The London Peace Conference

The opulence of Buckingham Palace could not be understated, although by this point Keitaro was starting to become quite numb to luxury. He was here strictly for business. The conference could have taken place in a cheap motel and it would’ve made no difference to him.

The conference was to be held in a private annex. Isolated, only the various Knights and Maidens would be present to discuss the treaty.

One would think it’d be a serious, fruitful political negotiation. Unfortunately, not much progress was initially made with each party unwilling to budge on their own demands.

“If we are to divvy up Paris then it’s only natural for London to get the most. We fought from beginning to end.” Sean Thompson, the Pink Knight, calmly but sternly made his case.

“German troops led the invasion of Paris and most of the city is still under our occupation. As we dealt the killing blow, it’s only fair for us to keep at least what we’ve already taken.” Klaus Wagner, the Indigo Knight, followed suit, albeit more forceful.

However, Sean only snickered at his rival’s preposition. “Bold of a traitor like yourself to make such demands.”

“What was that!?” The insult cut Klaus deep.

“Quite frankly, I don’t believe you’re deserving of so much credit for switching sides when Paris’s loss became so clearly inevitable.”

“Oh? Is that so? Well, I don’t think I remember seeing any British troops on the frontlines in Paris.”

The two glared daggers at each other. But the others present couldn’t care less about annexing the pile of rubble that Paris currently was.

Keitaro stood up tall. “I believe the matter of Paris’s territory can be resolved later. For now, let’s discuss what to do with Paris’s assets. Tokyo took a massive risk by declaring war on Paris when we did. Additionally, our entrance into the war decisively shifted the tide. I believe it’s only fair that we are generously compensated for this.”

Yuri Chekhov, the Red Knight, slammed his fist down on the table. “Moscow deserves reparations much more! If it weren’t for Natalia’s Ability, Winter, then the French would’ve plowed right through Moscow and into Tokyo!”

“Are you insane!” Gabrielle Romano, the Violet Knight, jumped up. “Rome has been destroyed! Whatever money Paris has left should go to reconstruction efforts!”

“Yes, of course, and don’t forget about Istanbul.” Fatma Kurt, the Orange Maiden, spoke up cheerily.

The war had been expensive for all parties involved, so each wanted to be compensated for the trouble. However, Paris had very little left. Nothing less than the lion’s share would satisfy any party involved.

That is except for one.

Two people didn’t seem even a bit concerned with these negotiations. While their contemporaries endlessly argued, they stayed silent and simply watched. Those two were Jack Butler and Ella Appleton.

***

After an entire day of negotiations, a deal still hadn’t been reached. It couldn’t have even been called productive since no progress was made. Sean and Klaus endlessly argued over where to draw the border in Paris, and everyone else wouldn’t settle for less than a majority of remaining French assets.

Keitaro collapsed onto his bed. It really was exhausting. This was becoming a massive waste of time. If he couldn’t secure a modest sum, he’d just give up. Except that he still needed everyone else to agree on a treaty too.

He sighed. Even if he relented, nobody else was budging. Something was bound to snap eventually, and he was not looking forward to the fallout.

***

Despite his fatigue, Keitaro couldn’t manage to fall asleep. Bouts of insomnia did infrequently overtake him. There wasn’t much he could do when this happened, so he just decided to go for a walk.

This annex of Buckingham Palace wasn’t nearly as fancy as the main building, but it was still quite nice. Its main purpose was to facilitate private discussions. It really was just the Knights and Maidens in here. All other personnel were kept out. It made Keitaro a bit uneasy to be left without any security, but it should be fine. After all, it’s not like they could harm each other.

As Keitaro walked through the halls, he eventually saw a short, familiar figure in the dark.

“Mehmet?” He called out.

“K-Keitaro?” It was Mehmet Ozturk. The thirteen year old Orange Knight of Istanbul.

Keitaro walked closer. “Trouble sleeping, huh?”

The boy fidgeted. “Y-you could say that…”

“Hm?” Keitaro narrowed his eyes. This kid was holding something back. “What is it then?”

“I just…got a bad feeling…”

“A bad feeling?”

Mehmet looked down, embarrassed. “It’s silly, I know…”

“Come on, it isn’t silly at all.”

“What?” He looked up at Keitaro.

“Humans have instincts that can let us sense dangerous things before they happen. It might seem silly, but you should always listen to those instincts. It’s your body’s way of telling you that something’s wrong.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” Keitaro smiled. “So why don’t you tell me more about this bad feeling?”

“Well, it’s—”

But before Mehmet could explain, he was cut off.

“Mehmet! There you are!” It was Fatma who was briskly jogging down the hall. “I was worried sick wondering what happened to you!”

“S-sorry…”

“That’s enough.” Turning her attention away from Mehmet, she stomped towards Keitaro. “Now what are you doing here?”

“Just out for a walk.”

Her gaze was still stern, but she seemed to accept that answer. “Hmph.” Turning away, she grabbed Mehmet’s arm and started walking. “Now let’s get you to bed.”

Keitaro rubbed his chin as he wondered what exactly the relationship between those two was.

***

“D-did you sleep, okay?” Toko asked her brother.

“No.” He answered bluntly before yawning.

Keitaro did eventually manage to get some sleep, but it was only a few hours. At least if this meeting was anything like yesterday’s, he’d have some time for catnaps.

As the two siblings entered the conference room, they found themselves caught in a heavy, oppressive atmosphere.

Not everybody was present, but those who were stared at Keitaro in cold silence.

Sean Thompson was the first to speak. “It seems you’ve finally shown your face, murderer.”

“Excuse me!?” Keitaro might’ve killed a few people, but being called a murderer was a bit uncalled for.

“Don’t play dumb. We’ve already found your handiwork.” His eyes bored into Keitaro as he took a step forward. “Last night, you killed Mehmet Ozturk and Fatma Kurt.”