AN:

Please use this link to view image references since FF doesn't allow mid chapter images. Please also be reminded that all the photos in the pinterest link are NOT mine. All the credits goes to their original owners because they made really amazing photos that I can use for inspiration.

The board contains images of how I imagine Branwen's looks, Her Clothes etc. I will be continuously updating this together with the fic.

/leiiiriuuki/god-save-our-queen-story-board/

Disclaimer: I do not own Kyou Kara Maou and any of its characters. This story is made solely because I can't get enough of Conrart and Yuuri.

VOLTAIRE CASTLE

After some serious self-reflection, Lord von Kleist has come to the conclusion that some apology is required for his eccentric behavior—which is why he is heading for Lord von Voltaire's private chambers with a basket of strawberries in hand. Though they have known each other for a very long time, this visit to Gwendal's living quarters is his first. Günter sighs dramatically. What if he barges in on Gwendal being attended on by a bevy of beautiful women?

"...For Gwendal, at least, that's not very..."

Head bowed, Günter ascends the stairs with an air of exquisitely becoming tragedy. Rude though it might be to say, he looks poised to become the subject of a master painter's masterpiece. He gracefully announces his visit with the door knocker and pushes open the heavy door.

"Gwendal, a word if you please...I came to apolog...ize...urg..." His speech comes to a grinding halt at the unexpected tableau in front of him. Gwendal is not being attended on by any beautiful women—or beautiful men, for that matter; nor is he amusing himself with any kinky hobbies. The chamber belonging to the master of the castle is appropriately furnished and decorated with burnished, glistening suits of ornamental armor. A framed portrait of the previous lord with his wife is prominently displayed. Perhaps the only thing missing is an antlered deer head. But in a corner of the room is a pile of strange objects. Lord von Voltaire is in the chair by the window, long legs crossed.

"Did I give you permission to enter?" The cerulean eyed mazoku scowled at his night visitor.

"Aaah, um, well...I'm really...er, I'm really sorry. Um, Gwendal, what..." Guinter stuttered trying to find the right words to say. Indeed everyone had different hobbies.

A mountain of objects made of knitted wool is piled in the corner of the room opposite the fireplace. At the bottom are things made from folded cloth, but the nearer the top of the pile the more complex the objects. There are so many knitted stuffed animals that they look ready to start an avalanche at any moment.

"I didn't know...you knitted as a hobby..." Guinter started.

"It's not a hobby." Defended by Gwendal.

Gunter eyed him with disbelief. Okay then, what's with the little rabbits and kittens and puppies?! And what about the one you're working on right now?! The lavender eyed said to himself and sigh as he waited for the other man to answer.

"It's a stress-reducer." Said Gwendal with a nonchalant tone.

"Stress..."

"When I'm knitting, my mind is freed from obstructive thoughts." So when his mind is freed he makes cute little animals? Gwendal's expression doesn't change in the slightest as his fingers move on his lap. Ah, so that's it, the tutor realizes. That's why his fingers twitch like that when he's irritated. He's unconsciously trying to preserve his presence of mind by doing fantasy-knitting. Now he knows something he shouldn't. If it were possible he'd unknow it.

"But there have been so many unpleasant incidents lately that I've been finishing them one after another. I've been giving them away to my subordinates and servants, but honestly, foster parents are scarce."

"S-scarce?" Guinter was still bewildered at what he had discovered. He cannot for the life of him remember what brought this sudden visit.

"Want this one?" Günter hurriedly catches the small, dark knitted animal Gwendal tosses to him.

"Wh-what a cute little black pig." Gwendal lifts an eyebrow. His matchless cool eyes glint a terrifying sapphire.

"...That is a bear."

"…."

COLOSSEUM

Yuuri's POV

The yellow band mows down the coliseum. Chaos reigns within, filled with the screams and bellows of people trying to escape. I'm doing everything I can think of to subdue Morgif or soothe him or cajole him, but after absorbing his first human life in fifteen years, the demon sword shows no sign of stopping. Judging by the spots covered in whatever it is he's spewing out, it's not particularly harmful to the human body. My own body is ample evidence of that. But the Humans are panicking and climbing over each other to be the first to get away from me. "Stop it, Morgif, stop!"

"Branwen!" Tears unexpectedly spring to my eyes at the sound of that familiar voice. He vaults the fence and jumps down from the audience seats, then rushes over with an expression I've seldomly seen on his face.

"Conrart!" I called for him.

"Your Majesty, how did you end up in a place like this?" questioning my involvement in this farce as he tried to run towards me, just as he was about to reach me, the gust of wind coming from Morgif pushed him back.

"Don't get too close—watch out! The yellow thing is okay to touch, though." I exclaimed.

"Lower the sword. Point the tip down toward the ground." He shouted the instructions amidst teh roaring crowd. But I'm not strong enough to control it. Morgif, who was excreting the yellow light, made my arms stiff as I tried to do as Conrart instructed me. After a few attempts, Conrart was finally able to reach me and unhesitatingly came up behind me and covered my hands with his on the hilt of the sword.

"Don't! Your hands—!" I shouted to Conrart in protest to what he's doing.

"...It's all right. Now, slowly. Down, yes." He assured me as he guided both our arms in a downward motion.

Call my name.

"What?! What did you say?!"

"It wasn't me." Conrart says as we struggle to point Morgif's face down on the ground.

Words flash in the back of my mind like the afterimage of fireworks—written, not spoken.

Call my name, and I will do all that I can. My name is...

"Willem Dussollier Eli de Morgif!"

"Yuuri?!" I heard Conrart's confused tone. He still questioned whom I was talking with.

"Stop what you're doing this instant!" Gulpreen. The sound Morgif makes is not a gulp or karumph or gulop, but a razor-sharp gulpreen as he frantically holds down his stomach cramps. His mouth, usually wide open, is sealed into a slit, and there's even a tiny wrinkle on his brow.

"What sort of sorcery did you use?" He asked.

"You know that I'm a faux-magician, right? I didn't use any magic. It wasn't sorcery at all; I was only reading out loud the words that were being transmitted directly into my brain via ESP." I explained to him.

"Read? Does that mean that you can now read?! Ah, I'm sorry, let's leave that for later. Wolf and Josak should be securing our path. We need to get out of here right now." He motioned his hand to the path leading out of the colosseum.

"But Rick..." A fleeting glance at Conrart's palms is enough to show me their painful redness, but he ignores them and lifts the boy up in his arms. With a 'Your Majesty, please see to Morgif,' he leads the way out. The woman who was kind to me is alone next to the gate I came through, running around looking after the crowd bewilderedly. She has suddenly been deprived of money to treat her son.

"Excuse me...ma'am." She glares at me in surprise, and fear is intertwined with hatred and rage within her narrowed eyes. I dig into my pocket and hold the bills I find there out to her slim fingers.

"You're Mazoku, aren't you?! I thought you were an ordinary child, but then you...you unleash that terrible sword! You Mazoku came to kill us Humans, didn't you?! You want to wipe us out! Don't touch me!" She howled and quickly backed away as if she'd been touched by something dirty. I gave up trying to give her the money. I looked back at Conrart asking for more and placed it on the ground instead. I looked at her once more and turned my back. "Take this money and go get your son treated for his illness." I said

"You think I'd pick up something like that?! You want to lure me in with that money, wait for me to take it and cut me down with that sword! Damn you, what sort of a weapon is that anyway?! Well, we humans will pray to God and ask for an even stronger weapon! We Humans will make an even stronger weapon..." I heard her shouting as we went the distance. Soldiers are already coming from all sides of the colosseum and we really have to go and make our escape.

"I don't care about any of that!" I shouted frustratingly.

"If I pay the doctor with money from a Mazoku, my son will be cursed." She continued with her curses.

What the hell?! Why?! Money is money! It doesn't matter who uses it, it's this island's currency. Not looking at the woman anymore, Conrart smiles at me and says: "My father even had a child with a Mazoku woman."

"Was he cursed?" I asked. He puts on an absolutely superior know-it-all look and smiled.

"Not at all. He lived until he was eighty-nine and spent his life doing exactly what he wanted." We both chuckled at that. We ran all the way back to the waiting room. Morgif is heavy, and I'm still worried about the woman. If she really is a mother, then I have to believe that she would make the decision to pick up the money for her son.

Wolfram and Josak are waiting impatiently for us with uniforms stolen from the soldiers. They seemed to have been talking, and it didn't feel like idle chatter. Even if I am curious about what they were talking about, we don't have time to dwell on it.

"Change into this—hurry. We can't use horses in this confusion. We'll be heading for the marina rather than the harbor; please act like soldiers until we get there." Conrart said as he don the soldier uniform to himself and helped me in fastening mine. It takes a bit of effort to get Morgif wrapped up, and Conrart, unable to sit still and wait, gives me a hand. When I look around for Rick, I find him in the arms of a blond man I don't know.

"Your Majesty, hurry." He rushed me and pulled me to run.

"Ye-yeah."

It's not far to the marina, but people scrambling to get away from the arena choke the road. This is why we're in disguise. The power of the uniforms is extraordinary; though many disgruntled looks are flung at us, everyone still gets out of our among the several extravagant cruisers anchored at the marina, one snags the eye with her beauty and elegance. Silver stars adorn her snowy-white body, and her unfurled sails are a deep aqua blue. A woman is waving from the deck. Her golden curls fall to her waist, and her lascivious clothes border on the criminal...actually, they're more 'cloths' than 'clothes.' If she were an idol, she'd get negative reviews from her agency. Her beautiful long legs, with skin as fair as that of her third son, are generously exposed.

After the 'oh, it's been so long!' greeting, which is way too intense for my peace of mind, we enter the cruiser. It's so enormous that I don't think anybody but a foreign millionaire could afford it—and filled with so much gold and silver and gemstones that it makes me think 'can't you just use iron for that?!' Like the chamber pot.

"A gentleman and dear friend from Cimarron insisted that I make use of this boat. He even got down on his knees to make the request, so how could I be so cold as to refuse?" Lady Cheri said with excitement.

The Sexy Queen is active in various locations all over the world. It looks like the pheromone advisory this year has to be issued in this very country of Cimarron. Lady Cäcilie von Spitzweg, in addition to being Her Majesty the Prior Maou, she is also the mother of Gwendal, Conrart, and Wolfram, the Mazoku brothers who are unlike as unlike can be. Though she has three children, she doesn't look a day past thirty, and is popularly called the Hunter of Love and devourer of men. Thanks to me she is now retired from active duty, and is out of the country on a trip of free love.

I asked her why she was in the area and she told me that she was supposedly coming to see the famous Van der Veer Fire Festival when she heard a rumor that Mazoku were captured in the area. She then asked her friend Chevalier to investigate it and was able to get in contact with Wolf. Chevalier is Lady Cäli's companion, the blond man who was carrying Rick. Surprisingly, I now recognize him—he's one of the attendants I met last month in the baths.

"Oh Your Majesty, you are as cute as ever. Are things coming along with my son?" She eyed me with interest.

"No-no-nothing's coming along! As I have said Lady Cheri, I am too youn_I am still not ready for that kind of engagement." At that time, I didn't know why I forgo the too young excuse and went with another.

"Oh my, that's too bad. And I was imagining so much more." What?! WHAT have you been imagining? (sweatdrop)

"But does that mean I still have a chance? Oh, how I tremble at the thought. This 'Captive of Love' has extraterritorial status and is free to travel any ocean in the world, so don't worry about any boors barging in on us." "No thank you Lady Cheri" I don't swing both ways. I tried a forced laugh asI peered at Conrart silently asking for help with his mother.

"More importantly, Mother, let us set sail as soon as we can. We have an injured person, and Her Majesty is tired as well. Do you have a Healer on board?" Conrart finally said. No matter how perfect her charms, her son seems proof against them. Looks like that's one universal principle. Sheesh.

"Talk to Chevalier about that. Someone has been injured? Oh my." Lady Cäli covers her mouth with her hand sweetly at the sight of Rick lying on the verge of death. And says about a middle aged healer on board. She asked me about the demon sword and I showed her Morgif. She asked if she could use it to decorate her room but I only gave her an awkward smile telling her to ask Günter about it when we get back to the castle.

Catching sight of Conrart leaving the cabin, I unthinkingly chase after him. I see Josak is alone on deck, gazing back at the island. Before I can reach the top of the stairs, Conrart seizes his friend's collar. "What were you trying to do?!"

"What are you talking about?" There's a thud as my Guard of the Inner Circle hits the wall.

"It's true that Wolfram doesn't know about the festival. He has no interest in Humans. But you! Cimarron is your country—you were raised here—you lived here until you were twenty! There's no way you can't read the language! And there is no way you haven't heard about that depraved pastime!" Conrart was growling dangerously.

"But everything went well, didn't it? If Her Majesty hadn't lost her nerve at the crucial moment, Morgif would've absorbed the kid's life and been sated. Well, in the end I guess he satisfied himself with that old grandpa's life. Now the demon sword we bring back to the country will be ready for use at a moment's notice. None of our enemies would've been afraid of something we can't use." Though he's shoved against the wall, Josak doesn't lose his Roger Rabbit smile.

"...Your way of doing things is wrong." Conrart said intently.

"Wrong? How is it wrong? Who knows what will happen if we leave the country to a child-like queen like that? She needs someone behind her, steering her in the right direction. Doesn't that make it easier for Her Majesty too?" Josak reasoned.

I can't go out now. I grip the railing tightly. Ignorant of the fact that the subject of their conversation is eavesdropping on them, their quarrel grows ever more heated. Conrart never gets angry thoughtlessly.

"Making light of the queen and manipulating affairs of state is tantamount to rebellion!"

"Making light? I'm not. Didn't we come to get the demon sword because Her Majesty said she doesn't want to go to war? Having a strong weapon is certainly not a bad thing. Which means that we need the ultimate weapon so we're more powerful than anybody else. That way our neighbors won't attack us. See, there's a principle behind Her Majesty's thinking, too. That's why I'm doing all I can to help her. Now when Her Majesty goes home with Morgif, she'll have a place of honor among the Maous of Shinma Kingdom. Even the people will support a strong queen. So tell me, how were we wrong?! How are we making light of her?" The ginger head said in his defense.

"There was no need to put her in so much danger! If anything had gone wrong, injury wouldn't have been the end of it!...to say nothing of making Her Majesty kill someone...! You are also lucky that Her Majesty knows how to protect herself well" Their words stab into my thoughts, making me so dizzy that I can't stay upright. I've forgotten something. I'm wrong about something, too. But the thought isn't concrete enough for me to grasp.

"In the end, I guess—" Josak says in a casual conversational tone, removing his friend's hand on his collar "—the point is that the little lady's very important to you, isn't she? Publicly, you claim to be working toward peaceful coexistence with Humans, but in reality you just don't want the new queen to be hurt—that's why you praise her and protect her and raise her up with all your might."

"You understand nothing Josak." Conrart turned grim at that.

"Nothing? If she's that important to you, why don't you put her in a box and hide her away somewhere deep in the castle? Lock her up in her room and don't let her come out." Josak said mockingly.

"Josak!" Conrart said in a warning.

"You even gave her that precious stone of yours, huh?"

I clasped at the magic stone that heats at my chest. When he was still called the Lion of Ruttenberg, who did this stone belong to? That person must have been someone so much smarter than me, someone who wouldn't be manipulated. Someone important to him and everyone. See, Conrart? My approval rating is at rock bottom. I cast my gaze downwards covering my eyes with my bangs.

"You might scorn Stoffel, but you're doing exactly what he did. Will you push Her Majesty into making the same mistakes as Lady Cäcilie, Her Majesty the Prior Maou?"

"No indeed, Your Excellency, my lord Conrart Weller. Lady Cäli's mistake was refusing to reign herself and leaving everything to others. She was mistaken in her choice of advisors."

"...Are you saying that she should have chosen Lord von Voltaire?"

"No." Josak abruptly shuts his mouth. I slowly trace the pendant's narrow silver border, where the lives of its owners must be carved memory by memory. If only, like my grandfather's record collection, a needle could traverse its grooves and revive those memories.

"...Everything is too late now. We must not fail this time; we cannot let something like that happen again." Josak contemplated. It must have been a past that hurt a lot of people.

"No matter what schemes you think up, I will never let you turn Her Majesty into your puppet." Conrart said sternly. This man. This lion of Ruttenberg is now baring his fangs at his friend to protect me.

"You're not listening, are you? We're not trying to make her into a puppet. We love her, we really do in our own way."

"Even so! If anything like this happens again, and Yuuri is endangered—" There is a strangely long, heavy silence. "...Consider yourself a deadman." Conrart's voice is low, harsh and cold. I've never heard him like that before. He immediately turns on his heels. I hurriedly descend the stairs as his footsteps approach. I can't be seen here.

"I will tell Gwendal that in person! Your way of doing things will only harm Her Majesty." Conrart said dismissively as he turned to his heels and walked away from his friend.

"Do as you like." The voices become distant and hard to make out.

"Still, even...looks like that...the little lady...without...huh? ...'cause...got...a queen's..."

"She is… only…doesn't acknowledge.." I wasn't able to hear the rest. They were too far away already.

We decide to spend the night in the luxury cruiser so we can leave for Shinma Kingdom when all the other tourists set sail on the morrow, and drop anchor on the other side of the island. Of course there are more than enough rooms. And beds. The north side of the island is so quiet and tranquil that you might almost think all the tumult earlier never happened. There's no sign of the festival here. You wouldn't even believe that it's the same island—there's no noise or light or crowds. I insisted on going down to the beach, and started jogging for the first time in a week. I need to get my body back to its usual pace, or my mind won't work either. If I can get my feet moving and my blood circulating, it'll bring oxygen up to my brain. So the more I run, the more endorphins my brain will secrete, and maybe then I'll come up with a good idea I wouldn't normally think of. Talk about naïve.

I jog barefoot along the beach illuminated only by the ship's lights. My feet sink into the warm, wet sand, cushioning the impact with flip-flapping noises. I can't go running by myself, of course. Conrart follows silently behind me. I'm jogging with a bodyguard, I guess it can't be helped when you're a queen.

I'm sweating as soon as I start: proof that my physical baseline has dropped. I huffed. I bend with my hands on my knees, then sit down on a dry spot on the sand and do some stretching. What irks the hell out of me is that he's not even out of breath. I wonder if sword masters jog every day, too?

"Ahh! I almost forgot! Conrart show me your hands please." I smiled and held my hands out at him even though I'm still panting. He eyed me questioningly then I saw him curl his hands with uncertainty. When he didn't abide for a while I added "It's an order" Then I looked at him smugly grinning for now I know that he can't refuse my bidding.

"An order?" He raised his brow then proceeded to sit beside me as he sighed an utterly defeated sigh and held up his hands towards me. I took his hands and examined them. The scalding is evident in both. It was from that time he helped me stop Morgif and even the one that was splashed by the water when we were rowing in the hot spring. He even carried Rick afterwards.

" Can't you feel pain?" I pressed a bit harder on his injured hand gaining a hiss of pain from him although soft and barely audible, I felt him wince. "So you do feel pain. Tsk." I smirked at him as I reached into my pocket and took out some badges and medicine I took from the ship earlier and began to treat his wounds. He remained silent for most part clearly not used to this kind of treatment. I spoke up to break the silence.

"In junior high, when I was in the baseball club, we had to run every day, and I thought it was totally natural."

"What about now?" He asked.

"My body's gotten really lazy since I stopped going to the club and focused my attention on the violin. I started playing baseball again, a little while ago, but I'm still not back in shape yet. Next hand please" I said, reaching out after finishing the treatment of the first hand.

"I see." he said.

"Aargh, I keep thinking, that maybe, I shouldn't have stopped, that I should be in the baseball club now, too."

"You said that you hit the coach and were kicked out, right?"

"Yeah. It's done! Please take care of yourself and have any wound treated immediately to avoid infection" I stretched my hands out and re-examined both of his hands. Once I'm satisfied, I let go and resumed my after jog stretch.

"Haii. I will keep that in mind. Thank you, Your Majesty" Conrart said with a light bow and amused eyes as he studied the bandages on his hands. "Not bad, Your Majesty.".

"It's Yuuri! I learned it in school. I am a student nurse." I corrected it and smiled..

"Yes, Yuuri. Hitting your coach—that's pretty drastic, too." He continued.

"Yeah, one, two, because he said something, really horrible. Three, something he shouldn't have said. Nostalgic memory. It doesn't make me angry anymore, though it does make my chest ache a bit. It happened just before the start of summer—almost a year ago. I tell tales that one of the pitchers who advanced to the best of four in the Little League Nationals entered the junior high school in our district. Our club on the other hand was full of newbies who didn't know one end of the bat from the other. They had to be taught everything from scratch, from running to batting and fielding. We got yelled at by our coach every day.

Our right fielder, a third year, was injured in a practice game one day, and a first year took his place. There was no way he could throw directly to home from the outfield without going to the cutoff, but he tried anyway. The ball couldn't reach either the catcher or a relay in time, and the runner scored.

After the match, the coach singled him out and told him that if he can't even make a play like that, he should stop. ...No, wait, he told him to turn in his resignation note. 'You haven't got the qualifications to play baseball, Third Middle is strong enough as it is, we'll never win if we don't get some good players in'—stuff like that. 'I've got no time for a useless loser like you, go join some other club.' That's what he said. Even though the other team was still on the grounds, he said it so loudly that everybody could hear him." I narrated the story from 2 years ago.

"And then you punched him?" He asked.

"Mn? Yeah. 'You're the one who's not qualified!' And then, bam!" It was short-tempered even for me. So totally embarrassing.

"Of course, it would've been great if the coach were trying to encourage him to work harder. But I've been a substitute for a long time, and I could read between the lines. Even kids can tell the difference between 'get lost' and 'try harder.'" I added.

"So you were kicked out for the sake of a younger teammate." He sounded really sure of that.

"That sounds pretty impressive—wonder if that's how they tell it?"

The ocean is black. So is the sky. The clouds are a dark gray. Only the moon and stars are white—or blue or red or yellow. Glittering. Maybe the night sky is black so that the moon and stars can shine more brightly. And maybe the stars burn to make the night's blackness beautiful. The break and retreat of the waves sound like scattered applause.

"...I wonder if it was true, though." I muttered.

"Eh?"

"I've been thinking about it a bit lately. Did I really do it for my teammate?...to speak up for the team? Is that why I hit the coach? I've heard that the coach changed his attitude a bit after that, stopped talking trash about the team in front of students from other schools and saying insensitive things. And that's great and all, but...did I really do it for the team?" I felt a presence behind me.

"...Maybe I was just looking for an opportunity to stop because I was disgusted with myself for not having any talent? Maybe subconsciously I just wanted a way to leave the club looking cool instead of like a loser? ...I'm asking myself that now. Yuuri, was that really for the team? Stuff like that." I'll probably never know the answer.

An arm encircles me from behind. I don't know why it's okay with me. It made me feel calm. Then he asks over my shoulder, so mildly that it sounds like he might be querying about something else, "There's something you want to tell me, isn't there?"

"Yeah." I can hear some sort of staccato beat against the sand, getting closer.

"...I'm thinking about leaving Morgif on this island." I said without looking back at him. Just feeling him behind me for I feel like we are really close that if I turn to face him, something will happen.

What kind of explanation can I give him so that he'll understand this self-centered decision? I haven't got a clue. After all, we only came here to fetch the demon sword because I'm against war and want to avoid it. So the whole thing has been because of my whims. I can't say that it was an unqualified success, but still, if on the very night we achieve our goal I declare that I'm going to abandon the treasure... The opposing party would probably throw their shoes at me.

"I-I'm not sure how to explain it, though! I just—I just keep thinking about what that woman said earlier. That the Humans will get a stronger weapon, that God will give them one. Would God really do that? But if that really happened, if they found a super-duper powerful weapon—"

"It's conceivable." See? I knew it—he is angry.

"And then the other countries will want it too. Even the ones who've been impartial in the wars up until now will get uneasy and build up their militaries. So because we got Morgif, the rest of the world will begin to arm themselves...it'd be like nuclear deterrence or the three anti-nuclear principles. The country I want isn't one that's stronger than any other country. There's a difference between a good country and a strong one. If I return carrying Morgif triumphantly, my evaluation as Maou will go up. The citizens will give me a high approval rating, too, if they acknowledge me as a strong queen. But then I asked myself: Branwen, would you really be doing what's best for everyone? Or would it be for your own self-satisfaction?" That abstract explanation sounds like prose out of some philosopher's pen, and I don't think anyone would understand it. Even so, Conrart murmurs in admiration next to my ear, "I see, like Gettysburg."

"What are you two doing over there?!" Wolfram comes running over, panting. Even in the moonlight I can see his quivering finger pointed at us.

"I was wondering what was taking you so long, and now I find you—what are you two doing sitting so close on the beach?"

"What? Stretching." There's an upward movement behind me, and the warmth leaves my back.

"Why are you so out of breath? Did you come just to keep an eye on Her Majesty?" Conrart turned to his brother.

"Oh right, no I didn't! We have a big problem, Branwen. Your sword—"

"Morgif?" I eyed him in question.

"...broke." Why? And more importantly, how? We immediately went back to the ship. Lady Cäli, dressed in a negligee so perfunctory that I have problems figuring out where to rest my eyes, winds her arms around mine.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I wasn't trying to. I never thought the sword might break."

My elbow pressed against her breast, unconfined by inelegant underwear, launches me into the stratosphere. A sweet flowery scent drifts around me, as if I've lost my way in a flower bed. Well she's a woman and I am too. But this is a bit uncomfortable so I wiggled myself to get out of her embrace. Looked at the demon sword lying at the center of the cabin, a long dark lump. It was a shiny scabbard fish after feeding, but now it's a gigantic eel on the verge of death.

"Morgif." I said as I cradled the sword.

"...Wooo..." He's alive. We'll leave aside the question of whether or not 'alive' is the right description for a sword.

"He's so ugly and strange that I wanted to decorate my room with him for just this trip. When I picked him up to carry him over...this little one..."

Lady Cäli calls the sword 'little one' like an employee at a pet shop. Geez, mothers are impossible. There's probably nobody in the world who could ever criticize her. "...this little one bit me."

"Di-di-did he give you a scare?" My worried expression was directed to the lady.

"No, not at all. But I dropped him to my surprise, and he just wilted. It's probably..." She picks up a small fermented soy bean with the pink nail of a slender white finger. "...because this came off."

My fingernails are short and round. My hands are like fuzzy cloth yellow with age, and they're callused differently from everybody else's. But Morgif fits perfectly into their tight grip, snug and precise against each finger-joint. I hold him out like a sabre before the swing. The thumb of my right hand lies on the guard, and my index finger caresses the back gently.

Even if I should lose the stone on my forehead…

"What?! Who said that just now?" Just like when I yelled out Morgif's name at the arena, words flash directly into my mind: not spoken words, but an afterimage. Thin symbols blinking into and out of existence. Then I read aloud the inscriptions in my head.

"Even if I should lose the stone on my forehead and be reduced to a mere sword, I wish to remain by the Maou's side as your faithful servant."

"Who are you talking to, Yuuri?"-Conrart

"T-to Morgif." Yes, Willem Dussollier Eli de Morgif, I will keep you by my side. I reached out to Lady Cheri's open palm and took the stone from her hand. Then I turned to Josak.

"Gurrier Josak!" I called his name.

Josak, looking on from a corner of the room, straightens at the unexpected address. His wet orange hair clings to his forehead. He must've taken a long leisurely shower. "What -is it, Your Majesty?" It's the first time I've heard him stutter while talking with me.

"I will give this obsidian stone into your custody." I said with conviction.

"Huh?!" Everyone is flabbergasted. Conrart is the only one who immediately regains his composure, awaiting my next words with keen interest.

"I want you to take this stone and toss it away somewhere nobody would think to look for it."

"Toss it away..." Josak couldn't finish his sentence and was cut off by Wolfram.

"Why, Yuuri?! Why would you do something that stupid? You're going to throw away a part of the demon sword we worked so hard to get?" Wolfram was getting anxious.

"I agree, Your Majesty, I think it could make a great earring. Very becoming for Your Majesty's hair and eyes." Lady cheri said.

"Mother, it is Her Majesty's will." The second son takes the stone from my hand and places it in the palm of the Guard of the Inner Circle.

"Are you sure about this?...What if I take this and disappear and sell it to the king of some other country? Or take it back home and hand it to somebody else?" Asked the flabbergasted Josak

"To Gwendal?" I smirked. He looked surprised. That's not some cunning deduction computed by my brain, but information gleaned from eavesdropping. "You are free to do what you think is best for Shin Makoku. However..." I fix him with an intent gaze out of eyes that are finally free of their contacts. "Know that I have CHOSEN you for this task. Don't make that choice a mistake."

Josak gives me the beast's smile. "As you command, My Queen Yuuri." placing his right hand on his chest and kneeled. He looked up to me as he smiled a clever beast's smile. And I returned his smile knowing full well that the stone will be safe with this spy that cared and respected his kingdom. I take it he will even fight a ruler just to serve his country.