" Iver has left."
Isabel watched Iver ride Leviathan away alone, disappearing into the yellow sands, and murmured, "When will he come back...?"
"What, are you worried about him?"
Sherlock spoke gloomily from behind her. "If you ask me, there's no need for that at all, Isabel."
After Isabel relinquished the throne, he gradually stopped calling her "Her Majesty the Queen."
For both of them, it was actually a kind of relief—for Avalon had to be shouldered by Isabel if there was no alternative, but Isabel had never wanted to be queen. In fact, in her mind, the term "Princess" had always felt incredibly distant.
As for Sherlock... the only person he could still respectfully call "Her Majesty the Queen" was Isabel's grandmother, Sofia, the former Queen of Avalon.
Now that Sherlock could address her by name, omit the honorific, and speak to her like a junior, it was precisely proof that he had grown increasingly close to Iver and Isabel.
In front of Isabel, Sherlock did not call Iver "Fox." Instead, he solemnly called him by name. "Iver has never disappointed me. I'm sure this time will be no different."
"Rather than worry, I'd say I miss him."
The corners of Isabel's lips lifted slightly as she spoke lightly. "It's been a long time since I've seen Iver this excited... His spirits have been revived, and the flames in his eyes seem to have come alive."
"Because he was born wanting to challenge the limits."
Sherlock answered in a low voice, "It's just that this blade had grown somewhat dull before."
At the beginning, Iver could even be described as someone who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals. Though those goals might themselves have been driven by righteous and noble motives, that did not make his actions