After setting his clothes and satchel down on the dresser and propping his sword against the nightstand, Kirito flopped down onto the surprisingly soft feather mattress to try and get some sleep. His right hand slid onto the dresser and he tugged a small envelope from the top of the satchel. It was a letter written by Henrietta, the Princesses contribution to the mission.

Kirito held the letter above him, squinting as if he could see through the paper. Not that he needed to. He had seen the letter before it had been sealed, he knew what it said. The contents were brief and simply requested that the Royalists Offer whatever assistance they could in retrieving the lost Faeries and delivering them safely to Tristain. Henrietta had told Kirito that if he could deliver the letter into the hands of Prince Wales, if the Prince 'Valiant' still harbored any fondness for her, then he would help. The Princess had looked oddly ashamed as she had spoken.

Personally, Kirito had doubts about how helpful the Royalists might be. If they were as badly pressed as the Duchess claimed, he doubted the Royalists could spare the resources to smuggle three hundred people out of a country that was mostly controlled by their opposition. But at least the Royalists might be able to give him the whereabouts of the 'Knights of Blood' and by extension, Asuna.

Regardless, he would have to remember to find some way to thank the Princess for all of this. After all, she had been the one to bring up the mission to Albion and had spoken over the Duchesses' protests on his behalf. Having guides who knew the local culture and roughly the lay of the land, one of whom was also a veteran mage, would make getting to Newcastle much easier. Kirito just wished the Princess hadn't been so . . . amused upon seeing his faction disguise for the first time.

There had been an awkward moment of silence after Kirito had cast his faction disguise in that small room back at the academy. Sakuya and Alicia had been speechless. Even the Duchess Valliere had looked on with mild surprise before her expression grew neutral once more.

It had been Alicia who had broken the silence in the end. "Well, nobody will mistake you for a Faerie like that."

Sakuya had raised a hand to her lips to politely conceal her own smile. "Nobody will mistake him for a man either." The Sylph's smile faded as she saw the way that Kirito shifted awkwardly and realized just why he was doing so. "Oh my." Sakuya's expression grew suddenly concerned, "This is a bit awkward for you, isn't it Kirito-kun?"

"It's not a problem." Kirito had answered in an exacerbated voice as he tried to ignore all sensation, a difficult task when his brain was being hammered by nerve impulses that didn't quite fit anything in his experience. "I've dealt with worse."

Even Alicia had stopped her teasing now as she looked on in concern. "But how did this happen?" She asked. "I mean, Mimic was gender locked in ALfheim, just like avatar selection. I would have thought that would have become part of the spell."

Kirito had looked away, red faced, and scratched at his cheek. "I think . . . it's because I messed up." Kirito said, receiving blank stairs from the others in the room. "The Mimic skill needs a sample scan of the race you want to imitate. In game it was for balance reasons to make infiltration a little more challenging." He explained. "I made the mistake of scanning one of the maids here at the academy. It wasn't a problem when Mimicking the other Faerie races so I didn't think it would be a problem with humans either. But . . ." Kirito gestured vaguely to himself.

He froze as the Duchess stepped forward and circled him once. He had the distinct impression that she was memorizing the details of this face. "Princess, with your permission." The Duchess gestured with her wand.

Henrietta blinked in confusion and then shook her head. "Of course, you would know best."

"Excuse me?" Kirito raised a hand.

"This is nothing harmful." The Duchess explained before performing a short chant and pointing her wand at Kirito's chest. A cool almost electric tingle had run down Kirito's body, his skin prickling up like gooseflesh before subsiding. The Duchess frowned. "It appears that I cannot dispel the illusion." Turning to Lady Sakuya and Alicia Rue the Duchesses' eyes had narrowed. "Just how many of your people can use this spell?"

Sakuya and Alicia exchanged glances. "It's a Spriggan specialty since it's illusion magic. But even then its a pretty specialized spell." Alicia thought aloud. "I'd guess maybe a couple thousand people know how to do it."

"It would have been appreciated." The Duchess said slowly. "If you had mentioned this some time before now. You must understand the danger that illusion spells pose to legitimacy. The risk for subversion. An illusion that can't be dispelled easily only complicates the matter. If this became public knowledge among the nobility it might cause problems."

"It's not actually that useful." Kirito explained as he brushed an annoying strand of hair back behind his ear. "The spell doesn't let you choose your appearance, so its not like I can use it to impersonate someone. And once the spell is cast, the appearance is locked so you can't just recast until you get lucky." The Duchess looked unconvinced, eliciting a soft sigh from Kirito. "Do you really think I would have decided to look like this given the choice?"

The Duchess stroked at her chin as if trying to weigh whether this was the case. Wait, she couldn't really think that he would choose to be a girl? Could she? "Princess?" She asked.

Henrietta, having listened carefully until now, stepped forward to get a closer look. "It's quite convincing, wouldn't you agree?" The Princess observed and then extending her hand, tenderly poked Kirito's cheek. "And it certainly feels real."

"Well actually . . . That's the problem." Kirito said as he shifted again, he couldn't help it, his cheeks began to heat up.

"Oh?" Henrietta tilted her head curiously. "Oh . . . I'd have thought it would interesting to find out what it feels like."

"P-Princess!" Kirito stuttered, feeling himself blushing all the way down to his neck.

"Princess Henrietta?!" The Princess's comment had succeeded in the impossible, the Duchess looked shocked.

Henrietta simply smiled humorously. "Oh, its nothing but idle speculation. Certainly you've wondered about it, how your life might have turned out, if you'd been born a man that is." The Princess shook her head. "Think nothing of it." The Duchess had given the Princess an odd expression but had declined to say anything more. "Either way, we should be thankful for how effective the disguise is. It will make it much easier for Mister Kirito to travel freely in Albion, won't it?"

The Duchess seemed reluctant. "I can offer no further objections."

"Then it is decided." Henrietta smiled. "I wish you luck Mister Kirito, or should it be Miss Kirito?"

Felt his face twist up in an annoyed expression. "Neither." He crossed his arms. "If I'm trying to disguise my identity it would be pretty bad to get found out because this face shares a name with a Spriggan."

"Agreed." The Duchess Valliere said. "Do you have an alias in mind. Something that you would respond to naturally?"

Kirito gave it some thought and shrugged his shoulders once. "The only thing that I can think of like that is probably Midori. It's my mother's given name."

"With your features, a strange shouldn't raise too many questions, in fact it would be expected," the Duchess decided, "Very well."

After that, the Duchess and Kirito had spent some time constructing a simple back story in the event that Kirito was forced to explain his abilities. Kirito had also been given a crash course in the geography of Albion among other things before returning to Arrun with Lady Sakuya and Alicia Rue.

Turning over on the bed, Kirito's gaze fell on the window and the moonlight that slanted in through the wooden blinds. In the distance. The partially illuminated bulk of the Port Tree dominated the sky. Its crest smaller but so much closer that that of the World Tree.

A crashing noise came from outside and Kirito was suddenly alert. Rising smoothly from the bed and grabbing Split Moon in one fluid motion, Kirito went to the window and peered out. In the light cast by the twin moons, he could see a figure struggling to fight his way free from a particularly tenacious bush. The bush appeared to be winning. It appeared that the figure had been attempting to scale the outside of the hotel using a trellis. However, the wooden frame had come loose during the attempt and sent them crashing to the ground.

Squinting, Kirito felt his vision focus and the figure resolved into none other than Guiche de Gramont. Kirito frowned. Judging by the way he was flailing about, the fall hadn't hurt him too badly. The idiot would be okay. Probably. Why was he even here?

The fop had been making a pain of himself all the way from the Academy. Though he hadn't fallen behind or otherwise physically inconvenienced Kirito, the swordsman had caught him stealing glances the whole journey from Tristain. He was starting to gain a new appreciation for why Asuna had obscured her appearance when not on the Front Line.

Wait. The idiot had been climbing the outside of the hotel, near the baths . . . Had he been trying to peep?! Kirito felt his face growing hot. If his cover ended up blown because one of his traveling companions was a damned pervert, it would be . . . bad.

Members of the hotel staff were already starting to arrive to investigate the disturbance as Kirito returned to bed. Closing his eyes, he waited impatiently for morning to come.

Viscout Jean Jacques Francis de Wardes lay awake in bed, eyes gazing up through the ceiling above him. It was not the snoring of the idiot in the opposite bed that kept him up, nor any anxiety about this mission. Years of proving himself in battle, rising through the ranks of the Griffin Knights, and achieving status as a Captain of the Knight Corps had prepared him for much harsher sleeping accommodations.

What kept him awake tonight were his thoughts. The swordswoman Midori, she was an unknown variable, a complication. Unknowns were always bad, they couldn't be planned for. It didn't matter if they aided or hindered. Even an added danger was preferable so long as it was a known quantity. Less experienced men might have welcomed the addition of such a capable swordswoman. But to Wardes, Midori was a bigger problem than the idiot Gramont son.

The problem was two fold. What was she capable of and what was her mission? Answering either would give hints about the other. He reviewed what he already knew.

First, he believed her when she had stated that she could not cast much magic. Though rare, such afflictions did exist and Wardes had first hand experience with them through his connection to the Valliere family. However, he was certain she had not told the whole truth, after all, he had done the same. More likely she had further abilities or talents that she had not revealed.

Likewise, he was convinced that she had seen battle before, the girl did not hesitate in a fight. But just where had she fought and against who?

There was no way to question her further about either without drawing suspicion.

Then the next question, what was her mission in Albion? To be assigned at the last moment and with the support of the Duchess de la Valliere no less was a sign that great trust had been placed in the girl. Even now, Wardes doubted the illustrious 'Heavy Wind' would vouch for someone who had not proven themselves to her satisfaction. Three possibilities came to mind. Assassination, retrieval, or insurance.

An agent such as Midori would be uniquely suited as an assassin. No one would expect the strength and speed of that small body or the deadliness of that sword. Reconquista was as much a movement of opportunists as idealists. Though Wardes doubted that she would be able to reach someone as highly placed as Lord Cromwell. Eliminating certain key people could create a power vacuum that would set Reconquista's ambitions back by months and buy Tristain precious time.

While plausible, Wardes doubted this was the case. The girl seemed genuinely reluctant to kill. Though he didn't doubt her convictions. She simply lacked the demeanor of an assassin. Still, it would be simple enough to pass word to his contacts in Albion when they arrived. Reconquista would not be caught unaware by an innocent face.

The second possibility was retrieval. Midori's mission might parallel Wardes' own, to retrieve some document or artifact from the hands of the Royalists and return it to Tristain. This too was plausible, but Wardes' instincts were that it was not something so simple as another incriminating document or a Royal treasure. If it were, it would be better to entrust its retrieval to the same agent given the mission of recovering Henrietta's Letter. If the contents of the Letter were as damning as Henrietta had claimed, then surely an agent trusted with one mission could also see to the other.

The last possibility was a subset of the second. The letter was of great importance, though Wardes was not privy to its contents. Both Henrietta and Cardinal Mazarin were convinced that if it fell into the hands of Reconquista it would tear asunder the coming union of Germania and Tristain. Under these circumstances, there would be no single agent who could be completely trusted with the mission. So it would only be natural to set one to retrieve the letter and one to watch the retriever.

Wardes grimaced. In the past, he had been called upon to conduct a mission across the border into Gallia to investigate rumors of human experiments being conducted by the Gallian nobility. The products of Gallia's twisted research into perverting the Founder's holy gifts had been creatures of incredible strength and speed. Before he had been slain by one such monster, Wardes' former Captain had commented that they were like Manticores with the minds and forms of men.

Not only had the alchemic enhancements hardened their bodies, it had granted them a fortitude and viciousness that had forced Wardes to sear them with lightning until their skin had burned away, stone like muscle boiled and melted, and iron bones charred. He had achieved the rank of Square on that mission.

When he had returned victorious to Tristain, the samples and documents he had retrieved had been swiftly spirited away by mysterious members of the Tristain Academia. In fact, Midori might just be the product of that stolen research. How ironic.

If Midori really was his watcher and tried to interfere, she would find the same fate as those monsters six years ago. In a way, it would be a mercy. Wardes had perused the documents before handing them off. Unless the Academia had made serious improvements, Midori would have a decade at most before her body started to come apart at the seams. There had been a reason the Gallians had been using prisoners in their research.

In the end, all of this was simple speculation. Planning for eventualities. There was no point in taking it further without knowing more. Vaguely satisfied with his conclusions. Wardes sat up in bed, taking his sword-wand from the nightstand and waved it vaguely in the direction of Guiche. The grating sound of the boy's snoring vanished, leaving only blessed silence. The charm would hold until morning. In the mean time, Wardes laid back in bed and closed his eyes.

Sir Dunwell entered his private apartments in the Tower of Londinium, face ashen. Though his accommodations were luxurious, he would hardly have noticed in the best of times. Walking over to the window he undid the latch and let in the cool night air. The breeze did him little good. He couldn't forget what Lord Cromwell had shown him.

Now he knew why instructions had been sent to place the cadavers under preservation spells before they were transported back to the Capital for inspection. Standing in a vacated courtyard of the Royal Palace, Sir Dunwell and Sir Wells had watched as Lord Cromwell inspected the bodies laid out on cots. The 'Faeries' had been stripped of their armor clothing so that they could be thoroughly examined by the water mages. The Good Lord Cromwell had studied each in turn, eyes downcast regretfully.

"Such a shame that their past crimes must make us enemies. Wouldn't you agree, Sir Dunwell?" Cromwell had asked with a soft sigh.

"Of course, Lord Cromwell." Dunwell had replied mechanically, the same way he had replied to every order from the man.

Cromwell had stopped at one, a young woman, face small and innocent. From the front, her body appeared almost unblemished. A wood splinter had taken he through the heart from behind as she fled. She would have died quickly. Body laid out and eyes closed, her short brown hair gathered close. She looked deceptively peaceful.

"Such a waste." Cromwell said, and then brightened. "But there's no need for us to remain enemies after death now is there?"

"Sir?" Sir Dunwell asked.

Cromwell placed hand upon the girl's forehead and for a moment the ring he wore flickered with an inner light. When he stepped away, Dunwell's eyes widened slightly. A faint flush was returning to the girl's cheeks and with every second it spread further. Lips reddened and parted with a soft intake of air and brown eyes opened and looked about. The girl rose, seemingly undisturbed by her state of undress.

At Dunwell's side, Sir Wells was already reaching for his cane-wand. Behind him, Scirroco let out a low, distressed cry.

"Welcome back to the land of the living my child!" Cromwell said jovially. The girl looked to Cromwell curiously. "Tell me, what is your name?"

The girl blinked. "I am called Aki, but my real name is Ozu Akari."

Cromwell nodded. "A lovely name." He said politely. "What is the last thing you remember?"

"I remember dying." The girl replied calmly and then turned and looked straight at Sir Wells. "He's the one who killed me." She said. The voice contained no hint of emotion, not even an accusation.

Cromwell frowned and shook his head. "Alas, that won't do! Sir Wells is a righteous Knight of Reconquista, a holy soldier in our crusade against the elves. In life he was your enemy, but in death I am sure you can both be great friends." Wells had taken another step back.

"Lord Cromwell." Wells asked shaken. "What is this?"

The Leader of Reconquista smiled magnanimously. "This is the power of the Founder himself. This is the power of Void! In life these Elves were sinful creatures, the great enemy, but in death even they can be granted the Founder's mercy and be redeemed to our cause!"

"I'm not an Elf." The girl said, receiving stares from all three men.

"Excuse me my Dear?" Cromwell asked politely.

"I'm not an Elf. I was human. Now I am a Faerie. That is what Kimura called us when we woke up here."

"It is what they appear to call themselves." Dunwell said slowly, frowning. He hadn't quite believed that they were Elves, but Faeries? "What do you mean you were once human?"

The girl starred at Dunwell with those dark eyes. "Answer Sir Dunwell's question."

"We were all human once. When we woke up in this place we had been transformed into Faeries. Before that we were in floating Castle of Aincrad in the game of Sword Art Online and before that most of us were residents of the nation of Japan on the plant Earth." The girl spoke calmly, eyes blinking at regular intervals as if it was a affectation rather than a need.

Dunwell had questioned further as Lord Cromwell and Sir Wells watched on, but he had been mystified by the answers and every effort to clarify left him with only more questions. "What about the girl with the wings. Who was she?"

"You must mean Asuna-sama." 'Aki' said. "She was our Leader. Commander of the Knights of Blood and the third strongest clearer in SAO. Only the Black Swordsman and Heathcliff-sama were her superiors." So an accomplished soldier.

"What more can you tell me about her?" Dunwell pressed. The girl starred calmly and then looked to the other bodies. She pointed to one in particular. The man that Dunwell had done battle with. "Arguile-san could tell you more."

Cromwell beamed, "Well then, I do believe there will be lots of opportunities for salvation today, don't you?"

"Lord Cromwell." A voice came from the far side of of the courtyard. A dark haired woman stood, arms crossed beneath her chest.

"Ah, Lady Sheffield!" Cromwell smiled, "We've been having a fascinating conversation with this young Faerie. Why don't you join us?"

Sir Dunwell nodded his head to Reconquista's financier. The woman was a mystery, even to him. All that he had been able to determine was that she possessed immense financial resources, and seemingly, a vested interest in Reconquista's cause.