Calixte

The seens shifted again, I was throw again into the skies again. I was floating next to my plane that sored through the sky.

It was her. I was sure of it. That voice was burned into my mind. I would remember it until the day I die.

That was unfortunately the truth. Even if I killed her by shooting her out of the sky, that voice would haunt me until my dying day.

The fighter that almost killed me. She wasn't a born Florentinian, but a mercenary. An Irish mercenary if our information was correct. Emer Gallagher was hands down the best pilot that I had ever had the misfortune of meeting in open-air combat.

"Hello again, Prince Calixte!" Emer said cheerfully. I didn't know if the Irish were called Irish in the world, Britain was named Britannia, but she spoke with a thick Irish accent.

Even now, being on the other end of that haunting voice, it was still attractive. I was still atttractied to it. If I didn't have two wives with a third on the way, I would have gone to the fantasy world of
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