under their chins against the wind.

They opened the door of the helicopter, and Stiyl was not shy about being the first out, ducking slightly as his robes and hair billowed in the wind from the rotors still beating overhead. His cigarette refused to blow out despite the air turbulence, its tip heated by his own flame magic, as he stepped aside. The sergeant major of the Coldstream Guards detachment saluted him, a courtesy that Stiyl returned with a slight nod of his head, before he turned and started heading across the lawn, a dark shape quickly blending into the night. He wished them luck with their duties… they were going to need it!

Xxxx

Accelelerator watched the red-haired Priest get out of the helicopter and waste no time in heading away on business of his own, clearly eager to wash his hands of this particular duty. He would have smirked with self-satisfaction, at his ability to unnerve the other boy, were this a more pleasant situation. But Accelerator was not feeling much like a grin right now, not even a sardonic smirk. Bayloupe's tension was skyrocketing, the first visible signs of her trepidation making themselves known as she hesitated in her seat, staring out at the red frocked guards with their black hats and modern firearms, mixed with more metal armored knights with swords and some shields. Quite a reception committee for a single Mage.

The Knights in the helicopter with them clearly wanted to chivvy Bayloupe along, but none of them was willing to leave his seat, much less speak out loud, until Accelerator had indicated what his own desire was. He could smell their terror sweat from inside their armor, which proved that they were smart men at least. But it did little to improve his mood. Though he knew he was a terrifying motherfucker, probably the scariest alive, in recent times he had adopted a more placid reputation, unless provoked. He didn't start trouble, most of the time, he just finished it when it came to him. He didn't attack people, but when attacked, he crushed them like bugs.

So, the only reason for them to be this fucking scared of me right now, is because they think I'm not going to like what's going on here tonight. Accelerator decided, which definitely did not improve his mood. And if they think that, they I definitely think I WON'T like it. He glanced over at Bayloupe, watching her gather her nerve, and his frown only grew. He could hear the gritting of teeth of some of the Knights that could see the expression on his face. He did not like to see her like this. She was his friend… his girlfriend… and while Accelerator was still coming to terms with that and all its implications for him and for her, he knew beyond any shadow of doubt that no friend of his, least of all his girlfriend, should ever need to be afraid of anything… not while under his protection, in his very presence!

"Let's fucking get this over with." Accelerator grunted irritably, not exactly words of encouragement, but he wasn't good with that sort of thing anyway. He forced himself up to a hunched over position, and before Bayloupe could say anything, or even reach out to him, he stepped out the door of the helicopter without looking back. Life sucks, but you have to face it anyway. I know I wouldn't want your pity in this situation if it was reversed. You have plenty of strength. Show it to them! Accelerator thought to himself, though not without a slight heartache at his inability to be properly supportive of her in her time of need. Tough love was still love, but that didn't mean it was always the best fit for a situation.

Glaring venomously at one of the red frocked soldiers who had come forward and offered a hand to help him down from the helicopter in acknowledgement of his apparent infirmity, Accelerator ignored the now hastily retreating, white faced soldier as he stood on the lawn. His presence was like a reverse magnet, pushing everyone and everything away from him, the squad of soldiers and knights that had been trotting up to take custody of Bayloupe after the priest left, slamming to a halt like they had hit an invisible wall. An invisible wall made of his scorn and displeasure.

"I'll try not to take too long. I know how much you love your beauty sleep." Bayloupe said, with barely a quaver in her voice, as she alighted on the ground next to him. Accelerator glanced briefly up at her, seeing that her face was cold and set, but when she noted his regard, there was the briefest of smiles there. The sour fire burning in his heart dimmed somewhat at the knowledge of her gratitude. Maybe he wasn't handling this like the best boyfriend in the world. But damn it all, he was trying in his own way… and she knew it. And that was enough, for now.

"Hn." Accelerator grunted slightly in acknowledgement, as he watched one of the soldiers, an older man with the aura of seniority about him, step forward to reach out towards Bayloupe. Clearly intending to take her by the arm, so as to facilitate "escorting" her inside. He sharpened the intensity of his gaze, wielding his ire like a weapon, and the man gulped, snatching his hand back like it was about to catch fire. To his credit though, he did not retreat entirely.

"Come this way, miss." The soldier managed to say after chewing on his words for a bit, beckoning towards the nearby paved walkway that would take them to the closest palace building. Buckingham Palace was a large estate, with several outer structures as well as the main palace itself, used for various purposes, all sealed off from the rest of the city by high walls and guarded gates. They were in the midst of one of the largest and most populous cities of the world, but it was as quiet and private as if they were in the countryside.

One of the new knights held up his hand in a gesture of restriction. "First we need to conduct a security check." He turned his helmeted gaze upon Bayloupe. "Please declare and divest yourself of all items which could be used as weapons. If you attempt to smuggle something inside, we will find it, and will react with appropriate levels of force."

"Am I under arrest or something?" Bayloupe asked in a hard voice. "Because if I am, I'd appreciate it if someone just said so, rather than switching back and forth between politeness and tough talk. I'd also appreciate someone telling me WHY I'm under arrest, or why I'm here at all? If people need to talk to me, I have a phone. Or regular business hours if they must see me in person."

"This is no laughing matter, miss. You're in a LOT of trouble." The older soldier said with a scowl. "You may not officially be under arrest as far as I know, but the request to bring you here came straight from the office of the First Princess, and countersigned by the Queen herself. I don't know what it is you have done, or may have done, or are suspected of doing, and I don't want to know either. But faffing around with us isn't going to help your situation any, I can promise you that."

The soldier turned his hard gaze upon Accelerator, and after a moment to wet his lips, he went on. "And you! I don't know who you the hell you are, or why the hell you're here at all. My orders explicitly mentioned only one person of interest being delivered tonight. Who authorized you to be here?"

"If you don't know who I am, then you don't deserve to know who I am." Accelerator replied with an arrogant sneer. "And my authority stems from one person and one person only. My-fucking-self."

"A smart-ass, huh?" The soldier bristled, one hand moving towards the pistols holstered at his hip, as his fellow frock coated guardsmen tensed, readying themselves for action.

"The smartest-ass." Bayloupe commented, sotto voce, just barely loud enough for Accelerator to hear her, and turn his sneer into a bit of a smirk. Things could have gotten fairly unpleasant then, for the Coldstream Guards, if not for the near frantic intervention of the senior Knight, who rushed forward with his armor clanking.

"He's a personal friend of the Queen!" he half shouted, clearly read in on what Accelerator could do… maybe he'd even been defeated by him in the past, during the rebellion. "I will personally vouch for his presence tonight. England owes him a debt of gratitude. Our doors are always open to Accelerator of Academy City."

"Even if they weren't, I'd just smash through the fucking walls." Accelerator snorted in disdain. "Enough pissing around the bush. Let's get this fucking over with." He started to walk towards the indicated building.

"Stop! We need to confiscate her weapons before we can proceed!" The knight declared, more like begged. "We cannot allow an armed person of interest in an ongoing investigation, access to the secure sectors of the palace!"

"I don't fucking care what you can allow. You call me here, in the middle of the fucking night, out of a warm fucking bed, for vague fucking reasons, and now you want to get handsy with my gir… my friend? Touch her, and you touch me. And I don't like to be fucking touched." Accelerator retorted with a snarl. "Either we go inside as we fucking are, or I pick her up and fly us home right the fuck now. Please, choose option 2 for me."

"Well, in point of fact, we DIDN'T call YOU here…" The Coldstream Guards sergeant started to say.

"Fine!" the Knight-Captain cut in over him, with a despairing groan. "Knight Leader is going to roast my bollocks for breakfast, but fine!"

"Are you fucking whacked!?" The Guard sergeant exclaimed, astonished and dismayed at this breach of security protocol.

"I'm fucking interested in living long enough to wish I wasn't in morning when Knight Leader grills me like hash-browns." The Knight-Captain growled back. "He is a personal friend of the Queen. Our hands are tied. If he vouches for her, then it is as if the Queen herself vouched for her."

"Well, now that that's cleared up, let's fucking get on with it." Accelerator rasped, as he offered his arm to Bayloupe. Not out of chivalry's sake, but because he enjoyed a chance to put the boot in on a pompous ass who couldn't do anything about it. They took their time, strolling across the lawn like they were on a late-night date rather than being escorted towards the palace basements for an interview. And with the Guards and Knights browbeaten into humiliated submission, progress was swift, for a time.

Another snag presented itself however, when they entered the basement levels of the building. Down here, the décor was a little more spartan than that on the aboveground levels. Still rich and tasteful, as befitted the palace of the Queen of England, but a trifle more functional, with less ostentation and gilt. The Coldstream Guards had peeled off after entering the building, their main focus the external security of the Palace grounds, while the Knights took over security once inside the halls and walls. The Guard sergeant gave Accelerator and Bayloupe a bit of an evil eye as he walked away, surely to remember being humiliated in front of his squad by their running roughshod over the security protocols. But he was just a soldier after all, and Accelerator paid no heed to the man's rancor.

The snag took the form of two more knights, their platemail more ostentatious and ceremonial than their fellows, with gold and silver inlays on some of the plates, and rich tabards of royal purple worn over their breastplates. They had swords belted at their waists, and each clutched a long hafted, heavy bladed halberd, which faintly glimmered with the glow of powerful magical enchantments. All of the knight's gear was enchanted in some way or another of course, but these halberds were only issued to those directly guarding Royalty, as their destructive power was considerable, enough to slice a main battle tank in half with a single blow. The two knights were standing vigil outside a doorway, stiffly at attention, like two metallic statues almost.

As Accelerator and Bayloupe approached, trailed by the fretting Knight-Captain and his squad of regular knights, the two Knight-Guardians moved with shocking suddenness, and crossed their polearms in front of the door, barring their forward progress. The sound of clashing metal drew attention from inside the room, and a door opened to reveal a man with a weaselish cast to his features, with short cropped dark hair and sallow skin, his sharp, beady eyes behind glasses. He wore a suit and tie, and looked like a bureaucrat of some stripe, or maybe a lawyer. His eyes passed over Bayloupe and onto Accelerator, lingering only a moment before moving on to the Knights and then back to Bayloupe. "Bring her in." He ordered curtly to the Knight-Guardians. "Her companion can wait in the hall. He is not authorized for this. Expressly, by word of the 1st Princess."

"I'm getting real fucking tired of people saying that tonight." Accelerator growled in reply.

"Just let it be." Bayloupe sighed with her own exasperation. "It's fine, I'll be ok. Thanks for coming this far with me, I can take it from here." She continued, with a warm smile for his benefit, as she laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'll go find out what the 1st Princess wants, get this all straightened out, and then we can go home. We can sleep in late." Squaring her shoulders, Bayloupe strode forward, the Knight-Guardian's moving their halberds out of the way just a moment before she would have walked into their crossed blades, and followed the rodentine man into the room, as the blades crossed behind her back, dividing her off from Accelerator, symbolically if in no other way.

Xxxx

Bayloupe did her best not to attach too much emotional weight to the sound of the door closing and locking behind her. It was hard though. This whole situation was completely fucked up, and a sensation of existential dread was seeping through the cracks of her self-control. She'd never expected to get a warm welcome at the Palace, not after the parts she and New Light had played in Carissa's rebellion, but surely if they were calling her in to talk about the Blood Oath, they would at least be minimally polite about it? She got the feeling that if Accelerator hadn't been with her, she'd have entered this meeting in chains, given how everyone was acting.

She didn't have long to dwell on her dread however, as right there in front of her, across the small, relatively bare room, was the first Princess herself, Rimea. Clad in one of her usual severe dresses which clung tightly to her body and legs, in a dark, rich blue hue, the heir apparent of Great Britain was standing with her back to Bayloupe, perusing some documents on a small side table against that wall. They were underground, so there was no window, only fluorescent light strips in the ceiling. There was a heavy wooden table in the middle of the room, with a single sturdy chair placed by it, which the rodentine man directed Bayloupe to sit in, before going over to whisper something in Rimea's ear.

Doing her best to disguise her trepidation, Bayloupe took a seat. It was conceding the psychological advantage of the meeting, allowing Rimea and her assistant to stand tall, making Bayloupe look up at them, but there was nothing to be done about it. She was literally on the Princess's home turf after all, and they were in no way equal. A small part of Bayloupe was honored just to be in the presence of a member of the Royal family at all, despite their rocky history. She did not know the first princess well, as she was a somewhat secluded figure in the public eye, unlike Carissa or Villian. Though in that manner of speaking, she didn't know any of them well, and had known Carissa less well than she'd thought, Bayloupe reflected bitterly.

She'd only met the second Princess once in person, in secret during a visit to Bayloupe's native Scotland. It had come after several weeks of back and forth negotiations with a shadowy client that had wanted to hire New Light to search for a rare magical treasure located somewhere within the British Isles. That hadn't been much to go on, as England had a lot of old ruins and potential lost artefacts, but the client had been willing to pay quite a lot. Bayloupe had insisted upon meeting the client regardless, because a contract like that was worth being absolutely sure on, as it could have been the thing to get her and her little sisters out of the Magic life for good if they made good on it.

Carissa had been… every bit as impressive in person as Bayloupe had imagined she would be. Dynamic, forceful, brilliant, powerful… she was everything that Bayloupe admired in a woman, and she could admit she had been more than a little star struck at the time. When Carissa told her what she was looking for, and why, and what it would mean for all of England if she were to get it… and end to its moral and politic decay, a return to global pre-eminence and respect… Bayloupe could not agree to do it fast enough. It was everything she'd ever wanted for her people, her country, power and pride and independence, and if she could have some part in that, much less a critical part… hell, she'd have done the job for free if Carissa had asked it of her!

But in the end, it had been too good to be true after all. The down payment on the job had been enough to give them the freedom to work more or less unimpeded by other jobs, aside from that little situation in Russia, and the final payout would have been enough to set them up comfortably for life, without needing to do dangerous magic work ever again unless they wanted to. For a group of young female magicians who were sometimes just barely scraping by as an independent Cabal, it was a dream come true, better than winning the lottery… something Mages weren't allowed to do, anyway. It meant she'd never have to prostitute herself for food and living money during slow work seasons again, amongst other things!

But they'd never seen that final payment, and never would. Even if Carissa's coup hadn't failed, Bayloupe and the rest of New Light would have been too dead to cash their check! The pain of that betrayal still gnawed at Bayloupe, day and night, as she wondered in what way she had failed the Princess she had so adored and idolized. New Light had done everything right as far as she could tell. They had found the greatest treasure in English history, Curtana Original, the sword that decided the rulership of the entire nation! A literally priceless artefact! And instead of keeping it, or selling it to the highest bidder, or even handing it off to the Crown… they had kept it secret, and sent it to Carissa, at great risk to themselves, including being captured by Church forces in the process! Because they were patriots, who loved their country and the 2nd Princess's vision for it.

But no sooner had the Princess received her prize than she turned on the people who had made it possible. Knights armed with Robin Hood bows had attempted to kill Lessar… and very nearly succeeded, if not for chance and the help of Touma Kamijou. Bayloupe had been knocked out by Accelerator, and Floris captured by Jason Kagere, and they had both expected torture and summary execution at the Church's hands, which as proud partisans they could have accepted. Only Lancis had remained free, as the out of town relay person. But while she was not afraid to die for her country, and for the Princess's cause, being stabbed in the back by her was different. Bayloupe had given Carissa everything she could ask for, including loyalty unto expected death, and to be rewarded for that with assassination attempts… it hurt! It hurt so deep inside that Bayloupe was still sometimes finding out just how bad it had wounded her…

"Do you know why you have been called here tonight?" Rimea's cold, pragmatic voice cut through the silence of recollection that Bayloupe had descended into, causing her to startle a bit as she looked up. The first princess had turned around, her severe, stone cold face staring at Bayloupe through her monocle. Her intelligent blue eyes were like chips of ice, her face framed by her dark black hair that fell straight to her shoulders. She was beautiful but harsh, like an iceberg or a wind honed mountain crag.

"I… do not, your Highness." Bayloupe said slowly and carefully, refusing to look away from Rimea's cold eyes. She didn't know what the Princess was thinking or feeling, but she had her own pride, and she wasn't going to be the first to look away. "I presume it has something to do with the matter of the contraband Blood Oath I discovered and reported though."

"You presume." Rimea's eye narrowed with clear displeasure. "You have a lot of gall, trying to play innocent, girl. I would have thought, given my Mother's prior stay of mercy regarding you and your group, you would have done your best to stay off the radar, keep your heads down… but it seems like your insurgency runs deeper than we prior suspected."

"My… fucking WHAT!?" Bayloupe was flabbergasted at such a statement. "I mean, fucking WHAT?! High…your Highness, what are you talking about!?"

"This is Crown Inquisitor Radcliff." Rimea indicated the weaselish man at her side, who was studying Bayloupe like she was something he'd found on his shoe after walking through a sewer. "He is responsible for, amongst other things, verifying the integrity of various magical bonds and oaths throughout the Isles. He administers the Blood Oaths for the country, and he takes his job very seriously."

"It was a good try, Witch." Radcliff spoke up, his tone thin but razor sharp as he kept looking at Bayloupe with disgust. "The best I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot. Your reputation as an artificer and magic tool creator is warranted. It's too bad you have such a treasonous heart… you could have gone far as one of our allies."

"T-treasonous!?" Bayloupe spluttered. Well, it was technically true… she had aided in a conspiracy to overthrow the then rightful government of the nation. But they weren't speaking about the past…

"Cease your attempts at acting shocked. They'll do you no favors here." Rimea took up the conversation again. "Your efforts may have fooled the Magister of County Blackpoole, but I can assure you, your forgery was detected quite quickly once the document was handed over to Radcliff's department." Rimea pinned Bayloupe to her chair with the force of her gaze alone. "With the evidence in hand of your attempt at undermining the very rule of law of the Crown, your guilt as a traitor is now twice confirmed. First your attempt at armed rebellion and assassination of the Royal family, and now this… forging a Blood Oath." Rimea shook her head sadly. "You took us for fools, but it was your downfall."

"What!? NO!? I never… I didn't FORGE a Blood Oath! I would never! That's insanity! Everyone knows its impossible to forge one of those things, or else it would have been done already!" Bayloupe could not believe her ears, her heart thudding in her chest in rising panic. This couldn't be real! This made no sense at all! "For fuck's sake, I turned it in to the Magister myself! Why would I do that if I was trying to forge the system!? And why would I make a fake Blood Oath that was all about selling myself and my Cabal into fucking slavery to the mob!?"

"A clever attempt at throwing off suspicion and providing an alibi for your massacre in the Blackpoole docks, I grant you. But a little too clever I'm afraid." Radcliff replied with a sniff of disdain. "Your forgery was visually perfect, and you even got all the seals and rune codes right. It was such a great replica, that as soon as I handled it myself, I knew it could not be real. It is not something we let be known publicly of course, but all Blood Oath's are a little flawed. As part of their creation, you cannot restart or halt the process once it begins… that means any grammatical or textual errors made while in creation of the Oath, remain as part of the finished product. Even something as small as unevenness in the spacing of the words and letters. But your Blood Oath was visually perfect. Impeccable. Like it was typed on a computer and printed out. We'll have to find out how you did that. We're always trying to improve our process…"

"You're telling me that because there's no fucking spelling errors or ink blots or misplaced words that it's a forgery, and that I'm the culprit!? That's so fucking weak!" Bayloupe snarled furiously. "Even if the Blood Oath itself is a fake… I guess it could be, I'm no expert in them… that doesn't mean I made it! I turned it in because I was concerned that someone was selling them to the mob under the table! They targeted me and my Cabal, my family, and yes, I killed them for it… but who wouldn't, when threatened with a Blood Oath!? That was legitimate self-defense! Magister Redshrike even said so!"

"The Magister of Blackpoole naturally said that to avoid raising your suspicions." Rimea answered curtly. "I won't argue as to the worth of the lives you ended that night… they were criminal scum without doubt. But they were English citizens regardless, and their blood is on your hands, traitor. I don't know what dispute or deal you had with those criminals, nor do I care why it went wrong and you decided to end their lives. If you had simply done away with them, we would probably have looked the other way… scum killing scum is nothing new to this country. But you tried to justify it. You sought legitimacy for your actions, for whatever reason, and now it has led to your subversion being exposed. You got too ambitious, too full of yourself. Finding Curtana Original must have gone to your head."

"That's a lie! A fucking LIE!" Bayloupe insisted in outrage, half rising from her chair, causing Radcliff to take a step back, and Rimea to tense ever so slightly. Electricity crackled around the tips of her Dragon's horns, her face flushed with her fury as she glared at the Crown Inquisitor and Princess dangerously. Struggling mightily, Bayloupe swallowed the remainder of her anger, and forced herself to sit back down. Attacking the Princess or her aide would not help matters. "It's a fucking, dirty, goddamn lie." She snapped.

"Your acting is superb." Rimea said, almost clinically, as she eyed Bayloupe. "Why, if I hadn't seen the irrefutable evidence myself, I would have believed you. And I don't trust anyone easily. You are clearly a passionate and zealous person, Bayloupe. It is just too bad you turned your fervor to the wrong sorts of causes."

"What fucking evidence is there?!" Bayloupe demanded. "Let me see this fucking evidence of yours, if it's so goddamn irrefutable!"

"There is no need to validate you any further." Rimea said in denial. "We caught you, and the evidence is undeniable. Take solace in the fact, if you can, that our investigation at least determined that there was no participation by the others within your Cabal. Or at least none we can prove at this point. Unless your eventual confession gives us new leads, this will end along with you."

"You're going to torture me, and then kill me?" Bayloupe said dully, her hands gripping the edge of the table until her knuckles went white and her fingertips almost bled.

"We would prefer not to resort to torture, but all options are on the table if you will not cooperate. A credible attempt at falsifying a Blood Oath is a serious matter of national security, as I'm sure you know. Until we are absolutely sure you have no co-conspirators or hidden allies waiting to take advantage of your work, we cannot allow you to spread this poison further." Radcliff said severely. "Especially considering your prior participation in an attempt armed rebellion, this matter must be seen in the most serious possible light. Serial offenses are always worse when it comes to crime… be it theft, rape, murder… or, most critically, sedition."

"This is bullshit! This is absolutely FUCKING BULLSHIT! I DIDN'T FORGE SHIT! I've NEVER forged SHIT! I make tools that find shit, dig shit up, clean shit off, and kill shit! But not forge stuff! I have not lied! I never have lied, not to this country!" Bayloupe bolted upright, as she bumped up against the edge of the table, her eyes aglow with her fury. "Fuck you and your goddamn evidence, Princess, this is a fucking setup and you fucking know it!"

"Do not attempt to escape. You are surrounded by Knights, and I myself am perfectly capable of putting you down if you force my hand." Rimea took one hand out from behind her back, showcasing an ornately jeweled letter opener with a wicked looking steel blade on it. "It may look like a toy, but this dagger allows my mother to channel some of Curtana's power into me if need be, while within the Palace grounds. Sit back down. Yelling and screaming about your circumstances will not change them."

"NO! NO, I WILL NOT SUBMIT TO THIS!" Bayloupe hollered, shaking all over with her rage. "I trusted your sister, fine, that was a big fucking mistake, I see that now! It was pretty fucking evident when she had her soldiers try to kill me and my family after we'd served our purpose to her! And yeah, I know that doesn't excuse rebelling against the Crown, but goddamn it, if FUCKING CARISSA is allowed a second fucking chance, why not fucking US!? HUH?! Why not fucking US!? Why am I getting fucking railroaded here, when I was legitimately trying to FUCKING HELP, out of pure, fucking patriotism!?"

"I said, sit back d…!" Rimea's stressed command was interrupted by the sudden sound of metal clashing and smashing outside the door. It was similar to the sound of bells falling out of a tower onto pavement, combined with a truckload of silverware being smashed across a street at over a hundred miles per hour. The sort of sound to make people wince and cower just hearing it. An instant later and the door to the room literally blew off its hinges, ripping away chunks of the doorframe as it whirled across the room faster than the human eye could see! The door, made of wood, slammed into the stone wall edge on, so hard that it was driven straight through it, like a knife sliding into cake, without even splintering! The wind of its passing stung the eyes and made everyone in the room flinch and stagger for a moment.

"Someone told me earlier that England has an open-door policy regarding me. But this one seemed to be stuck shut. So, I fixed that for you." Accelerator growled, low and dangerous and predatory, as he stood in the tattered doorway, his cane discarded on the ground behind him. "Now, someone tell me what the fuck is going on in here that's causing all this shouting?"

"Gah!? Gahhh? Gahhh… gua… guards… GUARDS!" Radcliff stammered and whimpered for a moment before regaining himself and calling for support. Hollering out into the hall desperately.

"I'm sure they'll show up, but if you're talking about the tin suit squad outside, I wouldn't expect them soon." Accelerator said with a nasty shrug. "I decided I was done waiting in the hall, and they tried to convince me otherwise." His smirk turned positively demonic. "Their argument was… insufficiently strong."

"This is bullshit!" Bayloupe hissed at him, waving at the Princess and Radcliff. "They say they're taking me in, for, fucking get this… for FORGING that fucking Blood Oath! They say that I made a fake one to justify killing Sharkey and his goons! And then turned it in to fucking Loec Redshrike cause I was just too bloody fucking overconfident that no one would ever be able to detect my perfect bloody fucking forgery! They're gonna torture me to figure out how I made such a good forgery, and then it's off to the headsman or gallows for me, a traitor's death for a two time fucking traitor!"

Accelerator's smirk turned into a frown as he heard that. He ignored the blubbering bureaucrat, and locked eyes with the first Princess. "That fucking right?" Accelerator asked, his voice deceptively mild.

"We have incontrovertible evidence." Rimea said with surprising levelness given her situation.

"The hell you do." Accelerator replied with deadly calm. "For one, it wasn't her that killed those stupid bastards at the docks, that was me. Self-defense, if you care, which I doubt you do. I was there when they threw that Blood Oath at her. It's not hers. Anyone telling you different is a fucking liar."

"Accelerator…" Bayloupe said softly, her eyes wide as she watched him take full credit for what had really been a split operation regarding Sharkey and his goons. Though it did warm her heart to have his unequivocal support. Not that there was any reason she shouldn't have it, since he was speaking the goddamn truth!

"The Blood Oath is a forgery, that is beyond doubt." Rimea countered, turning with glacial self-control to rummage through some of the disordered papers on the side table behind her. She found what she was looking for after a few moments, and placed it on the desk in front of Bayloupe and Accelerator. It was the Blood Oath document. "As Crown Inquisitor Radcliff summarized, the creation of this forged document is too perfect, without the small, humanized flaws found in authentic versions. That is enough to identify it as a fake. But the thing that ties it to Bayloupe is the magical signature on the document. After her participation in my sister's rebellion, we naturally took careful note of her magical signatures… unique to every magician… in case of future trouble with her. And the magic trace is a complete match. Beyond all doubt. Bayloupe is the creator of this document."

"Let me see that fucking thing." Accelerator demanded, as he snatched the paper up. He hadn't really paid that much attention to it before, since Bayloupe had seemed to have it well in hand. Still, the paper in his hands matched up with what his perfect memory had for stored images of it, seen in passing. "Where the fuck is this goddamn signature thing?" He growled.

"It's no use for you to look for it." Rimea explained with a shrug. "Only those who can use magic can detect the energies left behind by the creation or manipulation of mana."

"Oh, is that fucking all?" Accelerator snapped, as he focused on the proper vectors inside himself, and brought forth his own mana. With that suffusing his body, he could now feel something on the paper in his hands. It was indistinct, so he had to focus to really bring the feeling out in his mind. The Princess was sputtering and gasping about something, but he paid her no mind, intent upon the paper in his hands. Slowly, the energies upon the paper made their unique essence… flavor… scent… vector… known to him. His frown deepened. It was Bayloupe all right, he remembered the basic feel of it from handling her rune cards the day before. But something wasn't entirely right either…

"Give me your hand." He looked over at his girlfriend, the snap in his tone brooking no argument and no delay. Bayloupe eyed him, looking back and forth between him and the gaping Princess Rimea, but he had no time for that, snatching her hand almost painfully hard as she extended it towards him. "Refine some mana." He ordered curtly once he had a grip on her. Bayloupe grimaced, but did as he bid. Accelerator closed his eyes to concentrate even further. Feeling the flavor and shape of the magic vectors on the paper, and the ones being generated by Bayloupe right now.

They were very nearly an exact match. Very nearly, but not entirely. The difference was in the decay vector, the entropy one, such as one existed for Magic energies anyway. The energy coming out of the Blood Oath was an exact match for Bayloupe's in every way… except that it was old. Not like hours old, or days old, or even months old. Years old, at least. It wasn't quite like judging the age of an object by its radioisotope decay, but that was the closest metaphor Accelerator could make sense of in his mind. The energy was the same between them, but the stuff on the document was aged, worn by time.

"It's a fake." He announced, as he opened his eyes and returned his awareness to his surroundings, noting without much surprise that suddenly the room was a lot more crowded, as a reinforcement platoon of armored knights had appeared behind him while he was intent on his work. Their swords and spears and halberds were all drawn, and pointing more or less at him and Bayloupe, but he paid them no heed, no moreso than he did bugs in the grass outside.

"That was our conclusion as well, obviously she is..." Radcliff started to say.

"No, the signature is a fake." Accelerator cut her off with annoyance. "It's too old to be hers. The signature is almost identical, but its vector of time is completely different. I don't understand this magic bullshit, but this signature is a fake."

"Let me see that thing!" Bayloupe removed her hand from his grip, and then took the paper from his other hand, her brow furrowed as she analyzed it herself. "What the fuck is this…? How is this…?" she muttered under her breath.

"You'll understand that we can't exactly take your word for it?" Rimea was studied Accelerator almost as carefully as he'd studied the Blood Oath. "I'm not sure how you were able to refine mana just now, but regardless… you're an Esper, an Ability User. Even if you have somehow managed to violate the laws of reality without paying the price… you said it yourself. You don't understand magic. Your opinion holds no weight. And that's not even considering your obvious bias of affection…"

"It holds all the fucking weight in the world to me." Accelerator refuted coldly. "I don't understand a lot about magic, but I understand vectors, including magic vectors. And I know her vectors pretty fucking well. Whoever made that Blood Oath, they did a pretty good job. Clearly fooled all of you. But they couldn't hide the vectors of time… nobody can. It's a fake. I'm 100% sure. And my feelings have nothing to do with it."

"Princess." A new voice, male, strong and stoic and longsuffering, interrupted from the doorway. Accelerator glanced over, along with the others, Radcliff almost simpering with relief as he saw who it was. "Is there a problem here?"

"Knight Leader." Rimea nodded her head in a gesture of respect for the strongest Knight in England. She might not trust him, as she didn't trust anyone who knew who she was. But that didn't mean she didn't respect him, even like him. Especially at times like this. "I'm afraid there is. Our evidence strongly, even overwhelmingly indicates that Bayloupe here has forged a Blood Oath, for reasons yet unknown. She maintains her innocence in the matter, despite the evidence. And Accelerator claims that he can detect that the magical signature on the document is a fake, somehow."

"Let me see it." Knight Leader extended a hand, and Bayloupe, a trifle nervously, handed over the Blood Oath to him. Accelerator felt a brief surge of magical energies around the Knight, as he focused on the document in his hand. "The signature matches the one in my memories completely." Knight Leader reported after a few moments, his tone neutral.

"Then you're either blind or senile." Accelerator retorted with a snarl. "The time vector is completely wrong, how can't you see that? The signature on the paper comes from a source that's years old, completely different from her current signature. Like a flower trapped in amber, compared to a freshly picked one."

"Hmm." Knight Leader furrowed his brow in thought. "Perhaps. But judging the age of a magical signature is not exact even for a specialist. Of which I am not. I am not denying your conjecture has possibility, but for safety's sake I think…"

"If he says the vector is wrong, then he speaks the truth." Another new voice, just as terse and stoic as Knight Leader's, cut in from behind the leader of the Knights. Another familiar face made itself known, pushing through the ranks of Knights. Acqua of the Back. Or William, nowadays. "He has no reason to lie about it, to grasp at straws for an explanation." Acqua continued, with a nod in Accelerator's direction. "He has the strength to defeat everyone here, and escape with the girl, and we might not even be able to slow him down. There is no need for him to invent a reason for her to not be guilty."

"Are you saying we should just throw out all the evidence, on his say so alone? Just because he's strong enough to beat everyone here and walk away unharmed?" Rimea scoffed a bit at the idea. "This is not a might makes right situation, William. I can think of several reasons why he might want to avoid simply escaping… perhaps he doesn't want her to be a hunted fugitive, for one."

"To doubt is human, but it is my personal estimation that he isn't lying, for whatever that is worth. Accelerator is a good man, better than he knows…" Acqua ignored the under-the-breath scoff from the object of his validation. "England owes him a lot. Including, I think, some leeway on this matter."

"His prior service to the Crown is not forgotten, nor will it ever be." Rimea countered. "But to excuse treason, or all but certain treason? Gratitude has its limits, William, and mine does not extend to allowing England to look weak by not once but TWICE allowing a traitor to walk free of punishment. What sort of message does that send to the Church? To the Nobles? Confidence in my mother's rule is already weakened by Carissa's actions… if we do not act decisively now, on this, things will get much worse…"

"So, it's better to act decisively, even if it means killing someone who is innocent?" Bayloupe spoke up, though she was doing her best not to tremble, given the massive power imbalance between her and most of the people in the room.

"You're hardly innocent." Rimea pointed out, causing Bayloupe to grimace. "Whether you are guilty of this second offense may be in some small doubt, but your prior sedition is a matter of historical note. By the law alone, you should have hanged for that already. My mother granted you mercy… against my advice. I hold no personal discord for you, aside from that you assisted my misguided sister in trying to kill me and my family. But that is irrelevant to the point that you are a traitor to England, and the punishment for high crimes like treason is execution. If we fail to set the example on things like this, then it will only encourage others to test our boundaries as well. Your innocence really is of little consequence… for the good of England, you need to be made an example of. That is the pragmatic course here."

"No one is making an example out of anyone. Unless it's me, showing you all why attacking someone close to me, my fucking friend, is a bad fucking idea!"

"Oh, so Carissa is "misguided" but I'm a fucking traitor, huh? She gets to work off her debt to the Crown, she's even returned to her position of authority. But me, I need to be made an example of." Bayloupe said with vicious sarcasm. "What about him?" She pointed at Knight Leader. "He was on her side too! He was her fucking right hand man the whole fucking time! Why isn't he up against the wall!?"

"Because he, like Carissa, is too important to England's image." Rimea answered, matter of factly. "Though executing Carissa was once discussed at the highest levels, due to Mr. Kamijou's intervention, it was decided that it was best to go with another path. Her strength is still useful to England, and her sudden disappearance would cause much unrest amongst the populace and internationally as well. Knight Leader as well, if he were removed, the shake up in the Knights would lead to much internal discord and unrest, which England cannot afford. But you are just an independent Mage of no real backing or consequence. As a sacrifice for England, you're ideal for the situation." Rimea shot a stern glare at Bayloupe. "And before you protest the unfairness, mind that if Carissa makes another attempt at sedition, as you appear to have, she would be slaughtered out of hand and without a second thought, consequences be damned."

"That's enough." A tired female voice interjected, causing expressions of shock and consternation to fly onto the faces of the Knights, Knight Leader, Radcliff and Rimea. A woman in late middle age, with greying blond hair and worn blue eyes, stood in a black and white nightgown in the doorway. It was the Queen Regnant, Elizard. "This won't be solved here, shouting at each other. Let's move to more comfortable surroundings for a discussion."

Xxxx

Fifteen minutes later, Queen's Private salon

"When I heard that you were coming back to England for a vacation, I was overjoyed." Elizard said, as she stood by the window of her salon, now dressed in something approaching a respectable fashion, in one of her less formal dresses. She held a steaming china cup of tea on a saucer in one hand, and contemplatively sipped from it from time to time. Her normally ebullient attitude was somewhat lacking, both due to her lack of sleep and the gravitas of the situation, though a twinkle in her eye could be seen lurking.

"You are one of the heroes of that unfortunate incident, and though your participation in resolving it, along with that of your friends, can never be made publicly known, I have always been deeply grateful. You didn't have to do anything to help us, but you did, even though you could easily have all died in the process. That sort of righteousness is rare in this world of ours." She went on, before turning back to look at her guests.

Her salon was not particularly large, most of the space dominated by a table at which she commonly ate breakfast or brunch, usually with close friends or confidants. A private space, one decorated to her own whims rather than the aesthetics of the palace, so it was more than a bit eclectic to say the least. For now though, there was no time to appreciate the quirky décor. Sitting at one end of the table were Bayloupe and Accelerator, both of them with cups of the best coffee in England in front of them, though neither cup had been touched much. Further up the table sat her three daughters, Rimea, Carissa and Villian. Near the door were the only other two occupants of the room, an antsy looking Knight Leader, and a stoic looking William Orwell. It probably would have been best to have Archbishop Stewart here as well, but she could not be currently reached, for whatever reason. Smart woman.

Rimea was sipping at her own cup of tea, only the frequency with which she took those sips betraying her inner agitation, as she was otherwise staring straight ahead, not looking at any of the other occupants of the room. Villian was glancing at William every now and then… a situation that would have resulted in amused teasing from Elizard under almost any other situation… as well as yawning from time to time, clearly suffering from the early awakening. Carissa almost appeared to be meditating, but Elizard could feel the tension in her second daughter, and especially so in the glares that young Bayloupe was sending Carissa's way, and that Carissa was studiously ignoring, somewhat out of character for her proud and easily offended daughter.

However, it was the brooding, sullen and grim figure of Accelerator to whom Elizard was speaking, and to whom she devoted most of her attention. His crimson eyes were burning with impatience, irritation and not a little true anger. And she could not entirely blame him, as from a personal perspective, she completely emphasized with him. His loved one… at least she assumed that was the nature of their relationship… was under threat, and it was from her power that the threat stemmed. And Accelerator was well known in the halls of power, for his methods of dealing with threats to his loved ones. If it were one of her daughters being threatened, she would react as he was… she even had, actually, when the matter of Carissa's punishment was first being decided upon.

"But the situation we are now in, is unfortunately complex, as so many things are." Elizard sighed in discontent. "The evidence gathered by my own law enforcement agents, who are trusted and vetted well, states that Bayloupe is guilty of attempted subversion of a Crown sanctified Blood Oath… high treason. The evidence is more than enough to convict in a court of law, much less a magic tribunal. This would be her second offense of high treason… a situation which not only disallows clemency, but demands the harshest possible punishment. Life imprisonment is the least of what she should expect."

Elizard watched as Accelerator opened his mouth, before smiling slightly and going on. "However, the evidence is not completely ironclad. It is disputed, by a man who has no real reason to lie, whose character is vouched for by a Saint, and who has done me and my people a great service in the past. Unfortunately, the aspect of the evidence that is in dispute, is not one that can be reliably confirmed one way or another. Certainly not to the standards of a court of law." Elizard sighed heavily and looked at her daughters. "What do you all think that we should do? This is one of those hard questions an eventual Queen will need to be able to answer…"

"I think we should give her the benefit of the doubt." Villian spoke up first, somewhat to the surprise of the others, as she was normally quiet with her opinions. "Though her support of Carissa's rebellion…" She carefully did not look at her elder sister, as that was still, and probably long would be, an uncomfortable topic for their family. "… is not in question, she did change her allegiance during the incident and helped against Carissa in the end. And since then she and her Cabal have offered their services freely to the Church, and have been helpful in the ongoing conflict against Eve, including at significant risk to their lives, for little recompense. I think this speaks volumes about her character, and this business with the Blood Oath is out of that character… and that feels strange to me."

"I feel just the opposite." Rimea said coldly. "She's a serial traitor. First to England in assisting Carissa's revolt, then to Carissa herself when circumstances changed during that revolt, and now here she is rebelling against the Crown once more, for a purpose I admittedly cannot yet discern. Clearly her loyalties are in constant flux, and she will betray or rebel against whoever she needs to in order to prosper and survive at any given moment. She is completely unreliable, and her continued existence, not to mention her continued freedom, is a stain on England's honor, and a severe risk to our reputation as a nation. In the interests of the Nation, she should be tried, imprisoned and executed as a warning. We can set up a fund for her Cabal mates living expenses afterwards, if need be, assuming we do not find them complicit in her further treason."

"That seems a little, harsh, dear. It's unlike you to be so aggressive in matters like this." Elizard pointed out, studying her eldest daughter.

"This matter is of personal importance to me. As the heir apparent, I will be succeeding you eventually, Mother. In good time. But eventually I will be Queen Regnant, and in charge of this country's path. I am thinking of the long term consequences of these sorts of decisions. If England acquires a reputation for weakness and fecklessness in regard to high crimes during your reign, that will carry on over into my own. That will make my reign far more difficult and fraught with uprisings, revolts and people testing the boundaries of my patience and empathy. It is only logical to nip problems like this in the bud as early as possible... even if that means acting harshly and aggressively right now. I will NOT see our beloved Kingdom fragment yet further due to internal instability. And if the occasional little person has to get ground up in the gears of state in the process, then they have my sympathies, but not my forbearance."

"Carissa?" Elizard prompted after a long few moments of silence after Rimea and Villian weighed in on the matter.

"Yeah. I'm interested in what you have to say for yourself too." Bayloupe cut in before Carissa could answer Elizard. Her tone was insubordinate, rude and downright offensive, but Elizard took no offense. The girl's fate was being decided here, more or less, she was allowed to be a little testy. Normally anyone who spoke to her second Daughter in that tone would end up covered in whip marks at the very least, but for tonight Carissa seemed to be of the same mind as her mother, and paid it little heed. For now.

"I think the solution is simple." Carissa said, looking at Elizard. "She is a loyal English patriot, that is not in doubt. She is also of questionable loyalties to the Crown, despite that patriotism. Assuming her guilt in this second offense cannot be proven, beyond any and all doubt, I think the best answer is to simply make her go away. She's a problem for England's reputation, but that reputation being sullied by scapegoating an innocent woman simply for political expediency is also no good. We are no third world junta here, if we can't prove wrongdoing, then we must not act precipitously. But if we cannot prove innocence either, then the best middle course is to remove the problem without killing her."

"So, you advocate exile then." Elizard summarized for her daughter.

"Yes. Send her away and never allow her to return. She can move to Academy City, or somewhere else in the world. Out of sight and out of mind, soon enough she will be forgotten, assuming she doesn't do anything stupid." Carissa said firmly.

"Trusting you was stupid." Bayloupe perhaps meant to say that under her breath, but the acoustics of the room made it clearly audible to all. That was more than Carissa's pride could take. She wasn't about to tolerate people muttering at her while she was around.

"You have a comment?" Carissa challenged Bayloupe, with a stare that had made strong men quail in the past. But Bayloupe was far too angry to care about the power and rank disparity between them.

"Yeah. Yeah I fucking do!" Bayloupe retorted with gritted teeth. "I trusted you, Carissa." She deliberately left off the "Highness" or any other sign of respect. "More than that, I BELIEVED in you! In your cause. In your dream. My friends and I, we sweated blood to find Curtana Original for you. We risked everything to get you the one thing, the one thing in all the world that could make your dream possible… and we did it! We found it! We did everything right! We excelled! And all we wanted was for you to fulfill that dream. The money was nice, but bringing your dream to England… that was what we wanted! And I thought you knew that. I thought you knew that we were yours, through and through, to death and beyond, we were your supporters!"

"We didn't want recognition. Or fame. We didn't want you to thank us or give us medals or land or titles. The money you promised would have been enough to set us up for comfortable lives, and that was all we wanted. Comfortable lives in a country we could be proud of… a country ruled by you! That was our dream… my dream. But you crushed that dream. Carissa, you fucking CRUSHED that dream! Why? WHY!? FUCKING WHY?! Why did you order us killed after we got you the sword?! What did we do wrong?! Why was it necessary that we be silenced like that? We… we LOVED you, we ENABLED you, and you ordered your men to kill us for it! SO WHY!? FUCKING WHY!?" Bayloupe was in tears by the time she'd finished her rant, her breathing ragged and her face flushed. "Why…?"

"The simple answer?" Carissa's face was like a mask of wood, immobile and uncaring, though whatever she might be really feeling was hidden. "You misunderstood my dream. I had no interest in ruling. I wanted to see Curtana destroyed, the royal line ended, so that England would no longer be held in thrall by the power of Angels wielded by a single person, be it me or anyone else. Perhaps my thinking was flawed… I have since learned that there is more hope in this world than I originally thought. He has taught me that much. I ordered your disposal because I needed a spark. Something to spur resentment of me in the populace, and news of my backstabbing such loyal followers would be a good catalyst. Your work was everything I needed, and your deaths would have been the flame that lit the pyre of the Royal Family. Alas, it didn't work out. You were critical to my plan twice over, if that's any consolation. My partisans, loyal unto death… regardless of whence it came from."

"FUCK… YOU… BITCH!" Bayloupe growled, almost rising from her seat in incandescent fury.

"There is a limit to the amount of cheek I will tolerate from you." Carissa retorted, straightening in her seat.

"And there's a limit to the amount of bullshit I'm willing to listen to in one night." Accelerator countered, as he reached out and put a hand on Bayloupe's shoulder. "I'll say this once, so you better listen. Bayloupe… all of new Light… is under my protection. They are not your people, they are my people. Anyone who acts against them, acts against me. Their enemies are my enemies. Someone out there, perhaps within your government, is trying to frame her for treason, for some fucking reason I couldn't care less about. That motherfucker, and anyone supporting them, is going to die. Anyone who gets in my way of doing that, is going to be broken. At the least." He met Carissa's glare and returned it with interest. "Knights. Saints. Princesses. Doesn't fucking matter. Get in my way and I'll run you over and smash you flat."

"You're just making this harder on yourself." Rimea said flatly. "Now you're threatening us. If we bow to that, we'll be perceived as even weaker than simply letting her off scot free for treason."

"Threats? No, that was just information. Hard data. A threat could just be a bluff. What I just told you is scientific fact. Cause and effect." Accelerator retorted.

"We're all a bit short tempered. It's been a rough night." Elizard cut in before things could escalate any further. "This matter is serious, but not massively urgent, all things considered. I think it may be best to set it aside for a few days while I consider and consult with my advisers. Normally I would require that someone under suspicion of high treason be kept confined, just to ensure there is no risk of flight or the like. But in this case, with Accelerator's guarantee, I think we can forgo that requirement. You are free to return home and go about your life as normally as you can, for now. In three days time, I will call for you again, and tell you my decision regarding your fate. Assuming no new information comes to light in that time…"

Accelerator didn't exactly need a sign with flashing lights to tell him what the Queen meant by that. She was giving them some rope, some space to try and figure out what the fuck was going on, to find the real culprits behind the frame job, and clear Bayloupe's name. She couldn't hold off judgment forever, as political pressures were mounting and a quick solution would be better for their National interest than a truly just one, and as the ruling authority, they had to put their National interests first. But three days was a long time, relatively speaking. He'd been in major crisis's that were solved in far less time than that, many times before. He pulled himself to his feet, his hand still on Bayloupe's shoulder. His girlfriend had lost most of her fire after her outburst at Carissa, but there was still embers of life flickering in her eyes.

She too rose, and gave a mostly perfunctory bow in the direction of Queen Elizard, all the respect she could currently muster for her ruler, given the situation. It wasn't like she was stupid or ungrateful... like Accelerator, she understood that the Queen was giving them some space, a lifeline to cling to. But that lifeline could easily turn into literal hangman's noose if they couldn't find evidence that she was being framed within three days. Well, no. Accelerator had stated that she was under his protection, so her death was probably not in the cards. That was less solace than one might think on the surface though. It was a sad day for a true English patriot when her foreign boyfriend had to shield her against the actions of her own government. She lifted one hand, and wordlessly placed it on top of Accelerator's hand on her shoulder

"Good luck. And fare well." Elizard said gravely to them, returning Bayloupe's simple bow with the slight turn of her head. Accelerator of course did not genuflect in any way, but nobody, not even Carissa, would have expected him to. The four royals watched the two of them, hero and traitor, Esper and Mage, boy and girl, leave the room. The future was uncertain. There were... infinite possibilities.