The perfect moment, ruined in the worst possible way.
The red-haired man's conduct was, in a word, of that particular kind of evil—no, of that particular kind of ugliness.
The ruddy-faced man exuded a faint smell of alcohol as he ran a hand over his stubbly cheeks, wearing a sleazy grin. He appeared to be around forty, give or take.
The reason those modest gestures and disheveled grooming elicited such excessive disgust was that, by all accounts, the man's natural features were actually quite well-formed. It was the spectacle of something beautiful being defiled by something other than what it was meant to be.
There was something about the tall man's appearance that provoked that sort of visceral revulsion.
"...Who the hell are you?"
"Hmm?"
While everyone in the room was frozen in shock, it was, of course, Subaru who spoke first. He reached behind his waist, his fingers closing around a handle resting there.
Blood rushed to Subaru's head, and a violent impulse enveloped him.
What burned within him was fury—fury that the clumsy bond between two people who had just managed to reconcile had been disrupted.
Why Subaru was this enraged, no one other than Subaru himself could understand.
A reconciliation between friends, and a person he respected. No—it was a reconciliation between family. It was the moment his family had finally reached out for connection.
And that had been— "Answer me. Who the hell are you?"
"Goodness, what a hostile look you're giving me, boy. A newly minted knight like you—do you even know who you're picking a fight with?"
"Don't make me laugh, old man. You're the one who came here looking for trouble. I'm the one being gracious enough to buy what you're selling."
As his patience finally snapped, Subaru rose to his feet.
He could feel
Seeing Subaru like that, the man scratched his head roughly, wearing a look of distaste.
"Annoying little brat. Hey—Sword Saint, Julius, I don't care which. Hell, even Argyle will do. Cleave this insolent little bastard in two."
"——!"
The man, having scratched his head, now pointed at Subaru with that same hand and, in an offhanded tone, imperiously ordered the three—Reinhardt and the others present in the room.
That struck Subaru as nothing short of an insult to his comrades-in-arms, or at least those who could be called as much. He bared his teeth and lunged to backhand the man across the face.
"If I may."
But his motion was cut short by Julius's voice, intervening at the last second.
Julius had risen at some point and now placed a light hand on Subaru's shoulder from behind. He gave Subaru a slight chin-lift, then turned to face the man.
"At present,
"That's right. Ferris is, in name and in truth, Crusch-sama's faithful servant now. So I'm afraid I cannot comply with your orders~"
Picking up where Julius left off, Ferris—who remained seated—hugged Crusch's arm and gave a flip response. Crusch looked a bit surprised at being embraced, but her eyes were already boring into the red-haired man with steely determination.
Looking around, the rest of the room wore similar expressions, none of them hiding their hostility toward the man. Of course. The atmosphere in this room was something everyone had shared, and this man had crashed through it like a bull in a china shop.
However— "Whoa, whoa, scary, scary. Obviously I'm joking. Even if I'm nothing but a figurehead Vice-Captain, I know the rules well enough."
"A figurehead... Vice-Captain...?"
The alcohol-reeking man found something funny about that, slapping his knee and laughing at the responses he'd gotten. Subaru caught a word in that exchange he couldn't ignore and furrowed his brow in question.
Hearing that, the man fixed Subaru with a mocking gaze once more— "That's right, a figurehead. The figurehead, universally despised Vice-Captain of the Royal Guard of the Lugunica Kingdom. I'm Heinkel, 'the Deadweight.'"
"Being called deadweight and being despised—that's not something you should be so proud of."
"Kahaha, that stings. Stings, stings, stings so bad that I just can't stand it... so I'm going to shut that mouth of yours, you little brat."
"——!"
A dark shadow flickered through the man's narrowed eyes, sending a chill down Subaru's spine.
It was different from the feeling he got when facing a powerful opponent, or when contacting an overwhelming presence like the
Subaru felt like he knew that sensation intimately. Yet in the moment, he couldn't recall what it was.
All that gripped him was an inescapable sense of revulsion, and a ringing illusion in his ears.
"Pull yourself together, Subaru. Don't let the Vice-Captain's aura swallow you."
Julius spoke up beside him as Subaru swayed on his feet.
Hearing that, the man—Heinkel—shot Julius a阴阴 smile.
"Hah. As expected of the Finest. A textbook, perfectly polite answer. If you had the skill to back it up as a knight, you'd earn genuine respect as a traditionalist."
"I'll take that as a compliment, Vice-Captain Heinkel. ...May I ask what brings you here this time? If I recall, your duties are to protect the Royal Castle in the capital."
"Don't get snippy with me. What difference does it make if one man disappears from the castle guard? Captain Marcos has it handled. And if he can't manage... oh, right—there aren't any royals left to be victimized anyway."
"Heinkel!"
Given his position, Heinkel's words were unspeakably disrespectful.
It was Wilhelm who bellowed Heinkel's name in rage upon hearing them.
The Sword Demon glared at Heinkel with a fearsome expression, lips trembling with fury. Heinkel merely shrugged.
"Heinkel..."
"I heard you the first time. I'm not so old I've gone deaf. Just consider it a drunkard's ravings and let it slide. —More importantly,"
Wilhelm's voice was bitter. Heinkel picked at his ear with a finger, closing one of his blue eyes. Then, with the one still open, he stared at Wilhelm.
"Aren't you being cold? I wanted to offer my congratulations on the White Whale subjugation, too. It was a fourteen-year undertaking. I have every right to congratulate you and share in that joy, don't I? Right, dear old Father?"
"Heinkel, I..."
"Reinhardt! You too, right?"
"——"
With an expression as though smeared in malice, Heinkel drove the knife into Wilhelm's heart.
The old man's face contorted as though slashed by a blade, but Heinkel paid it no mind. Cutting off Wilhelm's attempt to protest, he turned the spearpoint of his malice toward Reinhardt next.
Reinhardt, who had been silently watching the situation unfold this entire time, slowly raised his gaze to Heinkel.
"Your shoulders must feel lighter thanks to Father, right? Your great-grandfather avenged his wife, his mother, and his grandmother. You must have at least offered him a word of gratitude? After all..."
"——"
"After all, he avenged the predecessor—the one you killed."
—Let me take that back.
I described Heinkel's expression as being "smeared with malice," but that was wrong.
It was malice itself.
Heinkel's words, his expression, his attitude, his voice, his gestures, his gaze—everything in this scene that could express who hecontained nothing but pure, undiluted malice.
Pure malice was packed into every word Heinkel spoke.
"The predecessor I killed...?"
Subaru murmured the phrase that had imprinted most sharply on his ears.
There had been plenty of other potential footholds for his consciousness. But Subaru, who didn't have the composure to sort things in logical order, had seized on that part in the spur of the moment.
And malice never overlooked an opening like that.
"That's right, the predecessor I killed. I don't know what kind of ignoramus you are, but surely you know the position of 'Sword Saint'? The current Sword Saint sitting right here is supposedly the strongest and greatest in history—but that title was taken from the predecessor... from his own grandmother, whom he let die. They've tried to keep it quiet, but—"
"Stop it, Heinkel! You... how far are you willing to go..."
"Drop the high-minded rhetoric, Father. Of all people, you should be the last one to criticize me. You were the first to accuse Reinhardt of killing the predecessor—nobody else but you."
"——!"
Heinkel's words carried a viciousness as though distilled from the world's deepest hatred and darkest curses.
And their content was nothing less than an unbearable torrent of abuse.
Reinhardt had killed the predecessor. Impossible.
Wilhelm had savagely berated Reinhardt for it. Impossible.
Because for Reinhardt, the predecessor had been— And for Wilhelm, Reinhardt had been— So even though such a thing couldn't possibly be true— "——"
Neither Reinhardt nor Wilhelm moved to deny it.
Why? All they had to do was say one word—say it wasn't true. Just dismiss it as nonsense, and Subaru would believe them without hesitation.
A comrade and a respected mentor, versus a reeking scoundrel. There was no dilemma to speak of.
That was exactly why Subaru wanted them to say the words that would make him believe.
"Oh, silent treatment when things get inconvenient? You've been doing that for fourteen years. Neither you nor Father has changed a bit. If nothing's changed, there's no way you could ever reconcile. The likes of
In the room that had fallen silent, only Heinkel's blasphemy echoed.
The predecessor Sword Saint—Wilhelm's wife and Reinhardt's grandmother—had been named. And for Heinkel, she was probably— "Dead Mother cursed us all. Three generations running, and none of us can ever be forgiven."
Reinhardt's father. Wilhelm's son.
From everything Heinkel had said and done up to this point, Subaru had correctly grasped his identity.
"Heinkel van Astreea..."
Saying it aloud, the name felt right.
Undoubtedly, the man before him belonged to the Astrea lineage—no matter how far his character diverged from the straight-shooting Astreas Subaru knew.
"Drop the 'van,' brat. Regrettably, I have no claim to that honor. When I introduce myself, it's
"...?"
Hearing Subaru's bitter mutter, Heinkel clicked his tongue.
What passed across the man's profile was perhaps the first glimpse of genuine pain Heinkel had shown in this room. The eyes that had worn nothing but dark pleasure while reviling his family now, for the first time, flickered with hurt.
—Though Subaru dismissed what that meant in an instant.
"Then... what exactly did you come here for?"
"
Heinkel's outrageous behavior had left everyone shell-shocked.
But the one who rose to her feet and was the first to condemn his actions was Emilia.
Standing before Subaru, the silver-haired girl who let the waves of hair cascade down her back spoke with a quiet anger.
This was Emilia. She wasn't angry because the atmosphere had been ruined, or because of Heinkel's insolent behavior. That wasn't what set her off.
Whenever Emilia truly grew angry, it was because she had measured someone else's feelings.
She knew how much Reinhardt and Wilhelm had been hurt.
"We were all just about to enjoy a lovely meal together. You went out of your way to ruin it like this—so what is it you want?"
"Well, well. You must be Emilia-sama. I've heard the rumors. The poor half-elf princess, dragged into a battle she can't possibly win."
"What you think of me is something I'd like to discuss another time. Right now, there's only one thing I want to know. Why are you here?"
"——"
Heinkel had apparently tried to provoke Emilia with his inflammatory words, but when his provocation bounced off, Subaru caught the man sneering in frustration. Even the people from other factions in the room seemed somewhat surprised by Emilia's composure.
Given the innocent, unguarded persona she had displayed from yesterday to today, that surprise was only natural. She had deliberately played the part of a naive, carefree maiden to provoke exactly that reaction. A lie. She was simply showing her true self.
"Us gathering here was Anastasia's decision. Everyone being here at once was a coincidence, and I doubt you were targeting that occasion. Even if you are someone important in the Royal Guard. Tell me—what's going on?"
"Tch. That's not what I heard..."
"Answer me."
Heinkel clicked his tongue and scratched his head roughly—he was being pressured by Emilia.
Emilia was angry, but she wasn't in a combat stance. The pressure she exuded had nothing to do with magic; it came purely from her own force of personality.
"Don't storm in here all confident, then get sullen because a girl glared at you. Geez, old man, way to lose face."
"Now, now. I was lookin' forward to hearin' some interestin' stories, but if this is all, I'd rather just watch the songstress over there—it'd be way more fantastical and fun."
"Oh my, is that so? Then I would be ever so grateful if this unrefined gentleman would see himself out, so that I might spend some quality time with the famed songstress."
"——!"
Following Emilia's lead,
Just as Emilia had done when facing Heinkel, the three radiated an equally imposing aura toward the uncouth intruder, and the man flinched slightly under the combined intimidation of all four.
The caliber of the players was different, one might say.
Compared to his title and his position as a stakeholder, it was a remarkably pathetic sight.
"Are you quite finished, Vice-Captain? If you have no other business, I believe it would be in everyone's best interest for you to take your leave."
Noting both Heinkel's pallor and the attitude of the women in the room, Julius threw Heinkel a lifeline the moment both had ripened. Subaru had thought it best to break Heinkel's spirit right here and now, but he reined himself in after seeing how poorly Reinhardt and Wilhelm still looked.
Recognizing that he was being hasty without fully understanding the situation, Subaru admonished himself.
"Ugh, damn..."
"Vice-Captain. Please make your decision. If possible, I would advise you not to say anything further—for everyone's sake..."
"——That won't be necessary, you mediocrities."
The voice was unnaturally smooth and laced with an arrogance that looked down upon everything.
The stunning timbre—enough to make anyone who heard it shudder—forced upon its listeners the absolute sense of superiority its owner held for herself.
It was an act of barbarism that swept aside all common sense and engraved new rules in its place. That it could pass without backlash or objection was only possible because of the extraordinary presence of the person wielding it.
Everyone in the room raised their heads, their eyes drawn to the sliding door behind which Heinkel stood.
All attention had focused on the sound of footsteps approaching from the hallway—someone was coming. The matter of Heinkel had already been swept from everyone's minds.
All that remained was vigilance against the blazing heat that stalked down the corridor like the sun itself.
"A motley crew, all assembled, I see. You've prepared quite the stage for me to make my appearance. On that sole point alone, I shall commend your efforts."
Boldly flipping the hem of a blood-red dress cut daringly low at the chest, she hid her mouth behind a fan—a performance utterly befitting a villainess. The arm cradling an excessively ample bosom lifted it further, her pale skin displayed without the slightest modesty in a seductive gesture.
Crimson eyes surveyed everything with a contemptuous, flame-licking gaze, and her bewitching aura was the embodiment of a enchantress who could mesmerize and enslave all beings of a similar nature to the males of the mortal world.
Once seen, never forgotten—her violent beauty.
Beauty, taken too far, becomes violence. She was living proof.
The girl's name was
The fifth candidate for the throne, who, under normal circumstances, would never have been invited to this banquet.
※※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ "Still, I must say—today is no different. Dour faces, stiffened in a dreary atmosphere. Do you all enjoy this stagnant air? Or is it that whenever you gather, this sort of atmosphere inevitably wafts forth? If so, how pitiful."
Surveying the room upon her arrival, Priscilla immediately wrinkled her nose and let those words slip. She added a fan-wafting gesture before her face for good measure, as if to provoke them further.
Subaru and the others, struck speechless by her sudden entrance, had no choice but to take her contempt head-on without defense.
"What a sluggish bunch. I have gone out of my way to grace you with my presence. You should all be prostrating yourselves before me, worshipping and praising me—that is proper etiquette."
"...Who are you, some self-proclaimed goddess of some religious corporation? That scene's never happening, even if you actually become queen."
"Oh my?"
Subaru couldn't help but interject at Priscilla's selfishly outrageous claim. When she heard his murmur, Priscilla tilted her head, and her crimson eyes locked onto him.
"What is it?"
"...Who are you, precisely? This is the room where fools who don't know their place gather to compete for the throne. Aside from them, the rest should be those who have no judgment and merely serve as their vassals—so why is a commoner like you mixed in here?"
"Oh, come on."
When he realized Priscilla's hostility was genuinely razor-sharp, Subaru deflated and muttered.
There was no pretense of joking, no hint of mockery. In other words, it was genuine. Priscilla sincerely, from the bottom of her heart, had forgotten Subaru existed.
Despite a year's gap, they had met and interacted in memorable ways—yet she dismissed him so carelessly.
It was quintessentially Priscilla, and he could hardly welcome it wholeheartedly given his mood and circumstances.
"Hey, Princess. That's a bit much, isn't it? Sure, it might not mean anything to you, but to me, those are some pretty entertaining people."
Just as that blend of the worst and the worst threatened to choke the air, a flip voice cut through.
The voice was somewhat muffled, accompanied by a metallic clinking. A figure shambled out of the hallway and took a place beside Priscilla—a man with a single arm.
His head was encased in a pitch-black helm that hid his face, and he wore rough, bandit-like attire that was wild and outlandish. He was Priscilla's attendant—Al, a fellow summoner from another world, like Subaru.
Predictably, he had apparently accompanied his master and now inserted himself between Priscilla and Subaru.
"See, you remember, right? You might've forgotten, but back at the castle, during the manifesto, there was this guy who made a fool of himself in front of everybody? That was him. Princess was cracking up too, holding her belly."
"I have no such memory. Besides, Al—me, clutching my stomach in laughter? That could never happen. Do not demean my noble self with the casual ease of some common town girl. Even from you, I will not hesitate to take your head next time."
"But come on, brother. Sorry, I just wasn't strong enough. I'll try harder to be friends with you again."
"You! Could you have at least spent that one year increasing your influence!?"
He abandoned any attempt to reform his master's mindset and offered Subaru an apology. His repeated "sorry, sorry" showed no trace of change over the past year, and Subaru could only sigh.
For someone like Al, who had aged into middle age with his personality unchanged, perhaps significant growth over a single year was simply too much to ask.
"You're late, Priscilla. How long were you gonna make me do this alone? I was told you'd come right away, so I..."
"Hush, mediocrity. When I command you to dance, it is the duty of the lowly to dance until they die without being told to stop. To twist that around and attempt to correct me is a mistake worth killing for."
"Guh..."
Meanwhile, Heinkel—who had sensed the shift in atmosphere—rounded on Priscilla, standing directly behind him. But his complaints, directed at Priscilla, were about as effective as throwing pears at a wall.
Heinkel seemed at a loss with Priscilla, but Subaru listened to their exchange and narrowed his eyes.
"Priscilla. Was it you who brought him here?"
"You commoner. By what authority do you address me so familiarly? Even a mother-generous soul like myself has limits to her tolerance of the hopeless."
"Princess."
Al called out to Priscilla in a short, clipped tone when he saw the cruel light entering her gaze toward Subaru. In response, Priscilla closed one eye and let out a soft sigh.
"Somehow, you have managed to win a strange favor with my attendant. Consider your life spared—Al... no, there is no need to thank Al. Thank me instead. That settles the debt."
"...Thanks for your boundless generosity. So, what's the answer to my question?"
"Whether I was the one who brought this mediocrity here? If so, your suspicion is correct. That is the case. I summoned him and sent him here myself."
"Why?!"
Priscilla's confirmation drew a sharp cry from Subaru.
An uninvited guest was one thing—but for that guest to drag along another uninvited guest of this caliber? He needed to know what intentions were at work, at the very least.
However, at Subaru's question, Priscilla tilted her head.
"If I had to say, it looked like it would be entertaining."
"...Entertaining?"
"Indeed. The tragedy and comedy born from twisted family dynamics and relationships—quite the ugly spectacle, and my heart quickens with anticipation. And truly, it was worth seeing, was it not? The Sword Saint and the Sword Demon, both showing their human faces—that is not something one sees often."
"Priscilla!"
Subaru flew into a rage at words that surpassed mere malice into something entirely unscrupulous.
Priscilla was right—Reinhardt and Wilhelm's struggle was rarely witnessed. And it was a kind of suffering that, under normal circumstances, they should never have had to endure.
All they had needed was to show their human faces—without Heinkel barging in. That alone would have been enough for grandfather and grandson to return to their proper relationship.
And that had been— "Easy, brother. Us fighting here ain't gonna help. The Princess having a bad personality is nothing new. Just think your luck—your stars—were bad and let it go."
"If you know your master's personality is rotten, then rein her in yourself. Letting a mad horse run wild is beyond irresponsible."
Al stopped Subaru from stepping forward with his single arm, swaying his head slowly from side to side. With only one arm, using it to brace Subaru meant he clearly couldn't draw a sword in that instant. In other words, that single gesture was his declaration that he had no intention of fighting.
Realizing this and letting out a long breath, Subaru was slow to notice that he was the only one in the room who had worked himself into a killing state.
The candidates, obviously, but even Julius and Ferris showed no signs of escalating things.
Of course. Gathered here were the stars with a chance to claim the throne and carry the kingdom's future—no one wanted them tearing each other apart over anger.
"But does that mean you can just wound their hearts as much as you want...!"
"Subaru..."
Emilia called to him softly, her eyes wavering with fragility, as his suppressed fury finally found its way to his tongue. He felt a tug at his sleeve and realized Beatrice was also gripping his hand.
Receiving their concern, Subaru let his head droop.
"It seems the stray dog's barking has ended. Today, I came purely because I wished to see your snarling faces. Having achieved that purpose, I have no further business here."
"Well, aren't you awfully noble about it. ...I didn't think I'd told you about this gathering—so where did you hear about it?"
Anastasia, who had stayed one step ahead, stopped Priscilla from leaving by cutting in. Her tone was gentle, but threaded with unmistakable wariness.
"I wouldn't have thought I'd let loose lips wander where they shouldn't."
"Enough with the pleasantries—it rots the ears. A fox woman of reasonable wit should understand well enough."
"Oh my. And here I thought you considered me ordinary and common?"
"If there's nothing noteworthy about you, I lump you in with all the other commoners. Surely you wouldn't expect me to believe that you, who stand as my rival candidates, are that witless?"
The two traded provocations—though in Priscilla's case, this was simply her default behavior, with no particular intent to needle Anastasia beyond the usual.
Anastasia stroked the fur of her neck scarf at a leisurely pace.
"I've been real careful not to let information slip, though..."
"Anything told to someone's ears will inevitably spread—from loose lips, no less. As more people learn, more holes appear; that is self-evident. You are not the only ones keeping eyes and ears on others' movements."
"I had assumed you were above such mundane espionage."
"A fly buzzing past your ear gets swatted. Still, without knowing its position, there's nothing to be done. I watch and listen for flies just the same. And so my countermeasures toward you will be treated identically."
Treating her rival candidates as nothing more than insects, Priscilla made it clear she was leaving no openings.
Subaru shared Anastasia's assessment. He hadn't expected Priscilla to have formulated and executed precise countermeasures against the opposing faction.
That carelessness had invited today's worst-case scenario.
"Hey—old man, that guy's Reinhardt's dad, right?"
Ignoring everything that had been discussed, a brash voice suddenly changed the subject.
Felt, still chomping on a daisukiyaki, drew the stares of everyone in the room. Sauce smeared around her mouth, she picked out Priscilla's gaze from among those watching her and glared.
"I remember you being all familiar at the castle, and I pretty much got it from the conversation earlier. I don't care about his family drama—that's none of my business. But that old man being with you is a different story."
"Oh my. What could a slum girl like you have possibly figured out?"
"As much as I hate to admit it, this isn't someone else's problem. The heirship of the Astrea household—it's a lifeline for the likes of us. Because that title hasn't been transferred to Reinhardt yet. The real power of the household is still in that old man's hands."
As Felt spoke, the slightest stiffening crossed Reinhardt's cheek.
And Subaru, too, grasped exactly what Felt's concern meant.
Raised as an orphan with nothing, Felt was in the middle of building her foundation on the Astrea family's estate, slowly producing results.
But that estate, at the end of the day, did not belong to her. It was the Astrea family's—a loan from Reinhardt.
But what if the Astrea family's estate, which even Reinhardt believed was his, turned out to be merely a loan of a loan?
"Heh. Looks like you've finally realized how serious this is, you blockheads."
Heinkel, who had been waiting for exactly this topic, cut in with a self-satisfied grin. He licked his lips and alternated his glare between Felt and Reinhardt.
"That's right. The Astrea household's inheritance is in my hands. I have no intention of transferring it to Reinhardt—none whatsoever. The Sword Saint is far too busy with matters of the kingdom to be burdened with such tedious work!"
"A lordship can exist in name only? When we went back to the Astrea domain, it was a total mess. A handful of officials and servants were running themselves ragged doing everything. And now you want to waltz back and call yourself lord after abandoning all that?"
"Whether it's a name only or I'm irresponsible, the lord's crown sits on my head. Besides, it hasn't actually collapsed yet, has it? The citizens and servants were doing their utmost to support their lord. Hah! Being a lord beloved by the people—what a heartwarming, tear-jerking joy!"
Heinkel mercilessly mocked Felt, who was trying to keep her emotions in check as she spoke.
His words were so vile and malicious that Subaru felt the illusion of his vision going white with rage. Across the room, gazes of anger and loathing beat down like a storm.
Basking in that tempest, Heinkel wore the expression of a man receiving a standing ovation.
Subaru understood it clearly: this man was completely insane.
"Your concern is well-founded, dear master of Reinhardt. The Astrea domain is my territory, and I will not support you. As for whom I support—well, that should be obvious!"
Heinkel puffed out his chest and played to the crowd, as though disdain and contempt were the thunderous applause he deserved. He gestured to Priscilla beside him, grandly declaring that he would back someone other than his son—or his father—for the throne.
"I've heard all about your accomplishments over the past year. In my stead, you've worked so very hard to revitalize the Astrea domain. And while I acknowledge those efforts were admirable—I'll tell you this: that place is no longer your home. Once you understand that, you'd best get out and—"
"Here, mediocrity."
"Hah? What is it, Princess Priscilla? I'm in the middle of something important—"
"Quiet."
What followed was an act of tyranny that left everyone breathless.
In one curt motion, Priscilla flicked her folded fan toward the wide-eyed Heinkel. It sliced through the air, striking the crown of his red-haired head dead-on, and his tall body crashed to the floor with tremendous force.
Heinkel's eyes rolled back as consciousness was scythed away in a single blow. But Priscilla's actions didn't stop there.
With Heinkel splayed face-down on the ground, Priscilla kicked him with her toe, launching him into the air. Then she drew back her arm, preparing to hurl that momentum back into his torso— "Princess, temper tantrums are one thing. Any more and he's really gonna die."
"——!"
Just before her arm swung free, Priscilla's wrist was caught and her motion halted. It was Al, who had anticipated her rampage, and Priscilla turned a dangerous glare on the helmeted man.
In that restrained arm, a sword with a blood-red blade had materialized at some point.
A long, Western-style sword—its blade rippled with flame-like patterns, a masterpiece. Its extraordinary craftsmanship was evident at a glance. It had appeared in Priscilla's hand in the blink of an eye, and vanished just as quickly.
Having witnessed this, Al slowly released Priscilla's arm.
"Come on, give me a break. When you even draw the Sun Sword, it's bad for the heart... Oof!"
"Insolence, Al. By whose permission do you touch my porcelain skin? It is your business if you're boiling with desire from your prolonged loneliness, but to think of defiling me is a fantasy beyond all fantasies."
Freed from his grip, Priscilla drove her fist into Al's midsection, doubling him over. She sniffed disdainfully and looked down at Heinkel, who lay pitifully on the floor once more.
The coldness of the emotion that flickered across her eyes—how terrifying it was.
"Still, Al's words have a point. Killing him would be a bit... too hasty."
"If that's what you think, then... I really wish you'd been a little gentler with me, Princess."
"Don't be absurd. I am not so heartless. Later, I'll have you lick my feet as a reward."
"Don't say it like I'm some kind of freak who'd enjoy that! It's misleading!"
Al, beaten to his knees, protested desperately, but Priscilla paid him no mind. She stared at Heinkel with her blood-colored eyes, hesitated briefly over whether to dispose of him, then clapped her hands.
"Schult. Carry that mediocrity out. He's hopeless, but still has some uses. When you consider the trouble of bringing him in, it's still too wasteful to throw away."
"Yes, Priscilla-sama."
At her call, yet another person appeared in the room.
It appeared this person had been waiting in the hallway all along—a young boy, still not fully grown. Fluffy, peach-colored curls framed a slender, delicate body and refined features that could almost be mistaken for a girl's. His voice, high and not yet broken, confirmed his youth, and his undeveloped frame clad in a butler's uniform gave off a faintly transgressive air.
Schult—the boy who bore that name—was likely still in his early teens. By appearance alone, he was about Beatrice's age.
"Excuse me, Heinkel-sama."
Polite even to the unconscious Heinkel, Schult grabbed the man by the legs and, struggling under the weight, dragged him outside. Naturally, a grown man of Heinkel's height was far too heavy for a child to carry. But Schult didn't utter a single complaint, bearing Priscilla's order with an air of complete obedience as he hauled Heinkel away.
"Little Schult is always so brave. Princess, you should praise him later, too."
"Of course. That one serves me with absolute devotion at all times. And I am not so cruel as to mistreat a loyal subject. I shall have Schult lick my feet later as well."
"With Schult, that wouldn't be a joke—look at his eyes, he'd actually do it. Give him a normal reward for once, would you?"
"Then perhaps the honor of sleeping beside me in my embrace."
"...Well, I guess that works. I'd volunteer to take his place."
Watching Schult and Heinkel leave, Priscilla and Al exchanged a deflating conversation.
And so, with the outsiders finally removed, one could say the full lineup of the royal selection was face to face at last.
"So what about that old man's little speech? Are you really gonna try to kick us out of the Astrea domain and strip us bare?"
"Do not take the words of such a mediocrity seriously. It was you who carried out the domain's reconstruction, was it not? Even if a figurehead lord returned to the estate and tried to drive you out, who would follow him? The common folk are fools, but they are not heartless pawns devoid of feeling or gratitude. You need the right kind of wave to move them—and he cannot create one."
"...Then why'd you drag him here in the first place?"
"I told you. Because I thought it would be more entertaining. In the end, everything will come to my hands—that is already decided. Which means the only criterion for choosing a path is whether it is amusing or not. That is my ruling. Bringing him here was simply a form of amusement."
Unyieldingly selfish, an ideology that never bent.
Priscilla's absolute confidence transcended all common sense and forced the unreasonable upon everyone. All one could do was resign and submit—or face her on equal terms.
And— "——"
The four rival candidates present did not hesitate to choose the latter.
Receiving that wave of gazes, Priscilla smiled with genuine delight.
"That is as it should be. The outcome is already promised. Then the more entertaining the journey, the better. Entertain me, you lot who are at least better than the common herd. And should you grow fat enough to become my enemies... only then shall I meet you with everything I have."
She declared, still not even acknowledging them as enemies.
No—she had already said it. She still considered Emilia and the rest to be nothing more than insects. Not even enemies.
Then— "I'll make you cry and regret that pride."
Felt's blunt declaration was the shared sentiment of everyone in the room.