Tsar: Way Home

An uninvited Murim elder is most welcomed when he goes home.
-William Shakespeare, -

Fortunately, the earthquake subsided quickly.

A minor incident occurred where Irene Adler tried to exploit an opening and flee, but I promptly struck her acupoints and knocked her out.

“Even with your internal energy sealed by Pursuit Powder, you’re really acting without fear…”
“It’s like a last, desperate struggle, I suppose.”

While Watson murmured with a bitter expression, I laid Irene Adler back into the coffin and closed the lid.

“Anyway, that was almost a disaster. She’s truly a woman you can’t let your guard down around.”

I was startled by the sudden quake, but only for a moment.

I quickly realized what had happened on Britain’s land.

“I see…, so this too was the Vermilion Phoenix’s influence.”

I recalled what I had heard from Mycroft at the SIS safehouse.

Mycroft had said.
That a draft of Pliny the Elder’s Naturalis Historia, which recorded matters concerning the Golden Apple, had been found.

And at Elder Darwin’s house, I also heard that the Vermilion Phoenix had built its nest on a Himalayan peak where volcanic eruptions had occurred in the past.

After hearing their stories then, the first thought that came to mind was this.

Could the destruction of Pompeii have been the result of those who targeted the Vermilion Phoenix’s nest atop Mount Vesuvius incurring its wrath?

Even with suspicion, without evidence it was nothing more than conjecture, so I hadn’t thought deeply on it, but if that hypothesis was true, then the Yin-Yang collapse phenomenon a furious Vermilion Phoenix caused would surely have a significant impact on the dragon veins flowing underground.

If my deduction was right, the quake we just experienced might also have been the result of the dragon veins convulsing because the Vermilion Phoenix, radiating immense Yang Qi, drew near.

If so, the place most likely to be affected first would be a volcano.

And on Britain’s land, there was only one place that could be called a volcano.

“Glencoe…”

When I turned my head, Mycroft too seemed to have reached the same conclusion, leaning out the window to examine the northern sky.

‘For the record, Elder Darwin began moving north at full speed not long after you left the estate. Right after the red-faced golden parakeet he keeps flew off.’

When I met Elder Darwin and returned to the safehouse, Mycroft told me that.

A red-faced golden parakeet was a parrot. It mimicked human language.

Him heading north was likely to foresee this situation in advance and stop the dragon veins’ rampage before the volcano erupted.

He must have judged his strength alone insufficient and sent the parrot ahead to find someone who could help.

“If the quake calmed down quickly, we can assume Elder Darwin managed it.”
“But why would Elder Darwin suddenly…?”

Watson still wore an expression of confusion, but Mycroft and I exchanged glances quietly and nodded instead of launching into explanations.

Elder Darwin had moved for Britain’s common folk in a place we didn’t know.

If he did not wish it, it was the duty of juniors of London Murim not to expose that secret chivalry.

At some point, the false sunset that had been staining the eastern sky red seemed to be shrinking little by little.

“…Now it’s truly over.”

At last, I could breathe a sigh of relief.

Thus, London overcame a crisis once again.

We overcame the Tsar’s scheme and returned its child to the divine beast.

It was not something I could have done alone.

A miracle made by everyone accumulating chivalry, one act at a time, in their own places.

Alexander III had not been defeated by Sherlock Holmes.

What brought him down was the great city of London, and the will of those who lived here.

And…

The reason they could willingly set everything aside and move for London was—

“Unrelated, Watson, but the Yang-Qi outside seems to be returning to normal. How about we go out to eat tonight, with Mrs. Hudson. The three of us.”

Because each of them had someone they wanted to protect.

“I’m fine with it, but your condition…”
“That’s why I need to eat better. How about a roast dinner? Thick beef with gravy and potatoes.”
“Splendid!”

My London smiled faintly.

With slender, sharply defined eyebrows moving dynamically.

Meanwhile, Alexander III, waiting at the dock, gave orders to the captain the moment Ivan Pavlov arrived.

A Yun-Qi Speedboat that departed at once.

Like a Yun-Qi Locomotive, the ship used a Kung-Fuist’s internal energy as its power source, caught the wind, and began moving briskly eastward.

The sea was safe.
Here, there was no need to worry about the Vermilion Phoenix’s flames.

The Tsar and his four close guards were enjoying the North Sea wind with noticeably relaxed expressions.

Because the air had grown hot from the Vermilion Phoenix’s influence, the sea breeze was lukewarm in the extreme, but for those who had just been trapped inside a formation, even such middling wind was enough to feel liberating.

More than anything, they would soon return to Russia and walk amid cool winds.

Since they had failed to reclaim the Vermilion Phoenix this time, Saint Petersburg warming would be a matter for the distant future.

However, the Tsar was not impatient.

Pavlov had gone and confirmed Irene Adler’s death.

With that, what became of London was no longer the Tsar’s concern.

Whether their metropolis home burned, or survived.

Alexander III was satisfied that the thieving cat who stole his treasure had had its breath cut off.

Though he had been outplayed by the British and failed to seize the Vermilion Phoenix’s egg in time, he possessed superhuman patience.

Even if he could not fulfill the long-cherished wish that began in his father’s generation right away, he would gain another chance at the latest within a few years.

The Vermilion Phoenix had a habit of nesting where golden apple trees existed.

Rasputin had shown records of one that nested where there was no golden apple tree, then found an apple tree and moved its home.

Until now, that Enfant Terrible had never once brought incorrect information.

Then it was only a matter of time before the fragrance of the golden apple tree hidden at Lake Ladoga lured the firebird and made it settle.

Everything would be solved simply by waiting.

Saint Petersburg would surely gain an ice-free port in his generation.

It was a certain future.

And if the children who would inherit the imperial throne in the future could grow a few more golden apple trees, Russians would never need to fear winter again.

There was no need to be impatient.

In the martial world, there was no enemy who could stand against Russia, which endured the cold.

Alexander III had never doubted Russia’s potential.

“There’s no need to hurry. We’re already out at sea, so let us return at ease.”
“As you command.”

Even if he hurried back, he would have to face those who would criticize him using the pretext that he went to England before even finishing his late imperial father’s funeral.

He would also have to confront those who targeted his and his family’s lives, and he would have to deal with the gloomy boy Rasputin as well.

So for now.

He wanted to keep a peaceful mind, at least on the road back to the palace.

Fortunately, heaven granted his wish.

After disembarking and returning to Russia on a Yun-Qi Locomotive, Alexander III encountered no trouble at all.

No one attacked him to be a nuisance, no one who recognized his identity spoke to him, and no troubling news came from any Russian embassy in a country he stopped at along the way.

His family was safely in the palace without incident, and it seemed nothing noteworthy had occurred.

The problem arose after the Tsar returned to Saint Petersburg.

After exchanging embraces with his family and enjoying a nap for a couple of hours, the emperor set out for Lake Ladoga with his close aides to inspect the golden apple tree.

And the moment he boarded the boat, he saw it.

A column of smoke rising from Valaam Island in the distance.

“…?!”

Saint Nicholas Skete Church.

“What bastard dared…!!”

The golden apple tree was burning.

“Ahahahaha~!!! We were struck down without even a chance to respond…!! I, Rasputin, cannot help but admire the British skill this time…!!”

At the same time, in a small church Alexander III had prepared somewhere in Saint Petersburg, a young boy’s laughter echoed out.

Strange eyes that looked as if he had plucked stars from the glittering night sky and set them in one by one.

The boy who called himself Rasputin let out a hearty laugh as if delighted, watching the Russian sky outside the window.

Rasputin was a successor who had received the teachings of the great one, the Father of Stars and grandmaster.

He did not need to see with his own eyes to know what had just happened at Lake Ladoga.

The heavenly stars that watched over all things were directly letting the child hear their voices.

The Tsar’s plan had run aground.

That the firebird would never return to Russia again.

“Well, it doesn’t matter.”

He had already noticed for some time that someone had been digging into the secrets of Lake Ladoga’s island.

Drawing in the Vermilion Phoenix was only a small part of the plan anyway, so he simply hadn’t felt the need to worry much.

“Because the Tsar was away for a long time, I was able to finish the preparations I needed.”

If anything, this worked out well.

The beautiful boy, far taller than children his age, murmured that and turned his head into the church.

An ice-free port appearing in Saint Petersburg was nothing more than bait Rasputin threw out to win the Tsar’s favor.

The picture the child was drawing was utterly different from the fantasy the emperor held.

Compared to the great purpose of James Moriarty, the Father of Stars, the Tsar’s ambitions were no different from a child’s doodles.

“What I needed is now in hand, so I can wait for Father’s command at my leisure.”

The child’s gaze fixed on the naked woman kneeling and prostrating before the altar.

Her identity was Alexander III’s consort, Maria Feodorovna.

Her mind was already being toyed with in Rasputin’s hands.

This was all made possible by the efficacy of the Soul-Seizing Art, Hypnosis, he learned while studying under the grandmaster.

“The gift I will offer Father is almost fully prepared…”

The Enfant Terrible, perched atop the prostrated empress’s back like a chair, let out a sigh as if everything was bothersome.

“When will you come to see me again, I wonder?”

No one answered, but Rasputin was simply smiling with a pleased expression.

As if answering the boy’s question, the stars let down faint light onto the earth.

In the sky outside the window, the Milky Way flowed.

It was a night where the heaven’s secret, the weather, that decided the martial world’s fate poured down overhead.