A complex look appeared in Patchouli's violet eyes as she stared down at the sprawling settlement below.
Flandre looked up, her curiosity thoroughly piqued by the grim analysis. She wondered what kind of promise could possibly possess enough power to make thousands of desperate people willingly throw their lives away.
"Remember what I just mentioned about the city and the slums being two completely separate worlds?" Patchouli said softly, her voice carrying a chilling weight. "To control a population like that, the rulers don't need walls or iron chains. They only need to throw them a single, shimmering thread of hope. The politicians simply have to declare that if the adults and the elderly successfully hold off an invading army out in the mud, the city will grant their children automatic entry, raising and educating them inside the gates for free until they reach adulthood."
Sitting on the opposite bench, Clever felt a violent shiver run straight down her spine.
She understood the terrifying truth behind those words all too well. If the aristocratic rulers actually deployed that specific incentive during a siege, a staggering majority of the refugees would fight to their last breath. They would gladly transform their bodies into a living wall against any invader, all for the sake of their bloodline.
After all, escaping the crushing poverty of the slums to secure a legal life inside the nomadic city was a near-impossible dream for an ordinary person, short of a literal miracle. But through this dark bargain, a parent's death could instantly allow their descendants to skip an entire generational struggle, transforming them into legitimate, high-society city dwellers.
It was an open, predatory trap—and for the people starving at the very bottom of society, it was a trap with no alternative. As long as they sacrificed their own flesh, their children could escape the mud. Countless mothers and fathers would sign that contract in blood without a moment's hesitation.
Before this conversation, Clever had simply assumed the slums existed because Londinium had physically run out of residential space, forcing the municipal government to push the excess poor outside to fend for themselves. But now, looking at the grand design through Patchouli's eyes, the layout carried a much darker purpose.
No wonder the regional newspapers always complained that the chaotic shacks ruined Londinium's pristine imperial image, yet the military garrisons never made a single move to clear the land or expel the squatters. The aristocracy needed their living shield exactly where it was.
Since the massive iron gates of Londinium were already locked tight for the evening and would not reopen until sunrise, the travelers chose not to drive their carriage up to the crowded checkpoints. To avoid any unnecessary local entanglements, Patchouli casually cast a ward around the vehicle, completely averting the eyes of any passing stragglers and ensuring no one could approach them.
They prepared to settle in and make do for the night.
"Actually, even though everyone calls this place a slum, it is still the doorstep of the capital," Clever suggested from her corner, trying to be helpful. "Compared to the desolate wastelands out in the provinces, there are still a few decent facilities scattered around here. For instance, we aren't too far from a couple of functional inns."
Her primary motivation was purely practical; squeezing their entire entourage into a single carriage for a full night's sleep was going to be an incredibly cramped ordeal.
"What does everyone think?" Remilia asked, glancing around the interior.
"That sounds reasonable," Patchouli replied, adjusting her glasses. "It also gives me a perfect opportunity to observe the daily living conditions of the local populace up close. It will provide excellent raw material for my sociological research."
As for the rest of the group, Sakuya and Meiling naturally raised no objections, and Flandre rarely fussed over minor living arrangements. In fact, in Flandre's view, the more people there were around, the more exciting the trip became. She actively thrived in bustling environments, making it impossible for her to turn down a stroll through a lively district.
Seeing a unanimous agreement, the driver urged the horses forward. Before long, the carriage pulled up to their destination—a modest, weathered inn situated less than three kilometers from the looming shadow of the city walls.
The building stood three stories tall, which happened to be the maximum height the imperial codes legally permitted for structures built outside the main gates. The staff guided the group up the wooden stairs to a suite of rooms on the top floor.
Looking out from the window...
The view was still a dense, chaotic sea of overlapping rooftops, most of them constructed from cheap scrap metal and salvaged timber. It was only because this specific establishment sat closer to the main military road that the immediate street outside the door remained relatively clean and orderly.
Further down the winding alleys, where the true heart of the slums lay, the environment degenerated into a maze of pure squalor—a dark territory that Flandre would likely never have a reason to step foot in.
"What's on your mind? Do you want to go downstairs for a walk?" Remilia asked, noticing her sister staring silently out at the sunset.
Flandre shook her head, turning away from the glass. "No, it doesn't look very fun out there."
She scanned the guest room with a slight pout. Aside from a few plain wooden beds and a washbasin, the inn was completely barren, lacking any form of entertainment. Feeling the onset of boredom, she idly patted her dress pockets until her fingers brushed against a familiar object in her satchel. Her eyes lit up instantly.
"Sister, do you still have any more historical questions for Clever?" Flandre asked suddenly.
Remilia looked toward Patchouli, who simply shook her head. They had already extracted a comprehensive overview of the capital's political climate during the long drive.
Seeing that the adults were finished with their business, Flandre happily grabbed Clever and Meiling by their wrists, dragging them toward one of the large mattresses before pulling out a glossy deck of playing cards.
"Let's play Fight the Landlord![1]"
"Fight the Landlord?" Clever blinked, entirely unfamiliar with the term.
Flandre enthusiastically tossed the deck onto the center of the blanket. "The rules are super simple! It goes like this..."
As Flandre went through the mechanics of the game, Clever listened intently. She was naturally sharp-witted, allowing her to grasp the strategy and card combinations within a matter of minutes. Soon enough, the trio was fully immersed in the match, the initial tension in the room melting away into casual banter.
It wasn't until the candles had burned down to stubs late into the night that they finally called it quits, each finding a spot across the beds to drift off to sleep.
The following morning, the sun broke through the heavy northern fog, and the travelers boarded their carriage once more, driving slowly toward the grand archway cutting through the base of the city walls.
Squads of heavily armed Victorian soldiers stood in rigid formations on both sides of the entrance. Evaluating the sheer scale of the defensive grid, it was obvious that no matter how many thousands of angry civilians rioted, forcing entry through these gates through raw numbers was a mathematical impossibility.
The fortification featured multiple layers of defensive batteries stretching from the cobblestones all the way to the ramparts, capable of unleashing a devastating crossfire within a one-kilometer radius of the threshold. Even if the iron gates were left wide open, an invading force would need to sacrifice an immense army just to fill the chasm with lives.
However, with Patchouli's illusion magic seamlessly cloaking the vehicle, the group glided right past the checkpoint guards without triggering a single alarm, entering the capital smoothly.
Once they crossed the threshold, Remilia leaned out the window to evaluate the sprawling metropolis. For a city universally hailed as the proud heart of Victoria, the sight left her with a sense of expected confirmation, mixed with a hint of mild disappointment.
At a glance, the streets were completely saturated with the heavy, soot-stained atmosphere of the old industrial era. Most of the stone buildings towered five or six stories high, their facades decorated with rumbling brass pipes, exposed gears, and the unmistakable aesthetic of early steam tech.
Compared to the glittering, neon-soaked capital of Kazimierz they had traversed weeks prior, Londinium felt as though it was trapped a full century in the past.
While Kazimierz was undoubtedly a shallow playground of corporate greed and commercial decadence, one had to admit its skyline felt modern and forward-thinking. Londinium, much like the rigid aristocracy that ruled it, remained stubbornly frozen in its historical industrial prime, showing almost zero signs of cultural or technological evolution. In Remilia's estimation, even a few of the ordinary independent mobile cities they had passed on the road looked significantly more advanced than this celebrated national center.
Nevertheless, as the seat of the global superpower, the city still retained a few undeniable luxuries—such as the temporary estate Sakuya had managed to secure for their stay.
Rather than booking a standard suite in a crowded downtown hotel, the maid had rented a private villa complete with its own enclosed botanical garden. The property belonged to a high-end luxury resort complex; many visiting nobles traveling from distant territories brought massive retinues of servants and guards with them, making them entirely unwilling to share apartment walls with strangers. To accommodate them, the resort maintained these secluded manor houses scattered around the main grounds.
Fortunately, between Flandre's substantial government salary from her work up north and the small fortune they had amassed during their exploits in Kazimierz, the Scarlet Devil Mansion was overflowing with funds. Remilia certainly had no intention of being stingy when it came to her own personal comfort.
After laying down a heavy stack of currency at the front desk, they successfully booked the entire villa for a week. For a simple sightseeing holiday, seven days was more than enough time to uncover everything Londinium had to offer.
[1] A highly popular card game that originated in China. Played with three people using a standard 54-card deck, one player takes on the role of the "Landlord" and plays alone against the other two players, who team up as "Farmers".