“You lost.”
Luo Wei spoke softly.
She gazed at the young girl before her, a hint of playfulness dancing in her cherry-pink eyes.
“Again! One more time!”
Hathaway bit her lip, her small face flushed a deep crimson.
“Hmph, it won’t matter how many times we play. The result will be the same.”
Luo Wei crossed her arms, radiating an air of smug triumph.
Multicolored glass marbles lay scattered across a hexagonal honeycomb board. This game, known as Chinese Checkers, was Luo Wei’s specialty—simple, yet endlessly entertaining.
Even when playing alone, she could manipulate all six sides simultaneously, thoroughly enjoying herself.
Hathaway, having spent her life immersed in the vast ocean of theological classics, rarely encountered such idle entertainment. After being coaxed into a few rounds by Luo Wei, her competitive spirit had been thoroughly ignited.
Each controlled three sides, yet Hathaway suffered one crushing defeat after another.
“Miss Luo Wei, are you sure you aren’t cheating?” Hathaway stared into Luo Wei’s eyes, searching for even the slightest tell.
“Of course not. Who cheats at a board game?”
Luo Wei didn’t show a trace of guilt; instead, she sounded genuinely bewildered that Hathaway would even suggest such a thing.
“…Again!”
Hathaway’s voice rang out resentfully in Luo Wei’s mind. She possessed a fierce sense of pride, particularly in matters involving intellect or knowledge; she loathed losing to anyone.
Even though she vaguely suspected Luo Wei was using mind-reading to anticipate her next move, she was determined to crush her regardless.
Because…
“Heh heh.”
Luo Wei said nothing, but the sly smirk on her face shamelessly broadcasted her thoughts to Hathaway.
“I’m actually being looked down upon…”
Hathaway’s teeth ground together with an audible crunch as she meticulously slotted each glass marble back into the board.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
“It is time for lunch, young ladies.”
It was the voice of the butler, Miriel.
“Coming!”
Luo Wei bounded off the bed and bolted out the door in a flash.
Hathaway, who had intended to go another three hundred rounds, failed to catch her. She could only follow behind with lingering resentment. If she didn’t win at least once, she wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight.
“My apologies. Most of the household chefs have been reassigned to the Storm Cathedral to prepare the banquet for the Queen’s funeral. I prepared both lunch and dinner today myself. My culinary skills are merely rudimentary, so I ask that you please make do.”
Miriel carried a tray, placing servings before both Luo Wei and Hathaway.
As she lifted the silver covers, they revealed several exquisite dishes: steaks searing with fragrant juices, roasted lobsters, a creamy stew of unknown but delicious ingredients, and even a thoughtfully prepared dessert—a small slice of fruit cake for each.
“Rudimentary?” Hathaway muttered internally. “By that standard, Miss Luo Wei’s cooking is practically primitive.”
“I can hear your slander, Miss Hathaway.”
Luo Wei rapped her knuckles against Hathaway’s head, snapping irritably, “You can’t even boil rice, so you have no right to talk about me.”
At this moment, Ian Manor felt exceptionally hollow. The usual bustle of servants was gone; the entire estate was virtually empty, save for Miriel, Luo Wei, and Hathaway.
Today was the day of the Queen’s state funeral—a national holiday.
Even if it hadn’t been a holiday, the sheer scale of the event would have drawn everyone. Regardless of how people felt about the departed monarch… they would all go to witness the spectacle.
It had been the same when the previous Queen passed.
It was a grand procession. The casket containing the Queen’s remains was carried out from the Storm Cathedral, hoisted by sixteen Archbishops. The High Priest himself had coated the entire slab with blessed Holy Oil and ignited it using the most sacred Burning Spark.
The flames of civilization enveloped the coffin, which was crafted from fire-resistant materials. The procession then moved from the Cathedral toward the graveyard shared by all Queens of York—the Boundless Abyss of the deep sea.
At the Metropolis’s only deep-water port, an ancient sailing warship stood anchored. Soldiers in ceremonial armor stood guard upon its deck, mimicking the warriors of four hundred years ago who had stared death in the face to conquer the oceans. This symbolized that the spirits of the past would once again sail with their fallen Queen into the deep, mysterious waters that humanity feared and obsessed over in equal measure.
This tradition of the Great Sea Burial was established by the Sixth Queen of York. Aside from the Founding Queen, she was the first to wield true sovereign power—though this was primarily because her Prince Regent loved her so deeply that he chose to share his Authority with her.
This Queen had spearheaded the creation of the Invincible Fleet, laying the foundation for the “Sea Carters” and binding the Kingdom of York irrevocably to the ocean, making it a true maritime hegemon.
On her deathbed, she ignored the protests of other royal members, insisting that her body be sent onto a warship to sail into the deep, to be buried alongside the warriors who conquered the seas for her.
Her daughter, the succeeding Queen, was so influenced by her mother that she also chose a sea burial. Thus, the tradition endured, eventually becoming an immutable part of a Queen’s funeral rites.
Even listening to Miriel’s description of the grand event, Luo Wei felt the urge to go and watch the commotion.
Mainly to confirm if the Queen was truly dead.
…I suspect the nobles attending the funeral mostly feel the same way as I do.
“It’s probably nothing special, honestly,” Hathaway prattled in Luo Wei’s mind while gnawing on her steak.
“With so many people, nobles, and ministers, where could the danger possibly come from? Eliana must be imagining things. She’s too used to being an Inquisitor in Kolun County, fighting the Dream Sanctum for so many years. Now she thinks there’s a cultist lurking around every corner waiting to assassinate her.”
Luo Wei thought to herself that this was no delusion. If she hadn’t infiltrated the inner circle beforehand, she wouldn’t have known that these princesses were acting like total psychopaths.
In truth, Hathaway desperately wanted to see the funeral herself. After all, how many times in a life does one witness a Queen’s funeral? Some people go their entire lives without seeing a monarch pass. Hathaway was quite dejected at missing such a rare opportunity.
Of course, while Hathaway couldn’t go, that didn’t mean Luo Wei would miss out on the fun.
While the duo ate at Ian Manor, the Head Maid, “Rita,” was currently on standby in a cafe along the procession route. Sitting beside her was a solemn-faced Mr. Charlie.
“I do not understand.”
Mr. Charlie sat with his hands clasped, studying Luo Wei in her “Rita” incarnation. He spoke slowly.
“Does Her Highness believe my abilities are insufficient for this task?”
As the Troupe Leader of the Crimson Troupe, Charlie was nothing if not sharp. He had already realized exactly what it meant for the “Tea Party” to be involved in this mission.
To Cassandra, this was an assignment of monumental importance.
Isabelle II’s prestige among the citizenry was immense. During her reign, regional riots had diminished significantly, and the trend toward national fracture had been suppressed. Her death was a boon to the decaying old aristocracy, but to the common people, it was a tragedy beyond words.
The public harbored intense resentment toward the Queen’s assassins. If Cassandra could personally execute the culprit, she would inherit Isabelle II’s standing in the hearts of the people, vastly increasing her chances of becoming the next Queen.
When Charlie received this mission, he was ecstatic. He realized that if he performed flawlessly, he might secure a high political standing once Cassandra ascended the throne. At that point, the Crimson Troupe could move its operations into the Metropolis officially, rather than skulking in the remote outskirts.
But now…
The “Tea Party”—a group that had only joined Cassandra’s team through his own introduction—had been given the same critical task. This left Charlie feeling deeply uneasy.
Was it because the individual executor of the task didn’t matter? Or had the “Tea Party” already become equal to the Crimson Troupe in Her Highness’s eyes?
Luo Wei glanced at him and said flatly,
“If you don’t understand, go ask her. I am not Cassandra.”
“……”
Charlie was silenced by the blunt retort. Finding no further ground for conversation, he ceased speaking to her.
Just then, the area outside the cafe became increasingly crowded and noisy.
Luo Wei looked up. In the distance, she could see the glow of rising flames. The bright fire appeared exceptionally piercing beneath a sky laden with grey clouds. The mournful notes of a funeral dirge drifted closer.
“Upon the mast-tip, fluttering like a tattered flag,
The Queen rests within a casket draped in charts of old,
Her anchor, for the last time, cleaves the chest of waves…”
Hundreds of thousands of citizens moved like a tidal bore, surrounding their Queen, escorting her on the final journey of her life. Faint sobbing broke out, yet no one dared to raise their voice in a shout.
The ascending pyre moved slowly forward, its soft light bathing every citizen in its path. Grief melted silently into the salt-tinged sea breeze.
Sixteen Archbishops slowly pushed the burning casket. Leading the way was the elderly High Priest.
The High Priest looked back at the burning casket, then gazed into the distance as if searching for something. He saw several beautiful butterflies fluttering far away, landing in the palm of a young girl. The girl offered him a gentle smile, just as she had in the past.
Behind the casket followed the Princesses of the Kingdom of York and other royalty and high nobles.
The Princesses wore gowns of black lace, their expressions veiled by thin shrouds. However, each appeared suitably heartbroken, mourning the loss of their aunt.
“Oh sea breeze, stir the funeral rites of black sails,
The whale’s song is long, guiding the great ship-casket,
Silver scales shimmer like the light of mourning candles,
The waves uphold the royal bark, the abyss drapes an eternal shroud…”
The dirge continued. The singer’s ethereal voice wove sorrow into a melody that moved everyone to tears.
Luo Wei’s gaze never left the flaming casket. She watched the funeral with detached calm until the casket drifted into the distance and the mourning crowds followed. The front of the cafe slowly returned to a state of desolation.
Even Charlie, sitting beside her, believed Luo Wei was immersed in the sorrow of the funeral and hesitated to disturb her.
Regardless of the fact that Charlie was a thoroughgoing cultist, he had to admit that Queen Isabelle was a magnetic monarch. Her very existence was a legend.
However, Charlie had no idea that Luo Wei was currently sighing internally.
“Well, she’s definitely dead…”
Her consciousness was merely attached to this maid puppet, so her perspective could detach from the vessel to a degree, though it was constrained to a certain range. After all, the puppet was the anchor for her consciousness.
Thus, Luo Wei had secretly drifted over to the casket for a look. She even made slight contact with it to extract a segment of the Information Stream.
She had confirmed several facts.
The body in the casket was indeed a graceful woman whose features were identical to the Queen’s portraits. She had been a powerful Transcendental, and she was, without a doubt, dead.
The Information Stream was absolute. However, because the Queen had been dead for quite some time, the stream contained no memories or complex data, which left Luo Wei somewhat disappointed.
“She really can’t pull a ‘corpse-resurrection’ stunt?”
Luo Wei seriously considered the possibility. But looking at those rising flames… if Her Majesty actually tried to rise from the dead, she would likely be incinerated into ash instantly by the holy fire attached to the casket.
As Luo Wei was lamenting internally, a silver coin resting on the table suddenly stood up on its edge.
It was a standard Krone, the common currency of York. Due to the kingdom’s trade status, it held significant purchasing power even in other nations. The front depicted surging tides, while the back bore the likeness of the Founding Queen, Isabelle I.
Suddenly, the portrait of Isabelle moved and spoke.
“It is time to act.”
“Oh?”
Luo Wei raised an eyebrow. So soon? My other puppet is still eating lunch. Can we wait until she’s finished before anyone dies?
Beside her, Charlie stood up immediately, a flash of excitement crossing his handsome face.
“Wait.”
The expression on the coin’s portrait suddenly tightened, revealing a visible trace of panic.
“Virginia… is in danger?”
Virginia? To Luo Wei, this was a foreign name.
However, hearing the name made Charlie turn solemn. He bowed slightly. “Your Highness, do you require me to move and rescue her?”
“…No. You continue as planned,” the coin-portrait said after a moment of silence. “Head Maid Rita, this is an opportunity. I wish to see the sincerity of the ‘Tea Party.’ Save Virginia, and you shall have the friendship of I, Cassandra.”
Her tone remained haughty, but Luo Wei heard the subtle crack within it.
She was nervous. She cared deeply.
“Virginia…”
Someone very important, then.
“As you wish, Your Highness.”
The corners of the Rita-puppet’s mouth finally curled into a faint, enigmatic smile.
