Disclaimer: I don't own Hololive, all rights to the owners.
Not sure how I'm going to go about the timeframe of this fic. I'm currently ballparking Displacement to Royalty at two years after the first chapter, because there's at least one major event that needs to happen beforehand that requires some buildup and then time for its effects to be felt.
Ame doesn't get a personal room on the fifth level of the palace overnight.
This is not good news.
The Detective leaps back as the scythe slices the air where she just stood. Behind the thief, her past self freezes and then fades out of existence as Invalidation takes effect.
"Okay, he can passively detect time anomalies. That's a high-level cultist thing." The Detective thinks to herself, ducking another swing. Unless the scythe is giving them the ability to act differently on different time loops (which would be preferable, but even Calli can just barely detect these sorts of things, so she doubts this thief got it from the scythe) the thief just became much more of a problem than the Detective was expecting them to be. "They're way too dangerous. I can't rely on a scouting run to predict their movement and cripple them on a second or third loop."
She might be able to kill him, but that wouldn't be helpful. She promised to capture this thief. She can't shoot him in the back of the head, no matter how much that would simplify the problem. Though she's not exactly sure how she's going to do that without shooting him. She needs to get that scythe away from him, but she can't get close, and shooting someone's moving hands is not a skill she has. She's a good shot, but not a sniper.
Maybe she could use W to overpower him, but that's a risk she'd rather not take.
With a twist of her watch and a press of a button, she jumps back five minutes. To her left she can hear shouting, and she knows the thief and her past self are all there, running through the hedge maze towards her current position. She pushes her way through a hedge to get out of the way, this time intent on following the thief rather than confronting him. Maybe she can signal the guards after him.
So she waits patiently; ear towards the hedge. Waiting, listening.
Thump, thump, thump. Shoes on dirt. Quick, but not heavy. Another pair follows. Her past self, following.
The footsteps abruptly stop. A shout, a gunshot, another gunshot from the second instance of her second past self, some more running and the whistle of a blade cutting through the air, coming towards the hedge… and then a pause.
Heavy breaths on the other side of the hedge. The thief pants and the Detective listens. She listens as the panting stops, and the footsteps continue onward. She walks slowly, quietly, on the other side of the hedge, eyes on her own path, relying on her hearing to track him.
She has to take a turn to avoid moving through another hedge, but she can still hear her target. Her own footsteps are light thanks to expensive and custom shoes designed for this sort of quiet tracking.
Thump, click, thump, click. The scythe hits the ground with every other step, the steps are slower. The thief is tired. The Detective follows through the weaving path, stalking his movements with a trained ear.
Every time she has to take a corner her mental lock on their position slips a bit as her focus temporarily shifts to her vision, her feet, before needing to find their sounds again. As long as she's listening, she can tell when the thief needs to turn because their footsteps grow louder or fainter, she can tell when they pause for a breath, she can tell when they swing the scythe to cut a portal through the hedges through of a grunt of exertion and a quiet swoosh of air.
The Detective hits a dead end. Her focus dragged from her hearing to her eyes, her feet, her hands. She pushes through the hedge, wincing at the noise, and when she's through she stops in place to focus her hearing again.
Footsteps, but distant. Too heavy. Boots. A guard. Wrong person. Where's the thief? Even if he stopped because he heard her, she should be able to hear his breathing. He can only hold his breath for so long.
So she waits. Ten seconds, twenty, thirty, a minute. Two minutes. Three minutes.
Nothing. No breathing. The only footsteps she hears are the guard's, growing ever closer. With a frown, she twists a knob on her watch and jumps back a few minutes, roughly pushes through the hedges to the approximate location she last heard the thief, and once again waits. She listens for footsteps, and when she hears them approaching she backs away around a corner and peers through a gap in the leaves.
She watches the thief enter her view, moving at a sluggish pace and using the scythe to help them walk. They freeze in place upon hearing her past self rustle a hedge off to their left, and a moment later they make a few twisting hand motions and... disappear.
For a moment the Detective's mind screams in indignation. They can teleport? Why didn't they do that earlier!?
And then she remembers the teleportation barrier and silently curses. She doesn't know how far the teleportation barrier actually extends from the palace. Either the thief teleported somewhere else inside the grounds, or they realized they'd passed the border and are totally gone.
Either way, it's impractical for her to look for them now. With resignation, she turns her watch forward two weeks to the 'present' time and makes the jump.
Thirty-three hour cooldown. No using the watch for a day and a half. No avoiding the disappointment of Their Imperial Majesties when she again has very little to report. Two weeks, and nothing to show for it but papers strewn about a desk, some unsuccessful stalking, and a blank check safely tucked away in her room because she doesn't feel like she's earned it yet.
The Detective makes her way back through the side entrance of the palace, flashing her identification to a confused guard who just saw her leave two minutes ago and is probably wondering why she's back, and takes the stairs to the second floor. She moves through a long hallway with her head down, keeping her gaze from a small group of important-looking people passing the other way. Businessmen she thinks. She can hear a snippet of their conversation as she passes by.
"-pretty airtight, but we might be able to negotiate a payment. We won't be able to alter the factories in time."
"Not like we didn't have a warning. If the CEO had just made the changes at any point in the last three years since the law was announced, this wouldn't be a problem."
"Since when has upper management ever agreed to close the factories for-"
The men walk out of range, and the Detective files the snippet away in her brain. It probably won't be important, but it never hurts to remember. Miscellaneous information has saved her before.
Other people pass her by without a second look. Employees, guards, cultists. She can tell the difference just by listening. Employees move with purpose and so have firm footsteps, guards have heavy boots, and move with loud thumps, and cultists are very quiet, with just the barest creaks and soft impacts indicating their presence. Business people can be told apart by the fact that they don't lower their voices, and move at a more hurried pace than the others.
The Detective unlocks her temporary office and drops heavily into her chair. She stares at the mess of paper on her desk for a few seconds before digging out her notebook and fishing a pen from the pile and starting to write.
Capable of teleportation. Correlates with known spells taught by the Cult of the AO and requires extensive training. If they learned this spell, the thief is likely at least middle-aged if human, younger if Atlantean. Exceptions still possible. Traning could come from other sources. Also could be using another magic item.
-Ask Calli about shadowstep variations.
In addition, thief is capable of detecting temporal anomalies, which is more evidence for being a cultist. However while anomaly detection is a core skill for cultists, any magical training might give them such detection skills, and natural affinity cannot be counted out.
Still, that's several signs pointing toward this person being a rogue cultist. At the very least she has a vague idea of where to look next. The main problem now is that the Detective isn't very familiar with the workings of the Cult of the Ancient Ones. Oh sure, she knows the basics just like anyone else in the Empire, but that doesn't help much. She hasn't paid attention to factions or drama or anything of that sort.
"I'm going to need help." She concludes with a frown. "Or some really good Google searches."
She settles for Google. She'd not sure how well a priest would react to her asking about drama and schisms, especially because she's not a worshipper in the first place.
The Detective delves into her research, pulling up tab after tab after tab of news reports, academic and philosophic papers, excerpts from central texts, and any statements she can find from high-profile figures about cult offshoots.
She's awoken by a knock at her door. She doesn't remember falling asleep. It was barely after noon when she started her research, and looking out the window shows the sun still hasn't set, but combine that with her major jump back in time (she had to go back a day extra so her watch could be ready by the time the thief showed up) and her sleep schedule is all sorts of fucked up.
Another knock. The Detective lurches to her feet and shambles to the door. She tosses her hat on her head to cover her messy hair and yanks the door open. "Yeah?"
Her Highness raises an eyebrow at her, and the Detective freezes in place, now desperately wishing she'd taken a moment to straighten her jacket, or her hair, or clean her desk, or literally anything that doesn't make her look like a slob compared to Her Highness's usual crisp uniform and professional bun.
"I- uh- Your Highness!" She stammers, and quickly bows from her waist. "I-It's an honor."
"Yeah, I know, you say that every time you see me." Her Highness says dryly. Their eyes drift from the Detective to her desk behind her. "Came to check your progress, Detective. I see things are... happening."
The Detective cringes deeply. She really should have cleaned up. "Yes, uh, I got some more potential evidence that the thief was a cultist of some sort, and-"
"Maybe we should have this conversation inside." Her Highness interrupts. "This is potentially sensitive information."
"Y-Yes, of course." The Detective steps aside to let Her Highness in. The taller woman lowers herself into a chair with a heavy sigh that the Detective has started to associate with her. Her Highness is always tired, though it might have something to do with the Detective always meeting with them in the afternoon and evening.
She hurriedly sweeps her papers into piles, trying to make it look like she has some sort of system rather than the chaotic mess it actually is. Once she's made her desk marginally less messy, she sits in her own chair and swivels it to face Her Highness.
(It feels wrong to face her so directly like this, without a table in-between them. It's too familiar, and she feels horribly exposed.)
"Alright." Her Highness says, leaning back in their chair with their trident leaning against the wall. "Give it to me. What did you figure out?"
"I haven't figured out anything for certain." The Detective corrects quickly. "B-But I went back in time a few hours ago and tried to capture the thief, and got some new evidence out of that."
"Such as?"
"They can teleport." She says bluntly. "And they can detect temporal anomalies, so I can't abuse my time travel to set up a trap nearly as easily. Both of those things are common to powerful cultists from what I'm aware." Her Highness frowns, so she hurries to add, "B-But it could be from some other kind of magic training or magic items."
"Is that likely?"
Amelia opens and closes her mouth, not wanting to voice the truth. "N-No..." She admits, looking away. "The Cult of the Ancient Ones is the most common source of magical training in the Empire, and the thief's abilities fit a cultist perfectly."
"Mmm." Her Highness hums in a low tone. "Ina won't be happy about this."
"Sorry."
"What are you apologizing for?" They scoff. "Unless you're telling me you have something to do with the thief-"
"N-No, of course not!" She says frantically.
"-then stop saying sorry."
"Sor-" She bites down another apology."Yes, Your Highness. I understand, Your Highness."
"Good. Anything else?"
"No, Highness."
"Alright. I have an order for you Detective."
She sits up as straight as she can. "Yes Your Highness?"
"Go to sleep."
"P-Pardon?" She squeaks.
"I came by here an hour earlier, Detective, and no one answered my knock." Her Highness informs her. "I knew you were in your office. One of the guards confirmed your check-in. I don't know how much time travelling you did today, or what sort of hours you're keeping, but sleeping in your office isn't healthy. If you must sleep, please do it in your room. We provided you with one for a reason."
The Detective's cheeks flush in mortal embarrassment and she firmly looks to the ground. She accidentally snubbed the queen because she fell asleep at her desk. What a sad excuse for a professional she is. "Y-Y-Yes, o-of course, Highness. I'll do that."
"Good." Her Highness huffs. "And another thing. You're taking a day off tomorrow."
"Wh-What?"
"You've been working since you got here, and you've gone back in time a few times since then so realistically you've been working even more than two weeks." Her Highness says. "And since you won't keep healthy sleeping habits, I'm ordering a full day off. Am I understood, Detective?"
"Y-Yes, Your Highness." She says miserably.
"This isn't a punishment, Detective."
That's a lie. She knows a scolding when she hears it. "I understand, Your Highness."
"I don't think you do." Her Highness's voice has gotten closer. The Detective imagines their disapproving face staring down at her. "Look me in the eye, detective."
She won't disobey an order. She forces her gaze up, and balks when she sees Her Highness has leaned forward in their chair, fixing her with a serious look.
"Me and Ina have to work long hours all the time, there's always a new crisis." They say. "But this thief hasn't killed anyone, and you've got all the time you need with that watch of yours." A small smirk pulls at their lips. "No need to sleep like us, Detective. You don't have a country to run, so no need to adopt a ruler's sleep schedule. That's one part of us Ninomaes you really shouldn't try to copy, yeah?"
Despite herself, a nervous smile creeps over Amelia's face. "Yeah."
"Glad we understand each other." Her Highness chuckles, and stands out of their chair. "Now come on soldier. You've got to sleep, and I need to get to dinner or the wife will be upset with me."
"Yes sir, General sir."
"Oh? Am I 'General' now?"
"I- uh-" Shit. She shouldn't be getting familiar with royals. Who does she think she is? "No Your Highness. Sorry, Your Highness."
"That was a joke, Detective. I don't mind as long as it's not in public."
"No." The Detective shakes her head. "Propriety is important. Thank you for the reminder, Highness."
Her Highness rolls her eyes. "Out of all the people I expected to be a stickler..." They mutter under their breath while leaving the room. The Detective follows and locks the door behind them.
###
Despite technically living here for two weeks at this point, Amelia has barely explored the Capital. She's devoted all her time to investigation, reading reports, and time travelling in and around the palace.
It's easy enough to meld into the orderly lines of the cult city. She allows the lines to take her wherever they want. She has no particular destination in mind. Her days off used to be composed of sitting at home watching television or maybe, if Calli and/or Kiara dropped by, going to a restaurant or bar for dinner.
With all of those off the table (it feels disrespectful to sit in the hotel room. Their Imperial Majesties are paying for the entire day, like she's taking advantage of their kindness) she instead wanders. She moves through street after street, looking at stores and apartments and office buildings until she finally comes across something that catches her eye.
It's not one of the government buildings with their intricate architecture and long history. It's not the main church or an exotic shop.
It's a magazine stand. She catches Her Majesty's face on a cover and her feet are carrying her over before she can give it a second thought.
"The Royal Business!" Is what the magazine is called, with this issue's blurb being: "Security concerns at the Palace with silence from the Imperial Family, our Empress dazzling during her tour of Germany, and concerns over Queen Gura's health. All this and more inside!"
The cover shows Her Majesty shaking hands with some old, white-haired, human man in front of (what Amelia thinks is) a war memorial. The cover is structured in such a way that Her Majesty is the centre with everything else being somewhat obscured by text, and Ame has to admit it works. It helps that, in the picture, Her Majesty is carrying an ornate, navy blue parasol to block the sun while wearing a button-up, black, floor-length dress that is sleeveless on the left side and also has a section missing on the left side of the skirt, allowing room for her single, long, white glove and stocking to still be on show. Her platform shoes keep the dress from sweeping the floor, and her book hovers just behind her head, partially obscured by another, smaller picture of Her Highness scowling.
Ame's first thought is, "An umbrella suits Her Majesty so well." Followed by. "I wonder if all her outfits have the left side cut off?" And. "What am I doing staring at a picture of my employer's wife? Do I have no self-restraint?"
"Two pounds or three silvers to buy it, lass." An elderly, hunch-backed atlantean with smile lines all over his face and at least a few teeth missing, interrupts her thought. Amelia blushes when she realizes she's been staring at the cover for nearly two minutes. "Apparently something big went on with the Imperial Family a few weeks ago and they're keeping their mouths shut tighter than an oyster about it."
"R-Really now?" Amelia asks. She has a brief internal debate about if she's really going to buy this magazine just to look at a picture of her employer's wife, and eventually caves and fishes two pounds out of her wallet to hand to the man. He grins in polite amusement when she greedily snatches the magazine from the rack. "What does everyone think it is?"
"There were a bunch of guard movements up the stairs, could hear it from the lobby, and some of the magically-sensitive visitors could feel something fishy going on. Didn't get a great read because of all the wards the palace has of course, but enough to know something was happening." The man says. "Anyone's guess what though. Every rag I got has a different theory, but we probably won't know 'till the Palace tells us."
"Weird."
"That's one way of puttin' it." The man agrees, then waves her off. "Don't let me keep ya lass. Enjoy the readin'. That one tends to have some good pictures if you're a fan."
Amelia nods her thanks and scurries off to a nearby bench to flip through her purchase. As much as she might have bought it because of the pretty photo, she's also genuinely curious what the public knows about the attempted theft.
After fawning over a few pictures of Her Majesty from her visit to Germany in the middle of the magazine (Her Majesty has so many outfits! Her artistic abilities are well-known, so it begs the question of if she designs them herself. Does she design some for Her Highness too? Amelia really wants to see those if she does...) she turns her attention to the articles. The article on Her Majesty's trip is rather generic, and Amelia ignores any article not directly related to the royal family, leaving her with just two others. The ones from the cover.
"Heard disturbances, guards temporarily shut down the foyer, searching the grounds, gunshots in the hedge maze- my bad- and no explanation forthcoming... and they think it's an attempted assassination."
Amelia stares at the article, and then the sky.
"I didn't realize how bad this looked from the outside. Gunshots, unexplained guard movements, total silence... yeah, an assassination attempt is a fairly logical conclusion."
And she's partially responsible for that. She made those gunshots happen. She's also the one who volunteered to track down the other person responsible for that. She has a very delicate situation on her hands that could severely affect the Imperial Household's image and have wide-ranging political effects, and instead of doing anything about it she's sitting here reading a magazine.
"Her Highness told me to take a day off." She reminds herself while squeezing her eyes shut. "It's fine. Everything is fine. They're probably used to dealing with stuff like this. It's not like this is the first time someone has broken into the Palace."
She absently flips through pages, not really looking at them.
"Unless... unless I've messed up. I've gone two weeks without any real progress. Maybe Her Highness gave me a 'day off' today to have someone look through my stuff, to see if I'm doing anything at all. Maybe I have a spy following me, looking for a reason to get me arrested. Maybe-"
She squeezes her eyes shut. No, no, she won't believe that. Kiara sent Her Highness. Kiara wouldn't send someone she thought would hurt her. It's fine. She's not in danger.
"Her Highness is just being a good boss, looking after someone she's employed. Don't think too hard about it." Amelia tells herself. "Enjoy your day off."
With a deep breath to calm herself, she opens the magazine back up and flips to the last article of interest.
That particular article concerns Her Highness's health, as apparently "inside sources" (of which none are actually specified) have noted a haggard look on Her Highness. This is thought to be a result of the recent security issue as well as needing to manage the Palace on her own while Her Majesty was away on tour. The sources also made note of frequent, one-on-one meetings with some sort of... private... investigator... who was hired for unspecified reasons. When asked about Her Highness, the Imperial Family's public relations division answered evasively.
Oh. So they know about her. They don't know a lot, but gossip magazines somehow know she exists now. That's great. Really. Not terrifying at all. News really does travel fast.
Amelia swallows thickly and rolls up the magazine and stuffs it into her coat. She is in far, far over her head. So far it's not even funny. She needs to finish this job and get out.
With her nerves thoroughly frazzled, she spends a few more hours wandering, not really taking in any of the sights, before grabbing some gluten-free chips from a store and holing up in her hotel room for the rest of the day.
###
The Detective returns to work the next morning to find a note on her desk.
Greetings Detective, I hope you had a relaxing day off.
Gura has informed me of some of your recent discoveries. The idea that the thief could potentially be a member of my cult is concerning, but unfortunately all too plausible. That said, if there is a culprit among my cultists, it is likely to be a member of one of the offshoot denominations. While all denominations worship the Ancient Ones, the main branch pays specific reverence to me. Other denominations often do not.
With that said, this investigation has gone quite beyond the scope of what you were hired for. Gura hired you to return my book, and you gallantly took it upon yourself to track the thief even after completing that task, both of which we are grateful for. The current situation, however, is rapidly becoming a political or religious issue rather than a mere treasure theft. While your help up to this point is deeply appreciated, you may consider your job complete if you wish. Whether you decide to continue working or not, please organize your notes as appropriate for conducting a briefing. Myself, as well as a few other individuals in important and relevant positions, need to be brought abreast as it becomes clear the situation is potentially more significant than expected, and you are the one who holds the majority of the key information. Apologies for the short notice; I had intended to tell you in person over the last few days, but my schedule did not permit such and so I must resort to this.
The meeting is to take place at five-thirty, and is planned to last no more than an hour. All members of the meeting are also invited to dine with myself and Gura afterwards. Please send word to the head butler if you plan to attend.
I look forward to seeing you later today,
Ina'nis Ninomae.
The Detective stares down at the note, mouth dry. This is a dismissal. It's phrased like a suggestion, but she knows it's not. It's a way to preserve some of her dignity while shooing her off. The phrasing of this note allows her to say she chose to walk away rather than being fired for incompetence, even if that's exactly what's happening. They want her to pass on what little she's gathered to people who actually know what they're doing, and then quietly take her check and bow out.
"Maybe my day off yesterday was a test to see if I was serious about the job." A paranoid part of her mind whispers. "I took it easy rather than working, and the Palace has no place for slackers. Or maybe Her Highness realized I was getting too familiar with them. I did call them 'General' that one time. Maybe I'm dangerous because I know how to get into their room. Maybe-"
She shouldn't dine with them, that's for sure.
With a heavy heart, she arranges her notes. She gets a fresh new sheet of paper and writes a concise description of exactly what she's figured out, the current leads, current correlations in the evidence, and a very brief summary of the various topics she's researched and why they might be relevant to the case.
When she's fully completed those preparations, after a tidy two hours... she grabs another blank piece of paper and starts over again.
She might have failed the investigation, but at least she can do this right. She can lead one stupid briefing and maybe not be a total failure in the eyes of Their Imperial Majesties before stepping away from them forever. If that means rewriting her notes until they flow like poetry, so be it.
The Detective works the entire day on her notes, not even stopping for lunch. She writes until her hand aches and her mind is numb from repeating the same information over and over and over.
Thoughts and feelings manifest in the back of her mind as she works, eroding her work effort with regrets and what-ifs. She wishes she hadn't taken that day off, and wishes she could go back and fix all her stammering and slips of the tongue. What if she had tried just a little harder? Maybe done some messing around back in time? She could have infiltrated the staff and searched for information feeders. She could have invalidated this whole timeline and shot the thief in the face the moment he stepped into the room, or brought multiple of herself to that room to set a trap, or-
She's never going to find out what that amateur painting on the fourth floor is about. She's wanted to ask for the last two weeks, but could never buck up the courage to do it. Those top floors are for Their Imperial Majesties, it's not her place to know, but she still wishes she'd asked.
"Her Highness was a nice boss to have." The Detective thinks dully. "Good listener, gave me time off, joked a bit., took my guesses seriously... and she was nice to look at. That was a bonus."
She groans and drops her head onto her desk. It's probably for the best she's being nudged away. She's the sort of moron who gets a crush on her employer. Her royal, married, employer, who she's known for less than a month.
"Yeah, maybe it's a good thing I'm leaving. I was only causing problems."
Five thirty eventually creeps around, and the Detective isn't surprised to hear a knock on her door a few minutes beforehand.
As always, Her Highness looks professional no matter how tired she is. Today she even has a smile on her face. "Heya Detective. Got everything organized and ready?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Good to hear. Come on then, can't keep Ina waiting. She wants this meeting done with so we can have dinner." Her Highness chuckles. "Don't think she's eaten since breakfast. Had a lot of meetings today."
The Detective speaks without thinking. "I have energy bars."
Her Highness raises an eyebrow, and she looks away. Stupid. She's going to offer the Empress energy bars?
"I-I just- you know- a-as something to tide her over?" She says meekly, trying to come up with some reasoning for her stupid suggestion. "I-I know you're going to have dinner and everything-"
"Do you have marshmallow?"
"Pardon?"
"Marshmallows." Her Highness repeats. "Some granola bars have marshmallows, right?"
"Uh, yeah." The Detective squeaks, and rifles through her impromptu snack drawer in her desk. She keeps a variety of snack bars there in case she gets hungry so she doesn't have to leave to eat. Back at her actual office she sometimes goes an entire day without leaving the room. "Hope she doesn't mind gluten-free."
"She won't." Her Highness says. Then, almost hesitantly, "Are you...?"
"Can't have gluten. Intolerant." She mumbles, pocketing a bar or two.
"Ah." Her Highness says. "Did you mention that to the butler?"
"I..." Her throat goes dry. Her Highness expected her to come to dinner? Why? Isn't she being fired? "Uh..."
"You forgot to say?"
"I didn't talk to the butler at all." She says in miserable embarrassment.
"Oh. Uh, you're busy?" Her Highness coughs. "Well that sucks. Ina was looking forward to-"
"I-" Her throat seizes. Is she really going to say it? Does she really want explicit confirmation?
"Yes, Detective?"
"Nothing."
"Clearly not. You even interrupted me, and you almost never do that. Speak."
She won't refuse an order. "I didn't figure I'd be welcome, so-"
"What!?" Her Highness scowls. Her brow furrows, bringing out the intensity in her cold, red eyes. "Who told you that?"
"N-No one, Your Highness."
"Then why?"
"I'm being fired, aren't I?"
Her Highness stares at her incredulously, and the Detective hunches her shoulders.
"A-Aren't I?"
"NO."
"Oh, uh..." Fuck. Now she looks like even more of a dumbass than usual. "I-I assumed because of the lack of progress and taking the day off that the note was just being polite about it and-"
"I- What- no. No on all accounts." Her Highness groans. "Detective, I... I don't know what you've heard about us, or maybe you're thinking that because we're royals we're always playing politics, but that ain't the case. I gave you a day off because you needed a day off, and I don't know what Ina put on the note, but I know that even if you decided to step away from this case, Ina has an entirely different case ready to offer you just to keep you around. And if you call what you've done a 'lack of progress' I really don't know what to say. The only reason we know this asshole can detect magic is because of you, you're the one who noted his poor scythe handling and poor endurance, which tells us he's not a reaper and that he's probably not a professional thief respectively. That's on top of all the research I know you've been doing. If there was a problem, I would have told you. I promise I've been as straightforward as possible."
"Oh."
"'Oh' she says." Her Highness grumbles under her breath. Louder, she asks. "So, with that cleared up, are you coming to dinner?"
"I-I guess?" She replies weakly. She doesn't know what to think anymore. She wants nothing more than to bury her face in her hands and scream, but she can't do that right now. "B-But won't a last-minute guest be an issue?"
"We already assumed you were coming." Her Highness huffs. "Butler came to talk to me an hour ago and when he mentioned you hadn't sent word, I assumed you forgot because you never go anywhere and never bothered to get lunch- you never left the palace and none of the kitchen staff saw you, stop looking surprised- and I couldn't see a reason for you to refuse."
"Oh." She didn't realize Her Highness was so aware of her habits. "O-Okay then."
"Good." Her Highness says. "Now come on, we have a meeting to catch. It's up a level and across the palace, our private meeting room, so we gotta move."
The two of them walk briskly down the hallways of the palace in relative silence. It occurs to the Detective that this is starting to become a trend, and that this whole situation is strange. "Your Highness, I have a question, i-if you don't mind."
"Shoot."
"Why are you always dropping by to talk to me? N-Not that I mind, but wouldn't it make more sense for me to send a report or be fetched by a servant?"
"One, this theft was mostly a personal affair up until just now, so I dealt with it directly." Her Highness says. "Two, talking to you is an excuse not to have yet another meeting with yet another noble or military supplier hopeful trying to sell me military dowsing kits or something."
"Military... dowsing kits? Finding water by crossing two sticks? The thing that's been debunked a million times?"
"Yep."
"Without magic? Just two sticks?"
"Not just any sticks." Her Highness says sarcastically. "Expensive sticks made of rare metal. High quality you see. Better attunement to the magnetic pull of water or oil and all that."
"Totally not so they can charge you millions. Totally not made of iron with a thin coating."
"Exactly." Her Highness grins, and Amelia's heart squeezes. "You get it."
"I can't believe someone would waste the queen's time with that."
"Believe me, it's not unusual." Her Highness snorts. "You should hear the sort of bullshit Ina has to put up with. Makes my meetings look reasonable in comparison."
Amelia grimaces. "Politics?"
"Politics." Her Highness nods ruefully. "We're here, by the way."
The doors in front of them are marginally more impressive than the ones on the numerous offices and meeting rooms down below. Being on the third floor, and therefore a part of Their Imperial Majesties's "home" as the Detective thinks of it, it's decorated in their style. The handles are sharks with little takodachis sitting on their heads like hats, the doors are made from atlantean greenstone, and the doorframe is hardwood painted purple and carved into the shape of tentacles. Fancy, but personalized.
To the Detective's relief, Her Highness pushes open the door and steps through first. She slips in behind them, hoping to be unnoticed.
That doesn't happen. Everyone else has already arrived, and their eyes slide off Her Highness to look at the new face. There are five people sitting at the table. Her Majesty is at the head, looking as calm as ever, with an empty seat to her right for Her Highness and several at the bottom of the table. To her other side is an old, dark-skinned, human man, likely nearing his eighties, with short but thick grey hair, a short beard, and a medal-adorned military uniform. Closer than them is an androgynous figure in loose cultist robes with an ornate, gemstone encrusted, octopus-shaped mask, a sharp-featured, pale, human woman with moss-green eyes and a business suit, and a muscular atlantean man in a palace guard uniform with gold epaulettes.
The Detective stares back at them, frozen in place. It's a relief when Her Highness speaks. They still haven't sat down and are standing next to her. "I know the rest of us are familiar with each other, but for the Detective's sake I'll give introductions."
Her Highness spends a moment on each person. The man in the military uniform is General Minch, no longer actively serving, and now head of the Empire's counter-intelligence department. The robed figure has renounced any name, as they are the current high priest of Her Majesty's cult. The woman is Lissandra White, head of foreign affairs. Lastly, the atlantean is Captain Dyne, head of palace security.
"And you already know Ina, of course." Her Highness concludes, gesturing towards their wife. Her Majesty smiles serenely and nods to the Detective, not at all phased by her less-than-formal introduction. "Everyone else, this is Detective Watson; time travelling private investigator. She's the one who retrieved Ina's book and is currently working on finding the would-be thief. She's gonna be the one speaking today. Unless she specifies otherwise, please keep questions to the end."
Her Highness moves to her chair and nods to the Detective. Her expression is neutral, but her eyes are smiling. Everyone else is quiet, attentive.
"Whenever you're ready, Detective."
Unfrozen by Her Highness's words, the Detective takes a deep breath, sorts her papers, and starts moving around the room, giving each person a handout. "R-Right. Pardon if I repeat some information you all already know, but I am completely unaware of your knowledge coming into this. So, two weeks ago..."
She continues talking while sliding the handouts in front of each person, starting at her side of the table until she reaches the back where Their Imperial Majesties are sitting. When it comes time to give Her Majesty her handout, the Detective slips an energy bar out of her pocket and underneath the paper when giving it to Her Majesty. She then turns away, praying to Baelz that Her Majesty doesn't comment.
(She can see Her Highness smirk approvingly out of the corner of her eye.)
The rest of the meeting is surprisingly straightforward. The Detective talks, the others listen, and the only person to interrupt is Her Highness to offer a bit of extra context or information.
(Her Majesty holds her handout in front of her with one hand which conveniently hides her lower face. The Detective spies a flash of crumpled wrapping disappear into the grasp of a tentacle, and can't help but note the way Her Majesty's other hand is tucked behind the paper, as if hiding something.
Her Majesty's head flaps start to wiggle, and the Detective forces herself not to stare.)
When the questions start, however, the Detective finds herself faltering. It's one thing to talk at some of the most important people in the Empire, and another to have them talk to her, asking questions she never even considered and expecting a well-voiced answer.
"N-No, I wasn't looking for preexisting signs of injury."
"They didn't really speak, I couldn't guess an accent."
"I-I didn't know there were different kinds of portals cultists knew how to make!"
"I have no idea why he decided to portal at that moment. Maybe he was waiting for me to make noise to cover up his escape?"
"Sorry Your Majesty, I can't tell you what's in the potion. That's a Watson family secret."
Her Highness starts more and more questions in the Detective's place as the meeting drags on, until the Detective is all but cowering at the front of the room, shoulders hunched, notes held tight and forming a wall between her and the rest of the room, and eyes glued to the table when not being spoken to in the desperate hope that everyone will stop talking to her if she doesn't look them in the eyes.
She dares a glance at her watch, hoping it will tell her an hour has passed and this can be over with.
Six o'clock. Only halfway.
"Detective." Her Majesty's voice drags her gaze up from the table to Her Majesty's closed eyelids. "Please sit, there is no reason for you to remain standing at this point. You can answer questions just as well from a chair."
The Detective nods stiffly and moves to a chair at the end of the table... only to find it isn't there. In fact, upon looking, all extra chairs at the end of the table are gone when she knows for a fact they were there when she walked in. Instead, the only free chair she can see is one near the other end of the table between Their Imperial Majesties that absolutely wasn't there before.
"Come sit, Detective." Her Majesty orders softly. The Detective ducks her head in embarrassment and makes the long walk around the table, very much aware of all the eyes on her and knowing that Her Majesty must be somehow responsible for the chairs disappearing.
She might be bad with social situations, but she knows enough to understand Her Majesty is protecting her by seating her between themself and Her Highness, but they also might as well be screaming to the room that they think she's fragile.
(And the problem is that they're right.)
The Detective makes herself as small as possible in her seat. Positioned between Their Imperial Majesties, very few questions are directed her way without interception. Her Highness often leans forward to block line of sight between other members of the meeting and the Detective, and even a brief sway of Her Majesty's tentacles is enough to draw everyone's attention to her, ready to attend their empress.
Eventually, thankfully, they get to a point where no more questions need to be asked of the Detective, and the group starts speaking of potential consequences, courses of action, and immediate steps.
"A statement will need to be made." Her Majesty says. "We have held off reporting on the theft for two weeks as of this point, and the public grows suspicious. We had been hoping the thief would be captured by this point so we could report the situation was already resolved, but it seems that is not to be the case despite certain potent resources being employed."
"You may desire to keep the details vague, Majesty." General Minch says while stroking his beard. "The more you say, the more intelligence the thief, as well as other prying eyes, will realize we have gathered. I suggest the scythe, the teleportation, the potential of being a cultist, as well as the Detective's capabilities should be kept under wraps."
"There's only so much we can do." Her Highness reminds him. "The Detective's abilities can be hidden, but there were a bunch of servants and guards and maybe guests that saw the thief. Some info is gonna filter out regardless of our efforts."
"Other powers will take note of this event, Your Majesties." White warns. "Especially if it is revealed your room was breached successfully, it sends a poor image of our security. An exploitable weakness."
"We have an internal investigation ongoing." Captain Dyne says. His fingers drum the table in obvious frustration. "And reforms of our scheduling process and information security are underway."
"Still," White says. "The relative success of this thief may inspire other similar actions of more dire consequence."
"Limited teleportation and magic sensing are not insignificant abilities, but nor are they horrendously difficult." The High Priest offers. "Even a man or woman naturally weak in the ways of magic can expect to harness those powers with enough training. Any priest above the rank of a pastor is required to attempt teleportation, and sensing magic develops naturally over time, not to mention those who are not cultists who still wish to learn our magic through more academic means. I am afraid there is little I can do to help at the moment with identification criteria so broad."
The Detective, of course, says nothing. She doesn't know what she could possibly contribute, so she doesn't try. Instead, she listens, making mental notes to later write down on paper.
She is more than content when the rest of the meeting goes by without a single other person trying to speak with her, and overjoyed when Her Majesty finally calls an end to the meeting (which has already gone overlong) with the insistence that they and Her Highness will sort out their course of action and inform the rest of them as swiftly as possible but right now they would like to eat and won't stand for dinner getting cold.
To the Detective's surprise, most of the group take their leave. The High Priest, Lissandra, and General Minch all cite other commitments, leaving just Their Imperial Majesties, the Detective, and Captain Dyne.
As much as the others made her uncomfortable, she's thankful that there's at least one of them dining with her and Their Imperial Majesties, just so she doesn't have to bear the weight of having the undivided attention of the two most important and powerful people in the Empire.
Her Majesty leads their small group to a dining room on the third floor. It's rather large, clearly intended to suit a few dozen people rather than a mere four. At one end, the table swells a bit to accommodate two chairs at the table's head (presumably so neither of Their Imperial Majesties are relegated to sitting on the side) and the whole table is made of dark glazed wood with stain-glass patterning down the middle, including some stylized takodachis and sharks as well as seaweed, tentacles, and some other vaguely aquatic creatures and objects.
Four places are set at the end. The two head spaces, and then the two on either side. The Detective hovers for a moment, waiting for Dyne to choose his spot (Her Majesty's side) before moving to the last remaining seat at Her Highness's side. A waiter then comes to say... something... but the Detective- no, Amelia- is a bit distracted by Her Highness choosing that moment to bring their hands up to their head and undo their bun and Amelia gets to see it falling onto Her Highness's back and shoulders. It's not short like most military personnel and instead goes down to the middle of their back. It's shiny too. It catches the lights at the back of the room fairly well, giving it the impression that it's sparkling and-
Amelia wrenches her gaze to her lap. She shouldn't stare. It's rude. Offensive even.
"And you, Miss Watson?" The waiter asks, and Amelia suddenly realizes she hasn't been paying any attention whatsoever. The waiter looks at her expectantly, pen on pad, while everyone else subtly glances her way.
"I- uh-" Her mind races to recall even one dish the man said, but she comes up blank. Was she really staring for that long? "I'll take..."
Fuck, fuck, fuck. She needs something. This is the easy part of the dinner and she's already messing up.
"Try the salmon fillet, Detective." Her Highness cuts in, once again bailing Amelia out with a conspiratorial wink. "Chefs have pretty much perfected seafood considering it was all I'd eat for the first two years."
"You were not that picky, dear." Her Majesty says with a smile.
"Don't listen to her. Takos have bad memories." Her Highness stage-whispers, grinning. "I only ate normally around her. I had seafood every meal she wasn't there."
"Th-The fillet then." Amelia stammers. "Was there a salad for a side?"
"Yes, Miss Watson. Ceaser?"
"Please. No croutons though. Can't have gluten."
"Understood. And for a drink?"
"Uh..." Is it appropriate to have a soda when dining with royalty? Maybe she should just get water. "Water is fine."
"Are you quite sure, Miss Watson? We have a wide selection of drinks. Alcohols, juices, caffeinated beverages..."
"Water is fine." She repeats. "Thanks."
"Of course. I shall return with your drinks." The waiter says, and bows out of the room.
Amelia breathes a quiet sigh of relief and slumps in her chair. Crisis averted. Of course, now comes the hard part. Conversation.
"It bears asking now rather than later, Detective." Her Majesty says, and the Detective sits up straight, eyes wide with nervous attention. "Do you intend to keep working on the case? As I mentioned in the note, it has expanded well beyond what we originally hired you to solve. If you need more time to think I understand, but if you wish to hand off the case to us I have another offer to make you."
"I... no, I plan to stay." The Detective says, her words becoming more firm as she continues to speak. "These sorts of oddities involving reapers and teleportation and possible conspiracies... they're my specialty. Picking apart demon-summoning cults is a weekly occurrence for me, and if I can do that I won't let a mere thief stump me."
"It's possibly quite a bit more than a mere thief, Detective." Her Majesty reminds her in a gentle tone.
"I know, but still." The Detective insists. "This is my specialty. I just need that first lead to make progress. I need someone or something concrete to look into. A name, a place, a group. I need a starting point before my real work can begin."
"Really now? You've been holding out on us?" Her Highness asks. The Detective opens her mouth to protest, but Her Highness continues to speak. "I look forward to seeing what you're capable of then, Detective."
"Of course, Highness."
"Wonderful!" Her Majesty says with a soft clap. "I am ever so happy you have decided to stay with us."
"Yes, yes." Captain Dyne huffs. "Though do restrain yourself from throwing my men into chaos in the future, Detective."
"Y-Yes Sir." She mumbles, ducking her head. "Sorry, Sir."
A silence lulls over the group, and Amelia squirms. Is she supposed to say more? Is she supposed to grovel? Maybe she's supposed to wait for Their Imperial Majesties to speak? What would she even say if she was supposed to initiate?
"We've had several incidents over the time you left for Germany, Your Majesty." Captain Dyne says, breaking the silence. "Moreso than usual for your absence. We believe the recent security breach may have inspired copycats. None of them have managed to reach the fourth floor, of course. Most of the intruders appear to be mere reckless teenagers who think our security a joke after a single failure and wish for a peek at the royal quarters."
"See Ina? I told you. You're the scary one that keeps the nasty thieves at bay." Her Highness jokes.
"I am not scary." Her Majesty protests, pouting at their wife.
"Please take this seriously Your Majesties." Captain Dyne sighs.
"Apologies Captain, I am." Her Majesty pacifies him. "But I was hoping for this meal to be less serious than our day-to-day affairs. It is not terribly often we have a chance to relax. You understand, yes?"
The Captain does not look particularly happy about this, but does not refuse her. "Of course, Your Majesty."
The waiter comes out with drinks. Their Imperial Majesties and the Captain ordered some sort of juice (she wonders if the Captain merely mimicked Their Imperial Majesties) whereas Amelia gets a tall glass of chilled water. Amelia quickly sips her drink so she doesn't have to speak again.
"Now, Detective..." Her Majesty says, turning her closed eyes towards Amelia and ruining any plans she might have had about staying out of conversation. "I find myself curious. You have been doing your job for quite some time yes?"
"Only half a decade, Your Majesty." She replies obediently. "Since I was old enough to own the office."
"More than enough time then." Her Majesty says, and leans forward while clasping her hands in front of her. Her flaps twitch in anticipation. "Would you quite mind sharing some stories of your work? Surely you must have tales of note."
That sends Amelia for a loop. Stories? What sort of stories? Is they looking for action or mystery? Or maybe this is a test of some sort, to gauge her competence? Or maybe they already know about what the Detective has done and are looking to see how truthful she'll be?
The longer she hesitates, the more awkward this will be, so Amelia takes a deep breath, calling to mind a rather routine mission about a summoning cult in the north of the Empire that had brought ruin to an entire town, and launches into the story.
Amelia will never pretend that storytelling is her forte. She explains as if reading a report, citing exact dates, times, facts, guesses, investigations, fights, and conclusions. The only things she obscures are the location and the names of people she spoke of for confidentiality's sake.
Despite her meagre story-telling, Their Imperial Majesties listen attentively. They're so focused on her that it feels a shame to end the story with "and then I called the police and they dealt with it", but she doesn't want to lie. That is how many of her investigations end.
"And you say this is normal for you?" Her Majesty asks.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"How dangerous." Her Majesty murmurs, frowning. "You could have been quite hurt."
"Just part of the job, Your Majesty." Amelia is now glad she didn't choose the one where she got shot in the arm, or that time her stomach got slashed open, or when she got blinded, or- well, you get the point. "Better than the alternative."
"Still, you really should have backup when you do this sorta thing." Her Highness adds, tapping the table thoughtfully. "Or at least a spotter."
"My time travelling makes that difficult, Your Highness."
"I suppose." Her Highness frowns. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it."
"I..." She swallows, looking down. "I have had other missions with less danger, if you'd like to hear about those instead."
A pause, the shifting of fabric. A breath. Her Majesty speaks. "Apologies Detective, we did not mean to disparage your story or your methods. You would know better than us the restrictions of time travel. There is no need to shelter us from your tales."
"You don't want to hear about me getting hurt."
"No, but we would prefer to know about those moments than remain ignorant of the true extent and cost of your work." Her Majesty says gently.
Amelia nods, hesitantly glancing up. She almost wishes she hadn't. Their Imperial Majesties are watching her intently with concerned looks, and Captain Dyne is side-eyeing them with poorly-hidden incredulity. "A-Another time then, maybe. You said you wanted to relax, Y-Your Majesty."
"I..." Her Majesty looks conflicted, but nods. "Yes, I did. Another time. We will hold you to that, Detective."
The food arrives as if on cue (it occurs to Amelia that maybe the waiters are listening in, waiting for the right moment to interrupt) starting with Her Majesty and ending with Amelia. Just as quickly as the waiters sweep in, they leave, being present for only a minute or two.
This time, Captain Dyne doesn't spare a moment for awkward silence. "Did you enjoy your time in Germany, Your Majesty? Was the security adequate?"
"Quite, on both accounts." Her Majesty hums. "Your preparations were impeccable as always, Captain."
"Thank you, Majesty." He says with obvious pride. "It took much time to set up. I had to-"
And the Captain goes on to explain how he looked into the spots Her Majesty planned to visit, scouted the locations beforehand, spoke with the land owners and coordinated with any already established security, and so on.
Amelia actually finds it rather fascinating. She's never been privy to how security details are organized, and even this simplified look is eye-opening. Their Imperial Majesties look quite a bit less interested, but pay attention nonetheless. After all, they let the Detective talk about her work, it would be rude to deny the Captain his chance to speak, especially when he's making an effort to purely speak about his own work and not drag Her Majesty's trip into it too much to abide by the "not a serious dinner" rule.
"I would go into more detail, but I must refrain from doing so in present company for security reasons." Captain Dyne says smoothly. "I can expand more at a later time, if you're interested."
"That's quite alright Captain. We trust your efforts." Her Highness says, prompting a minor twitch of disappointment from the corner of the Captain's mouth. "And there's no need to hide anything. The waiters are gone by now, and Ina can create a silence zone if you're really concerned."
"I was speaking more of..." The Captain says, gesturing subtly to Amelia, which Amelia thinks is entirely fair. She's a random detective who is suddenly being made privy to extremely classified information. Captain Dyne's caution is warranted.
Her Highness doesn't seem to agree though. "Don't be absurd, Captain. We had a full background check done on the Detective before I stepped foot in her office, and she came highly recommended by the Divine Phoenix herself and even has the Mori vouching for her. Her record is glowing, and while the Phoenix is sometimes a charitable judge of character it takes quite a bit to earn the Mori's full trust."
Captain Dyne scowls. "Even so, she has been working for only a week and-"
"Captain." Her Majesty says quietly. The man's mouth shut immediately. "You are welcome to have reservations. We will not demand you give the Detective your trust until a situation makes it necessary for her to be privy to security information. However, kindly do not question our own trust in her without a well-founded reason. We did not give her this case, nor let her continue it with the increased scope, without appropriate consideration. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. Sorry, Your Majesty." The Captain says tersely. Everyone eats a few more bites of their food before the Captain clears his throat and says. "May I take my leave, Majesty?"
His food is only half-finished. It's clear he doesn't want to be here anymore. Her Majesty looks conflicted for a moment, but nods. "You may. Know we hold no grudge, Captain."
"Thank you, Majesty." He says. He pushes out his chair, bows to the two women at the head of the table, then strides out the room, leaving Amelia alone with the two royals.
Amelia stays quiet and eats her fish as the Imperial Couple exchange looks with each other, having some silent conversation. She can hear when their attention moves to her due to the shifting of clothes and a subtle intake of breath from Her Majesty.
"Detective Watson." Her Majesty says. Amelia can feel a weight in those words and Her Majesty's attention settle onto her shoulders like a physical weight now that there's no one left to get in the way. No one to bail her out.
With no small amount of trepidation, Amelia once again raises her eyes to look at Her Majesty. The woman has her fingers steepled, a serene smile on her face, and her head back-lit by a well-placed light that makes her look every inch the demigoddess she's purported to be.
Amelia swallows, but still feels a lump in her throat. Her voice feels hoarse when she speaks. "Y-Yes, Your Majesty?"
"I..." They pause, then lean forward a bit, hands coming apart to rest on the table. Their expression has shifted to a slight frown. "Are you quite alright, Detective? You look frightened."
"Fish in front of a lure." Her Highness agrees. They glance behind both of their chairs, checking if Amelia saw something, and when it's clear she hasn't they look back and tilt their head. "What gives, Detective? See something? Remember something? Leave the faucet on at the hotel?"
"No, Highness. S-Sorry, Your Highness." Is there a polite way to say 'your wife scares me, especially when she smiles'? "I-I'm fine, Your Majesty. Please continue."
"Hmm..." Her Highness hums, squinting at Amelia. A cheeky grin creeps across her face. "Feelin' a bit starstruck, Detective?"
Amelia wants to hide under the seat and never come out again. She averts her eyes and keeps her mouth shut.
"C'mon, you've talked to Ina before. Admittedly it was when you were running around the palace, and then after you nearly died, but it's not the first time." Her Highness teases.
"Am I really so intimidating, Detective?" Her Majesty questions in a soft voice. Amelia nods meekly in confirmation, and her Highness stifles a laugh. "I hope you opinion changes in the future. I prefer to think of myself as approachable."
Her Highness outright snorts, and Her Majesty glares at her.
"Busy does not mean unapproachable, Gura." Her Majesty insists.
"Oh, I know." Her Highness says with obvious humor in her voice. "But I'd hardly call your straight-faced, head held high, dramatic slow-walking with closed eyes and steepled fingers and sometimes tentacles, 'approachable'."
Amelia peeks out from under the brim of her hat to watch the argument.
Her Majesty pouts, small nose scrunched up and head flaps flared indignantly. "That is simply how I was taught to walk!"
"Yeah, well, you walk like a supervillain." Her Highness counters, leaning on her chair's armrest to smirk at their wife. "You strut, Ina."
"And you march." Her Majesty retorts. "Like a dictator."
"We are dictators."
"Only in the very technical sense, and I was elected entirely legitimately, thank you!"
"Yeah, three hundred years ago. Then you made yourself an Empress."
"You know full well I voted against the decision to give me absolute power." Her Majesty sniffs, holding her head high.
"But you accepted it."
"It was unanimous except for me. What other choice did I have? Besides, I knew I could lead well given my experience with the cult. I also realized that with full power I could simply keep the council and respect their decisions. We could be a republic in effect, if not in technicality."
"Yeah, and that went well."
"Over the decades they kept suggesting more and more ideas blatantly pandering to their voter or power bases rather than actually working for the better of the Empire!" Her Majesty huffs. "One of their suggestions was actually to tax the poor more, and then cut back on taxes for the rich!"
"You know, like an asshole."
"Exactly!" Her Majesty sighs. "So yes, I eventually abolished the council after it was clear they had no interest in improving anything but their own wealth and power, but I will not stand for the notion that I took power from anyone. I was voted for, and gave a fair chance to continuing something similar to the old structure."
The 'argument', as much as it can be called that, ends there. Her Majesty huffily forks more food into her mouth, and Her Highness lazily shoots Amelia a wink and mouths the words 'ooo, scary' at her.
Amelia gets the hint. Her Highness poked Her Majesty into that little rant to humanize them a bit. To show that they too could be petulant, offended, defensive, (cute when they're pouting), and so on so that Amelia wouldn't be as nervous around them.
So Amelia takes a steadying breath looks Her Majesty in the eyes (even though they're closed), and speaks. "I-I saw a magazine with you on the cover, Your Majesty."
"Oh?" Her Majesty's flaps perk up at attention.
"One of many." Her Highness chuckles. "Which one?"
"Uh... The Royal Business."
"That's one of the gossip rags, right?" Her Highness hums. "Up your alley?"
Amelia shakes her head. "I saw a picture of Her Majesty on the front. That's the only reason I bought it."
"My." Her Majesty giggles. "How flattering."
Amelia's cheeks burn. "Th-That wasn't a pick-up line or anything! I just- you- the dress was nice."
"The dress?" Her Highness prompts.
"The picture was of Her Majesty wearing a dress, visiting some memorial." Amelia rushes to explain. "During her trip."
"I am quite proud of most of the outfits I wore during that time, I am glad to hear you liked it." Her Majesty smiles. "I design them myself."
"I thought you might." Amelia says before realizing how familiar that sounds and waving her hands in front of her face in a panic. "I-I mean, because you're an artist and stuff, so I thought maybe-!"
"I understand, Detective." Her Majesty soothes. "Which dress was it in particular?"
"Uh... black, floor-length, button-up, with part of the skirt and arm missing..."
Most of the rest of the meal is spent encouraging Her Majesty to talk fashion while Her Highness watches with a subtle, victorious smirk on their face.
Gura has been the one primarily interacting with Ame so far, so getting Ina into it more is needed. She's the empress, so she's quite busy, where Gura is the queen, so she's… well still busy, but slightly less so.
I wasn't sure what I should be calling Gura. Royal titles can be messy, and I'm wholly inexperienced with it. I didn't want to go with 'Empress Consort' or something like that, so I opted for Queen, because Gura is still technically the Queen of Atlantis whereas Ina holds the title to the entire empire. Queen might technically be a downgrade from Empress Consort (again, I really don't know), but it sounds better, so that's what I'm going with.