——There was a strange young man named Fourie Lugunica.
When they first met, he was still a boy, and even from that time his general impression as a person had hardly changed—he was a childish sort of fellow.
Bright, innocent, and carefree, with a quality where no one could predict what he might do or say one second later, always keeping those around him on edge.
But no matter how much he ran circles around them, he had a charm that never made anyone feel it was unpleasant.
They had been together for ten years.
Ten years of accumulating seconds where anything could happen, and many things had occurred.
There must have been countless occasions that couldn't simply be laughed off.
And yet, looking back, even those events could be recounted with laughter.
And at the center of those memories, told with such smiles, was his sun-like smile.
Let me confess without any pretense.—I had loved Fourie Lugunica.
From the day we met until today, that feeling had never wavered, not once.
No matter what words Fourie spoke to him, what feelings he directed at him, what events they shared, what time they spent, what future they dreamed of, what painful betrayals he suffered, what tragedies tore his heart apart—his affection for the man had never wavered. Not once. It hadn't.
Surely, in any situation, he would never lose his smile. Never lose hope.
In truth, he had remained noble, pure, and devoted until the very, very end.
He respected that from the bottom of his heart. Honored it. Cherished the thought.
Therefore—, "—Your Highness, please forgive me."
This resolve and this resignation were absolutely not the result of his love for you growing thin.
△▼△▼△▼△ ——The "Dragon Church," as its name indicated, was an organization that worshipped "Dragon God"
Its founding could be traced back four hundred years, to the era of the covenant that made the Lugunica Kingdom known as the Dragon Kingdom—making it a venerable organization with a legitimate history.
In truth, the Dragon Church had restrained the expansion of its own influence, maintaining a certain distance from the royal family and castle that formed the kingdom's core. This was none other than proof that the Dragon Church had defined itself solely as a foundation for faith, never seeking power beyond what was needed.
Therefore, even when the Lugunica royal family was wiped out by plague and the Royal Selection to determine the next successor began, the Dragon Church had refrained from actively intervening in the kingdom.
"—Yet, that was no longer a situation where one could remain calm. Ever since hearing of the
"————"
"Of course, the target of this anger should be the Witch Cult, which treated the common people so cruelly. But flushing them out and punishing them thoroughly is an extraordinarily difficult task... or rather, even if we did punish them, those who suffered would not be restored. Everything has its priorities."
"————"
"Salvation must never take second place to punishment. The scripture says so: 'A punishment without salvation is but hollow thunder; the Dragon first spreads its wings and embraces with tender mercy the smallest of lives.' That is the optimal solution of humanity that I believe in...!"
Declaring this forcefully, the woman firmly closed the thick scripture she held to her chest.
The sheer force was so great that one worried the pages might fall out. Fortunately, the book held together without falling apart, and the catastrophe of the preceding passionate speech's persuasiveness plummeting to the floor was averted.
"Ahem, ahem. Forgive me. I got a little too carried away. It's a habit of mine. Whether it's a good or bad habit depends on how I conduct myself from here on out."
The woman who had been delivering her speech said this with a bashful cough to the person she'd been addressing—a person whose internal concerns had been entirely different.
It was a form of self-reflection that acknowledged her own behavior while standing out with a peculiar optimism.
The strength to say that whether it was good or bad depended on her own future conduct was a way of thinking one could feel positively about. —A very, very complicated positivity, to be sure.
"————"
Glancing sideways at her, the person before him was a beautiful woman dressed in nun's robes.
Calling herself a nun of the Dragon Church, she had first held talks with the "Council of Wise Men" at the royal castle, then visited this Karsten family villa in the royal capital.
The purpose of her visit was astonishing, and the shock of it had not yet faded. But the impact she brought was not limited to the purpose of her visit.
The nun with long golden hair and strong-willed red eyes—her physical characteristics, and above all, her name—the fact that she called herself Filioire, brought a shock to this old body that rivaled her visit's very purpose.
"...I'm hesitant to say this as it sounds self-centered, but being stared at like that makes me feel rather unsettled. ...Quite unsettled, actually."
"—My apologies. I was somewhat... rude."
"No, I'm not looking to blame you. It's just that, for a young person like myself, I can't help but feel a certain... intimidation... fear... danger from the gaze of someone called the 'Sword Devil.' Well, anyway, I have to settle for 'some expression that sounds better than that' as the best I can manage."
To Filioire, who let the rudeness of his gaze pass without comment, the "Sword Devil" Wilhelm bowed respectfully with quiet gratitude.
The intentions behind his gratitude were twofold: the gaze that had made her uncomfortable, and the fact that he had kept her waiting so long. After all, more than an hour had already passed since Filioire first visited the mansion.
In that time, Wilhelm had been unable to make conversation to fill the gap, and Filioire—who disliked silence—had resorted to searching for topics as she had at the beginning. She even refilled her tea to cover the awkwardness, and had already entered her sixth cup.
That said, the reason for this conversational barrenness wasn't solely Wilhelm's lack of eloquence. The greatest reason was that the double shock of Filioire's visit had greatly shaken Wilhelm's heart and robbed him of his composure.
In truth, how should Filioire be treated? As if seeking an answer to that question, Wilhelm looked toward the person standing behind Filioire, against the wall.
That was the tall, powerfully built man who had accompanied Filioire to the mansion— "—Commander of the Royal Guard Knights, Marcus Gildark."
"Yes."
Called by name by Wilhelm, Marcus—who had maintained his silence while clad in white-silver armor—straightened his already straight spine and responded.
It was a single word, but it carried the sensation of a great boulder shifting, and in his heavy voice could be felt a definite reverence.
Wilhelm gently shook his head at the deference in that voice.
"Please don't be so stiff. I was Commander of the Royal Guard Knights more than ten years ago. I'm just a worn-out old man who can't compare to you, who now leads the Kingdom's Knight Order."
"Worn-out old man? What a joke."
At Wilhelm's words, a faint smile appeared on Marcus's craggy expression.
It seemed to be taken as modesty, but it was Wilhelm's honest self-assessment. Though he was striving to regain the sharpness of his former swordsmanship, the results his aging body could produce were slow to appear.
At this rate, he would never come close to fulfilling the reason an old soldier refused to let go of his sword.
"At the very least, it seems I've recovered enough to make the current Commander of the Royal Guard Knights call that a joke. That much I can consider fortunate."
Naturally, the one appointed Commander of the Royal Guard Knights was among the kingdom's most capable fighters.
He didn't mean to boast, but just as Wilhelm had been, Marcus was a man who possessed the strength befitting that position—one of the most formidable across the order's history. His exploits were overshadowed by Wilhelm's notoriety and the existence of Reinhard, the strongest "Sword Saint" in history, but the current knight order's martial strength owed itself to Marcus's ability as its leader.
For that reason, among all the commanders of the Royal Guard Knights across the generations, Wilhelm rated Marcus as the most suitable for the role. Though Wilhelm's assessment—coming from a man who had prioritized personal grudge over duty—would be worthless nonsense from Marcus's perspective.
In any case, what Wilhelm wanted to discuss here was not the shared troubles of two Royal Guard Knights from different generations. It was a far more serious and weighty matter.
That was— "—Do you believe the Council of Wise Men is already aware of the situation?"
"Without question. They regard it as an extraordinary situation."
"That is... inevitable, I suppose."
At Wilhelm's confirmation—deliberately omitting the subject—Marcus didn't feign ignorance about what was being discussed.
Whether it was his character or his position that prompted such a straightforward answer was unclear, but for Wilhelm, it confirmed that the Council of Wise Men had experienced the same shock he had, and a sigh escaped his lips.
"The same name as Princess Filioire Lugunica, daughter of Prince
The murmur that escaped with his sigh carried an emotion that was neither relief nor lamentation, and Wilhelm himself couldn't sort out his own feelings. And as mentioned earlier, this wasn't limited to Wilhelm alone—the Council of Wise Men, and everyone who had participated in the talks at the castle, felt the same.
Filioire Lugunica, who had disappeared fifteen years ago—a girl who appeared suddenly, bearing the same physical characteristics as the Lugunica royal family, with a name that even matched.
"————"
Peering at Filioire, who was sipping her seventh cup of tea to fill the awkward silence, Wilhelm searched her profile for traces of the royal family from his memories.
He found them, and yet he didn't—at best, the impression was vague.
After all, the princess had disappeared when she was still an infant, and her likely growth, assuming she survived, was beyond the realm of speculation. —However, if she truly was who Wilhelm and the others imagined, it was a grave issue that would shake the kingdom to its core.
It endangered the very continuation of the Royal Selection, and depending on the Dragon Church's intentions, it could even bring about a division of the kingdom—a seed of catastrophe.
What that seed would sprout, what kind of flower it would bloom into, was beyond anyone's imagination.
And yet, even now, one thing could be clearly stated.
With Filioire's existence and the proposal she made on behalf of the Dragon Church, two factions of the Royal Selection would be greatly affected. —One of those, needless to say, was the Crusch camp to which Wilhelm belonged.
"—Lady Crusch."
Closing his eyes, Wilhelm thought of the master who had extended a hand of salvation to him.
One of the Royal Selection candidates and the kingdom's foremost female intellect who would inherit the Karsten Dukedom—Crusch had been an irreplaceable benefactor to Wilhelm, who had continued pursuing the
Crusch's bearing, character, resolve—the values and conduct forged like a peerless blade—these were what made Wilhelm genuinely wish for her to take the throne.
Even if the Demon of Gluttony had devoured her "memories," it could not have stripped away her earnest nobility and her steadfast sincerity.
That was, he believed, nothing less than the radiance of the soul one was born with.
Therefore, that this master's body had been struck by further calamity was Wilhelm's deepest regret—a bitter experience that thrust upon him a helplessness threatening to tear his body apart.
But being able to lament one's mistakes, to mourn one's misjudgments and inadequacy—that much could still be called a mercy.
"—
The name he uttered next was, as far as Wilhelm knew, the name of the single knight who had lived through the days since the Royal Selection began tormented by the heaviest regret and helplessness.
"————"
Now, the reason Wilhelm was keeping his guests Filioire and Marcus waiting was for none other than Ferris. While Wilhelm and the others spent stalled time in the receiving room, Ferris was spending his in Crusch's bedroom, alone with her.
How painful and how agonizing that time must have been, Wilhelm gritted his teeth to think.
It was a hardship that made one want to pray to be able to take his place.
But Wilhelm could not serve as a proxy. —No, not just Wilhelm, but no one at all could take on Ferris's role in this moment.
A decision only Ferris could make, a choice only Ferris was permitted to make, lay there before him.
Wilhelm, Filioire, and Marcus had no choice but to wait quietly for that decision and that choice to be carried out.
There was no need to be impatient. Everyone had sensed that it would not take long.
And in truth, it didn't.
"—I'm sorry for making you wait."
Speaking in a strained voice, Ferris entered the receiving room.
He had probably tried to compose himself. But on Ferris's pale cheeks were traces of tears, and in his trembling yellow eyes, the struggle that colored them was still far from fading.
His narrow shoulders slumped, his cat ears and tail—the markers of his demi-human atavism—listless with exhaustion. Wilhelm hesitated to find words.
He couldn't bring himself to ask "What happened?" Then should he say "It's not your fault"? How could he possibly say that with a straight face? And if he went so far as to say "It's unavoidable," he would want to cut off his own head.
There were no words he could offer. Every possible word would become a blade against Ferris in this moment. Of all the silences he could choose, the one with the shortest edge was the kindest option.
"I won't take issue with how long it took. I understand the weight of the responsibility you bear. ...It's only comfort, I suppose. But—"
"...Yes. But... comfort helps. Right now, I'm at my limit."
Speaking in Wilhelm's stead, Filioire addressed him, and Ferris responded.
His usual mischievous playfulness had gone quiet, and the faint smile he wore had the fragility of a sugar confection that might crumble at a touch.
She must have felt that keenly, yet Filioire pressed on.
As if to delay the moment when Ferris might finally break— "Let me hear your answer. —Your answer."
Gently extending her hand, Filioire gazed at Ferris with her red eyes and asked. Ferris met that gaze head-on, and his thin lips trembled.
Hesitation arose—but it lacked the power to hold back the devotion of the "Blue" knight— "—Please. I can't do it. Save Lady Crusch."
That was the answer of Felix Argyle—"Ferris," the "Blue" knight, the one and only knight of
△▼△▼△▼△ "—Is that really true?"
She had heard that a countermeasure against the miasma afflicting Crusch's body was being administered at the Karsten family villa in the royal capital while she was spending a moment of peace after exchanging promises to become friends with
"I don't have the details, but it seems talks involving the Dragon Church took place at the royal castle. Apparently, the church has some kind of countermeasure against the miasma that afflicted Duke Karsten—an affliction caused by the Archbishop of Sloth."
"Some kind of countermeasure... does that mean they can heal Crusch's body? Using a different method from the one that turned Subaru's hands completely black?"
"Unfortunately, I don't have the finer details..."
"Well, there's no time to sit around dawdling. —Reinhard, head to the castle and find out what was discussed."
"As you wish."
While
Watching Reinhard's figure shrink as he leaped from the window, Emilia murmured "The Dragon Church..." to herself.
"They're people who believe really, really strongly in Volcanica, right? But I thought they had an agreement not to get involved in the kingdom's politics, and that they wouldn't come near the castle."
"But they showed up at the castle anyway, breaking their own rules. ...If they can really do something about Crusch's body, that's great news, but they should've said so sooner."
"I don't know the Dragon Church's intentions. Right now, the information is still unconfirmed. However—"
As the confusion deepened, Otto fell silent, as if deep in thought. When Emilia tilted her head and said "Otto?", he shook his head.
"No, this is not the time to say anything definitive. Let's wait for Reinhard to return."
"...Okay. Got it. If you want to say something, make sure you tell me."
"Whether the green-haired fellow here wants to say anything or not, Reinhard won't make us wait long. Seriously, this is killing me."
Felt grumbled, crossing her arms and tapping her toes against the floor.
Beside Felt as she peered out the window, Emilia gently gathered her close and looked toward Crusch's estate in the same aristocratic district—rather than the castle Reinhard had gone to.
Since they had parted ways in
"She's here!"
Emilia's whispered prayer was drowned out by Felt's spirited cry.
Reinhard returned to the royal villa in a single leap, just as he had when heading to the castle. Before Emilia and the others who rushed to the window, he landed silently, careful not to disturb the garden's lawn.
And then— "Felt-sama, this is an emergency situation. Could you accompany me to the castle?"
"Huh? Why the castle? More importantly, what about what they were just—"
"—Felt-sama."
Reinhard cut Felt off, calling her name briefly. The sharpness of his demeanor made Felt narrow her red eyes. She clicked her tongue.
"Fine. I'm going to the castle. What about you guys, Emilia-nee?"
"We've confirmed Otto's report. It's true—the Dragon Church headed for Crusch's estate. There, we—"
"We'll go! We can't just sit here doing nothing!"
Hearing that Otto's report was correct, Emilia thumped her chest firmly.
She was worried about Crusch, but if Felt had to go to the castle, she would bear Crusch's worry in her place.
Of course, the chances of being turned away in the rush were quite high— "At the very least, visiting shouldn't be a problem. Leave this to me. ...It seems we'll need to go to the castle later as well."
"Yes, I think so. Please think of it that way. Felt-sama."
"I don't need you to remind me a million times."
Felt huffed at Reinhard's outstretched hand, then hopped onto the windowsill. Before leaping into Reinhard's arms, she turned back.
"The night before Priestella was attacked, I'd promised Crusch-nee that we'd talk more. So..."
"——! Leave it to me! I'll make sure to tell Crusch that Felt was really, really worried about her!"
"Hmph. Having a whole crowd of friends is kind of annoying, but... I guess that's what the Royal Selection is for."
Felt shrugged at Emilia's strong assurance, then leaped into Reinhard's arms. He caught her gracefully, held her close, and gave one quick glance to Emilia and the others—then in another leap, shot straight for the castle.
"My word, they're beyond human. Let us proceed on foot like ordinary people."
"If I really tried, maybe I could carry Otto and go 'boing' all the way there..."
"By all means, please do that for Natsuki-san and not for me. —Let's hurry."
"Right!"
Nodding at Otto's urging, Emilia set off as well, rushing out into the streets of the royal capital.
Their destination was the Karsten estate—the same road they had hurried down once before, when Crusch and the others had been attacked on their way back from subduing the White Whale, only this time running faster and more frantically than ever.
And then— △▼△▼△▼△ "—Ferris!"
When Emilia arrived, gasping for breath, she saw Ferris kneeling in prayer, and she couldn't help but call out to him in a voice almost like a scream.
At Emilia's voice, the lavender cat ears trembled, and Ferris turned around hesitantly.
"...Emilia-sama?"
"Yes, that's me. I heard part of the story—not everything. I'm sorry for arriving so late."
At Ferris's weak voice, Emilia felt a sharp, heartbreaking pity that pressed down on her chest.
Ferris was always so cute and brimming with vitality, but seeing him again after so long, he looked so pitifully fragile he might vanish at any moment.
Simply wanting to hold him back, Emilia wrapped her arms around his thin body without hesitation.
"...You'll get tears and snot on you."
"I don't care about that. I'm fine. Leaving Ferris alone over something like that would be far, far more painful."
"—!"
Being careful not to squeeze too hard, Emilia willed that her warmth, her concern for Ferris, and her worry for Crusch would reach him through her embrace.
Behind Emilia and Ferris, treading softly across the carpet, was Wilhelm who had come to meet them. He hadn't turned away the Emilia camp when they showed up in a panic—instead, he had let them in.
Otto, who had arrived just behind Emilia, glanced at Wilhelm.
"I know we're the ones who showed up uninvited, but is it really alright? In this situation..."
"It was my own judgment, but precisely because of the situation. Right now, even one more person who can truly pray from the heart for Lady Crusch's safety is a great comfort."
"...Certainly, Lady Emilia's presence would be quite reassuring in that regard."
While Otto and the others exchanged words in the background, those words didn't reach Emilia's ears. She wanted to pour all her spirit into Ferris in her arms, gently rubbing his back as she held his trembling, fragile body.
"Ferris, how is Crusch—"
"—Inside. In that room, she's receiving treatment right now..."
"————"
What Ferris indicated with his gaze from within her embrace was the door where he had been kneeling in prayer—the door to what Emilia remembered as the bedroom.
Without doubt, Crusch was lying in that room, and treatment was being performed.
And yet, the reason Ferris was outside the room— "—It is a sacred rite of the Dragon Church. Not to be shared with those outside."
Standing quiet as a statue in the hallway, the imposing figure answered her question, and Emilia was surprised. Looking closer, it was the Commander of the Royal Guard Knights she had seen several times at the castle.
The Knight Commander had also rushed over out of concern for Crusch? Perhaps he was on good terms with Ferris, and was staying by his side for that reason.
In any case— "A sacred rite... so, can they save Crusch?"
"I-I don't know... b-but there's no other method... I-I was, I was, useless—"
"That's not—"
She wanted to shout "That's not true!" at the top of her lungs. In truth, the Emilia of a short while ago would have said exactly that without thinking twice.
But she now understood that saying it without thinking, letting impulse carry her words, was not truly encouraging or comforting Ferris.
Ferris was amazing. Truly, incredibly, a special person with a power of extraordinary kindness.
But the power that Emilia so deeply respected was the very thing Ferris could not use for Crusch—the person he cherished most. He was weeping and trembling before a reality so painful and unbearable, and she could not simply say something without thinking.
"It's okay. It's okay."
So Emilia swallowed the words she was about to say and held Ferris close. She kept holding him. She held him close and stayed beside him.
That was what she most wanted when she was on the verge of freezing in helpless powerlessness, so she did the same for him.
"Please keep going, Crusch."
As she whispered, supporting Ferris's trembling, sobbing body, Emilia prayed.
Behind her and Ferris, she could sense that Otto, Wilhelm, and even the Knight Commander were praying too.
People whose faces Crusch had never known, people from the Dragon Church, were fighting beyond that door.
For the sake of Crusch, who had fought for the people and been gravely wounded.
She prayed and prayed and prayed that their efforts would reach her, and then, at last— "—You may come in."
Startled by the voice suddenly coming from beyond the door, Emilia looked up.
The voice of an exhausted woman—its contents made Ferris flinch in her arms, and he looked up at Emilia's face with disbelief.
His single-minded prayer had been abruptly cut off, and Ferris's mind hadn't caught up with reality yet.
"Can you stand?"
"Y-yes, I can... I can stand..."
Emilia stood before Ferris and offered him her arm to help him up. His slender knees trembled unsteadily, but with his round eyes fixed on the door, Ferris exhaled and planted one foot, then another, on the ground.
Supporting Ferris's shoulder, Emilia too turned toward the door. And in place of Ferris, whose whole body wouldn't stop trembling, she turned the door handle.
The door swung open with a sound, and beyond it was the bedroom. In the center of the room was a bed, and on it lay a woman—whose appearance was— "—Ah."
A hoarse breath escaped, and Ferris stepped forward on dreamlike legs. His steps were so unsteady he might trip at any moment, threatening to bring him down.
But it didn't happen. Unconsciously shrugging off Emilia's supporting hand, Ferris lunged toward the bed, toward Crusch who lay upon it.
"Lady Crusch... Lady Crusch... Lady Crusch...!"
Hearing that strained, tearful voice call out that cherished name again and again, Emilia too made her way to the center of the room and looked at the Crusch Ferris was gazing upon.
Having spent so long bedridden, Crusch's beauty had grown haggard, her skin pale like a patient's. Daily care had not been neglected, yet the miasma that had once spread across her face, neck, and body like creeping roots was nowhere to be found on any visible part of her skin.
"Prayers do reach, you know."
"—You are..."
Standing beside Ferris, who clung to the bedside, Emilia turned and saw a golden-haired woman sitting on the far side, her legs stretched out on the floor.
She was the member of the Dragon Church who had attempted the treatment to save Crusch. Breathing heavily with exhaustion and wiping copious sweat from her forehead, the woman still managed a smile.
"The scripture says it too: 'The salvation of one is accomplished through the prayers of ten thousand. It is in sharing that the Dragon's grace is made most true.'"
"—Th-thank you."
"Something like this is nothing. ...It is simply the natural thing to do."
The woman's brave smile softened, then she immediately straightened her expression. Feeling heartfelt gratitude for her efforts, Emilia crouched down and held Ferris's shoulders.
As she supported the trembling, tearful Ferris, she rejoiced with all her heart that his prayers had reached through.
"When Crusch wakes up, there's so, so much I want to talk about. There's a message from Felt, and I have so much to say too."
Gazing at Crusch's sleeping face—those awful traces of miasma gone from her features—Emilia spoke toward the woman who lay with her eyes closed, waiting for the moment she would awaken.
Once she woke, there was so much to talk about. Among it was Emilia's own selfish wish, born from the good impression she'd made with Anastasia and Felt.
And so— "You worked so, so hard. Thank you."
Emilia said this to everyone present, her eyes crinkling warmly.
△▼△▼△▼△ "————"
Witnessing the Dragon Church's sacred rite take effect with his own eyes, Otto watched Ferris clinging to his master on the bed, and Emilia supporting him.
"Lady Crusch, you've... you've made it..."
Similarly, Wilhelm's voice trembled as he was overcome with emotion at the sight.
Even he—the man called the "Sword Devil," renowned for his legendary swordsmanship—had been tormented by his inability to help his master through her suffering, his heart worn raw.
It was not something to compare with Ferris, her first knight who had devoted years of loyal service, but still, Wilhelm's chest was filled with relief and gratitude.
And Otto felt much the same.
Just before this, by sheer coincidence he had turned to look at Reinhard, and the shock of Priscilla's death had struck him too. If so, he could feel genuine relief that Crusch—who had been gravely wounded in the battle at Watergate—had been saved.
That was good. Truly, it was.
At the same time, there was a possibility he could not share with Emilia.
That was— "—Crusch Karsten's Royal Selection ends here."
At the very least, in this place—on this occasion where Crusch's safety and recovery were being rejoiced over with tears—this was a conviction he mouthed in silence, something that no one needed to hear.