Cornelia li Britannia. Second Princess of the Holy Britannian Empire. Nicknamed the Witch of Britannia for her peerless command. Flawless record—save one: her suffocating devotion to Euphemia. In canon, Euphie's massacre at the Special Zone and Zero's killing blow hollowed her out. But her skill? Undeniable.
"Can you hear me?"
Her Gloucester's external speakers crackled. Landlion dwarfed it—19m vs. under 4m. A child beside a titan.
No point in hostility. Cornelia was Area 11's apex power. I had no papers, no identity. Mercenary cover? Fine. Except for the mech.
"Loud and clear."
"Who are you? Why fight terrorists?"
Fake name? Pointless. "Axel. Axel Almer. Mercenary. Business in Area 11. They attacked because I'm not Eleven."
"Hm. And that weapon?"
"Armored Module—AM. Prototype. Different design philosophy from KMF."
"Different philosophy? Intriguing. —but later. First, exterminate the rats. Guilford!"
A Gloucester approached.
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"Stay with him until this ends. Kill him if he runs."
Predictable. Using me as a leash in earshot—textbook intimidation.
"Yes, Your Highness. Axel, you heard. No objections?"
"None."
Gilbert G.P. Guilford. Cornelia's sworn knight. The Empire's Spearhead. Top-tier pilot.
"I'll infiltrate from Dalton's point. See you later, Axel."
Her Gloucester fired a slash harken, shattered a turret, and danced up the cliff.
"Impressive. Witch indeed."
Guilford puffed up.
"She leads from the front. No pilot matches her."
"Noblesse oblige, huh? External speakers are loud. Comm freq?"
He sent it. Switched to private channel.
"That AM—huge. Mobility?"
"High for its size. Between Sutherland and Gloucester."
"Better than Bamides in Area 18. Show me."
He charged a tank—lance through the flank, boom. I crouched low, shell screaming overhead.
"Interesting movement."
Railgun punched the artillery.
"Weapon's solid. Truly a different beast."
"Meet your standards?"
"Fun… but KMF's my style."
We synced. Ten minutes—tanks and turrets melted. Guilford's precision lived up to the title.
"Axel. Dalton reports: Princess annihilated them. She and the General want you in Tokyo Settlement. No issue?"
"Fine. Landlion?"
"G-1 Base storage. …How'd you get it here?"
"Drove it."
"…"
No way I'd admit spatial storage. C.C.-level lab rat? Pass.
"Let's go. I could use a real bed."
"Follow me. No funny business."
"Wouldn't dream of it—against a princess. Merc life's rough. Cut me slack on manners."
"I'll tell Her Highness."
Tokyo Settlement – Viceroy's Palace
G-1 hangar. Landlion surrounded—not hostile. Curiosity won over caution. Techs gawked from a distance. Ask, damn it. I get being sketchy, but still.
"Axel. Settlement soon. Ready?"
Guilford again. Babysitter by order—and battle buddy. Easy rapport.
"Yeah."
No prep needed. Same Shadow Mirror fatigues. No dress uniform anyway. Zero? I'd wear Lemon's visor. Cornelia crushing resistance = canon started. Episode 5-6? Zero's public.
Viceroy's Office
Across the table: Cornelia. Behind: Guilford, Dalton.
"Formal introduction. Cornelia li Britannia, Second Princess."
Eyes on me.
"Axel Almer. Mercenary."
"Checked records. No Axel Almer in Britannia. A few same names—none your age. Not Eleven. Not Chinese Federation. …EU?"
Fair guess. Western features.
"How to answer…"
"Truth preferred. I'd rather not get rough."
Martial core—she'd torture if needed, but disliked it.
"Honestly? I don't know my country. Orphaned into mercenary life."
"No proof of identity?"
"None."
Shadow Mirror from another world wouldn't fly.
"Wait—illegal entry?"
Guilford cut in.
"Yep. Job here. Attacked post-mission."
Cornelia laughed.
"Hear that? Admits smuggling to my face."
"Arrest and interrogate, Your Highness?"
"Overkill, General. He's an ally."
"You should prioritize her safety, Guilford."
"Still…"
Bad vibe—my fate, no input.
"Mind if I speak?"
Three pairs of eyes.
"If you're locking me up—let me walk. Cool?"
"You realize this is the Viceroy's Palace?"
"Impossible, Axel."
Normal human? Yes. Me?
"Sorry. I could manage."
Bluff—and truth. Slime, stored arsenal—escape or massacre? Doable.
"Bold. And if this happens?"
Cornelia's pistol—already aimed.
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