"So that really was the princess-like thing to do, wasn't it? She went and did what she wanted right to the very end."
Seated across from her on a reception sofa, one knee drawn up, Felt had listened without interrupting Emilia to the end, then mourned Priscilla in her own inimitable way.
The fact that no great sorrow or sense of loss crossed those crimson-tinged eyes of Felt's—Emilia didn't consider it callous. She simply thought: that's strength.
Including the fact that Felt had come here of her own volition, to learn the details of Priscilla's death.
Right now, Emilia and Felt sat facing each other in a room of the Royal Government Building in the capital, Lugunica. In the reception room of the mansion reserved for important figures visiting the capital, Emilia had been hosting Felt.
It hadn't been arranged in advance. Felt, who happened to be staying in the capital at the time, had caught wind of the report Emilia brought to the royal castle and had come to see her like this.
Honestly, Emilia was very happy that Felt had come to visit.
For starters, Emilia's camp owed Felt a significant debt—she'd heard from Anastasia how much trouble Felt had gone through on Meili's behalf while they were away from the kingdom. Anastasia, a relative of Roswaal and a supporter of Emilia, had asked Felt to help negotiate matters concerning Meili and the
Because of all this, Emilia had been planning to set aside time and go thank Felt herself, so being able to meet like this was a tremendous relief.
Still, if only she could have come away with better news— "—you've got that written all over your face, Emilia-nee."
"Huh? Was it that obvious?"
"Pretty obvious. You were frowning like that, staring at the floor—it's a dead giveaway."
At Felt's words, Emilia unconsciously looked up at Reinhardt standing behind the sofa.
People often told her she wore her emotions on her face, but to think it was this blatantly obvious surprised even herself. It also made her uneasy. She'd been telling everyone she was fine, that she'd bounced back completely, that they didn't need to worry—she'd been putting on that brave front.
"And yet, no good. Subaru and the others are going to scold me for this."
"That big brother actually scolding Emilia-nee? I can't even imagine that."
"That's not true at all. Subaru really does need me to be strong, you know. So he definitely tells me when something's wrong with me."
"Huh, is that so?"
Felt grinned, showing off her fanged canines, and propped her chin on her raised knee.
Pouting at that slightly mischievous, teasing smile, Emilia continued with "But—"
"...I guess it was obvious what I was thinking, but... Felt, are you not feeling the same way?"
"That's kind of a complicated question, but is this what you mean? That we're seeing each other for the first time in a while, and I feel bad that the topic is the princess's death?"
"Yes, that... that's right. Yeah, that's it."
"On that front, I'm actually glad I heard it from you, Emilia-nee."
"You're glad you heard it from me?"
Surprised by this, Emilia asked for clarification. Felt nodded with an "Yeah." Scratching her head in front of wide-eyed Emilia, she said: "Honestly, when I first heard that princess had died, I thought it was a joke. She was the poster girl for 'you can kill me but I won't die,' wasn't she? If it had just stayed at that, I'd have kept running wild with half-baked assumptions in my head until the truth got buried."
"——"
"So actually hearing it from you, Emilia-nee, who was there—that gave me closure. Or... got me ready for closure. Tch, even I'm getting tangled up in my own words. Sorry about that."
"No. I feel like I understand what you're saying, Felt."
Felt looked somewhat frustrated at her inability to articulate clearly, but Emilia understood her feeling perfectly.
If the situation were reversed—if Emilia heard from far away that someone she knew had lost their life without her even knowing—she'd probably run through all kinds of scenarios about that death.
Some of those scenarios would be right, some wrong, and her mind would fill up with things she could never verify, leaving her unable to grasp the truth.
So when someone could cut through all that and spare you the uncertainty—even if the truth was painful—it was a relief.
"And when it's someone you trust telling you that, it makes it even better."
"...Doesn't that make it sound like I trust you, Emilia-nee?"
"Yes, I do trust you, Felt... and you trust me too, right? Isn't that why you came to see me?"
"Well, technically, we're rival candidates, so nodding to that feels a little off!"
Felt dropped her legs from the chair and sat with her cheek propped on her fist, looking exasperated. But since Felt hadn't actually shaken her head, Emilia smiled with relief.
Thinking of Priscilla still made Emilia's chest ache with a dull throb. But she was glad that Felt's lingering doubts hadn't been left unspoken.
"——"
Just then, a faint breath intruded upon their exchange. The moment it did, the sharp-eared Felt let out a displeased "Oi."
"What the hell are you smiling about?"
"Oh—no, I apologize. It's just that seeing Felt-sama being so thoroughly put in her place by Emilia-sama is a rare sight. I couldn't help myself."
"'Couldn't help myself' doesn't cut it. What kind of knight just grins while his master gets owned?"
"My sincerest apologies. I hesitated to interject in your conversation."
Saying this, he placed a hand on his chest and bowed—Reinhardt, Felt's knight, recognizable by his red hair and blue eyes.
Naturally, Felt hadn't come to visit Emilia alone; he'd been listening to their entire conversation as well. Emilia, watching the easy banter between Reinhardt and Felt, prefaced her next remark with "Oh, come on—"
"You don't need to be so considerate. Our Otto has been sitting here the whole time listening too... Wait, he wasn't in the room?"
"That's right. Thank you for noticing. Despite my station, I actually do have the discretion not to butt in when two people of such noble standing are talking, you know."
Looking surprised, Emilia turned to find Otto standing right there with a wry smile.
He'd been there the whole time.
This time, Otto was the only one who'd accompanied Emilia to the capital, so inevitably, he was present for the report at the castle and for this meeting at the Government Building. Having him around simply put her at ease, and she'd gotten so comfortable that she'd forgotten he was even there.
"Sorry, Otto. I didn't realize. You're such a chatterbox—I can only imagine how hard it was to stay quiet all that time."
"If I may say so, I only speak when something needs to be said in the moment. I'm really not a chatterbox!"
"Oh, listen to that. How persuasive. A guy who chats with bugs, water dragons, and what have you, claiming he's not talkative."
"I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't conflate my Blessing with my personality."
Otto held his green hat in place as he responded to Felt's ribbing.
As someone who could talk to all manner of creatures thanks to his Blessing of Words, Felt's observation hit the mark, Emilia thought. Whenever she looked, Otto was always striking up conversations with animals, insects, and all sorts of living things, expanding his circle of friends.
"Otto has a looooot of friends. I don't have that many, so I really admire how he can get along with anyone."
"Well, I wouldn't call them friends, exactly. What I'm usually doing is striking up negotiations or trades—it's a different skill set from making friends. So I wouldn't say I have many friends in the strict sense."
"Who cares about definitions? If anything, befriend our Reinhardt here. This guy doesn't have many friends either."
"Huh, really? That's suuuper surprising."
Felt pointed one eye-closed at Reinhardt standing behind the sofa, and Emilia couldn't help but look up at the red-haired knight.
Reinhardt was personable, incredibly famous, and surely every person in the kingdom knew his name and relied on him. Emilia had always assumed he was friends with absolutely everyone in the kingdom, since he'd been nothing but kind to her from the very first meeting.
Seeing Emilia's surprise, Reinhardt continued with "Unfortunately—"
"No matter how approachable I try to be, I tend to make people feel intimidated. Aside from the knights in the order, my allies... well, aside from Subaru and
"Really? Even Reinhardt has that kind of trouble. ...Hey, Otto, would you mind becoming friends with Reinhardt?"
"You're asking me something incredibly unreasonable, aren't you? Wouldn't this actually be an insult to Reinhardt!?"
"Not at all. Quite the opposite—I'd be thrilled. Will you be my friend?"
"Is this... an ambush? A feint of some kind?"
Caught between Emilia's earnest gaze and Reinhardt's smile, Otto groaned in dilemma.
Only Felt watched this with a delighted grin. But after agonizing for a while, Otto let out a long, deep breath.
"Earlier, Felt-sama said something relevant. Right now, we belong to opposing camps. Until the Royal Selection is over, we should probably avoid becoming too close."
"I see. I respect that, even if it's disappointing. Though I wouldn't call us friends."
"Indeed, please do. We are not friends."
As Otto said this with a somewhat dejected air, Reinhardt showed an oddly unoffended, undismayed smile as they continued their exchange. Though they hadn't become friends, in Emilia's eyes they somehow still looked like friends.
And to top it all off— "Oh dear, the tea has gone cold entirely. I'll make a fresh pot. Please, Emilia-sama, continue enjoying your conversation. I'll just—"
"—Then, if you'll permit me to join you. Though we couldn't become friends, perhaps I could demonstrate the effects of my Blessing of Tea Preparation."
"You're unexpectedly petty, and having the Sword Saint hold a grudge against you doesn't sound pleasant at all."
With that light exchange, the two of them left the room together.
Watching their retreating backs disappear behind the closing door, Emilia turned back to Felt.
"They really did seem like great friends, didn't they?"
"Heh, yeah, I thought so too. Usually that Reinhardt guy's attitude just pisses me off, but when it's about someone else, it's pretty entertaining."
"Ah, you're terrible. But because of the Royal Selection, Otto held back from becoming Reinhardt's friend because of us..."
"Hmph, that big brother just used what I said as a convenient excuse. Not that I know why he did it... but 'we can't get along because of the Royal Selection'? Don't take that seriously."
"You don't have to take it seriously...?"
Felt seemed so thoroughly entertained by it all that she looked like she might start humming. After considering for a moment, Emilia stood up.
She'd thought about the Royal Selection, about how Otto had given up on befriending Reinhardt. She felt bad about his decision and consideration, but she'd made up her mind.
She'd lost Priscilla, and she didn't want any more regrets.
"Hey, Felt, can I talk to you about something?"
"Hmm? What is it?"
Emilia walked over briskly and sat down next to Felt, close enough that their shoulders touched, and faced her head-on. Felt blinked her crimson eyes, taken aback by Emilia's boldness.
Now that she thought about it, the very first time Emilia met Felt was when Felt stole her Royal Selection insignia. That had been a terrible start—Emilia's mind had gone blank, and she'd even wanted to take her frustration out on Pack for not panicking even in that situation. Her first meeting with Felt had been anything but auspicious.
Still, now, Emilia thought this about Felt, a fellow Royal Selection candidate who shared her own background: "I want to be friends with you, Felt. Not just regular friends—really, truly good friends."
"...Huh?"
"Actually, I made a promise with Anastasia that we'd become friends after the Royal Selection ends. We traveled together and talked about all sorts of things... Not all of it was really with the real Anastasia, but we talked a lot and made that promise."
Felt's large eyes wavered with confusion as Emilia pressed on with conviction.
It was a promise she'd exchanged with Anastasia—a woman who identified strongly as a merchant—so she was certain it would be kept. Unlike with Subaru, there was peace of mind in making promises with Anastasia.
"Subaru breaks promises right away, so he worries me, but Anastasia is dependable. But even putting promises aside, I don't think Subaru and I can become friends... and I don't think I've ever wanted to become friends with Subaru either... Oh? What was I talking about again?"
"That Emilia-nee can't be friends with Subaru?"
"Yes, that's right. ...No wait, that's not it—this is about you and me, Felt!"
Emilia felt a chill run through her as she nearly lost sight of what she was trying to say. Just then, in front of her, Felt suddenly looked upward. Following her gaze, Emilia too looked at the ceiling. There was nothing in particular there.
"Felt?"
"I ain't looking at the ceiling. I was just wondering what to do here."
"Well... people like Subaru and Petra always tell me that looking at my face cheers them up. What do you think?"
"Are you trying to show me your good qualities or something?"
"Yes, because I want to be friends with you."
Over the past year or so, Emilia had gotten used to looking at her own face in the mirror. Subaru, Petra, and even
Facing Emilia's earnest, almost desperate approach, Felt kept looking upward.
"So why do you wanna be friends with me so bad? Things are fine as they are, aren't they...?"
"I wanted to become friends with Priscilla."
"——"
"But I put off telling her that. I'm the worst, aren't I? I knew that someone precious to me might suddenly be taken away—just like yesterday she was fine and alive—and still..."
Emilia pressed her hand to her chest, touching the spirit stone hanging from her neck.
Just like Pack, still sleeping. Just like Emilia's precious family members, frozen in the
Her parting with Priscilla had reminded her of this painful truth—Emilia, who was so prone to forgetting.
"I don't want to forget that anymore. So I've decided I won't hold back—I'll tell the people I love that I love them, and tell the people I want to be friends with just that."
"—Dammit. That princess really did do it right to the very end, didn't she?"
"Hm?"
Speaking as honestly as she could about her feelings, Emilia watched as Felt, who had still been looking upward, slowly lowered her gaze.
Felt's expression was a smile that was neither bitter nor vexed—something else entirely.
"Got it, fine. I'll be friends with you too, Emilia-nee."
"Really!? That means, after the Royal Selection ends..."
"We don't have to wait. If it's going to happen anyway, I'd rather become your friend before Anastasia-nee and make her jealous."
"Oh, don't say that. Anastasia is going to be my friend too."
"Wouldn't the friend you already have rank higher than the friend you don't have yet?"
"Oh, stop teasing me!"
Felt showed her fanged canines and laughed, and Emilia couldn't help but smile back.
Felt had given her a happy answer to her offer. The reality of having become friends with Felt slowly filled Emilia's chest with warmth.
Laughing together with Felt, Emilia thought—about Al, who still couldn't come to terms with Priscilla's death, and about Subaru and the others who were by his side.
"Some day—"
Some day. Not right away was fine. But some day, she hoped from the bottom of her heart that a day would come when she could talk about Priscilla—the Priscilla she'd wanted to become friends with—without tears. A day she could speak of her with something other than a grief-stricken expression.
And so, shoulder to shoulder with a friend, Emilia thought.
△▼△▼△▼△ "—So you went so far as to exchange glances. You have something to tell me, don't you?"
Leaving Emilia and Felt alone in the reception room, after walking down the corridor for a while, Reinhardt finally broached the subject.
Holding a silver tray with the tea set, Otto answered without turning around: "Indeed."
"I'm glad you picked up on it. Felt-sama came to visit, and Emilia-sama finally seems to be smiling naturally—I didn't want to break that atmosphere."
"So Priscilla's death has really been weighing on you."
"To be honest, anyone who participated in that battle came away with wounds. I hardly had any connection to her, and even I'm still struggling to come to terms with it."
Of course, the shock Otto had suffered was nothing compared to Emilia, who had harbored favorable feelings toward Priscilla, or Subaru and Al, who had witnessed her vanish right before their eyes.
Even so, as someone who had been working to bring as many allies from the battle against the Great Calamity home alive as possible, the death of a kingdom figurehead—a Royal Selection candidate—had hit Otto hard. On the other hand, he wasn't without the part of himself that could coldly analyze the withdrawal of a rival candidate with extraordinary charisma.
"...Unexpected."
Reinhardt murmured this, as if he'd heard the thoughts in Otto's heart. Glancing back, Otto saw that Reinhardt had raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise, just as his words suggested.
That reaction prompted Otto to let the corner of his mouth twist with self-deprecation.
"That reaction—is it because it's surprising that I was pained by Priscilla's death? Certainly, saying I didn't welcome the elimination of a rival candidate would be a lie..."
"No. What surprised me was how honestly you acknowledged your own weakness. You don't need to go out of your way to paint yourself in a negative light, do you?"
"——"
"Or perhaps... your candor is a sign of trust? A sign we could become friends?"
"It seems I chose my words poorly."
Teased with that good-natured barb, Otto squared his shoulders and resumed walking.
He really was in a worse state than even he himself realized. Reinhardt had picked up on it and was letting his earlier misstep slide as nothing more than a bit of banter.
"Get it together,
This wouldn't do. He retightened his reins on himself.
No matter how lacking in hostility Felt might be toward Emilia, she was still a rival candidate. There was no advantage in showing weakness to the other side. An imbalanced mental state was essentially the highest-rank vulnerability one could expose.
Re-centering himself, Otto proceeded with the purpose he'd brought Reinhardt here for.
That was— "I'd like to share information regarding
"——"
The shift in topic changed the atmosphere of the corridor unmistakably.
Whether from dry to humid, the moisture shifted. Whether the temperature rose or fell, it changed. And the only certainty was that it was caused by the Sword Saint walking right beside him.
"Heinkel participated in the battle in the Empire as a member of Priscilla's camp and survived. However, after Priscilla's death, he was witnessed in a state of extreme distress, and his current whereabouts are unknown."
"...Was he detained by the Empire?"
"No, I don't think so. The Empire is the type to be ruthlessly pragmatic in pursuit of their interests, but after the devastation of that battle, they wouldn't be so reckless as to make an enemy of the kingdom—of Sword Saint Reinhardt van Astrea—without a clear picture of the situation."
"So he voluntarily disappeared, then."
Reinhardt looked down slightly and murmured weakly. Otto watched this happen.
He hadn't meant to get even, but by exposing his own vulnerability earlier, he'd inadvertently created a situation where Reinhardt's mental balance was shaken—just like his own earlier slip. Still, he was in no mood to take advantage of this or probe further.
Honestly, he felt ill-suited for this kind of thing, but— "Heinkel... your father—are you worried about him?"
He asked this not as a probe, but out of genuine concern for the person he was speaking to.
For Reinhardt, it was indeed a difficult question to answer. Otto didn't know the details of their relationship, but the fractured nature of their father-son bond was common knowledge by now.
What was more, Otto had personally witnessed the scene at
If one wanted to go further, the fact that three generations of the Astrea family each supported different Royal Selection candidates was itself an open testament to the dysfunction of the household.
But regardless— "Whether it provides comfort or not, according to Garfiel, your father apparently withstood even a blow from the Divine Dragon. So I'd think the likelihood of him having been attacked and put in mortal danger is slim."
As he relayed this, Otto deliberately omitted the possibility of Heinkel taking his own life.
From what he'd heard, Heinkel—having been thrown into turmoil by Priscilla's death—had actually approached Emilia and offered to switch his allegiance to her, even asking to be taken in as a subordinate. Emilia had refused him, and with nowhere left to turn, it wasn't impossible that he might take desperate measures— "That's not going to happen, Otto. My father would never take his own life."
"Was it written on my face, like Emilia-sama?"
Having his thoughts read so precisely, Otto rubbed his brow with one hand. Reinhardt gave a wry smile.
"I took it as you deliberately not mentioning the worst possibility—you were being considerate. But that worry is unfounded. My father has a goal he absolutely must accomplish while alive. The idea of choosing death before achieving that—it's inconceivable."
"Then while one part of me is relieved, another grows more anxious. If he's cornered, who knows what he might do... Could he try to contact Felt next?"
From Heinkel's perspective, that would be a far more viable option than clinging to Emilia.
Of course, choosing that path would mean sacrificing Heinkel's one and only absolute advantage—his ability to exert some form of coercion over Sword Saint Reinhardt. But even setting that aside, it was a choice with a high likelihood of being accepted.
Having lost Priscilla and been rejected by Emilia, Heinkel choosing Felt as his next host was, in Otto's estimation, a perfectly plausible scenario.
But— "That's not going to happen either."
These words, delivered with even greater certainty than before, cut off Otto before he could voice his next thought.
"——"
In those eyes that normally reflected the clear blue sky, a shadow of night had crept in. The faint smile that had been on his lips vanished entirely, and Reinhardt walked past the silent Otto in silence.
Two steps, three steps—unable to say a word, the two of them narrowed the distance to the kitchen. It seemed the conversation would end there in silence, but— "My father wants me to abdicate the title of Sword Saint. So in a Royal Selection where I absolutely must win, I can't support Felt with everything I have."
"...You want to win the Royal Selection, but you don't want your father to win?"
"That's exactly it. On that point, my father and I are irreconcilable. No matter how he asks, I am the Sword Saint. —I must be the Sword Saint."
Everyone had their own circumstances.
That much was readily understandable, and Otto had no intention of prying into another family's affairs. Even though he felt this was a twisted relationship between father and son—even though that last line sounded like Reinhardt was convincing himself— All Otto could do was clarify his own position.
"My goodness, what an extraordinary exchange this has turned out to be. Never in my life did I imagine I'd be having a casual chat with the Sword Saint."
Shrugging, Otto signaled his intention not to delve into the matter further.
It was the social skill he'd honed as a traveling merchant, encountering people of all stations in all manner of places. No matter what he heard, he signaled his harmlessness by ostentatiously not using it—by pretending he couldn't possibly exploit it.
In most cases, that was enough to leave a town without incident.
"Sometimes you run into unreasonable people who, after getting tipsy and letting slip an absolutely confidential piece of information, come after you to silence you..."
That was why, even in taverns—the ideal places for gathering information on the road—one had to take care not to accidentally acquire information that was too important. This traveling merchant's survival instinct had, as it turned out, proven useful in the Royal Selection. Life was full of surprises.
In any case— "Thank you for sharing that with me about your father. I'll keep it in mind."
Reinhardt nodded, accepting Otto's declaration of立场. In return, Otto shrugged and added: "I hope I haven't added to your burdens. As the Sword Saint, you surely have enough to worry about already."
"I earned this Blessing and this position by my own choice. That's my responsibility, I suppose."
A Blessing was a gift from the gods.
It was a strange way to put it—"earned by choice"—but Otto quickly remembered that the Blessing of the Sword Saint was one of those that could only be inherited by a worthy successor, passed down posthumously.
Reinhardt had inherited it after the death of the previous Sword Saint.
"For a Blessing-holder, the troubles that come with one's Blessing never end. From what I can see, Otto, you've mastered yours quite well—or is it not like that?"
"Mastered it? Not in the slightest. I was born with an unmanageable Blessing, and I've been tossed around by it my whole life. If I could give it away, I'd do so gladly."
"Ha ha, be careful saying that so carelessly. There are plenty who envy Blessing-holders. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that."
"I really don't think mine is worth envying."
Just as Reinhardt said, the troubles of a Blessing-holder were endless.
They were troubles that even those without Blessings, or those with different Blessings, couldn't truly share—a seemingly impossible question with no model answer.
Reinhardt's response to his flattery was, without question, Otto's genuine feeling. He had never once been so arrogant as to believe he'd mastered the Blessing of Words. Probably never would.
"Unlike Reinhardt's Blessing of the Sword Saint, mine isn't the kind of thing that'll go down in history."
"Please don't be so modest about the Sword Saint title. In truth, I'm still immature—still being tossed around by a label. I have no intention of letting it go to my head."
"They say position shapes the person. Perhaps without realizing it, you're intimidating those around you with your Sword Saint air."
"Sword Saint air, intimidating... I'd like to hear more about that. Perhaps that's the reason Felt and Rachins keep saying all sorts of things about me."
"Don't twist my arm over what was just a casual remark!"
Caught off guard by Reinhardt's sudden interest, Otto cried out in distress.
As their exchange lightened and thinned, Otto loosened his guard against Reinhardt ever so slightly, making room in his heart.
At the very least, there was no reason for Otto to rush into political maneuvering at the cost of his impression on Felt or Reinhardt. His own condition was far from good.
Most importantly, right now, in a distant land, Subaru was in the depths of anguish, trying to save Al.
"Even I have my limits. It would weigh on my conscience to scheme behind the backs of Natsuki-san and the others as they try to save someone's heart. ...Unless we're talking about the Margrave Mathers."
While Subaru and the others had headed to the Pleiades Watchtower with Al, Roswaal had accompanied
That behavior was, from the standpoint of someone involved in the Royal Selection, correct, diligent, and contemptible. At the same time, it made Otto feel both soft for being unable to go that far himself, and grateful that he wasn't that kind of person.
"Well then, shall I make the tea? I'll show you what I can do."
"Please, by all means. I look forward to seeing your skills."
Arriving at the kitchen, Reinhardt seized the tea set from the tray and began preparations. Watching him, Otto caught his breath with a moment's rest, along with thoughts of what might unfold next.
But he had a premonition. That something would move again before long.
"...The 登城 of Emilia-sama and Felt-sama has been postponed, and some discussion is taking priority at the castle. What could it be about?"
As Otto murmured this, a small shadow lurking in the shade of a column stirred—the Zoda bug he'd made a deal with, to report any activity in the castle.
And that premonition of Otto's would prove true in two ways.
First, there was the Zoda bug's report that the discussion at the castle—deliberately held without the Royal Selection candidates—had reached some conclusion. Second, there was a report from Grassis, a girl from Felt's camp who had come to the Government Building.
A complex and turbulent message: trouble had erupted among Subaru and the others who had headed to the Pleiades Watchtower, Al had been detained, and they were now heading to the capital.