Re:Zero – Starting Life in Another World – Vol. 4 Ch. 4

Re:Zero – Starting Life in Another World. Volume. 4.

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‘Chapter 4:- THE CANDIDATES FOR THE THRONE AND THEIR KNIGHTS.’

 

 
Sub-chapter 1.

The wild-eyed girl with scruffy blond hair had worn, grimy old rags. She was a tempestuous girl of the slums, more grubby than hardy. That was the image of the girl named Felt in Subaru’s mind.

As Reinhard made his declaration, the ladies-in-waiting quietly accompanied Felt as she walked into the throne room. Gracefully walking atop the red carpet, she looked like a nobleman’s daughter.

Subaru had thought long before, She might sparkle if someone polished her up. But this unhewn stone, polished via the power of Reinhard’s family, was not only sparkling.—Indeed, the only term to do her justice was radiant.

Felt slowly passed by Subaru’s dumbfounded gaze and stood before Reinhard. He nodded with a charming smile at her appearance and addressed her with the utmost respect.

“Lady Felt, thank you for gracing us with your presence.”

Felt raised her eyes and called out to him.

“—Reinhard.”

Reinhard responded to her clear-as-a-bell voice.

“Yes?”

Knight and lady, their eyes met. And then…

“—Why you. What’s the big idea, dragging me in here with no explanation?!”

…she raised the hem of her dress, her long, slender leg tracing an arc—an arc that was about to slam right into the tip of Reinhard’s chin when the knight raised a hand, stopping it short.

“I am quite surprised. What brought this on so suddenly?”

Remaining balanced on one leg, Felt violently slapped at her dress in anger.

“Don’t block me and then play dumb! It’s this place! These clothes! Them! You! What the hell is going on here?! I can’t take any more of this!”

It was an expensive dress, no doubt custom-ordered for her. Seeing it treated so roughly sent the ladies attending her wilting to the floor as if their eyes were spinning.

“You did not like the dress? I believe it looks very good on you.”

“This isn’t about the dress, and it’s not that it’s embarrassing! I’m saying that I hate it! And not just the dress! I hate you too! Don’t you think abducting and holding a girl against her will is embarrassing for a knight of honor?!”

Reinhard declared without hesitation, “If it is for the prosperity of the kingdom, it must be done.”

Felt put a hand to her forehead as if he was giving her a headache.

Subaru remarked to himself, “I’m so glad. I thought she’d completely changed, but it’s only how she looks. I guess leopards really don’t change their spots, and it isn’t just me!”

It would’ve made a sorry story for Old Man Rom if he’d had to report back that she’d become a whole different person.

He was relieved at being able to confirm she was safe and sound in a place he never expected. On the other hand, he couldn’t help but think Felt being dragged into becoming a royal candidate was prearranged rather than mere coincidence. After all, Reinhard had met her in the first place because she’d been the one to steal Emilia’s badge…

Emilia, realizing who Felt was, had apparently reached the same conclusion as Subaru.

“That girl…from back then…?! That’s why Reinhard was so surprised…”

From Emilia’s point of view, Felt had gone from the thief of her badge to her rival for the very throne.

The other candidates, the knights, and the nobles all displayed appropriate reactions to the newcomer’s crude behavior, none friendly. Under the austere stares, Felt clicked her tongue rudely.

In the short time Subaru had known her she’d never been this much of a brat. He guessed that it was a product of various things during the last month. Subaru had been through a lot, but her transformation from a street urchin to a royal candidate was a Cinderella story to rival his.

Felt was scanning the chamber to size up her surroundings when she suddenly noticed Subaru among the knights in the front row and brightened.

“Oh, hey! What are you doing here, mister?”

Felt shoved Reinhard away with a hand on his chest and walked over without a care.

Where did all that ladylike behavior go? Subaru wondered as he raised a hand, delighted to greet a friendly face.

“Hi, it’s been a while. Looks like you’re in good health!” said Felt.

The instant the sunny greeting escaped her lips, she kicked Subaru straight in the stomach, sending him crumbling to his knees.

Violence out of the blue. Subaru groaned, forcing himself up with one leg as Felt crossed her arms and nodded, remarking, “Looks like your belly’s all healed up, but you’ve got a whole bunch of new scars in other places. You okay there?”

“If you’re worried, take it easy on me, damn it…! What’s with the hard smack instead of a hi? Geez, what if you’d broken something… It’s not like it’s been that long, either.”

Even though the wound was now fully closed, Subaru had a big, white horizontal scar right across his belly. He had scars from demon beast bites all over his body, too.

He couldn’t talk about scars on the back being the shame of a knight any longer.

Though calm and reserved on the surface, Marcus motioned toward the dais, wanting to continue the meeting’s proceedings.

“Lady Felt, if you are finished greeting your old friend, could you please come this way?”

Felt scowled at the solemn look on his face, glowering as she stepped forward.

“So what do you want me to do here?”

Reinhard replied, “‘Act more like a lady,’ I would like to say, but instead, I would have you hold this.”

Felt scowled at Reinhard’s joke. Reinhard took a dragon emblem out of his pocket and deposited it in her palm. The gemstone immediately emitted a white light.

“I thought this back when I stole one of these, too, but these are strange rocks. Why do they glow?”

Felt had blithely said something very dangerous. Marcus seemed to notice her careless statement.

“Stealing?”

But Reinhard immediately followed up, “As you can see, the Dragon Jewel acknowledges Lady Felt as a maiden. Now that her participation has been confirmed, I believe that this royal selection now begins in a true sense.”

Marcus put a hand to his chest and knelt down on one knee. Reinhard followed suit, then all the Knights of the Royal Guard.

The knights reported their mission was a success. Thanks to their efforts, five Dragon Maidens had been found—in other words, the candidates for the next queen of Lugunica had been assembled.

Priscilla remarked, “I see. Thus, this day will go down in history.”

This was the very definition of a huge, must-see event. Surely, everyone present had to be deeply moved by the occasion, or so Subaru thought as he watched—and noticed that, for their part, the government officials appeared troubled, with bewilderment and astonishment plain in their expressions.

And one man from among them stepped forward.

“Pardon me, if I may?”

He was a middle-aged man with a stoop and unhealthy-looking bags under his eyes. He stroked his thick beard as an apparent nervous tic.

“I have no words sufficient to thank the knights of the kingdom, and the Knights of the Royal Guard in particular, for everything related to this royal selection ceremony. Without their assistance, it surely would not have been possible to arrange this in such a short time.”

Marcus replied, “You are too kind.”

“However, and it brings me no joy to say this, even though we are following the Dragon Tablet, are there not various…issues, with those selected?”

“You are saying what, exactly?”

“I am wondering if we have been too focused on those qualified to be Dragon Maidens, and not enough on those qualified to wear the very crown of the kingdom without becoming an object of ridicule?”

The declaration of the hunchbacked man was clearly tinged with anger.

“Hear, hear!” said a few other civil officials in a display of support.

He continued, “The Covenant with the Dragon is the gravest matter. Lugunica has come this far as the Dragonfriend Kingdom and cannot survive as a nation without the Covenant. But valuing the Covenant so much more than the people will sow the seeds of future discord.”

“In other words, the Dragon Maidens that we knights spilled our blood to search for would not make kings worthy of our fealty?”

“Th-that is not how I would put it, but essentially, yes.”

The man broke out in a cold sweat at Marcus’ frank summation, and after a moment he acknowledged the true meaning of his oblique comments. The knights had desperately toiled to solve a nearly unsolvable problem. This ridicule of their efforts did not exactly instill pleasant emotions in them.

Subaru, standing with the knights, felt the hot anger all around him on his skin. He remarked, “Smells like something’s burning in here…”

Hearing Subaru’s murmur, Al cheerfully spoke to two other people in the same row.

“Well, it sure sounded like he was insulting the knights. I don’t mind, but what do you two think?”

The two he’d addressed, Julius and Ferris, turned their heads toward Al and Subaru. Ferris spoke first.

“Your dear Ferri doesn’t really mind, meow? I mean, whatever Beardy says, Ferri’s fealty is already to one person alone, you see.”

Julius followed up. “I will not go quite as far as Ferris, but I feel the same. I have already pledged my blade. One day, they will offer their fealty to another. I do not intend to be so narrow-minded that my heart should be disturbed prior to that day.”

Not one to be outdone, Al said, “Ha, that’s mighty fine of you. Of course, it’s the same with me where Princess is concerned.”

The two others could only make wry smiles at that.

Subaru wasn’t exactly enjoying being the odd man out.

Ferris had Crusch. Al had Priscilla. That would have to make Julius a supporter of Anastasia. They were three knights, bearing the full trust of their masters. Comparing their position to his own sent a keen sense of inferiority through Subaru, even though he no doubt wanted to fulfill Emilia’s wishes at least as much as any of the rest…

Subaru felt a strange feeling of unease as the back and forth in the throne room intensified. The earlier opinion was only the beginning as the civil officials aired their discontent one by one.

“One must be both maiden and king. Perhaps they are not sufficiently aware that they must wear the crown?”

“No matter how dressed up they are, their demeanor exposes their true natures.”

“They are not refined enough. Their education is lacking. How can they be monarchs like this?”

A familiar voice interrupted the civil officials.

“Surely it is not a proooblem. I would think such a bounty of personaaality will make for a highly amuuusing royal selection.”

“You be quiet!”

Subaru looked at Emilia and the others. No doubt Felt’s crude, in-your-face attitude earlier was what had really set the civil officials off. But he couldn’t say the other candidates hadn’t sparked any unease themselves.

In truth, Emilia’s expression, as if trying to endure the pain, hurt him acutely. He wanted from the bottom of his heart to rush over that moment and give her a shoulder to lean on.

Miklotov’s single word quieted the throne room.

“—Silence.”

As the man of highest stature there, Miklotov narrowed his eyes as he regarded Felt. After keeping his silence for a time, the old man let out his breath.

“Mmmm. That was somewhat irreverent behavior, so I do understand Mr. Rickert’s view. In that light, I believe everyone should hear a brief summation of the candidate’s personal history.”

A bald, stern-faced old man seconded Miklotov’s opinion.

“…Indeed. We can decide whether she is suitable or not from that.”

Seeing the rest of the Council of Elders nod, the civil official apparently named Rickert took a step back. Miklotov continued, “Sir Reinhard. We would first hear the highlights of what you know.”

After he was called, Reinhard bent down on one knee in a show of the utmost respect. Subaru wasn’t even involved, but a cold sweat broke out over him nonetheless. After all, a blunt telling of the truth would naturally expose Felt’s life of crime and stir up more problems.

“Until approximately one month ago, Lady Felt was living in a corner of the Lower Quarter of the royal capital—also known as ‘the slums.’ An occasion arose where she had an opportunity to touch a Dragon Jewel. Having judged that she was qualified to be a Dragon Maiden, I brought her with me as a matter of course.”

Assuaging Subaru’s concerns, Reinhard made his report while deftly dancing around the problematic parts. The explanation had huge, glaring gaps, but the assembly did not focus on those, but rather, certain other things.

“A waif from the slums… Sir Reinhard, are you insane?!” Rickert exploded. “You bring a vagrant from the streets to a ceremony to select the monarch who must shoulder the future of Lugunica?! Just what do you think the royal throne is?!”

“…”

Reinhard had done as asked, expressing utmost courtesy to those on the platform. His gallant profile did not reveal the slightest hint of negativity. Rickert directed his words at Miklotov next.

“Someone should be selected who is suitable for the crown. We cannot simply lay our hands on whoever happens to walk be—”

As Rickert eloquently attempted to sway Miklotov, a familiar voice dashed cold water over his efforts.

“Mr. Rickert, you are sliiightly too heated over this matter, are you nooot?”

“Nonsense, Roswaal. Nor do I approve of your conduct. Not only I, but all of the officials. Until now we have overlooked this because we are in a time of crisis, but I shall still my tongue no longer. Not about the House of Astrea hauling a waif into these halls, nor you, the fool nominating a half-demon to be monarch…!”

“—Mr. Rickert. I would suggest you amend your comments.”

The frigid words reverberated throughout the chamber. Rickert’s face, red from indignation, paled. Roswaal continued, “It is poor manners to address a half-elf as a ‘half-demon.’ Furthermore, Lady Emilia remains a royal candidate… Do you understand which of us should remember his place?”

Roswaal’s tone of voice was unchanged from the norm, but the power behind it made Rickert avert his gaze. He shook his head, as if to conceal his intimidation, and dramatically motioned to the dais.

“A-and what of it? I do not believe my claim to be in error. Qualified as Dragon Maiden does not mean qualified to be king. Lord Miklotov! Please reconsider! The future prosperity of the kingdom cannot be built upon the election of an obscene royal candidate such as—”

“—Sir Reinhard.”

The sage addressed not Rickert, attempting to sway his view, but the red-haired knight.

“Is this girl…?”

“I cannot be absolutely certain, for the means to prove with certainty no longer exist.—However, I must resist the urge to call this coincidence happenstance.”

“What would you call it, then?”

“—I would call it fate.”

At Reinhard’s reply, Miklotov closed his eyes as if that statement held some special meaning.

Neither Subaru nor those around him had any idea what the two were talking about. It seemed only the pair knew to what they referred. Surrounded by such confusion, Miklotov put a hand to his forehead, as if lamenting the situation, and looked across the other old men.

“Have you not noticed? Take another good look at Lady Felt.—If you cannot tell even then, I must question your fidelity to your own kingdom.”

In response to Miklotov’s challenge, the occupants of the chamber held their breaths and gazed at Felt. Felt, at the eye of a storm of unrestrained stares, scowled openly.

Rickert bluntly pointed out Felt’s shortcomings.

“Looking at her, of course one can tell…she is still very young, and there are far too many things she would have to learn before setting foot near a thro—!”

Suddenly, his face stiffened as if he’d realized something, his eyes opening wide in shock.

“B-blond hair and crimson eyes—?!”

Once Rickert said it, the other officials were struck with similar force like a row of dominos. The only one not affected was Subaru, ignorant of common knowledge in that world.

When Subaru glanced to the side, Ferris and Julius appeared to understand. He couldn’t tell what in the world Al was thinking, per usual, but Al showed no special sign of surprise.

“Blond hair and crimson eyes—these are peculiar to the bloodline of the Lugunica Royal Family. But! It cannot be! The entire royal bloodline passed away in that incident half a year ago! It is simply impossible that this girl could—”

Reinhard calmly interrupted Rickert’s forceful denial.

“—Mr. Rickert, are you aware of a certain incident in the palace some fourteen years ago?”

The words from Reinhard’s lips struck Rickert with even greater force.

“Sir Reinhard… Surely, you are not saying that…”

“Fourteen years ago, thieves infiltrated the castle and abducted the daughter of the late second prince, Lord Fold. The thieves were permitted to escape, and the daughter was never found.”

This was the kind of national failure that was never leaked to outsiders.

“As the matter was not written upon the Dragon Tablet, the thieves were easily permitted to infiltrate the royal palace at the time. Since there were a number of other urgent matters, an all-out search for the daughter was not conducted.”

“Mmmm. That incident was the trigger for the dissolution and reconstitution of the Knights of the Royal Guard. Your kinsmen were not uninvolved in this matter, I believe?”

“Thus, I have information that would otherwise be unknown to me. And based upon this…”

Miklotov replied to Reinhard’s minimalist reply with a nod of his own. However, Rickert’s frenzy showed no sign of diminishing.

“That is an extreme—no, an irrational position! Are we to believe a daughter of the royal household vanished without a trace fourteen years ago, came to live in the slums, and now you incidentally discovered her with the royal selection nearing?! And furthermore, you just so happened to find out that she is qualified as a Dragon Maiden?!”

Even after the barrage of information Rickert was still standing.

“This is absurd!” he laughed. “This is all too contrived. You could easily have found a girl with maiden qualifications and dyed her hair and used magic to alter the color of her eyes.—Surely you have not engaged in such shameful behavior?”

“I swear it upon my sword.”

Reinhard laid the sword at his hip upon the floor, offering it in a show of the highest respect. Rickert, seeing the knight among knights displaying such deference, sank into a heavy slouch.

“…With all of the royal family already lost, no means exist to confirm whether she has royal blood or not. I do not think anyone will bow their heads based on mere supposition about her identity.”

“That is natural. However, I am certain that Lady Felt is worthy of throne…even without a claim by blood.”

Reinhard’s unshaken reply drew a resigned sigh from Rickert.

“It seems that the Sword Saint of our age is rather invested in her.”

Once more, he turned his gaze to Felt, the subject of the matter at hand.

“Setting aside your maiden qualifications, you hail from the slums.—And it is possible you possess the royal bloodline, presumed lost. I cannot even begin to fathom the distress this must bring you. Are you determined to see this through?”

The statement sounded like a test, a ritual so that Rickert could use her reply to let go of his misgivings. Only when he received Felt’s reply could he allow the discussion to end.

But Felt flatly denied her qualification, completely ignoring the flow of the conversation to that point.

“Huh? What are you talking about, old guy? I never said one word about being king.”

The unexpected reply caught everyone in the chamber off guard.

“I got dragged here out from the slums against my will,” she continued. “I told him to take me back and he wouldn’t, and he hid my old clothes so I had to wear this stupid thing. I am way past ticked! I’m annoyed a million times over! No, I don’t accept this!”

Felt’s rage-filled rant brought another awkward silence over the hall. Even Subaru, famously unable to read the mood, could tell that things were going south.

Among the silent remaining candidates, Priscilla, her arms crossed with a bored expression, spat out, “—How long are you going to entertain this boring, pointless discussion?”

As all eyes fell upon the girl, her full bosom shook above her folded arms.

“Even if it is in name only, five have been assembled so the process can commence. All we need do is begin, and the unworthy will be culled in due course. After all, I shall be the last one standing. Whether the excess baggage is qualified to be king or not is completely beside the point.”

Priscilla’s brash, irrational argument drew a heated reaction from Felt.

“Ahh…?”

She leaped down from the dais and glared at Priscilla head-on.

“I was thinking earlier you were a good-looking chick, but I guess it’s a flower bed inside your head, too, huh? If you wanna pick a fight, I’m game. Everyone knows with me you get more than you bargained for.”

“Such arrogance. Do you know who I am…?”

“Ha, like I’d know…!”

Felt brushed off Priscilla’s statement with a loud laugh. Priscilla’s eyes cruelly narrowed.

With Subaru’s breath catching from the decisive change in the atmosphere, Al shouted from beside him, “Princess, this is—”

He must have known exactly what Priscilla was about to do.

Then, at Al’s shout, a gust wind cut across the chamber. Reinhard moved directly in front of her in a split second and spoke in a quiet voice.

“—Pardon me, Lady Priscilla.”

In the literal blink of an eye, the knight, on one knee on the dais a moment before, had come between the two royal candidates. The red-haired knight was facing the orange-haired girl—and behind him, Emilia held Felt close to protect her.

Emilia’s violet eyes filled with anger as she chewed Priscilla out.

“Such hostility in an important place like this… What are you thinking?!”

However, Priscilla waved off the nuisance with a hand, numb to any pangs of guilt.

“I am merely teaching an untrained bitch her proper place. After all, impoliteness toward me can only be repaid with one’s life.”

Emilia pressed the point against the unrepentant Priscilla.

“Won’t you say you’re sorry? Or do you actually not realize you’ve done something wrong?”

For an instant, the words made Priscilla’s face go blank. Then, she glanced at Emilia with barely constrained laughter.

“Ahh, this is most amusing. I have rarely been so entertained. You may take that as a compliment.”

“What a disagreeable child you are. What are you talking a—”

“One should apologize for doing something wrong, you say? If that is the case, why do you not apologize, silver-haired half-elf? In your case, ‘I’m sorry I was ever born.’”

Even Subaru could tell that the shock had shot right through Emilia’s entire body. Her shoulders shuddered, and her fearlessness faded from her eyes, replaced by acute pain.

“I-I have…no relationship to the Witch…”

“Does such an excuse mean anything to anyone? You are the spitting image of the being that is taboo to the world. The very sight of you fills people with fear and makes their hearts tremble. Is that not why you cover yourself and obscure your appearance?”

Assaulted on all sides by Priscilla’s acrimonious words, Emilia silently bowed her pale face.

Even Subaru understood Priscilla’s meaning. He understood it, but he could not accept it, for it unjustly brought pain to Emilia for reasons that had nothing to do with her whatsoever.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Yet, once again, Subaru had to wait to act as Al, his face unreadable under his helm, offered a frank critique of Priscilla’s despotism.

“Princess, can we leave it at that? Adding more enemies here seriously puts us in a bind, especially if one of ’em’s the Sword Saint. How ’bout you just apologize?”

“My vassal should not make such a pathetic display. And what of the Sword Saint? Merely the supposed mightiest in the land. Do something.”

“I wouldn’t last one minute…”

Al had calmly assessed the tale of the tape, raising the white flag in short order. His demeanor brought exasperation to Priscilla’s face, and all the malice and enmity to that point seemed to dissipate.

No one in the room, Subaru included, could conceal their shock at Al’s skillful handling of such a ferocious beast. But at the very least, the immediate threat of an explosive situation had been defused.

With that matter settled, the chamber settled into silence once more. Abruptly, a high-pitched ring echoed throughout—the sound of a coin being tossed into a bowl. Miklotov thus gathered the group’s attention.

“—Is everyone satisfied? It would seem that both Lady Felt and Lady Emilia have calmed sufficiently…”

Emilia replied first.

“Y-yes… I’m all right. It would seem she is also…”

“Let me go, already! It’s not like I even did anything!”

In response to Felt’s outburst, Emilia hastily nodded and let her go.

“I was fine, so you didn’t need to do nothin’!” she fumed. “Do I look like some weak little kid to you?!”

“…Yes, it was unnecessary. I am sorry.”

“—I’m not thanking you.”

Felt scowled. Noticing her attitude, Reinhard politely nodded to Emilia before returning to the knights, leaving Emilia and Felt to uncomfortably line up with the other candidates. Only Priscilla seemed unchanged, wearing the same bored look she had begun with. She didn’t look like she was reflecting on the error of her ways in the slightest.

Either way, Miklotov, seeing that the dispute had been settled, announced anew, “Then, let us proceed with our agenda—the dispute over the royal succession. The Council of Elders hereby proposes a meeting between all the candidates for the royal selection.”

Sub-chapter 2.

Miklotov’s most solemn announcement brought tension to the chamber again. Spontaneously, even the candidates stood a little straighter; the faces of the spectators no longer looked relaxed.

Miklotov scanned the expressions of the other members of the Council of Elders, seeking confirmation with his announcement of the formal start of the meeting. In answer, the old men dipped their heads in assent one by one.

“I thank you for your approval. Let us begin the debate. Though the subject under discussion is who shall be king…the issue is the method of selection. We have assembled candidates via the Dragon Jewels, but the method of selection is not set in stone. To determine this, I thought it best to first ask how far the candidates are willing to go.”

The members of the Council of Elders nodded alongside Miklotov’s words. Seeing that there were no objections, Miklotov looked toward Marcus, standing at the ready on a corner of the dais. The knight stepped forward once more, bowing deeply as a proxy for everyone in the hall.

“Then, if I may be so bold, I shall continue. I believe each candidate present has a case to make. I would have all in the chamber hear these arguments. First, let us please begin with Lady Crusch.—Sir Felix Argyle!”

Crusch calmly nodded at Marcus’s words.

“Mm.”

Ferris casually raised a hand.

“Yes, sir!”

As Ferris jogged ahead to join Crusch’s side, she looked up at Marcus along the way, pushing up her cheeks with her index fingers.

“Captain, Ferri keeps telling mew, it’s Ferris, not Felix. It hurts Ferri’s feewings.”

Marcus’s chin shot up immediately.

“I have no intention of granting special treatment to any subordinates, including you. Present yourself.”

Ferris stuck her tongue out in dissatisfaction as she stood by her master’s—Crusch’s—side.

“Crusch Karsten, royal candidate and head of the House of Karsten.”

“Ferris of the House of Karsten, Lady Crusch’s knight.”

Crusch announced herself without the slightest display of timidity, and Ferris remained as casual as ever. Marcus amended her self-introduction.

“Sir Felix Argyle.”

The scowl on Ferris’s face was quite blatant.

Subaru remarked, “Huh, so her real name is Felix? That’s a very guy-ish name there.”

In Japan, the eldest children of old samurai families were known to inherit a certain name regardless of gender. There was also a well-established fad where dating games would gender-swap generals out of the history books and turn them into very pretty girls.

“Subaru, haven’t you heard?” Reinhard replied.

“Heard what?”

“Ferris doesn’t just have a man’s name. He is very much a male.”

“—”

Reinhard’s statement brought Subaru’s thoughts to a halt. He folded his arms, inclined his head, closed his eyes, and earnestly mulled over the meaning of those words.

“What…did you say…just now?”

“Ferris doesn’t just have a man’s name. He is very much a male.”

Word for word, syllable for syllable, Reinhard repeated the very important statement.

The instant his mind processed the information, Subaru’s yell echoed throughout the hall.

“Whaaaaaaaa—?!”

“That’s a guy?! Or is the knight among knights just really bad at jokes? This isn’t funny!”

He wailed as he looked Ferris over from top to bottom.

Certainly, Ferris was tall for a girl. But those facial features and body contours struck him as completely feminine. Some parts were understated for a woman’s body, but there were plenty of women in the world with flat chests, even as adults. That wasn’t proof of anything.

However, Crusch, having maintained her silence on the matter until then, affirmed that the cause of his shock was the truth.

“Ah, it is your first time seeing him? I can firmly declare that my knight, Ferris, is a man.”

“A-anyone can say anything… I need proof. Yeah, I won’t believe without proof!”

“When I was young, Ferris and I bathed together, and he certainly had a male organ between his…”

“I’m very sorry!! I don’t want to make a pretty girl speak of male organs! My mistake!!”

And thus, Subaru surrendered in spectacular fashion. He glared at Ferris, now standing at Crusch’s side.

“This is your fault, too, damn it! You led me on! A guy under those cat ears, ugh! Just remembering that nibble is making me shudder!”

“Hey meow, you got it wrong all on your own, Subawu. Ferri never said one word about being a girl.”

“Don’t mess with me, you bitch—correction, you bastard!”

Ferris giggled, sticking his tongue out with a wink. Crusch seemed satisfied as she commented, “Everyone makes that face when they find meowt. It’s so amusing and never gets old.—Not many have such a big reaction, though.”

This brought an uncharacteristic scowl to Miklotov’s face.

“Mmmm. It is in poor taste to continue this, knowing what shall result, Lady Crusch.”

For her part, Crusch’s face firmed up again slightly as she shook her head.

“It seems that you misunderstood, Lord Miklotov. I do not instruct Ferris to dress like this. All of it is of his free will.”

Rickert lodged an objection to Crusch’s words.

“Though I believe it is a master’s duty to see that a vassal is appropriately dressed…”

Crusch’s eyes narrowed in response.

“It is a master’s duty to see that a vassal is appropriately dressed, you say? In that case, I indeed desire that Ferris be dressed as he is now. Do you understand why?”

“Why, I wonder?”

“It is very simple.—One should be attired in the manner that makes one’s soul shine the brightest. Ferris’s current attire suits him far better than knightly armor, just as I wear my own outfit because it suits me better than any dress.”

Crusch pushed out her chest in a display of personal pride as she spoke. As Ferris stood beside her, she—or rather, he—smiled at the sight of his gallant master.

The sight of Crusch so poised made Rickert lose all stomach for an argument. As he kept his silence, Subaru too could not help but feel his chest stir in the face of Crusch’s composure.

Reinhard remarked, in a voice that seemed rather loud considering the circumstances, “That is Lady Crusch for you… Among the candidates, she is the first to voice her opinion but also the one with the strongest support. Whatever she says, she speaks with a different sense of confidence than the others.”

“What do you mean?” Subaru asked Reinhard from the side.

“The House of Karsten that Lady Crusch heads is a family of dukes and duchesses that have supported the Kingdom of Lugunica since early in its history. The house has proven its loyalty to the nation through many deeds. And the wisdom with which Lady Crusch herself leads as such a young duchess makes her the favorite of the royal selection.”

“So she’s… I see, the favorite based on early scoring.”

Even Subaru, lacking detailed knowledge of ranks and titles, knew that she was only a few steps removed from the top of the pyramid. With the royal family wiped out, public opinion probably favored someone close to the late king.

The faint murmur spread through the hall as people all around nodded to each other about Crusch’s superiority. Apparently, her being the favorite in the royal selection was something to accept as fact.

However, it was Crusch herself who interrupted the murmurs.

“It would seem many here harbor a minor misconception.”

As calm returned to the hall, she nodded with a composed look.

“I strive to be fully aware of what everyone expects by having me take the throne. The House of Karsten is a house that has carried great authority and political influence for many years. Should I succeed as monarch, politics and national policy are guaranteed to continue without so much as a ripple… Correct?”

Several people in the chamber nodded as they listened to Crusch’s eloquent speech.

“I regret to dash your expectations, but I can guarantee no such thing.”

At Crusch’s statement, the throne room briefly fell silent, only to erupt in an earthquake several seconds later.

“What’s the meaning of this?!” several of those assembled exclaimed as Crusch looked up at the dais, her expression unchanged. She shook her deep green hair as her gallant gaze looked past them to a mural etched on the wall behind the royal throne.

“The Dragonfriend Kingdom of Lugunica… This nation has remained prosperous by honoring the Covenant made with the Dragon long ago. Thanks to the Dragon, various crises have been averted, from war, to plague, to famine. The word Dragon has never vanished from the kingdom at any point through its long history.”

All of this was according to Marcus’s tale of “The Covenant with the Dragon” at the start of the meeting.

Upholding the Covenant between the Kingdom of Lugunica and the Dragon had brought fame and prosperity throughout history. As everyone mulled over the meaning of her words, Crusch folded her arms and scanned the gathering.

“For the most part, prosperity brought by reaching the Covenant with the Dragon has been a good thing. If war arises, the Dragon breathes and burns our enemies away. If there is plague, it employs its mana to heal people. If there is famine, soaking the soil with Dragon’s Blood grants the blessing of bounty. And so, the guidance of the Dragon has saved us from hardship and guaranteed our glory—” In spite of the glowing details on Crusch’s lips, her face did not brighten. Under the silent attention of the entire assembly, she remarked, “Let me ask you.—Do you not think it is shameful?”

The chamber returned to silence with an even greater sense of tension than before. But if one were to compare the emotions of its occupants, the most heated, raw anger was without doubt coming from Crusch, standing before the throne.

“The Covenant guarantees we will be protected from any crisis and any hardship so long as we uphold it. And so, we have descended into softness and depravity, relying now upon a change of leadership for its continuation. To think that you take this for granted.”

Crusch’s stern lecture spurred one among the Council of Elders to rise, his voice shaking with anger.

“—You go too far, Lady Crusch! I cannot permit anyone to make light of the Covenant! Do you have any conception of the sacrifices the kingdom has been spared since the Covenant with the Dragon long ago…? Are you denying the weight of history itself?!”

“I have already stated that this past prosperity is mostly a good thing. No words have passed my lips claiming that I myself have not been a beneficiary of its blessing. The House of Karsten was born with the kingdom and has shared in its glory. Had a crisis destroyed the kingdom, my house would have shared its fate. Whenever the Dragon has saved the nation, it has saved my house as well.” Crusch paused briefly. “However, the future is a different matter. Do you think nothing of the pathetic sight you make at this moment? Have you not ceased to use your minds because you cling to the Dragon and the Covenant? When war, plague, and famine assail the kingdom anew, is there nothing we can do but sing the Dragon’s praises?”

“That is—”

“This nation has relied upon the writings of the Dragon Tablet for too long, becoming so soft and weak that it cannot stand on its own power. The nation takes for granted that the Dragon and prophecy will aid it whenever it is shaken. But can you argue that we have strived to avoid such matters from occurring to begin with? A number of calamities in recent years, including the failure of the Great Subjugation fourteen years ago, are things we courted through that weakness.”

Everyone held their breath in shock, eyes wide at Crusch’s declaration.

Bathed in gazes of shock and anger, she raised a fist and nobly declared, “If the kingdom is to crumble without the Dragon’s protection, then crumble it should. A nation too blessed stagnates, that stagnation courts corruption, and corruption brings about its demise. That is what I think.”

“Are you… Are you saying you will destroy the nation?!”

“No. If the nation is to crumble without the Dragon, we should become the Dragon ourselves. Everything that the kingdom has relied upon the Dragon for until now should be borne by king, minister, and people. Furthermore…”

Crusch took a deep breath.

“When I become king, I will make us forget about the Covenant with the Dragon until now, come what may. The Dragonfriend Kingdom of Lugunica belongs not to the Dragon, but to us.”

“—”

“Hard times await us. Perhaps they will be disasters we averted in the past due to the Dragon’s power, or perhaps even greater calamities. But I do not wish to live in a manner that shames my very soul.”

Crusch’s voice dropped. She shook her head and lowered her gaze.

“I have long harbored doubts about the state of the kingdom. I believe that this course of events is a Heaven-sent opportunity to set it right.”

In terms of loyalty to the late king, or lack thereof, it was a blasphemous statement for which one could be cut down on the spot.

Subaru took in all of Crusch’s words.

“The nobles are right in theory, but…”

A lot of what she said is hard to deny, he thought to himself. Looking around, he saw he wasn’t the only one; no one was willing to raise a voice against the girl’s boldly voiced argument. Here was a girl willing to smash the history of the kingdom—the very essence of what it took to be a monarch.

Miklotov, having listened to Crusch’s claims to the very end, passed matters along to Ferris, standing beside her.

“Mmmm. We understand Lady Crusch’s point of view. Now then, Sir Felix Argyle, is there anything you wish to add?”

Apparently, it was the place of the vassal to advocate for the master.

“Thank you for asking, but I have nothing further to add. Lady Crusch’s thoughts are exactly as she says. And history will prove that Lady Crusch’s actions are correct.—I have no doubt whatsoever that it is my master who shall become king.”

Ferris solemnly bowed at his slender hips as he expressed his immense trust. Then his face returned to its usual fawning expression as he smiled at Crusch.

“Lady Crusch, you’re just as incredible as ever. Ferri’s swooning—”

“From time to time, I fail to understand what you are saying, Ferris.—But I forgive you. You would never do anything that costs me.”

The warm regard for Ferris in Crusch’s eyes made the strength of their relationship plain.

With the conclusion of that expression of trust in Crusch, Miklotov briefly set things in order.

“Mmmm, we have finally heard from one person… Mmm, though it seems her opinions have created quite a stir.”

To the Council of Elders and the civil officials, the plans of the candidate with the strongest backing were a thunderbolt out of the blue. It was evident the entire exchange had alienated many would-be supporters. But anyone hearing that speech would harbor no doubt that those who supported her held the highest trust in her possible.

Subaru remarked to himself, “I still don’t know how they’re actually gonna pick someone, though…”

The whole point of this display was to determine how they would go about it. The lack of hard-and-fast rules meant that all he could do was keep watching the debate, mixed feelings notwithstanding.

Marcus, having apparently regained his composure, proceeded.

“Then, let us continue, following with the next in line beside Lady Crusch.”

The orange-haired girl stepped forward with an arrogant look on her face.

“Hmph, finally. It’s Hyper Priscilla Time, then.”

Subaru was in complete shock at the strange combination of words.

“Just now, did she say, Hyper Priscilla Time…?”

Al walked over and stood at Priscilla’s side, giving her a thumbs-up like he was taking credit.

“It would seem that the riffraff’s eyes are all upon my gorgeous self.”

“You used that pretty nicely, Princess. Totally nailed ’em with a big uppercut.”

Ignoring the fact that the looks regarded her less as “amazing” than “bizarre,” Priscilla thrust her shoulders back in pride at Al’s off-the-mark flattery.

“Very well, Lady Priscilla Bariel, if you please…”

“Though it pains me, I shall humor you. I need only demonstrate my majesty to the old fossils and establish that they should simply choose to obey me, yes? A simple matter.”

As she spoke, she pulled a fan out of the yawning gap of her cleavage, loudly snapping it open and using it to conceal her mouth as she giggled. Her adorable looks clashed with her evil, sadistic laugh.

“—The Bloody Bride. What gall.”

Such words of deep, seething resentment ran across the entire chamber.

Thanks to Crusch’s explosive declaration, the atmosphere in the hall was far from warm. The murmurs chilled the air frostier still.

And the prologue of the royal selection had barely begun.

Sub-chapter 3.

Without hesitation, Priscilla cut through the disquiet governing the chamber with a thoroughly wearied voice.

“Such boring, insignificant jeers. I am so accustomed to them that they do not even serve as a lullaby.”

She was no doubt referring to the reaction around her moments earlier, including boisterous jeers that called her the Bloody Bride. Priscilla did not let it bother her, nor did she make any attempt to refute them.

Following Priscilla’s statement, Miklotov interrupted inquisitively.

“This has been on my mind since well before. Bariel… As in, Mr. Lyp Bariel? Mmm. Now that I think of it, I have not seen any sign of Mr. Lyp. Where is he…?”

“That lewd old man suddenly went senile half a year ago. He remained unable to tell the difference between dream and reality, and passed away but a few days later.”

“What, Mr. Lyp has…? Mmmm. Lady Priscilla, what does that make your relationship to Mr. Lyp?”

With Miklotov expressing surprise, Priscilla dully commented on the death of her partner.

“I suppose it makes me his widow. He had not touched me with so much of a fingertip, so our relationship is, quite literally, in name alone.”

Al promptly stated, “Princess, isn’t it just a little too harsh to put it that way?”

Priscilla paid him no heed, sweeping her gaze across the crowd as if daring anyone else to complain.

“A meaningless death to end a worthless life. If the life of that old man had any meaning whatsoever, it is in the fact he transferred his entire estate to me. Accordingly, the House of Bariel is mine.”

Her stare only increased the discontent in the hall, but no one actually lodged an objection. Even Rickert, having protested against Crusch with such vehemence, apparently lacked the courage to enter a war of words with an opponent immune to logic. And so, Miklotov replied, “Mmm. I understand, then. As Mr. Lyp was an acquaintance of many years, I regret to hear of his passing… But I see that your claim is on firm ground, Lady Priscilla.”

“But of course.”

As Priscilla arrogantly nodded, Miklotov now shifted the conversation to the vassal at her side.

“Though I would like to press for further details, does the knight beside you have anything to add?”

“Aahhh… Ah, me?”

Al’s yawning reply did a splendid job of drawing the antagonism all around him. It was as if the servant was cooling off the heat that his master had brough to the hall.

“Yes, you. Your attire is highly unusual. I have not seen you among the Knights of the Royal Guard…and your helm?”

“Oh, can you tell? This was made in Volakia down south. It was a lot of trouble getting it out of there. It’s tough, so it’s held up for a long while. Also, it looks cool, so it’s pretty important.”

“A Volakia Empire…? Then, you are not assigned to the Knights of the Royal Guard.”

“I’ve cut all my connections to Volakia. Now I’m a wanderer who goes with the flow… So please, just call me Al. Also, you seem a little upset that I’m not showing you my face… Can you gimme a break on that?”

Al’s profusion of rude statements drew even sharper glares. Under so much attention, Al deftly slipped his one hand under the chin of his helmet and began to lift it up.

“Urk—!”

Out of the blue, someone let out a pained cry as the helm rose to about mouth level. It was hard to blame him for that. After all, the visible part of Al’s face was blanketed with old scars from burns, cuts, and perhaps other sources still.

It was no exaggeration to say his scars were ten times as bad as Subaru’s.

“So y’see, my face is a sorry sight. That’s why I hope you permit me the discourtesy of keeping my face covered in front of everyone.”

Marcus interrupted.

“This may be an even greater discourtesy… If you hail from Volakia with such wounds, were you a Sword Slave by any chance?”

“Hehhh, that’s the captain of the knights for you. That Empire likes to keep its secrets, but apparently you know a thing or two about the darker parts of it. Yes, I was a Sword Slave, a ten-odd-years vet at that.”

Murmurs spread across the chamber once again as the term Sword Slave was repeated on the lips of many a knight. From the words forming the compound, it seemed to mean “a sword-wielding slave.”

“I take it you were in a battle or two, then?”

“That’s the size of it, bro. I messed up when I was young and lost an arm that way, y’see.”

Al, ever playing the fool, didn’t flinch from discussing the gruesome experience. For their part, those who had gazed upon him with such hostility moments before were now dumbstruck.

But Subaru was shaken by the impact even more than the rest.

Back in the dragon carriage, Al hadn’t said much about his own body. He downplayed the cause of losing his other arm and dodged the subject of his helmet altogether. But Subaru had been subconsciously avoiding that subject, too. After all, just like him, Al had been summoned there from another world—in other words, his experiences hit Subaru very close to home. Losing an arm, having his face scarred up to the point he couldn’t show it to anyone else—that was a future Subaru, with countless scars already carved into his body, could easily have encountered for himself.

If the icy chill running up his spine was any indication, Subaru would never have been able to endure it.

Miklotov spoke again.

“Mmmm. Hailing from the Empire of Volakia… Is that why you came to stand at Lady Priscilla’s side?”

Priscilla replied, “Not at all. It is the result of a little game of mine. From the beginning, my becoming king was as good as divine providence. The result will be the same regardless of my vassal. And so, I am free to select the vassal that I like. As a showpiece, this man is sufficiently amusing and then some.”

“How did you come to select him, then?”

“What, you want to know?—I caught sight of him in a bodybuilding contest I held on my estate, with the winner to be offered the job of my vassal. It was an amusing sight.”

Priscilla gave Al a glance rich in meaning as she replied to Miklotov.

“Mmmm, I see. So he was the winner of that contest, I ta…”

Al corrected him, “Nah, I didn’t win it. Life’s not kind enough for a one-armed guy to beat a pack of beefy bodybuilders. I was lucky to round out the top five at the victory ceremony.”

Miklotov’s face registered surprise that Al would interrupt even him.

“My word. Then how did you become Lady Priscilla’s vassal…?”

Priscilla straightened with pride as she gave Al’s back a hard slap.

“I told you. I am free to pick whomever I please.”

Al yelped a loud, dry Ahhnn! audible to all, as she continued, “To begin with, my keen eyes allowed me to discern that he is a physical wonder, far more than a collection of dim-witted louts overconfident in their muscle-bound arms. And more than that, only he boasted an escape from Volakia and a birth beyond the Great Waterfalls.”

Priscilla briskly concluded her tale, loudly stomping with a high heel as all eyes fell upon her.

“And so, I selected Al to be my vassal. It is providence that my selection of Al, and my path to become king, shall both shine in accordance with my glory.”

She did not bear even the smallest molecule of doubt or hesitation. She was so full of confidence it was frightening.

“You say that…Heaven has chosen you…?”

“But of course. After all, nothing happens in this world that is does not benefit me. Furthermore, ’tis I who is worthy of becoming king, and no other. You need only bow before me and serve.”

Everyone was agape at her insolent declaration. The only one unaffected by her haughtiness was the man who called the girl his master.

“Princess, what’s your basis for all that?”

“ ’Tis very simple. Serving me means siding with the winner. You may have anything you desire; I allow it. But I shall not permit you to serve anyone else. That is all.”

Priscilla brushed her orange hair back, raising her hand in a lofty wave toward the heavens. It was a gesture that meant, I have said all that there is to say. With that, she turned her back to the Council of Elders on the dais and walked away. Before turning his back to follow, her knight looked up at the dais and said, “You might not like how she says it, but Princess is on the money. If she wants something, so long as she doesn’t change her mind, she gets it.—That’s because the heavens themselves have chosen Priscilla. I’m sure you’ve heard how the old… Er, Mr. Lyp’s lands have bounced back lately?”

Al sent a meaningful look in Marcus’s direction.

“We have already confirmed this for ourselves. Following the passing of Mr. Lyp Bariel, Lady Priscilla took control of policy within his lands…resulting in the region’s unprecedented prosperity.”

“Well, don’t mistake that as us working hard for the sake of everyone else or something, okay? Princess’s guesses are always on the mark like she’s a natural. She’s just right about everything, no ifs, ands, or buts.”

“”

“Well, if you’re under Princess, you can do whatever you want. If you’re gonna bet on the winning horse, I think it’s best to do it sooner rather than later, though.”

It was as if both master and servant, so full of confidence, had forgotten their humility back in their mothers’ wombs. When they returned to their place among the candidates, the tension in the air relaxed as a matter of course.

“A cross-dressing guy and pretty-girl combo, a rich widow and a guy from another world, this is totally genre-breaking stuff here…”

As Subaru murmured, the royal selection ceremony continued on. The next person called by Marcus was the girl with violet hair.

“Next, then, is Lady Anastasia, and her knight, Sir Julius Juukulius. Come forward!”

The girl reacted elegantly, but Priscilla had left vestiges of feverish agitation hovering over the chamber. That was when Julius lifted a hand up to the sky and swung it downward. The dry crackle echoed, forcing an inescapable change in the atmosphere.

To this generous deed, Anastasia said, “Thank you kindly,” smiling pleasantly as she advanced. Julius stood at her side.

—Thus the most conventional-looking master and servant advanced to the fore.

Faced with the next royal candidate, Subaru cleared his thoughts and focused ahead once more.

Sub-chapter 4.

Anastasia smiled warmly.

“If y’all expect me to be as intense as those last two, I’m in a bit of a bind. I doubt you’d want me to come on too strong, so I guess my gimmick is that I don’t have one.”

Her demeanor and pleasant smile relaxed some of the tension in the room.

“Now then, I—Anastasia Hoshin—will speak for a spell. I hope you’ll forgive my indiscretion, since I’m an outsider and all.”

Julius stroked the front of his hair in an unnecessarily polished motion to draw attention to himself.

“I am Lady Anastasia’s knight, Julius Juukulius. Please be gentle with her.”

Subaru finally reasoned that the talk about her “gimmick” was a high-level joke. But what he couldn’t get out of his head was the contrast of Anastasia’s accent. Apparently, Subaru wasn’t the only one who noticed, as Miklotov asked, “With that peculiar accent, are you a native of Kararagi, then?”

“Exactly. I was born in Kararagi to the lowest class in the League of Free Trading Cities.”

Miklotov’s eyes narrowed slightly at that.

“Mmmm. The lowest class—then what is your connection to Lugunica?”

If lowest class meant the same thing there that it did in Lugunica, Anastasia was born a commoner. Depending on the meaning of the term, it could imply something even lower.

“I was born in the lowest class, but now I have a right proper mansion in the city. I have stores in a host of other cities… That’s how I first imposed on Lugunica.”

Julius added, “She serves as chairwoman of the Hoshin Company, the most influential company in Kararagi. For many years, this position in her nation was occupied by the Lushika Industrial Company, but thanks to Lady Anastasia’s personal commercial genius, it was reconstituted under a new name, the Hoshin Company.”

Standing beside Julius, Anastasia’s eyebrows peaked as if she were a little embarrassed.

If Julius’s declaration could be taken as fact, Anastasia’s pronouncement had been humble in the extreme about her exploits. Julius continued, “Accompanying its vast expansion across Kararagi, there was talk of expansion into Lugunica as well. That was the impetus for my meeting Lady Anastasia for the first time.”

Miklotov replied, “Mmmm. So in spite of being born to humble beginnings, she established herself as a brilliant young merchant… I must say, this reminds me of the tales of the founder of Kararagi itself.”

As Miklotov’s lips bent into a smile, Anastasia clapped her hands together, and her eyes sparkled.

“Yes, exactly. I always looked up to that man, Hoshin of the Wastes. When the time came to establish my family name as a merchant, I decided to adopt the name Hoshin in his honor.”

Miklotov praised Anastasia’s spirit.

“Hoshin is the name of a great man known across the entire continent, revered from ancient times to the present. To name yourself after him… I see, a splendid display of spirit.”

Even Subaru had heard of Hoshin of the Wastes. If he recalled correctly, the man was the main character in one of the ballads sung on that world.

Anastasia continued, “One of the great things about Kararagi is how it gave a gal like me a fair shot. It turns out I have a real knack for sniffing out the scent of gold, and it’s fun, too.”

Subaru saw that these statements were creating a considerable stir all around. Judging from appearances alone, Anastasia was younger than he was. Given her age and the reaction around him, she apparently had a reputation as a monster in the business world.

Julius remarked, “Lady Anastasia’s commercial genius is a divine gift… It is no exaggeration that she rivals Hoshin himself. My own lack of ability in this area leaves me envious of her.”

Julius’s rhetorical flourish drew a generous nod from Miklotov.

“My, my, she must be quite something indeed for ‘The Finest of Knights’ to boast of her so.”

But Subaru, unable to accept that last sentence, asked the man beside him, “Did I hear wrong? Did he just call him ‘The Finest of Knights’…?”

Reinhard replied to Subaru’s question matter-of-factly. “That is what they call him. Among the Knights of the Royal Guard of the Kingdom of Lugunica, Julius is second only to Marcus, captain of the guard. There is a vice captain, but it is a ceremonial position that exists in name only, so it’s best to think of it as vacant. In skill with a sword, employment of mana, pedigree, and exploits, Julius fulfills all the qualifications of a knight and is second to none. He is without question worthy of being called ‘The Finest of Knights.’”

“But when people in the capital talk about the ‘knight among knights,’ they’re talking about you, right? You’re really well known, plus you never denied it, right?”

“The qualifications for that nickname are somewhat different. Certainly, in terms of strength with the sword alone, I’m stronger than Julius. I have yet to meet someone stronger than I am.”

Just like that, he declared he was mightiest of all.

Subaru wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but Reinhard wasn’t boasting. If anything, his eyes were filled with envy, his lips pursed taut.

The way Reinhard looked cornered left Subaru wondering what to do, but, faster than he could say anything, the debate proceeded with something that could not be ignored.

Miklotov said, “It is plain that relations between master and servant are very good. Mmmm. Lady Anastasia, there is something I wish to ask you.—You are a native of Kararagi. What is your purpose in seeking to be king?”

“Ahh, so my birthplace really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

It was a natural subject to raise. Nations existed in this world, too, meaning that borders existed between states and peoples. Subaru didn’t know how high the barriers were, but even in a state of emergency, the throne of your own kingdom was not something to hand to a visitor from another nation lightly.

The entire chamber held its breath as Anastasia, surrounded by the tension, smiled wryly.

“Y’all have such high expectations, it’s makin’ me nervous. Unfortunately, I don’t have any high ideals like Miss Crusch, or Miss Priscilla confidence that she’s been chosen for greatness.”

“Surely you are not saying…the Dragon Jewel responded to you purely by chance?”

Faced with Miklotov’s question, Anastasia stuck her tongue out and replied casually.

“Ah-ha-ha, if it was like that even I wouldn’t show my face here. ’Course I’ve got a goal of my own.—You see, I’m actually real greedy.”

The declaration, so at odds with what was expected, made most present doubt their ears.

“I think I’ve been greedier than normal since I was teeny-tiny. The reason I became a first-rate merchant with a nose for gold is because I want it more than everyone else.”

“You want it more?”

“As a maid at the first little company I worked for, I made a couple suggestions to the owner and they were big hits, so I got involved in bigger and bigger deals, and soon I was livin’ so large I forgot I what it was like to be low class. It should have been fun, but I found out I wasn’t free. I was even less free than before.”

Anastasia, counting on her fingers the steps she had climbed, shook her head.

“…Mmmm. And why was that?” Miklotov asked.

“That’s the scary part about greed. The more you get your hands on, the more you wanna get your hands on. ‘I want this. I want that.’ It’s not enough. It’s never enough—and that’s when I realized it.”

Anastasia grinned as she pointed toward her feet. It was clear what she was indicating—the palace itself.

“I’m greedy, so I want anything around. But I’m not satisfied yet. I don’t know what real fulfillment feels like. So I want a country of my own.”

“You are saying, you want this kingdom to weigh your greed?”

Anastasia responded to Miklotov’s rebuke with a robust smile.

“Hey, if that smashes my scale to bits, smash away. I’ll be real happy to have my fill and be totally satisfied.”

In other words, she was announcing that she sought the royal throne out of her own avarice.

“But if gettin’ my hands on the kingdom isn’t enough… I’ll probably use this country as a stepping-stone to get even more.”

“And what shall become of the kingdom if you obtain it, yet it holds no value for you?”

“I told you, didn’t I? I’m greedy. So once somethin’s mine, it’s mine through thick and thin. And if I get an even stronger hankering, I use whatever I have to satisfy it. My life in Kararagi, the Hoshin Company, and all the people who work there, they’re all part of my drive for fulfillment. I would never throw them away. So…”

Anastasia swept her gaze over the faces of everyone in the chamber.

“—How about you just relax and become mine?”

She looked across the chamber with the same warm, gentle smile she had initially worn.

Her way of thinking was founded on desire, but that made her argument very simple. She wanted the throne for her own desires, and, from the day it was hers, she’d work tirelessly for the prosperity of the kingdom. She wouldn’t throw it away, given that her personality demanded she make anything she owned into something greater and grander than before. That was her message.

“Mmmm. Lady Anastasia has surely pressed her claim sufficiently. Do you have anything to add, Sir Julius?”

With his master’s speech concluded, it was time for the vassal to make his case. Both had argued beforehand about the master’s fitness to be king, but Julius stepped in front and indicated Anastasia with his hand as he said, “Lady Anastasia used the word greed to express her desires, but put another way, this reveals the depth of emotion behind her ambition. On the other hand, from a business point of view, she is able to make any decision without emotional involvement, an indispensable quality in a statesman.”

“Mmmm. Certainly, it is as you say.”

“Furthermore, as I stated earlier, Lady Anastasia is a brilliant businesswoman—something this kingdom desperately needs at this hour. Repeated, serious clashes with neighboring nations—in particular, skirmishes with the Empire—have drained our coffers; with the large famine last year, the finances of the Kingdom of Lugunica are in a precarious state.”

Faces went red as Julius abruptly touched upon the nation’s dirty laundry.

“I believe such details ought not to be so lightly divulged in a public place, Sir Julius.”

“The importance of financial reconstruction to the nation has been common knowledge for several decades now. I do not feel any reason to hide this from those assembled here. Do you not think that the very reason the affairs of the nation have stagnated is because we have averted our eyes from this difficult financial state for so long?”

“So a mere knight speaks to us about political affairs beyond his purview…?”

“That’s right. These affairs will affect the House of Juukulius very little. Even if we avert our eyes, it surely will be nothing irreversible for my generation. However, even if my house will emerge unscathed, I cannot ignore the matter of the throne I serve falling into distress.”

With veins bulging from the foreheads of the Council of Elders, Julius looked back at Anastasia.

“However, the Hoshin Company has connected us to the extreme prosperity enjoyed in Kararagi, bringing a fresh wind to Lugunica. I have seen for myself that Lady Anastasia is worthy to be king if we continue along this path. What can you call this, if not fate?”

Perhaps Julius had been overcome by fervor, for his tenor rose and his words quickened.

“If Heaven chooses the king, then it has chosen Lady Anastasia. I, devoted to the Royal Family, having pledged my loyalty to the kingdom, hereby declare that Lady Anastasia is worthy of the throne.—I thank you for lending me your ears.”

Julius behaved much like a stage performer as he summarized his address for the audience. Those attending, mesmerized by his aura, seemed to come to their senses as they looked back upon master and vassal. Yet, even then, Marcus’s calm expression did not waver.

“Sir Julius, may I judge this sufficient?”

Julius, probably accustomed to the attitude of his superior officer, stated, “Yes, thank you very much,” and returned to Anastasia’s side. “You were splendid, Lady Anastasia. It is indeed a place such as this where your flower may truly bloom.”

“Yes, yes, you are very kind. Sheesh, you didn’t need to say that. It’s so embarrassing.”

A red-faced Anastasia fanned herself with a hand as she returned with Julius to the other candidates. Now that the third candidate’s camp had asserted its claim, the next in line was—

After a brief silence, Marcus called the name of the silver-haired girl who had kept her silence to that point.

“Then, the next candidate—Lady Emilia.”

She was the only candidate lacking a knight of her own. After her name was called, she raised her head. From the side, Subaru could see worry on her pale, beautiful face, but, with a look of strong determination, Emilia replied.

“Yes.”

She stepped forward. Her part in the royal selection had now begun.

—That was when Subaru Natsuki had a thought.

Sub-chapter 5.

The instant Emilia’s right hand and foot moved forward together in her first step to the center, Subaru thought…

I’ve gotta do something.

On any normal day, he could fully appreciate how adorable she looked—E M P (Emilia-tan’s Majorly a Puppy)—but it boded ill under the circumstances.

Somehow, even though Emilia’s hands and feet were moving at a normal clip, he noticed that her stride seemed strained just before she reached the center.

The Council of Elders gazed down at her as she stepped forward. And yet, the whispers did not stop. Repeatedly, Subaru’s ears picked up the word half-demon.

Reinhard moved to soothe Subaru’s nerves, raw from the unpleasant atmosphere.

“—It’s all right, Subaru. You need not worry.”

“Don’t read my thoughts like that. Am I an open book here?”

“Foul words are overcome by seeing a person’s qualities before your very eyes. Believe in Lady Emilia.”

But Subaru should have been the one to assert this. Having Reinhard say them to him left a nameless disappointment in his chest.

Following Reinhard’s statement, the chitchat receded like the tide as if to prove him right. Roswaal had advanced to stand by Emilia’s side.

Seeing Roswaal next to Emilia, Marcus, the master of ceremonies, bowed his head with a weighty look.

“Then, Lady Emilia, and Lord Roswaal L. Mathers, if you please…”

Roswaal’s tone was casual even now.

“Yes, yeees. Myyy, following in the footsteps of all these knights, I feel so teeerribly out of place.”

He prodded Emilia with an “Am I?” Of course, he earned no reaction. A normal response may have been too much to hope for given her tension from moments before. Roswaal’s insensitivity rubbed Subaru’s nerves even rawer.

But he instantly set even those strong feelings aside a moment later. After all—

“Members of the Council of Elders, it is my pleasure to meet you for the first time. My name is Emilia. I have no family name. Please, simply call me Emilia.”

Her name, spoken with a voice clear as a bell, seemed to engrave itself upon the very hearts of all present. Her voice did not quaver, and she gazed forward, steady and strong.

Subaru had to wonder where all that anxiety from a moment ago had gone. Emilia, stating her name before the Council of Elders, was not to be outmatched by the other candidates whatsoever.

Roswaal followed, “And I am the humble man nominating Lady Emilia, Roswaal L. Mathers, bearing the rank of Marquis. We are grateful for the Council of Elders’ valuable time.”

Miklotov stroked his beard while directing where the conversation should proceed.

“Mmmm. So she is nominated, not by the Knights of the Royal Guard, but by the Court Magician. I would very much like to hear the details of why this is so.”

Miklotov gave Emilia a penetrating once-over.

To Roswaal, he continued, “Please provide us details about the candidate Lady Emilia, including her lineage.”

“Understood. First, though I believe all present are well aware, I shall begin with the circumstances of Lady Emilia’s biiirth. As you can see from her lovely silver hair, her skin so pale one can nearly see through her, violet eyes that seem to capture the very soul, and her voice, like a silver bell, one echoing unforgettably in the ears, even in one’s dreams. As you well know, these enchanting qualities are proof that elven blood flows through Lady Emilia’s veins.”

A bald old man sitting among the Council of Elders interrupted Roswaal’s explanation.

“And the other half of her blood is human—in other words, she is a half-elf?”

A vein bulged on the large-framed old man’s forehead, hatred in his eyes shooting through Emilia as he spat out, “How dare you. Have you no shame, bringing this silver-haired half-demon filth before the royal throne?”

Miklotov countered, “Mr. Bordeaux, your words go too far.”

“Mr. Miklotov, do you not understand? A silver-haired half-demon with an appearance matching the Witch of Jealousy as handed down by the old tales! She once consumed half of the world; she leads all living things to despair, chaos, and annihilation! Do not claim ignorance!”

“—”

“How much do you think your appearance and lineage alone makes others tremble? You ask us to place such a being on the royal throne? Inconceivable. Even the commoners of other nations would call us a collection of madmen, to say nothing of the people of the Dragonfriend Kingdom of Lugunica—the nation where the Witch sleeps!”

Bordeaux stomped his foot, his arms wide as he shouted, his tone and manner frayed. Even this act brought no reaction from Emilia. The atmosphere in the hall chilled at once. And then, Roswaal replied, “Master Bordeaux, are quiiite finished?”

“If you ask whether that is all I have to say, then I have not said nearly enough. Do you even comprehend what you have done, High Sorcerer of the Court?”

Bordeaux seemed like he was trying to cow Roswaal into submission.

“I understand veeery much. Master Bordeaux, speaking on behalf of the Council of Elders, expresses that the reaction of the populace upon seeing Lady Emilia would be of conceeern, yes?”

Roswaal raised a finger.

“Howeeever, perhaps you have forgotten, Master Bordeaux? The issue of which you speak has no beaaaring upon the royal selection whatsoever.”

“…What do you mean?”

Roswaal lowered his voice as he looked up at the Council of Elders.

“If I may, it is preciiisely as Lady Priscilla stated at the beginning. Even if as a mere formality, there are five candidates, so the royal selection may begin. And if it begins, one need merely see it through, yes?”

Miklotov’s eyes narrowed.

“Mmmm. In other words, you are saying that what is important is that the Dragon Jewel chose Lady Emilia, and that her actual suitability to succeed as monarch is…irrelevant?”

“Though it might be a cruuude way to put it, think of her as a stalking horse. Lady Emilia’s appearance is very particular. Virtually no human being can look at her and not think of the Witch of Jealousy. She is easily employed as a pawn upon our chessboard.”

And just like that, Roswaal denied all possibility of Emilia actually succeeding to the throne.

The sheer shock of it was enough to make Subaru completely forget his anger at Roswaal’s earlier intemperate remarks.

He was Emilia’s sponsor and backer, who knew just how hard Emilia was striving to be king, and yet he said that.

Bordeaux asked, “So the royal selection between five candidates would in actuality be between four?”

“Do you not think that reducing the options reduces the possibility of dissolution? The current lack of a king invites other nations to intervene in our internal affairs. Should we not prepare countermeasures to dimiiinish this threat?”

Roswaal’s suggestion sent Bordeaux into deep thought. The other members of the Council of Elders appeared ready to say, Well, if it’s like that…

To decide to abandon all of Emilia’s hard work by the roadside to use her as the stalking horse of the race.

An angry shout reverberated throughout the chamber.

“Don’t give me that crap—!!”

As the echoes died, the hall was silent once again.

The only sound left in the hushed chamber was the ragged breathing of the boy who had called out—Subaru.

With his face red with anger, the back of Subaru’s mind announced, Now you’ve done it.

But it was too late to back out now. He could not retreat.

Now that Subaru had walked forward out of the blue, Roswaal turned his head and gave him a cold look.

“I did not think you were this obtuse. This is not a place for the likes of yooou to speak. Apologize and leave.”

“Don’t give me that crap. I said what I meant. And I’ll add this. You all should be apologizing.”

Gone was Roswaal’s aloofness. In its place was an overwhelming, bloodcurdling aura; just looking at him chilled one to the bone. Perhaps the wavering of the air around him was from a vast quantity of mana.

“I am all the more surprised—at your disregard for your own life.”

Subaru clenched his teeth. The back of his mind knew what to expect—overwhelming power, a vortex of great flame. He recalled the sight of the Urugarum demon beasts in the forest, burned away without mercy or pity.

“If you grovel on your knees this instant, I shall permit you to simply leave. But if you insist on being stubborn…”

The royal selection was the gravest issue for the entire nation. For disgracing it with individual feelings, Roswaal would sentence Subaru to the flame on behalf of the dignity of the kingdom.

The vast danger made Subaru’s knees cry out for mercy. The shaking spread from his fingertips; had he not clenched his teeth, everyone would be hearing them rattle by then.

But—

“I-I said, it’s not me who should apologize, it’s all of you!”

His shrill voice quivered. But even so, Subaru would not kneel. He couldn’t kneel, for Emilia had not done a single thing wrong.

“Veeery well. One can do nothing without power. I shall drill this lesson into you. Though it cannot serve you in this world, perhaps it shall in the next.”

With his final ultimatum ignored, the power flowing from Roswaal manifested in the form of a flaming sphere, so bright that its light dazzled the entire chamber. The mass of fire on top of Roswaal’s hand burned with intensity like a miniature sun, enough that Subaru, standing at a distance, felt his skin start to burn.

“Behold, fire mana of the greatest power.—Algoa.”

With one cruel, final word, Roswaal turned his hand toward Subaru. The fireball launched from his palm, with the heat slowly approaching Subaru to burn him to a crisp.

Subaru immediately tried to dodge, but his body simply wouldn’t move. Perhaps it was because his legs were shaking, or perhaps it was because the knowledge of impending death had spread from his eyes to the rest of his body.

No.

It was because Emilia was standing behind Subaru.

That was why, that very moment, he could not move from that place…

“—!”

Instantaneously, everyone held their breath at what followed.

The instant the fireball collided with Subaru, it was wiped out by a pale blue glow that covered his entire body. The powers of red and white jostled with each other—and vanished into nothing more than white steam.

And as the onlookers gaped, a voice, clear as a bell, spoke with the same frigid tone.

“—That is enough. I shall permit no further violence in my presence. If you wish to continue this—”

Emilia’s resolute voice was followed by a more neutral one.

“—Then I am prepared to wield my power as my beloved daughter demands.”

Dubious eyebrows rose at the source of the voice, but the next moment, everyone noticed it—the biting cold spreading throughout the chamber manifesting the Great Spirit’s frigid anger.

The little gray cat folded his arms, making a small snort with his pink nose as he slowly floated down. His black eyes were frozen in an expression of unprecedented coldness.

“You lowly humans are saying quite some things in front of my daughter.”

“—”

As Puck’s emotionless gaze swept the area, the strongest reactions came from the knights. Their swords were already drawn as they raised their guard toward the small cat floating above their heads.

Subaru, left behind by the shift in events, hadn’t entirely grasped what was going on.

“—Ah? Er, what?”

It was a moment after he was certain Roswaal would really burn him to death. He had thought he was shielding Emilia, but she stood in front of him, and everyone was warily eying Puck, poised in a position to defend her.

And their wary gazes also contained something that looked like fear.

Miklotov’s hoarse murmur struck the silent gallery like a thunderbolt.

“—The Apocalypse Beast of Eternal Frost.”

Upon hearing these words, Puck’s ears twitched as he answered the old man.

“Ah, that’s right, some people have called me that. Seems you’re informed for a youngin.”

Though everyone else was tense, Miklotov’s razor-sharp wit permitted him to maintain his cool in Puck’s presence.

“To be treated like a youngster at my age is an experience I ought to treasure deeply.”

Puck responded to the old man’s attitude with a pompous flick of his tail.

“You are free to call me whatever you like. But if you want details about who and what I am, you should ask him over there, not me.”

At Puck’s suggestion, Miklotov called out to Roswaal.

“I suppose so… Lord Roswaal?”

Accepting the call, Roswaal solemnly lowered his head before motioning to Puck and Emilia with one hand each.

“As you have surmised, Lord Miklotov… This is a supernatural being, one of the Great Spirits of yore, known to our forefathers as the Apocalypse Beast of the Eternal Frost. And currently, he is Lady Emilia’s contracted spirit.”

Bordeaux’s fixed Puck with a stare, his voice hoarse from the extent of his shock.

“It can’t be! One of the Four Great Spirits in someone’s service…and that of a half-demon at that!”

But not even the old man could summon the courage to point at a being capable of turning him into an ice sculpture.

“That youngin included, the lot of you should all be grateful to Lia that I’m not turning this place into a glacier right now. My cute, beloved daughter pleaded to me, so I will behave.—If she wasn’t stopping me, you’d all be icicles right now.”

The casual way he said it only made the threat seem that much frostier, chilling all those in the chamber to the bone. Faced with his presence, it was all too clear that he was making no boast.

When the lives of everyone present were at the mercy his supremely powerful paw—the sudden sound of an inhalation sounded awfully loud.

“—Ho, ho, ho!”

The sight of Miklotov jubilantly slapping his thighs seemed enormously out of place.

“Even my heart skipped a beat. Allow me to call this a most amusing presentation.”

Miklotov’s words caused Puck to drop his expression and shrug his shoulders.

“Mm, we’re busted. See, Roswaal? I told you it wasn’t good to overdo things.”

That instant, the cold enveloping the chamber vanished. Amid the bewildered onlookers, Roswaal lightly smacked his own forehead.

“Oh myyy, and I had such confidence… It is so dispiiiriting.”

“W-wait…! What in the world are you talking about?”

It seemed only Puck, Roswaal, and Miklotov were in on this elaborate joke. Roswaal finally shifted his gaze to the bewildered Bordeaux and said, “To put it simply—this exchange was the speech from Lady Emilia’s camp. I understand that the format somewhat differs from that of the other candidates, but…”

Under Miklotov’s gaze, Roswaal raised both hands in a show of surrender.

Subaru stomped on the floor, glaring at Roswaal as the latter adopted his familiar, clownish expression once more.

“So you’re saying this was all a performance to show everyone Puck’s power and pound into them that he can do more than this?! Is that it?!”

As Subaru shouted the explanation, it was Bordeaux who had the strongest sense of being had.

“That was acting… Acting, you say?! Then all this was a farce from start to finish! Roswaal! Damn you, what do you think this place is?!”

Puck began with an apology.

“Yes, yes, of course you’re upset. I apologize. I deeply apologize. Forgive me. Sorry. My bad.—But everything I said was the truth.”

The last part, though, made Bordeaux’s heart beat louder. The little cat circled around the old man and added, “—The reason I’m not freezing you right now is Emilia’s benevolence. Don’t forget that.”

Puck’s voice was tranquil, yet somehow threatening. Bordeaux rebutted with an old man’s stubbornness.

“A-and now you make threats. These words and this show of force convey, ‘Do as I say or you shall be an icicle.’ If this is not blackmail, what is…?!”

Then, Emilia wholeheartedly affirmed his suspicions.

“—Yes, I am threatening you.” She continued, “I shall make my case to the esteemed members of the Council of Elders once more. My name is Emilia. I spent a long time in the Great Forest of Elioor, the World of Eternal Frost, and am served by Puck, the Great Spirit that governs fire mana. I am a silver-haired half-elf. The people of the nearby villages called me…”

Emilia paused, surveying the faces of the Council of Elders on the dais.

“…the Freezing Witch, born in the Frozen Forest.”

Witch. At that word, the atmosphere in the chamber shifted. Everyone’s mouths snapped shut, unable to speak; all save one, Miklotov, who was apparently made of sterner stuff than the rest.

“You displayed your power, and now you state your demands. Truly this is the way of a witch.—Then, what does the Freezing Witch seek in threatening us so?”

“I have but a single demand.—I simply want fair treatment.”

“…Fair?”

“I understand I am regarded with prejudice, both for being a half-elf and a witch. But even so, I completely reject that this should rob me of this possibility.”

“And so you desire to be treated fairly as a candidate for the royal selection?”

No doubt her memories were filled with the inexpressible malice she had experienced on a daily basis. Surely being persecuted because of the circumstances of her birth had not occurred only once or twice.

“Fairness is an exceedingly valuable thing to me. That is the only thing I demand of you: to be treated impartially. In turn, I shall do nothing unjust, such as use my contracted spirit as a shield with which to usurp the royal throne.”

That was surely one option available to Emilia. But she did not choose it, instead opting for a situation that, if anything, put her at a handicap. After all, as she explained, “Compared to the other candidates, I am inexperienced and lacking in too many areas. There is a mountain of things I do not know and that I must study. Even so, I believe my effort to reach my goal is no less than that of any other.”

Subaru had seen for himself how Emilia took her studies at the mansion very seriously. That was why he knew the truth behind her assertion more than anyone else present.

He couldn’t hide his shaking. It was strange how his throat was so dry, yet his eyes stung, ready to shed tears. He desperately held back from bawling his eyes out.

Emilia continued, “I do not know if my efforts are worthy of the throne. But my desire to make my efforts equal to the task is genuine. I believe these feelings are not unequal to those of the other candidates. Therefore, please look at me with unbiased eyes. Look at me as Emilia, of no family name, and see not the Freezing Witch, nor a silver-haired half-elf. Look at me.”

The final murmur echoed like a solemn plea. But the strength of the will behind it did not diminish the power of her request.

The chamber fell into silence for a time. It was not that they were at a loss for words. They were waiting.

Finally, Bordeaux, bathed in the gazes of all assembled, sighed at great length.

“My view shall not change. It is unmistakable that your appearance, reminiscent of the Witch of Jealousy, will have ill effects upon the populace. It would place the royal selection in a precarious state.”

His low voice had, to that point, argued against Emilia’s position. A faint shadow formed around Emilia’s violet eyes. But Bordeaux continued.

“However—sentiment is an area where none may intrude. Furthermore, it is something no one can do anything about, no matter what he may think. Even so, I apologize for my earlier rudeness.—No, I deeply apologize for my rudeness, Lady Emilia.”

Bordeaux knelt then and there, displaying the greatest respect he could.

“You could freeze me where I stand if I do not submit to your will. Yet, even so, you have not, asking only for fair treatment.—This is an act worthy of respect.”

Now that he was speaking calmly, Bordeaux’s face was gentle and intellectual; now Subaru could understand why he was on a Council of Elders. His reply drove the shadow from Emilia’s eyes, replaced by a brighter, more natural expression of joy at being accepted.

Her lips curled in a pleasant, flowery smile.

Bordeaux, under the full force of her gaze, lost his breath and turned red in the face.

Miklotov redirected the conversation.

“Though that was a rather stormy digression, enough has been said, I believe. Lady Emilia, Marquis Roswaal, do you have anything left to say?”

“No.”

“I have not spoken suffiiiciently. What to do, what to…”

Marcus swiftly brought an end to Roswaal’s playful comment.

“—Thank you very much, then.”

He gave Roswaal’s tall back a light pat before Emilia turned toward Subaru, still standing right behind her.

Her violet eyes betrayed a whirlwind of conflicted emotions. Her red tongue poked out of her mouth as if she was about to say something—

From the dais, Miklotov raised an eyebrow and looked down at Subaru.

“Incidentally, what is that young man’s position?”

The question, concerning the unmoored Subaru, brought tension back over Emilia’s face.

“Ah, err, this is my, ah… Err…”

All her prior composure went flying out the window. And so Emilia had returned to the girl who’d ignited the love burning in Subaru’s chest day after day.

Relieved by the sight, Subaru patted Emilia’s shoulder as he stepped forward.

“It’s all right, Emilia.—I’m ready for this, too.”

“Ready for…? Hold on, Subaru, what do you think you’re…? Wait a…”

As she called from behind, Subaru boldly stepped forward. Beneath the gazes of the Council of Elders up on the dais, the boy grit his teeth and briskly raised his head. As he had learned by observation, Subaru bowed on one knee like the knights had and opened his mouth, his heart racing as he spoke with the highest respect he could muster.

“Pleasure to meet you, members of the Council of Elders. First, I’d like to apologize for the late introduction. My name is Subaru Natsuki! A servant at Roswaal Manor and knight of the royal candidate, Lady Emilia!”

Subaru, feeling the weight of the hall’s silence upon him, grit his teeth to beat back the tension.

“I am extremely pleased to make your acquaintance,” he continued.

The out-of-place Subaru had joined the battle to clearly define his own place in the world.

He felt the temperature drop, even colder than when Puck had appeared.

Sub-chapter 6.

Subaru Natsuki had shrugged off Emilia’s efforts to stop him and declared himself her knight.

When Subaru made his announcement, the hall became bereft of sound, replaced by a thick, unpleasant cloud. Seeing the conflicted gazes of onlookers, Subaru realized that something was going deeply, unexpectedly awry as Miklotov asked, “Mmmm. A knight, are you. Marquis Roswaal… Who is this?”

“Ahhh, a somewhat ignorant boy, is he not? …This is a poor showing, even for him.”

“Indeed, what is the status of Lady Emilia’s actual knight?”

“Unlike the other candidates, Lady Emilia currently lacks a knight that she can place her trust in. That is most certainly a matter of concern. Howeeever, that does not mean simply aaanyone can be a knight, particularly one claiming to be a knight of someone who may become king someday.”

Roswaal continued to speak in his normal tone, seemingly for Subaru’s benefit.

“Fidelity toward one’s master is one of the qualifications of being a knight. Furthermore, the power to defend one’s liege is required. He must have some special quality enabling him to blaze the path for his master to become king. If he does not, then…”

A voice abruptly interrupted Roswaal’s speech, hailing from the line of candidates. All eyes fell on the handsome young man with violet hair—Julius.

“—That alone is not enough, Marquis Roswaal.”

Julius elegantly bowed.

“Forgive my intrusion. However, there is something I must ask him.”

When Julius indicated him, Subaru scowled, remembering the former’s hostility from before the royal selection.

“You need not be so defensive. I have only one question. Once it is done, you may do as you please.”

“Do I look tense to you? Why not let me relax a little, ditch the question, and save it for tomorrow?”

“Cease with the clown act. At least, if you truly wish to be Lady Emilia’s self-declared knight.”

“…What do you mean by that?”

Julius regarded Subaru with exasperation, as if he was a complete dunce.

“It seems you do not understand. Just now, you announced yourself as a knight before the entire body of Knights of the Royal Guard of the Kingdom of Lugunica.”

Julius slowly motioned to indicate the knights lined up behind him. Prompted by his words, the knights in their rows stood at attention without disturbing a single thread of the carpet, saluting with their swords raised.

“Th-that’s pretty good stuff there. Did you all practice that just for today?”

Subaru was sniping to keep his wits under the pressure, but Julius’s calm composure did not falter.

“Indeed we did, for we are highly aware we embody the dignity of the kingdom on a daily basis. We train in body and spirit, including how to behave in a ceremonial place. Are you prepared to learn all this?”

Only then did Subaru truly appreciate the true intent behind the question posed to him. Julius was asking him if he was prepared to shoulder the weight of the title of knight, like the Knights of the Royal Guard behind him did.

Subaru had called himself a knight to demonstrate that he was Emilia’s supporter and the person who held her the foremost in his thoughts—to her rival candidates, to the knights, to the Council of Elders, and everyone involved in the royal selection.

“I…I want to…make Lady Emilia king. No, I will make her king.”

“Do you have enough resolve, and enough strength, to do this?”

“Resolve isn’t everything, and I know I’m not strong enough. The feeling in my heart may not be the same loyalty and fidelity that other people have…but my answer won’t change.”

Subaru took a deep breath, wet his tongue, and braced himself as he stepped forward.

“—I’ll make Lady Emilia king. I’ll make her wish come true.”

“…Do you not think that this is an exceptionally arrogant reply?”

Dismay entered Julius’ expression, as if he were listening to a tale of an empty dream.

“Do you understand? People are divided according to their birth. Perhaps it is best to use the term capacity. Nothing is gained by attempting to surpass one’s own capacity. Furthermore, you will never gain what you seek in doing so, especially not the title of knight, which falls so frivolously from your lips.”

Julius drove the scabbard of his own sheathed sword into the floor with a thump. On cue, the knights assembled behind him produced the same sound a moment later. The hard, heavy echo displayed that he had all the knights behind him.

“Those who pursue knighthood require loyalty to lord and kingdom and the power to protect their liege by force. No one may call himself knight without either one of these things.—Can you still say there is the will, the power, the resolve within you?”

“Don’t get all high and mighty on me with your buddies. I know I don’t have the power to follow through on how I feel as I am now…”

“You say that you accept your current lack of power? I see; that is a precious thought. If you had not acknowledged your weakness, I might have been forced to reduce myself to your disgraceful level.”

Subaru was helpless to respond as Julius, unable to conceal his contempt, heaped scorn upon him.

“You understand that you are lacking in strength? Did you declare it so loudly in expectation of a reward? Weakness is a matter of shame, not pride.”

“—!”

“Next you will no doubt say your feelings will carry you through. I see. Your emotions conquer all. Fine and well. Did you strive to earn the right to stand in this palace with the might of your strong and lofty feelings? Did you come here in an effort to insult us, the Knights of the Royal Guard, to the highest degree possible?”

The stern words bit into him. But even then, Julius did not sheath his verbal blade.

“Only those of certain birth may be recommended for entry into the Knights of the Royal Guard, the pinnacle of knighthood. This is not out of deference to lineage, but because their ancestors have displayed their loyalty to the kingdom, down to the very blood that flows through their veins. I do not accept that you, nor the mercenary calling himself Al, have any qualifications to call yourselves knights.”

“Bloodline… It’s not like a person can do anything about something like that…!”

“Indeed. It is just as I have said. People are separated by birth. It was the same in your home. Just because two people have been born does not make them equal.”

“—”

“Of course, not all born to knightly households become knights. Many lack the will. A knight eternally strives for greater heights, ever willing to cast his life aside, coughing up blood, to protect whatever greatness stands behind him. That is the ultimate honor of those qualified.”

With classical nobleman’s thinking, Julius stomped on Subaru’s feelings, rejecting the essence of his very existence. And every knight there felt the exact same way.

Not a single person in that place acknowledged Subaru as a knight. And yet, he replied, “—Even so, I’ll make Emilia king.”

“I do not understand. In the face of such rejection, why are you still even here?”

Cold glances from throughout the chamber watched Subaru’s recklessness with scorn and contempt. But Subaru couldn’t feel any of that.

He felt something far stronger—the gaze of the silver-haired girl behind him. He felt Emilia.

He couldn’t look back. He didn’t have the courage.

Feeling her presence, he hesitated for a brief moment, and then answered.

“—Because she’s special.”

That was his answer.

Julius’s eyes widened slightly in apparent surprise. However, the surge of emotion was immediately concealed when his face calmed again.

“You are obstinate. I accept that you have a reason for standing here regardless of whether you are qualified or not. In that case, I have nothing more to say to you.”

Julius turned his back to Subaru as if he was returning to the line of candidates. But his very first step halted, and his head alone turned back toward Subaru.

“—However, do not think that I accept you as a knight, or ever will.”

“What are you…”

“I understand that you esteem her enough that you wish to protect her. However, your thoughts are… No, it would be ugly to elaborate deeply upon it.”

Julius shook his head, pitying Subaru.

“A man who brings such an expression to the one he wishes to stand beside…is not a knight.”

Subaru’s thoughts shifted behind him. Everything felt cold.

He wondered what kind of look was on Emilia’s face.

He was too frightened to find out.

That was why the next thing out of Subaru’s quivering lips was a transparent attempt to get in the last word.

“Y-you’re saying that whether you can be a knight or not is settled from birth? What, every one of you was a golden child, the best at everything? Don’t make me laugh. You’re not the one who gets to be called the knight among knights around here. Don’t think anything you say can get to me.”

It was a cheap insult. But Julius did not display his emotions as he casually replied, “Subaru Natsuki, you said? You should know that speaking such cheap insults to others diminishes not only your own worth, but damages the worth of everyone around you. Subaru Natsuki.—There is no beauty in it.”

And so, Julius summarized Subaru’s words and actions to date, rejecting them, and him, in one fell swoop.

That single remark made Subaru realize that he, and his own conduct, had hit rock bottom.

The candidates gave Subaru blank stares. Behind the dignified Julius, many of the knights seethed with resentment at Subaru’s rude statement.

For their part, the rows of civil officials had no love lost for Subaru, who seemed unable to make any argument not based on sentimentality. He didn’t even have the courage to look up and see what the Council of Elders thought of him.

Even if it meant making an enemy of the whole world, he’d be in Emilia’s corner.

Until that moment, his resolve for that part, at least, had held strong, but…

Before Subaru summoned the nerve to look back, a voice, clear as a bell, moved around to his front.

“Subaru, that’s enough.”

The trembling of the hand touching his shoulder shocked him enough that even he wanted to look away.

Emilia took hold of Subaru’s wrist as she bowed her head to the Council of Elders and said, “I apologize for the waste of your time. He will leave immediately.”

The words waste of your time sliced into Subaru’s heart sharper than any razor.

But he could say nothing.

He had indisputably taken his resolve, determination, and himself, and trampled on them all.

Subaru did not resist as he was led away from the stage by his arm. As Emilia pulled him forward, he still couldn’t look at her face.

From the dais, Miklotov sounded hoarse, yet mysteriously, his voice carried far.

“I judge some of this to have been time well spent, Lady Emilia.”

Neither of the two stopped walking as Miklotov continued.

“He showed us that, at the very least, you are not a half-elf like the one the world fears.—You have a good vassal.”

Emilia paused and looked back.

“—Subaru…”

She was watching the Council of Elders on the dais. Subaru, standing beside her, was not in her field of vision whatsoever. But when she turned, he could clearly see her face.

Her expression was frozen over. Her eyes were frigid with the readiness to emotionlessly cast something aside, when her tranquil, clear voice stated plainly—

“…is no vassal of mine.”

Thus, she spurned Subaru’s words and feelings up to that very moment.

Sub-chapter 7.

Subaru wandered around in a corridor outside of the chamber, completely rudderless.

He didn’t remember much after he’d humiliated himself in front of Emilia and a huge audience. All he remembered was that the captain of the knights had permitted his departure and had left his fate to Emilia’s judgment.

It would have been wrong to say he was there because he didn’t want to cause Emilia any more trouble. The reason he’d fled, even after he had gone against her instructions to reach the palace in the first place, was far simpler.

—He couldn’t bear Emilia’s frigid eyes any longer.

Subaru was mentally berating himself as the guard who’d escorted him to the castle’s waiting room gave him a concerned look.

“Did something happen to you?”

He hadn’t seen Subaru’s humiliation because he’d been stationed outside the huge double doors. Furthermore, his demeanor showed respect toward someone he believed to be involved with one of the royal candidates.

“It’s…nothing. Sorry for all the trouble in the middle of a really important job.”

“I don’t mind. Inside the throne room, they’re deciding the future of the entire nation. Even if I’m not qualified to be inside, I’m proud just to be on the edges of it.”

The irony of the words, spoken with a clear voice, left Subaru with an uncomfortable awkwardness. Here was a guy full of pride for what he was doing at the edges of the selection of the next king.

What of Subaru? Could anyone take pride in what he had done?

No one would. And the one person he had wanted to acknowledge his efforts had rejected him.

“—”

Unable to stand still, Subaru shifted his gaze when he suddenly noticed a ruckus at the end of the corridor. Just as he turned his head to look, a guard popped in, apparently in a hurry.

“Pardon, open the way! We’ve captured an intruder. We need orders from the captain!”

“Wait, they’re still in the middle of the conference! Hold the intruder in the barracks until…”

“The circumstances do not allow us to do that. Either way, we cannot make this decision ourselves!!”

Ignoring the urgings of his comrade, the guard shouted back down to the corridor. Several men were dragging forward the intruder that’d snuck into the castle.

Subaru, wondering what was so bad they needed to interrupt the royal selection, glanced at the intruder. Then…

Regret stronger than anything else that day struck Subaru Natsuki.

“—Ah?”

He stared dumbfounded as four men dragged the man along by his hands and feet, desperately trying to move forward with a balding old man Subaru knew well.

It was Old Man Rom, who had no business being there whatsoever.

“—”

He’d left a message at the fruit seller’s place for him to wait. What was Old Man Rom doing there—

Subaru’s mind went blank, but then, for once, he instantly found the answer to his question.

“W-wait… Don’t tell me, he…”

He followed me. At first, Subaru doubted himself, but then certainty welled within him.

If Old Man Rom had tried to sneak into the castle there and then, the trigger could have been none other than the message Subaru had left at Cadmon. The sharp old man had deduced that Subaru had reason to think Felt was at the royal palace. And he’d tried to enter by any means necessary.

No doubt Old Man Rom’s own clumsiness had led to his discovery and capture. But Subaru was the one who’d brought that result about. Subaru knew how precious Felt was to Old Man Rom. He should’ve known Rom might lose his head over it…

“—!”

The guards passed before his eyes. By the time he reached out, Old Man Rom was already too far away. Subaru froze in place, watching them go in silence.

If he spoke to the guards then and there, he could explain to them who Old Man Rom was. But that also meant admitting that Subaru was connected to an intruder who’d attempted illegal entry of the palace.

It wouldn’t end just with Subaru. It would make him an even weightier ball and chain on Emilia’s ankle.

That was as far as he got before he did a mental double take.

When he considered the possibility he’d leave Old Man Rom to rot, using Emilia as the reason why, he felt filthy.

“Hey, wait a…!”

Subaru called out to stop them, but a foul-mouthed shout buried his words. Quietly, his eyes went wide as he realized the torrent of insults was coming at him from Old Man Rom himself.

“Ha! You high-falutin’ nobles have some awful taste! Is one bumbling old captive something to stare at?! If you’re going to laugh, laugh, you filthy-minded youngin!”

Old Man Rom, watching Subaru holding his breath, made a disgusting grimace with his bruised face.

“If you wanna stare, take a good, hard look at this dirty old man from the slums!”

One of the guards, offended at the rude words from the intruder toward Subaru, a VIP, swung his fist down in punishment.

“—Watch, your, tongue!”

“Ugh!”

Subaru countered, “Wait, please! There’s no need to go that fa—”

Rom replied, “You are very kind, young one. Heeey, how about it, knights? Your beloved master’s giving you an order. Why don’t you just wag your tails and do what he sa—ugh!”

“Haven’t you said enough, vagabond?!”

The knights responded to Old Man Rom’s continued verbal abuse with even harsher strikes than before.

For a moment, the boy’s gaze met Rom’s, and Subaru understood his intent.

—Even in that place, Old Man Rom was covering for him, because if Subaru said too much, it would only put Subaru in a worse position.

“—Don’t butt in, youngin.”

The small, faint murmur was followed by insults like those from before for the benefit of the guards. Subaru alone realized the true meaning of Rom’s words.

And that sentence left a very deep scar in Subaru.

Subaru had reached out, only to have his hand rejected, his assistance refused, just like in the chamber. No matter what he tried to do, the person concerned didn’t need, or want, his help.

“—”

Subaru fell into silence. The guards saluted, dragging Old Man Rom with them once more. Their destination, the throne room, lay ahead. He wondered what treatment Rom would receive at the site of the royal selection.

He shook his head, driving the images off. Rom had a much better chance at a pardon without Subaru opening his big mouth. Besides, there were three people present that knew him, with one practically a relative. Nothing bad was likely to happen to him.

Probably nothing. Almost definitely nothing. His judgment shouldn’t have been wrong, but—

“What am I…doing this for…?”

Sub-chapter 8.

Murmurs spread through the throne room. The cause of this exchange of whispers was obvious. The uproar had begun when Marcus, receiving a report from the guards, dragged a vagabond who had infiltrated the castle into the throne room. At first, many doubted the judgment of the captain of the guard, but one look at the intruder made numerous participants understand the reason for his decision.

And then…

“I told you, let Old Man Rom go. That’s all I’m asking.”

“—Unfortunately, I cannot comply.”

In the center of the chamber, a tense deadlock continued, with Felt and Marcus squared off against each other. A vein bulged on Felt’s forehead at the way Marcus dismissed her demand.

Reinhard raised his voice in an attempt to mediate.

“Captain, I believe that explanation is insuffi—”

But Marcus rebuffed his intervention.

“Silence, Reinhard. I understand you wish to support the master you have sworn your sword to, but her acceptance of your sword is premised on her willingness to become your king. During the proceedings of this conference for the royal selection, Lady Felt publicly announced she has no intention of participating in the selection process. Abandoning her qualifications means abandoning any right she might have to give commands to us Knights of the Royal Guard… Do you understand?”

Marcus laid out the logic of his refusal to comply with Felt’s demand. His words brought a scowl to the former thief’s face as she furiously clawed at her own blond hair.

“This is getting annoying, so let’s sum it up, ’kay?—In other words, you won’t do as I say because I don’t wanna do this royal selection thing?”

“—That is indeed the crux of it.”

“Ohhh, I see. I get it… You are so annoying.”

Felt’s catlike eyes glared fiercely at Marcus. Marcus easily maintained his usual poise under the pressure of the young girl’s near murderous gaze.

Then the old man, having kept his silence up to that point, made a plaintive yell that echoed throughout the chamber.

“Never mind all that…!—Hurry up and save me!! Felt, it’s me! The Old Man Rom you lived with in the slums! I don’t really get all this, but you can save me now, right? Then save me! I don’t wanna die!!”

Kneeling on the carpet spread across the floor, the old man made the most amicable smile he could as he pleaded to her. The shameful display left Felt speechless. Even the attendants showed hints of disgust at the miserable old man.

“I always saved you when you were in trouble! Many, many times over! Pay those favors back, now! Now, I say! Quick, quick!! Do something, will you?!”

The old man sent spittle flying as he cried out for a quick rescue, flailing around with self-serving logic. It was such a mean and disgraceful sight that even those predisposed to sympathy and compassion would be sorely tempted to walk away.

In a brief span of time, the old man had made enemies out of most occupants in the hall.

Reinhard, sensing danger in the old man’s behavior, instantly began to step forward.

“This is bad—”

The red-haired knight instinctively realized the old man’s true intent and judged he needed to adapt to the circumstances.

“—Do not move, Reinhard. ’Tisn’t good to do anything untoward here…”

But his efforts were frustrated from the outset by Priscilla, smiling craftily as she hid her mouth with her fan.

“Why do you act in such haste, Reinhard? …It almost looks as if you wish to silence this elderly man before he says something troublesome for you. Simply frightening…”

She got me, thought Reinhard, clenching his teeth as he realized his mistake. Priscilla shrugged her shoulders in a manner more typical of her. Around them, people seemed to recover from their stupor, whispering about what they had just seen—an old man pleading pathetically for his own life.

“Did you see? How unsightly.”

“And that face is even worse. I cannot even feel sympathy. It is the spitting image of a thief.”

“He shouldn’t be released, though Lady Felt defends him…”

Even the knights hoping to have the crime dismissed began to faintly scowl at the old man.

“Lady Felt was raised in the slums…where people like him live?”

“Even if she really does have royal blood, can someone with such an upbringing handle royal duties…?”

“We need to rethink this. Or just do what the Dragon Tablet says in name only…”

Reinhard bit his lip as the spreading murmurs confirmed his worst fears. He had been too late, denied any opportunity to refute the words putting down the girl he revered as his master.

Then, with the knights’ murmurs all around her, he watched from behind as the girl slightly lowered her head—

Finally, unable to listen to any more, the young girl let loose with a high-pitched, foul-mouthed shout, “—Would you all shut up, you ball-less jerks!!”

A wave of shock plunged the chamber into silence. Attendees looked at one another, seemingly unable to believe what their ears had heard, when the girl, her shoulders slumped, marched forward. The giant old man was kneeling, and she was a little girl, but she still had to look up at him. Her red eyes filled with grief.

“What’s with you here? That’s the worst-looking, most pathetic plea for your life, ever, and I really, really hate it.”

“—”

The old man’s amicable smile at her approach froze over.

“Hey, Old Man Rom. We people from the slums, there’s no help for us, right? We know the people above us look down at the poor lives we lead, and we all have rotten personalities, me included. It’s a terrible place to live.”

Having rated so many things so lowly, including herself, Felt paused for breath and added, “But…

“Yeah, we’re a pile of garbage at the bottom of the trash heap…but even if we do live in a place like that, we’ve come this far by having at least a smidgen of pride in ourselves. No matter how lowly other people see us, we don’t lower our heads.”

“Felt…”

“I wish I could show you your face in the mirror right now. Looking all meek and submissive, wagging your tail and eager to please, just to save your life… You can’t call that living!”

Many of the attendants gravely nodded at Felt’s words, with Crusch among their number. The ideas Crusch had voiced were very much in tune with Felt’s words.

The small girl put her hands on her hips and bluntly stated, “If you wanted me to spare your life, you went about it all wrong. There’s no way I’d give up my right to run from a crummy place just to save you, if that’s how you’re gonna be.”

The red-haired young man watched. Her declaration meant she was abandoning someone very close to her, abandoning her right to issue commands—and refusing to participate in the royal selection.

“…Lady Felt.”

Reinhard couldn’t bear the pain that her declaration sent running through his heart. He’d seen it coming. He’d guessed what reaction the proud girl would display when she saw the old man’s behavior. In that sense, she was playing right into the hands of Priscilla and the old men—no, of one old man.

Now abandoned, the old man’s shoulders fell, bending forward onto the floor as if all strength of will had left him. But Reinhard did not miss the faint, instinctive slackening of the old man’s lips. This was a display of neither despair nor regret; no, he was filled with a sense that his actions had achieved their intended result.

The old man had gambled his very life, and had succeeded in grand fashion.

Truly, Reinhard wanted to expose the old man’s scheme even then, to tell Felt that she needed to change her decision. But Reinhard could do no such thing—His hands were tied, precisely because of who, and what, he was.

Marcus, watching the old man hang his head before the girl, must have decided the discussion was over. The knight pulled on the old man’s manacles, sending the clink of the chain echoing through the chamber.

“I deeply apologize for causing this uproar before the throne. I shall immediately remove this—”

Suddenly, Felt interrupted Marcus’s apology and attempt to leave.

“Or something like that, I guess. I was waiting for someone to jump to conclusions…”

Marcus’s mouth closed with a rare look of shame. Seeing his solemn facade crumble, Felt beamed, feeling very proud of herself. She twirled before the dumbfounded audience.

“Sooo, get his hands loose, captain. Those shackles are way too small for him. It hurts just to watch.”

“I have already informed you several times over, Lady Felt, I cannot comply with your comma—”

“Because I didn’t wanna do this royal selection thing, right? Then it’s simple.—I’ll do it, the royal selection. I just gotta try to be king, right?”

“—!”

The declaration, accompanied by a laugh showing off her snaggletooth, sent a shudder throughout the entire chamber.

Many of the onlookers seemed aghast at how lightly she made such a critical decision. But naturally, the old man’s reaction was even greater, his feelings about her announcement plain on his face.

“Wh-what are you saying, Felt? I-I accepted it. What you said is right. You can’t live by losing your pride. Having you cut me loose couldn’t be hel—”

“Cut the crap, you shitty old man. What, you’ve lived this long without knowing you can’t act worth a damn? I’ve been with you long enough to know all sorts of things about you, like—when you tell a lie, the swirl on your forehead turns backward!”

Felt raised her cheeks and drew a little pattern on her head to demonstrate. Her gesture made Old Man Rom’s face go pale. He cried out, “You’re lying!” and touched his bound arms to his own head in haste.

Felt watched him and said, “Yep, I’m lying. Wow, do you look stupid. No sympathy from me.”

“—Ah?!”

Old Man Rom was beside himself at falling so easily for her trap. Felt shook her head.

“So there you have it. Get those shackles off him. Everything up to now was just the wild fantasy of a senile old geezer.”

Marcus dragged his feet even then.

“We cannot simply let him go on such flimsy grou—”

“—This old man’s my family,” Felt resolutely stated. “Let him go, now.”

Hearing these words, Marcus’s face registered surprise for a brief instant. The next moment, the hesitation vanished.

“As you command.”

Marcus stood at attention and let go of Old Man Rom’s shackles. Then, he ordered the guards behind him, “Unlock the manacles.” But Felt raised a hand to stop them.

“Too slow—Reinhard!”

“Here.”

Reinhard responded instantly to the girl’s sharp voice, his tall frame advancing to the chamber’s center. As the red-haired young man stood at Felt’s side, Felt didn’t even look at him. Instead, she crossed her arms and motioned with her chin.

“Do it.”

It was the world’s shortest command.

“Yes, my Lady—”

Reinhard raised a hand up to the sky, fingers straight, slicing down through the air like a knife. The old man’s wrists were bound by metal shackles, but the knight’s hand sliced through them as if they were paper. The manacles, cut clean in two, slid off as if they melted, falling to the floor. A high-pitched clink echoed in the chamber. In a true sense, this sound announced this was the moment the two had become lord and vassal.

Felt remarked, “So this all went the way you wanted, didn’t it?”

“Not at all. This was guided by the hand of Fate.”

“Ha! Fate again. What, are you a slave to fate?”

“No—I am, more than anything, your knight, Lady Felt.”

Felt seemed to yield in the face of his unrelenting support as she murmured, “You’re no fun…”

Old Man Rom was still prostrate as the two bantered right in front of him.

“Why, Felt… I—I wanted you to…”

Felt replied, “I have a pretty good idea why you said all that embarrassing stuff and what you were after—You saw how I hated being here so much I couldn’t stand it, right? So you thought you’d give me a helpful nudge.”

“If you understand that, then why—”

When the old man tried to pose the question, Felt broke into an awkward laugh.

“What, you think I can sneak back into the city after abandoning my own family? There’s no way I could be that shameless.”

When Old Man Rom heard these words, his face broke into an expression different from bitterness. He turned his back to her, rubbing an arm over his face to hide it.

“I-I’ve lost! And all because…”

Old Man Rom looked up to the heavens, his hoarse voice quivering with chagrin and something powerful and inexpressible.

“…I raised her too well—!!”

Sub-chapter 9.

Rom’s plaintive cry about how he had raised the girl resounded in the hall. Miklotov, perhaps moved by the lament, cleared his throat, seeking to clear the air in the process.

“Well, then, Lady Felt, Sir Reinhard, may I conclude that you both intend to participate in the royal selection?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Yes, as my Lady wills it.”

Felt’s behavior was insolent to the end, with Reinhard following her. The lenient sage let the incongruity pass without comment, quietly replying, “Understood,” as he nodded. He continued, “Though there have been some minor uproars, I judge that all the preliminaries have concluded. Lady Felt, do you have anything else to add?”

Surely he thought it proper to give Felt the same chance to give a speech that the other candidates had received.

She answered the prompt with a, “Hmm,” and thought about it a bit. “One thing, then.”

Landing on a proposal, Felt raised a finger and looked up, bathed in gazes from the dais. Her red eyes flared as they surveyed the faces of those assembled. Finally, she took a deep breath and smiled buoyantly as she swept one hand toward the Council of Elders.

“—I hate nobles.”

She kept that smile on her face as she pointed at the Knights of the Royal Guard with her other hand.

“—I hate knights.”

Then, with both arms still spread wide, she said, with a spectacular smile and maximum venom…

“—I hate this kingdom!”

She continued.

“—I hate all of you in this room, I hate the structure you built, I hate every little thing here. That’s why I think I’ll break it all. How ’bout it?”

Felt inclined her head. For a single moment, her behavior brought time itself to a halt. Then, the chamber exploded.

“Wh-what is she saying?!”

“This is where the king is selected, and she says she’ll destroy the nation?!”

“What have we spent all this time for!!”

Felt blew off the vociferous, angry shouts of the onlookers all at once.

“Ohh, where’s all your high-and-mighty talk now? What about that proud history? Now look, when I become king, I’m breaking all of it. I’m smacking down the lot of you knuckleheads who still can’t see the floor crumbling underneath. You all need a breath of fresh air.”

The speech of the bright-faced girl threw the hall into chaos like never before.

Miklotov, listening to the proclamation that was reckless without precedent, nodded generously, his expression unchanged as he glanced at the knight standing beside the girl.

“Your lord is quite a feisty one. Having heard her words, what do you think of them?”

“—Truth be told, I believe Lady Felt’s wishes are, unfortunately, still in the realm of fantasy.”

“Hey, you!”

“However, someday, Lady Felt’s words will reach everyone. It is my duty to give her my full support until that day comes.”

Miklotov countered, “But Lady Felt counts you among those things she intends to destroy, does she not?”

Reinhard bowed deeply on one knee toward Miklotov, showing no sign of relenting.

“Surely after destruction, there will be renewal. If she will have me, I have no greater desire than to be at her side during that time.”

Felt furiously scratched at her hair as she watched his chivalrous profile.

“So in the end, which one are you, my ally or my enemy here?”

“Your ally. Yours, and yours alone.”

“…Fine, then. I’ll put you to good use.”

With her acceptance, the final candidate for the royal selection declared them lord and vassal.

Miklotov dipped his head as he gazed at the radiant row of royal candidates.

“Finally, all the candidates have been assembled. I ask the Council of Elders, do we have a consensus?”

As Miklotov closed his eyes, the atmosphere around him shifted. The old man’s voice carried the power of a strong will.

“—My brethren, I ask for your consent to announce that this royal selection shall begin with the five candidates assembled to date.”

“—By the authority of the Council of Elders, I assent.”

“And I.”

“I assent as well.”

One by one, the members of the Council of Elders agreed to Miklotov’s proposal with solemn nods. Listening to them until the end, Miklotov finally rose from his seat, walking beside the empty throne before opening his eyes.

“—Then, I shall announce the rules for the royal selection!”

Crusch Karsten, lord of the House of Karsten.

Crusch’s foremost knight, the Blue Knight, Felix Argyle.

“The candidates are Crusch Karsten, Priscilla Bariel, Anastasia Hoshin, Emilia, and Felt. All of these five bear the qualifications to be Dragon Maidens!”

Priscilla Bariel, the Bloody Bride.

The mercenary Al, one-armed wanderer from another world.

“The day shall be one month prior to the Dragonfriend Ceremony in three years, renewing the pact with the Dragon!”

The young company president from a foreign nation, Anastasia Hoshin.

Anastasia’s foremost knight, the Finest of Knights, Julius Juukulius.

“The selection shall be made according to the guidance of the Dragon via the radiance of the Dragon Jewels and the combined will of the nation’s people!”

Felt, of the lost royal bloodline (unconfirmed).

Felt’s foremost knight, Reinhard van Astrea, the Sword Saint.

“Until the appointed day, all candidates for the throne shall work to uphold their own lands and the kingdom to the greatest possible extent!”

The silver-haired half-elf, Emilia, the Freezing Witch.

And absent from that place, her self-declared knight, Subaru Natsuki.

“With the minimum conditions fulfilled, I hereby announce the royal selection has begun—!”

Miklotov’s great shout filled the chamber with an incredible fervor. No one spoke, but they all were unable to contain their heartfelt cries.

Miklotov, feeling the waves of excitement rolling against him, straightened from his stoop and declared—

“Let the royal selection—commence!!”
 

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Diamond. Diamond. Diamond.

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