A girl clad in ragged, filthy clothes, with dull blonde hair and wild eyes. Even though she had no choice but to walk with her head down in an environment that forced submission, she survived with nothing but fighting spirit burning bright in her crimson eyes.
That was the entirety of the impression Subaru had of the girl called
Having been summoned by Reinhard's proclamation, Felt walked silently through the throne room accompanied by a maid. Stepping onto the red carpet, carefully conscious of keeping the hem of her pale yellow dress from dragging on the floor, she advanced with her small back held perfectly straight. She looked every bit the part of a noble young lady.
Subaru had once remarked that she might shine if polished, but the rough gemstone called Felt, now apparently polished by the power of Reinhard's household, diverged somewhat from Subaru's earlier assessment.
"May shine if polished" didn't even begin to cover it. She *radiated* brilliance when polished — that was the plain truth.
Still immature in many ways, but with her appearance now properly tended to, she was beautiful.
Subaru's jaw hung open as he stared, dumbfounded. At the end of his gaze, Felt moved with easy, languid strides to Reinhard's side. Seeing Felt within arm's reach, Reinhard carved a smile onto his refined features and nodded.
"Felt-sama, thank you for making the journey."
"—— Reinhard."
Reinhard bowed with perfect courtesy. Looking up at him from below due to the height difference, Felt tilted her chin upward and called his name.
Hearing her cool, clear voice, Reinhard answered with a clear "Yes." Felt gave a faint smile at his attitude.
And then: "—— You, you hid my clothes again, didn't you!?"
Hiking up the hem of her dress, her slender — long for her stature — leg swung in an arc. It struck true, hitting Reinhard right on the side of the head — but the kick was caught neatly in Reinhard's upturned palm as he lightly raised his hand.
Balancing on one foot, Felt listened as Reinhard, still holding her foot, took a breath.
"I'm surprised. What are you doing all of a sudden?"
"Don't just casually block it and say it like it's nothing! My clothes! You're the one who hid them again, right? Thanks to you, I got stuffed into this annoying, frilly dress!"
Balancing on one leg, Felt puffed out her cheeks in displeasure while shaking the hem of the dress that must have been custom-made for her. The pristine fabric, which had not a single crease despite being roughly handled, began to show unsightly folds. Watching this, Reinhard gently lowered Felt's foot back to the ground.
"It suits you wonderfully. There's no need to be shy about it."
"I ain't bein' shy, I'm sayin' I hate it! And it's not just about the clothes — you too! Doesn't a so-called knight think it's shameful to kidnap and hold someone prisoner!?"
"If it is for the prosperity of the kingdom."
Reinhard's unwavering reply made Felt press her hand to her forehead as though struck by a headache. Then, as if just noticing that every eye in the hall was fixed on her: "What're you all staring at? I ain't a circus act, and if you think I am, why don't you toss me a coin or something — you all look rich enough."
Baring hostility toward people who were visibly upper-class at a glance, Felt shoved her arms through the sleeves of a dress that was undoubtedly quite high-end even by this room's standards, grumbling with a thoroughly thuggish attitude.
Her delinquent bravado, so at odds with her polished appearance, jolted Subaru from his daze. He let out a sigh of relief.
"I thought you'd completely changed, but it was all just on the outside — whew! Thank goodness. People really don't change down to their roots, do they? Yours truly included!"
Playing cheerleader for Felt while simultaneously justifying himself, Subaru was quite pleased with his own performance.
His reaction seemed to kick things off, as everyone who had been watching Felt and Reinhard's exchange began to respond in turn.
"To think Reinhard would need to use his hands... She's got more potential than she looks."
Crusch said this, sounding impressed — from a rather odd angle.
"Great, another hothead joins the fray, huh? Give me a break, seriously."
Anastasia shook her head with an exasperated expression.
"She cannot be more conspicuous than this princess. Hmm, what might I use to draw more attention... A public execution of intruders, perhaps?"
Priscilla had already begun entertaining ideas that were best not ignored.
"That girl... the one from back then...!? So that's why Reinhard was so surprised..."
And
Emilia in particular was not a stranger to Felt — her surprise would be all the more profound. The two had been rivals fighting over a Dragon Insignia, only for that rivalry to lead to Felt also being chosen by the Dragon, and now they stood as competitors for the throne.
Once each person's first impression had run its course, Felt responded to their reactions with an uncomfortable — no, a deliberately rude — click of her tongue, turning her face away.
It had only been two weeks of brief acquaintance, but Subaru hadn't thought she was *this* twisted. Surely quite a lot must have happened in those two weeks. In terms of a packed story, Subaru wasn't about to lose, but the density of her journey — from common street urchin to royal selection candidate in one leap — must have been相当 considerable.
As Subaru was nodding along to his own thoughts, Felt's wandering gaze, which had been appraising the hall, locked onto his.
She suddenly furrowed her brow, closed her eyes as if searching her memory, and within a few seconds her face brightened as though she'd found what she was looking for.
"Yo! What're you doing in a place like this, big brother!?"
With a light shove to Reinhard's chest, she came loping toward Subaru with all the momentum behind her. The expensive dress was being handled so roughly it was almost tragic, and the maids who had surely spent great care coordinating the outfit covered their faces and looked away in distress.
Ignoring all sentimentality, Felt approached with a beaming smile. Subaru braced himself. Honestly, the last thing he wanted was to face her given the atmosphere of the room, but realizing she must feel just as vulnerable with so few allies, he couldn't treat her coldly.
"Well, well, long time no see. You been doin' alright?"
The instant he raised a hand in a breezy greeting, a front kick slammed square into his solar plexus. The impact folded him in half, and Subaru dropped to his knees on the spot, coughing.
Groaning from the sudden assault, Subaru had no idea what prompted it. Felt, still standing on one leg, looked down at him.
"Judging by that reaction, you've healed up fine from that stomach wound. But you look like you've racked up a crazy number of new ones since then."
"If you know that, how about you ease up a little... Why do you need to check with a full-power blow? What if the stitches had come loose... Actually, there was a time when that was pretty close to happening."
Subaru's bare stomach now bore a stark white scar, a clean line across his abdomen. On top of that, fang wounds from magical beasts dotted various parts of his body — the sheer state of him after only two weeks was quite impressive. Lacerations and abrasions were too numerous to count; his back wound was no longer something he could dismiss as a swordsman's badge of honor.
"Well, I guess you had it rough too, big brother. But if you're gonna say you had it rough, I'm not about to lose that game either!"
"Yeah... I never thought I'd run into you in a place like this. The whole insignia mess has really come full circle, huh—"
"Don't go blabbing about the insignia out loud, idiot! Look at the situation!"
"...Couldn't you have found a cuter way to shut me up? Your legs are as fast as ever."
And since she was aiming for his mouth while he was crouching, the kick came from directly below, sweeping his chin upward. The fact that it lacked full power and that he was getting used to being kicked meant he didn't bite his tongue this time. Still, bringing up her criminal record would probably make things bad with Reinhard too.
Of course, the fact that her own actions had turned this into a spectacularly disastrous social debut was something Subaru felt couldn't be undone.
"Felt-sama. It is good to see old acquaintances rekindling their bond, but might I ask you to come this way?"
It was Marcos who interrupted what, from the outside, might have looked like a warm exchange. Still wearing his stony expression and proceeding with the agenda in a detached manner, he remained unruffled by the atmosphere of the hall.
Felt looked like she still wanted to protest at his granite face, but when Reinhard, standing at Marcos's side, bowed apologetically, she made a sour face and turned back toward the front.
"So, what do you want me to do?"
"First, I would ask you to behave as a lady — though before that, could you please take this in hand."
Reinhard's light jab at her made Felt grimace. Into her palm, Reinhard produced the Dragon Insignia he had drawn from inside his coat.
For a moment, Felt's brow furrowed at the shape of the insignia, but once she saw the gem in her palm begin to glow, her stiff expression softened.
"I've been thinking this since I stole it, but it's a weird little rock. Why does it even glow?"
"Stole it?"
"That is because the Dragon has recognized Felt-sama as one worthy of the designation."
Despite having been scolded by Subaru earlier, Felt let that slip without thinking. Marcos seemed to notice her blunder, but Reinhard smoothly covered for her before it could be pursued.
Marcos looked momentarily puzzled that his inquiry had been sidestepped, but he seemed to decide that the matter before him took priority over that question.
Turning around, he gazed up at the council of wise men who had been silently watching the scene that proved her qualification.
"As you can see, the Dragon's proclamation has indeed recognized Felt-sama as its priestess. With her participation approved, I believe the true commencement of this royal selection can now take place."
Marcos pressed his palm to the iron plate and bowed with deep courtesy. The Knight Commander Reinhard, along with every member of the Royal Guard who had taken part in the search, followed suit.
Reporting the completion of their mission, the knights had — through their efforts — gathered all five Dragon Priestesses in this place. In other words, the future candidates for Queen of Lugunica were finally assembled.
"So this is the day history moves forward, huh."
Subaru murmured this, unexpectedly moved, as he found himself present at this momentous occasion. Sneaking into the royal castle on such a day — looking back, it had been an incredibly reckless thing to do. He probably should have died nine times over.
He was once again reminded of just how strong his luck with misfortune was.
Lost in these somewhat off-topic thoughts, Subaru was a beat late in noticing the murmur beginning to spread through the throne room.
The source of the murmur came from across the central aisle, opposite the saluting knights — from the group of civil officials seated on that side, including Roswaal. The details of the murmur were indistinct, but it contained bewilderment, confusion, and unmistakable discontent.
"Excuse me — might I speak?"
Finally, a middle-aged man stepped forward from among the civil officials.
He appeared to be in his forties, with a full head of brown hair swept back. He stroked his impressive beard with a nervous air and said: "In this ceremony for the selection of the king, the Royal Guard's efforts have been beyond words. Without your strength, it would have been impossible to bring about a situation matching the Dragon Calendar Stone's prophecy in such a short time."
"You flatter us."
Marcos responded with a suitably modest tone to the man's somewhat pompous praise. The man looked away, seemingly uncomfortable with the exchange, but added: "However — I say this reluctantly, but even though the situation aligns with what the Dragon Calendar Stone foretold, aren't there some problems with the selection of candidates?"
"How do you mean?"
"I am saying that you have been so dazzled by the qualifications of being Dragon Priestesses that you have overlooked what truly matters — the qualifications to receive the crown of the kingdom itself."
When pressed for clarification, the middle-aged man snapped at his obtuse interlocutor. He immediately seemed to regret his sharpness and pursed his lips, but several voices of agreement — "Yes, exactly" — leaked from the civil officials' group.
Perhaps emboldened by the support, he cleared his throat and continued: "The covenant with the Dragon is paramount. As a dragon-friendly kingdom, Lugunica exists by virtue of that bond — without friendly relations with them, the nation cannot stand. But if you value the Dragon so much that you neglect the people, aren't you putting the cart before the horse?"
"In other words, you're saying that the Royal Guard has been so consumed with finding Dragon Priestesses that they've failed to identify someone worthy of being king — someone to whom they would truly pledge their loyalty."
"There may be some difference in wording, but that is essentially the matter."
Marcos's blunt summary seemed to chill the man's blood, and he warned roundaboutly to choose his words more carefully. But the cover came a bit too late.
The knights, who had worked desperately and produced results, were not in a forgiving mood at receiving a decidedly less-than-generous evaluation of their achievement.
For Subaru, who stood on the knights' side, the tension was easy to sense.
"Smells fishy... The mood's getting ugly..."
"Well, from the knights' perspective, they're being nitpicked, right? I don't really care about all that, but what about you two?"
Hearing Subaru's murmur, Al chuckled and turned the question to the other two. Felix and Julius, who had been dragged into the conversation, directed their gazes toward him.
"
"I wouldn't go as far as saying I'm in complete agreement with Ferris, but I feel the same way. I've already sworn my sword. They, too, will eventually entrust their loyalty to someone. I'm not narrow-minded enough to fault the tremors of the heart that come before that."
"My, how magnanimous. Well, I feel the same way about my lady."
Al said this as if competing, and both men etched smiles onto their faces.
Subaru felt a vague sense of exclusion and didn't much care for it. Three people who had placed their absolute trust in their respective masters — as a knight, as a mercenary. Comparing his own position to theirs, he felt somehow a step behind.
*That can't be right*, he shook his head, chasing away the insecurity. He wanted to help Emilia achieve her goal. On that feeling alone, he shouldn't lose to anyone.
As Subaru was being driven by this odd sense of urgency, the exchange in the hall was escalating.
Starting with the middle-aged man who had voiced his opinion, the civil officials began voicing their discontent one after another.
"She is a priestess, and she must also be a queen — or become one. She lacks that awareness."
"Even dressed up on the outside, her true nature shows in her behavior."
"She lacks dignity. She is insufficiently educated. Can such a person truly be called a queen?"
"I think it's fine, y'know? Maybe the selection will be more fun with all these colorful personalities — you know, something like that?"
"Your Excellency would do well to hold your tongue!"
A familiar voice nearly split the civil officials' group apart, but ignoring that, Subaru looked to Emilia and the others at the center of it all.
The civil officials were particularly targeting Felt, given her conspicuously bad attitude earlier, but it would be a stretch to say the criticism hadn't splashed onto the other candidates as well. In truth, Emilia's profile was tight with restrained pain, and the very act of standing there was clearly taking its toll.
If someone had just told them all to shut up, it might have made things a bit easier, but the downsides of doing so made him think twice.
And so, what settled the situation was not Subaru's impetuousness, nor the anger of the knights whose completed mission was being smeared with mud, nor the sudden civility of the chastened civil officials.
It was simply the old man on the dais murmuring one word: "Quiet."
Stroking his long, long beard, Miklotov narrowed his already-closing eyes further as he looked at Felt, who gazed back up at him with a defiant expression.
A moment of silence stretched on, and then Miklotov let out a soft sigh.
"Knight Reinhard."
"Here."
His name called and beckoned, Reinhard strode gracefully to the dais. He knelt before Miklotov, removed the sword from his waist, and laid it on the floor — the highest form of salute. The old man watched this with satisfaction and then, as though rummaging through his own memories while stroking his white beard: "Mmm. Would you tell me the circumstances of how you found her?"
Being asked to recount the story of their meeting, Subaru felt cold sweat trickle down his forehead even though he wasn't the one involved. If the full truth were to come out, the theft Felt had committed would inevitably be mentioned.
But regardless of Subaru's worries, Reinhard bowed deeply and replied: "Thirteen days ago, I came upon her in one of the capital's lower districts — the so-called 'slum quarter.' At that time, due to certain circumstances, she had the opportunity to touch the Dragon's proclamation, and it was discovered that she held the qualifications of a priestess. Thus, I brought her here."
Reinhard reported with an easy air, deftly glossing over the problematic parts. From Subaru's perspective, who knew the truth, picking apart his account would have been easier than sticking a chopstick through a stacking box. But the one who pointed out the gap in the story was not Subaru. And the part they took issue with was different from what had caught Subaru's attention.
"A vagrant from the slum quarter... Have you lost your mind, Knight Reinhard!?"
The middle-aged man's voice — emboldened by the backing of the civil officials — rose as he spoke.
Gesturing grandly toward Felt, he continued: "This ceremony, which will select the future ruler of Lugunica — to invite a vagrant into it is absolutely out of the question! What do you take the throne to be!?"
"————"
"When it suits you, you go silent, is that it? To think this is the heir to the current Sword Saint — I'm forced to conclude that the honor of
Still holding his salute on the dais, Reinhard received every word without flinching. Not a trace of negative emotion crossed his cool profile, and seeing his opponent unmoved like a willow in the wind, the middle-aged man pursed his lips and clicked his tongue in irritation. Then: "Miklotov-sama, I must insist — please reconsider. Being chosen by the Dragon's proclamation does not by itself grant someone the right to the throne. The crown should be given to one who is worthy. This isn't a matter of anyone who happens to make an insignia glow—"
"Rickelt, don't you think you're getting a teensy bit carried away?"
The familiar, deliberately languid voice doused water on the fire of the man who was questioning the nation's current leadership — Rickelt. He shot a venomous glance sideways toward Roswaal, who stood several people away.
Roswaal raised both hands in response to that piercing stare.
"Oh my, how frightening. When you look at me with those eyes, it makes this cowardly fellow's heart ache."
"Enough with the jests... Roswaal. Many in the palace share my displeasure with your attitude — not just me. Up until now, we've tolerated it because of the emergency, but with exception after exception piling up, this has become untenable. Not just House Astrea trying to hoist a vagrant onto the throne, but your own absurd move of backing a half-elf as queen..."
"—— Rickelt. I would advise you to retract that last remark."
A frozen voice rang quietly through the hall, and Rickelt's flushed face turned ashen. The cause was the pressure that accompanied the voice — Roswaal, still wearing his unchanging smile, simply tilted his head with a look of concern.
"Calling a half-elf a 'half-devil' is a vile habit. Moreover, Emilia-sama is still a royal candidate — do you understand which one of us is failing to know their place?"
"E-even so! I do not believe my argument is wrong! The qualification of being a Dragon Priestess does not equate to being someone fit to be queen! Miklotov-sama!"
Pressed down by Roswaal's quiet intimidation, Rickelt still managed to call out Miklotov's name through a sweat-sheened expression.
"Please, reconsider! To carelessly approve candidates here — it is premature to say the least. What meaning is there in merely tracing the outline of the Dragon Calendar Stone..."
"—— Knight Reinhard."
Rather than responding to Rickelt's plea for reconsideration, the wise man called the red-haired knight's name instead. The knight responded without hesitation, turning his sharp gaze to the dais, ready to hear what followed.
Miklotov touched his long beard, fiddling with the ends as though searching through his memories.
"Could it be that you believe she is... *her*?"
"I have no certainty. The means of verification have been lost. — But I find it difficult to call so many converging signs a mere coincidence."
"Then what would you call it?"
"—— Destiny."
At Reinhard's bright, clear answer, Miklotov closed his eyes as though moved by something profound.
Subaru, listening from the side, had absolutely no idea what the content of their exchange meant. He glanced around to see if anyone else understood, but Al — whose face was invisible, naturally — as well as Felix and Julius all seemed equally lost.
The only ones who understood were Reinhard and Miklotov.
As if his patience with this state of affairs had run out, Rickelt stepped forward, trembling with agitation: "These are meaningless word games! Knight Reinhard, have you lost even the path of a true knight? With eyes so clouded they'd bring in a vagrant, perhaps that suits you..."
"To be so fixated on appearances that you miss what truly matters — that makes your eyes nothing but knotholes. One might even suspect that the loyalty you've pledged to the royal family is nothing but a facade."
The quiet but unyielding rebuke struck Rickelt down as he tried to press his attack on Reinhard. Unable to process the meaning of Miklotov's words, Rickelt stood frozen for a moment in a dazed expression. The civil officials who had supported him wore the same look, and even Subaru, privately enjoying the spectacle of the man being put in his place, was equally baffled.
Naturally, a slight silence fell over the hall, but Rickelt — tough as nails — managed to raise his face despite its pallor: "Th-this is preposterous! Miklotov-sama, you are too kind! What, exactly, is wrong with my loyalty, or my eyes...?"
"Mmm. In that case, might I ask you to take a good look at Felt-sama?"
At Miklotov's testing words, Rickelt looked at Felt with a puzzled expression.
The person at the center of the discussion, yet largely sidelined from it, received his gaze with an openly sour face. The other candidates, watching the situation unfold quietly, had the same reaction — only Emilia, whose acquaintance with Felt was somewhat longer, had a faint trace of inner anxiety showing on her features, which刺激ed Subaru's worrywart tendencies.
Lost in these entirely misplaced concerns, Subaru was on one side. On the other, Rickelt studied Felt's appearance from top to bottom.
"Looking at her and noticing... She's far too young. There are far more things she must learn before she could take the throne...!"
Following the instruction to look, Rickelt had been about to point out where Felt fell short. But his expression suddenly stiffened as if struck by realization, and his eyes went wide.
Then, turning his bulging eyes toward Miklotov: "G-golden hair and crimson eyes—!?"
"Mmm. Indeed, a rare combination of eye and hair color. — In this kingdom of Lugunica, it carries an enormous significance."
The moment Rickelt voiced the cause of his shock, the same impact rippled through the officials who grasped his meaning. The only one who didn't get it was Subaru, lacking this world's common knowledge.
He glanced sideways. Felix and Julius wore expressions of understanding. Al was, as usual, inscrutable, but didn't appear especially surprised either.
So Subaru decided to adopt a stance of pretending he understood when he didn't, just to avoid feeling left behind.
But soon, the explanation for what he didn't understand came from Rickelt's own mouth.
As if wanting to share his shock with those around him, he pointed a trembling finger at Felt: "Golden hair and crimson eyes — those are the characteristics that appear in the bloodline of Lugunica's royal family! But — how could such an absurd thing be possible?! The royal family — all members of the bloodline perished half a year ago! There is no gap to insert oneself into!"
"—— Do you know about the incident that occurred in the palace fourteen years ago, Rickelt?"
Just as Rickelt was about to voice a strong denial, Reinhard quietly cut him off.
And the content Reinhard spoke made Rickelt's expression stiffen further, his voice cracking as he said: "Impossible..."
"Knight Reinhard, are you suggesting that..."
"Fourteen years ago, an intruder broke into the castle, and the former prince's daughter — Princess Fold's child — was kidnapped. The intruder escaped, and the whereabouts of the child remain unknown to this day."
"Mmm. The incident that led to the dissolution and subsequent rebuilding of the former Royal Guard. I believe your own relatives were not uninvolved..."
"Information that should be beyond my knowledge — that should be enough for you to draw your own conclusion."
Reinhard's terse reply was met with a simple nod from Miklotov.
But Rickelt's confusion showed no signs of subsiding. He waved his arms wildly: "This is extreme — no, this is *absurd*! You're saying the princess who went missing fourteen years ago has been living in squalor in the capital's slum quarter, and that you happened to stumble upon her by chance? And on top of that, she also happened to qualify as a Dragon Priestess?!"
He rattled off the succession of impossible-sounding claims, then laughed.
"This is laughable! It's far too convenient a story. It would make more sense to claim that *you*, having found a girl who qualified as a priestess, dyed her hair and changed her eye color with magic! Surely you wouldn't resort to something so reckless..."
"On my honor."
Rickelt, having somewhat recovered his composure, watched as Reinhard stood the sword he had laid on the floor upright, drew it slightly from its scabbard to reveal the blade, then resheathed it with a sharp ring — swearing an oath.
Rickelt scratched roughly at his thinning hair.
"...The royal bloodline has already perished entirely through illness. There is no means of verifying whether someone is of the blood. I do not expect anyone to bow their head based on nothing more than speculation."
"That is only natural. However, I am convinced that Felt-sama is the one most suited to inherit the throne — even setting aside the matter of blood."
"The current Sword Saint himself, so thoroughly smitten."
At Reinhard's forthright declaration, Rickelt let out a sigh of resignation. He then turned his gaze to Felt, who had been talked about throughout but had been absent from the conversation: "Setting aside your qualification as a Dragon Priestess — you are from the slum quarter. And, potentially, you carry what should have been a lost royal bloodline. The trials you will face are beyond imagination. Do you have the resolve for that?"
A probing statement, stripped of any lightness that the word "provocation" might suggest.
Given the flow of the conversation thus far, this was perhaps a ritual by which Rickelt would use her own answer to make peace with his discontent. Sometimes people must choose troublesome means even while recognizing the other's worth. Watching from the side, Subaru let out a breath of relief, thinking this would finally put an end to the fruitless debate.
"Huh? What are you talking about, old man? I never once said I wanted to be queen — don't decide that for me!"
In a move that completely disregarded the entire conversation's trajectory, Felt pursed her lips and openly refused, her expression full of spite.
The words sent a wave of shock through everyone in the hall, Rickelt included. The girl who had stirred up this emotional tempest then pointed a finger at Reinhard: "I got dragged here against my will from the slum quarter! I said I wanted to go back and they wouldn't let me! They hid my clothes and stuffed me in this frilly outfit! I'm not just annoyed — I am not on board with *any* of this!"
Her shoulders heaving with each word, Felt jutted her chin up in defiance, looking up at Reinhard's tall frame. The standing red-haired young man smiled awkwardly.
"Felt-sama, you still say things like that..."
"From where I'm standing, *you're* the one who can't take no for an answer. Listen — I'm saying I don't want this!"
"—— This stubbornness of yours is nothing if not tedious."
As Reinhard refused to yield, Felt shouted at him with an exasperated expression.
One girl broke into their exchange — Priscilla, who had been silent throughout, arms crossed, eyes narrowed with boredom from within the royal candidate camp.
She shifted her ample chest atop her crossed arms.
"The five needed for the opening ceremony are now assembled, even if only in form. Once things begin, those who are unfit will naturally be weeded out. In the end, I alone will remain. Whether the others possess the qualities of a king or not is of no consequence."
"What was that!?"
Felt, still fired up, reacted to Priscilla's arrogant proclamation. She shrank her small frame even further and glared up at Priscilla in the classic delinquent posture.
"I've been thinking you looked like a clueless broad since you walked in, but you're picking fights in a dress like that? I'm famous for getting my legs out quick, y'know."
"You are getting ahead of yourself. And just who do you take this princess to be?"
"Heh — how would I kno—!"
Having delivered a thoroughly thug-like threat, Felt was met with Priscilla's imperious voice. Felt was about to snort dismissively when her expression suddenly clouded with confusion and surprise.
She reached a hand into her golden hair, murmuring "What the—," and swayed on the spot as though struck by dizziness.
"—— My lady, she—"
The moment Felt began to collapse, Al, at Subaru's side, shouted in a reflexive gasp. He understood that the cause of Felt's sudden change was his master's doing. And from his shout, movement erupted across the hall simultaneously.
Reinhard, moving with literally the speed of wind, gently caught Felt's collapsing body. Between Reinhard, who had moved, and Priscilla, who stood smugly, Al stepped forward on his single arm.
Felt's camp and Priscilla's camp faced off at close quarters. Beyond this configuration, several others had moved.
Crusch had lowered her stance slightly, one hand resting on her waist — where no sword hung — in a drawing posture, as if readying an invisible blade. Knight Commander Marcos, standing relatively close to the candidates, extended his hand as if to restrain Crusch's movement.
One person — Anastasia — was holding her head, muttering something like "I'll pass," and keeping her distance from the cluster of candidates. She appeared to have no combat ability.
Having taken in every detail of these movements, Subaru then turned to the one he cared about most: Emilia.
She had moved almost simultaneously with Al's cry, extending her hand into empty air and kindling a pale light in her palm: "Solar Magic over-interference — what do you think you're doing, using it this way!?"
The pale light enveloped the swaying Felt, sending waves of healing through her body.
It was Priscilla's unrepentant face that Emilia directed her fury toward, rage fully exposed. Priscilla waved a dismissive hand: "This princess merely shared a small measure of the blessing she was born with. If that is enough to provoke such a reaction, then it reveals the true measure of her capacity."
"When you've done something wrong, you should apologize! Do you need to be scolded before you understand?"
At Priscilla's shameless reply, Emilia pressed on, recovering her usual composure. Priscilla looked momentarily puzzled, then broke into a laugh she clearly couldn't contain.
"Oh my, how amusing. That's the most entertainment I've had in some time — I suppose you deserve a word of praise."
"What an unpleasant child. What are you—"
"'When you've done something wrong, you should apologize,' she says. Well then — in your case, perhaps you ought to apologize by saying, 'I'm sorry for being born'? Silver half-elf."
The shock pierced through Emilia's entire body, and even Subaru could feel it.
Her shoulders lurched as though she had been physically struck. The determined expression she had worn moments ago crumbled, and she opened wide eyes filled with anguish: "I... I have nothing to do with the
"What meaning could such an excuse possibly hold, for anyone? You are the very reflection of the world's most forbidden existence. People are terrified simply by looking at your face. And so you cling to these superficial pretenses — nothing more than scraps of cloth."
As Priscilla delivered her cutting words in rapid succession, Emilia, her face drained of all color, could only shake her head weakly. Subaru roughly understood the substance of their exchange, but he didn't know the deep inner truth. As such, he couldn't fully grasp the depth of the blow Emilia had received.
But he could see that she was being unjustly hurt. And that alone was enough for
It was Al's voice — weak and imploring — that held back Priscilla's tyrannical outburst. He stood before her, and though his face should have been invisible behind his helmet, his tone was so feeble that everyone could sense his strained expression: "Especially picking a fight with the Sword Saint — that's the biggest troublemaker there is. How about you just apologize?"
"You, a retainer of mine, would do well not to speak so shamefully. The Sword Saint? He's merely the strongest in this country. What of it?"
"We wouldn't last a minute."
Coolly assessing the balance of power, Al quickly raised the white flag and declared his surrender. Priscilla looked at his posture with disdain. Meanwhile, Reinhard and Emilia, facing each other, could not fully hide their surprise and confusion.
But at least the situation had been prevented from immediately escalating into a confrontation.
It was the kind of scene that needed a fresh start and a proper opening, but there was no guarantee things wouldn't slide in a bad direction again.
As everyone's minds raced, trying to figure out how to resolve the stalemate — a high, clear sound, small though it was, struck the eardrums of everyone in the hall.
"—— Has everyone had their fill?"
The old white-haired man — Miklotov — had caught a coin and dropped it into a ceramic vessel, drawing everyone's attention. He did this without rising from his chair, then surveyed the room. His gaze found Felt, who was shaking her head after receiving Emilia's healing.
"Felt-sama, are you quite well?"
"...Eh, good enough. Damn — if that knife hadn't been taken away, it would've been way worse."
Responding to Miklotov's concern while maintaining her bad attitude, Felt directed her spiteful words at Priscilla. Even her defiance sounded like something a street punk would say, but no one was in a position to call her on it.
Reinhard offered Emilia a grateful nod, and she returned it with a small nod of her own, though she still looked somewhat drained. Crusch relaxed her combat stance, Marcos let out a visibly relieved breath, and even Al finally rolled his single shoulder in relief.
Only Priscilla, the cause of it all, remained unchanged — her eyes still bored, not a trace of remorse on her face. It was baffling, but the immediate commotion had at last been resolved.
Having witnessed this, Miklotov made his declaration anew.
"Then, on the original matter — I hereby propose that the Council of Wise Men convene with the presence of all candidates, regarding the matter of the royal selection."