...
And their wary gazes also contained something that looked like fear.
Miklotov’s hoarse murmur struck the silent gallery like a thunderbolt.
“—The Apocalypse Beast of Eternal Frost.”
Upon hearing these words, Puck’s ears twitched as he answered the old man.
“Ah, that’s right, some people have called me that. Seems you’re informed for a youngin.”
Though everyone else was tense, Miklotov’s razor-sharp wit permitted him to maintain his cool in Puck’s presence.
“To be treated like a youngster at my age is an experience I ought to treasure deeply.”
Puck responded to the old man’s attitude with a pompous flick of his tail.
“You are free to call me whatever you like. But if you want details about who and what I am, you should ask him over there, not me.”
At Puck’s suggestion, Miklotov called out to Roswaal.
“I suppose so… Lord Roswaal?”
Accepting the call, Roswaal solemnly lowered his head before motioning to Puck and Emilia with one hand each.
“As you have surmised, Lord Miklotov… This is a supernatural being, one of the Great Spirits of yore, known to our forefathers as the Apocalypse Beast of the Eternal Frost. And currently, he is Lady Emilia’s contracted spirit.”
Bordeaux’s fixed Puck with a stare, his voice hoarse from the extent of his shock.
“It can’t be! One of the Four Great Spirits in someone’s service…and that of a half-demon at that!”
But not even the old man could summon the courage to point at a being capable of turning him into an ice sculpture.
“That youngin included, the lot of you should all be grateful to Lia that I’m not turning this place into a glacier right now. My cute, beloved daughter pleaded to me, so I will behave.—If she wasn’t stopping me, you’d all be icicles right now.”
The casual way he said it only made the threat seem that much frostier, chilling all those in the chamber to the bone. Faced with his presence, it was all too clear that he was making no boast.
When the lives of everyone present were at the mercy his supremely powerful paw—the sudden sound of an inhalation sounded awfully loud.
“—Ho, ho, ho!”
The sight of Miklotov jubilantly slapping his thighs seemed enormously out of place.
“Even my heart skipped a beat. Allow me to call this a most amusing presentation.”
Miklotov’s words caused Puck to drop his expression and shrug his shoulders.
“Mm, we’re busted. See, Roswaal? I told you it wasn’t good to overdo things.”
That instant, the cold enveloping the chamber vanished. Amid the bewildered onlookers, Roswaal lightly smacked his own forehead.
“Oh myyy, and I had such confidence… It is so dispiiiriting.”
“W-wait…! What in the world are you talking about?”
It seemed only Puck, Roswaal, and Miklotov were in on this elaborate joke. Roswaal finally shifted his gaze to the bewildered Bordeaux and said, “To put it simply—this exchange was the speech from Lady Emilia’s camp. I understand that the format somewhat differs from that of the other candidates, but…”
Under Miklotov’s gaze, Roswaal raised both hands in a show of surrender.
Subaru stomped on the floor, glaring at Roswaal as the latter adopted his familiar, clownish expression once more.
“So you’re saying this was all a performance to show everyone Puck’s power and pound into them that he can do more than this?! Is that it?!”
As Subaru shouted the explanation, it was Bordeaux who had the strongest sense of being had.
“That was acting… Acting, you say?! Then all this was a farce from start to finish! Roswaal! Damn you, what do you think this place is?!”
Puck began with an apology.
“Yes, yes, of course you’re upset. I apologize. I deeply apologize. Forgive me. Sorry. My bad.—But everything I said was the truth.”
The last part, though, made Bordeaux’s heart beat louder. The little cat circled around the old man and added, “—The reason I’m not freezing you right now is Emilia’s benevolence. Don’t forget that.”
Puck’s voice was tranquil, yet somehow threatening. Bordeaux rebutted with an old man’s stubbornness.
“A-and now you make threats. These words and this show of force convey, ‘Do as I say or you shall be an icicle.’ If this is not blackmail, what is…?!”
Then, Emilia wholeheartedly affirmed his suspicions.
“—Yes, I am threatening you.” She continued, “I shall make my case to the esteemed members of the Council of Elders once more. My name is Emilia. I spent a long time in the Great Forest of Elioor, the World of Eternal Frost, and am served by Puck, the Great Spirit that governs fire mana. I am a silver-haired half-elf. The people of the nearby villages called me…”
Emilia paused, surveying the faces of the Council of Elders on the dais.
“…the Freezing Witch, born in the Frozen Forest.”
Witch. At that word, the atmosphere in the chamber shifted. Everyone’s mouths snapped shut, unable to speak; all save one, Miklotov, who was apparently made of sterner stuff than the rest.
“You displayed your power, and now you state your demands. Truly this is the way of a witch.—Then, what does the Freezing Witch seek in threatening us so?”
“I have but a single demand.—I simply want fair treatment.”
“…Fair?”
“I understand I am regarded with prejudice, both for being a half-elf and a witch. But even so, I completely reject that this should rob me of this possibility.”
“And so you desire to be treated fairly as a candidate for the royal selection?”
No doubt her memories were filled with the inexpressible malice she had experienced on a daily basis. Surely being persecuted because of the circumstances of her birth had not occurred only once or twice.
“Fairness is an exceedingly valuable thing to me. That is the only thing I demand of you: to be treated impartially. In turn, I shall do nothing unjust, such as use my contracted spirit as a shield with which to usurp the royal throne.”
That was surely one option available to Emilia. But she did not choose it, instead opting for a situation that, if anything, put her at a handicap. After all, as she explained, “Compared to the other candidates, I am inexperienced and lacking in too many areas. There is a mountain of things I do not know and that I must study. Even so, I believe my effort to reach my goal is no less than that of any other.”
Subaru had seen for himself how Emilia took her studies at the mansion very seriously. That was why he knew the truth behind her assertion more than anyone else present.
He couldn’t hide his shaking. It was strange how his throat was so dry, yet his eyes stung, ready to shed tears. He desperately held back from bawling his eyes out.
Emilia continued, “I do not know if my efforts are worthy of the throne. But my desire to make my efforts equal to the task is genuine. I believe these feelings are not unequal to those of the other candidates. Therefore, please look at me with unbiased eyes. Look at me as Emilia, of no family name, and see not the Freezing Witch, nor a silver-haired half-elf. Look at me.”
The final murmur echoed like a solemn plea. But the strength of the will behind it did not diminish the power of her request.
The chamber fell into silence for a time. It was not that they were at a loss for words. They were waiting.
Finally, Bordeaux, bathed in the gazes of all assembled, sighed at great length.
“My view shall not change. It is unmistakable that your appearance, reminiscent of the Witch of Jealousy, will have ill effects upon the populace. It would place the royal selection in a precarious state.”
His low voice had, to that point, argued against Emilia’s position. A faint shadow formed around Emilia’s violet eyes. But Bordeaux continued.
“However—sentiment is an area where none may intrude. Furthermore, it is something no one can do anything about, no matter what he may think. Even so, I apologize for my earlier rudeness.—No, I deeply apologize for my rudeness, Lady Emilia.”
Bordeaux knelt then and there, displaying the greatest respect he could.
“You could freeze me where I stand if I do not submit to your will. Yet, even so, you have not, asking only for fair treatment.—This is an act worthy of respect.”
Now that he was speaking calmly, Bordeaux’s face was gentle and intellectual; now Subaru could understand why he was on a Council of Elders. His reply drove the shadow from Emilia’s eyes, replaced by a brighter, more natural expression of joy at being accepted.
Her lips curled in a pleasant, flowery smile.
Bordeaux, under the full force of her gaze, lost his breath and turned red in the face.
Miklotov redirected the conversation.
“Though that was a rather stormy digression, enough has been said, I believe. Lady Emilia, Marquis Roswaal, do you have anything left to say?”
“No.”
“I have not spoken suffiiiciently. What to do, what to…”
Marcus swiftly brought an end to Roswaal’s playful comment.
“—Thank you very much, then.”
He gave Roswaal’s tall back a light pat before Emilia turned toward Subaru, still standing right behind her.
Her violet eyes betrayed a whirlwind of conflicted emotions. Her red tongue poked out of her mouth as if she was about to say something—
From the dais, Miklotov raised an eyebrow and looked down at Subaru.
“Incidentally, what is that young man’s position?”
The question, concerning the unmoored Subaru, brought tension back over Emilia’s face.
“Ah, err, this is my, ah… Err…”
All her prior composure went flying out the window. And so Emilia had returned to the girl who’d ignited the love burning in Subaru’s chest day after day.
Relieved by the sight, Subaru patted Emilia’s shoulder as he stepped forward.
“It’s all right, Emilia.—I’m ready for this, too.”
“Ready for…? Hold on, Subaru, what do you think you’re…? Wait a…”
As she called from behind, Subaru boldly stepped forward. Beneath the gazes of the Council of Elders up on the dais, the boy grit his teeth and briskly raised his head. As he had learned by observation, Subaru bowed on one knee like the knights had and opened his mouth, his heart racing as he spoke with the highest respect he could muster.
“Pleasure to meet you, members of the Council of Elders. First, I’d like to apologize for the late introduction. My name is Subaru Natsuki! A servant at Roswaal Manor and knight of the royal candidate, Lady Emilia!”
Subaru, feeling the weight of the hall’s silence upon him, grit his teeth to beat back the tension.
“I am extremely pleased to make your acquaintance,” he continued.
The out-of-place Subaru had joined the battle to clearly define his own place in the world.
He felt the temperature drop, even colder than when Puck had appeared.
6
Subaru Natsuki had shrugged off Emilia’s efforts to stop him and declared himself her knight.
When Subaru made his announcement, the hall became bereft of sound, replaced by a thick, unpleasant cloud. Seeing the conflicted gazes of onlookers, Subaru realized that something was going deeply, unexpectedly awry as Miklotov asked, “Mmmm. A knight, are you. Marquis Roswaal… Who is this?”
“Ahhh, a somewhat ignorant boy, is he not? …This is a poor showing, even for him.”
“Indeed, what is the status of Lady Emilia’s actual knight?”
“Unlike the other candidates, Lady Emilia currently lacks a knight that she can place her trust in. That is most certainly a matter of concern. Howeeever, that does not mean simply aaanyone can be a knight, particularly one claiming to be a knight of someone who may become king someday.”
Roswaal continued to speak in his normal tone, seemingly for Subaru’s benefit.
“Fidelity toward one’s master is one of the qualifications of being a knight. Furthermore, the power to defend one’s liege is required. He must have some special quality enabling him to blaze the path for his master to become king. If he does not, then…”
A voice abruptly interrupted Roswaal’s speech, hailing from the line of candidates. All eyes fell on the handsome young man with violet hair—Julius.
“—That alone is not enough, Marquis Roswaal.”
Julius elegantly bowed.
“Forgive my intrusion. However, there is something I must ask him.”
When Julius indicated him, Subaru scowled, remembering the former’s hostility from before the royal selection.
“You need not be so defensive. I have only one question. Once it is done, you may do as you please.”
“Do I look tense to you? Why not let me relax a little, ditch the question, and save it for tomorrow?”
“Cease with the clown act. At least, if you truly wish to be Lady Emilia’s self-declared knight.”
“…What do you mean by that?”
Julius regarded Subaru with exasperation, as if he was a complete dunce.
“It seems you do not understand. Just now, you announced yourself as a knight before the entire body of Knights of the Royal Guard of the Kingdom of Lugunica.”
Julius slowly motioned to indicate the knights lined up behind him. Prompted by his words, the knights in their rows stood at attention without disturbing a single thread of the carpet, saluting with their swords raised.
“Th-that’s pretty good stuff there. Did you all practice that just for today?”
Subaru was sniping to keep his wits under the pressure, but Julius’s calm composure did not falter.
“Indeed we did, for we are highly aware we embody the dignity of the kingdom on a daily basis. We train in body and spirit, including how to behave in a ceremonial place. Are you prepared to learn all this?”
Only then did Subaru truly appreciate the true intent behind the question posed to him. Julius was asking him if he was prepared to shoulder the weight of the title of knight, like the Knights of the Royal Guard behind him did.
Subaru had called himself a knight to demonstrate that he was Emilia’s supporter and the person who held her the foremost in his thoughts—to her rival candidates, to the knights, to the Council of Elders, and everyone involved in the royal selection.
“I…I want to…make Lady Emilia king. No, I will make her king.”
“Do you have enough resolve, and enough strength, to do this?”
“Resolve isn’t everything, and I know I’m not strong enough. The feeling in my heart may not be the same loyalty and fidelity that other people have…but my answer won’t change.”
Subaru took a deep breath, wet his tongue, and braced himself as he stepped forward.
“—I’ll make Lady Emilia king. I’ll make her wish come true.”
“…Do you not think that this is an exceptionally arrogant reply?”
Dismay entered Julius’ expression, as if he were listening to a tale of an empty dream.
“Do you understand? People are divided according to their birth. Perhaps it is best to use the term capacity. Nothing is gained by attempting to surpass one’s own capacity. Furthermore, you will never gain what you seek in doing so, especially not the title of knight, which falls so frivolously from your lips.”
Julius drove the scabbard of his own sheathed sword into the floor with a thump. On cue, the knights assembled behind him produced the same sound a moment later. The hard, heavy echo displayed that he had all the knights behind him.
“Those who pursue knighthood require loyalty to lord and kingdom and the power to protect their liege by force. No one may call himself knight without either one of these things.—Can you still say there is the will, the power, the resolve within you?”
“Don’t get all high and mighty on me with your buddies. I know I don’t have the power to follow through on how I feel as I am now…”
“You say that you accept your current lack of power? I see; that is a precious thought. If you had not acknowledged your weakness, I might have been forced to reduce myself to your disgraceful level.”
Subaru was helpless to respond as Julius, unable to conceal his contempt, heaped scorn upon him.
“You understand that you are lacking in strength? Did you declare it so loudly in expectation of a reward? Weakness is a matter of shame, not pride.”
“—!”
“Next you will no doubt say your feelings will carry you through. I see. Your emotions conquer all. Fine and well. Did you strive to earn the right to stand in this palace with the might of your strong and lofty feelings? Did you come here in an effort to insult us, the Knights of the Royal Guard, to the highest degree possible?”
The stern words bit into him. But even then, Julius did not sheath his verbal blade.
“Only those of certain birth may be recommended for entry into the Knights of the Royal Guard, the pinnacle of knighthood. This is not out of deference to lineage, but because their ancestors have displayed their loyalty to the kingdom, down to the very blood that flows through their veins. I do not accept that you, nor the mercenary calling himself Al, have any qualifications to call yourselves knights.”
“Bloodline… It’s not like a person can do anything about something like that…!”
“Indeed. It is just as I have said. People are separated by birth. It was the same in your home. Just because two people have been born does not make them equal.”
“—”
“Of course, not all born to knightly households become knights. Many lack the will. A knight eternally strives for greater heights, ever willing to cast his life aside, coughing up blood, to protect whatever greatness stands behind him. That is the ultimate honor of those qualified.”
With classical nobleman’s thinking, Julius stomped on Subaru’s feelings, rejecting the essence of his very existence. And every knight there felt the exact same way.
Not a single person in that place acknowledged Subaru as a knight. And yet, he replied, “—Even so, I’ll make Emilia king.”
“I do not understand. In the face of such rejection, why are you still even here?”
Cold glances from throughout the chamber watched Subaru’s recklessness with scorn and contempt. But Subaru couldn’t feel any of that.
He felt something far stronger—the gaze of the silver-haired girl behind him. He felt Emilia.
He couldn’t look back. He didn’t have the courage.
Feeling her presence, he hesitated for a brief moment, and then answered.
“—Because she’s special.”
That was his answer.
Julius’s eyes widened slightly in apparent surprise. However, the surge of emotion was immediately concealed when his face calmed again.
“You are obstinate. I accept that you have a reason for standing here regardless of whether you are qualified or not. In that case, I have nothing more to say to you.”
Julius turned his back to Subaru as if he was returning to the line of candidates. But his very first step halted, and his head alone turned back toward Subaru.
“—However, do not think that I accept you as a knight, or ever will.”
“I understand that you esteem her enough that you wish to protect her. However, your thoughts are… No, it would be ugly to elaborate deeply upon it.”
Julius shook his head, pitying Subaru.
“A man who brings such an expression to the one he wishes to stand beside…is not a knight.”
Subaru’s thoughts shifted behind him. Everything felt cold.
He wondered what kind of look was on Emilia’s face.
He was too frightened to find out.
That was why the next thing out of Subaru’s quivering lips was a transparent attempt to get in the last word.
“Y-you’re saying that whether you can be a knight or not is settled from birth? What, every one of you was a golden child, the best at everything? Don’t make me laugh. You’re not the one who gets to be called the knight among knights around here. Don’t think anything you say can get to me.”
It was a cheap insult. But Julius did not display his emotions as he casually replied, “Subaru Natsuki, you said? You should know that speaking such cheap insults to others diminishes not only your own worth, but damages the worth of everyone around you. Subaru Natsuki.—There is no beauty in it.”
And so, Julius summarized Subaru’s words and actions to date, rejecting them, and him, in one fell swoop.
That single remark made Subaru realize that he, and his own conduct, had hit rock bottom.
The candidates gave Subaru blank stares. Behind the dignified Julius, many of the knights seethed with resentment at Subaru’s rude statement.
For their part, the rows of civil officials had no love lost for Subaru, who seemed unable to make any argument not based on sentimentality. He didn’t even have the courage to look up and see what the Council of Elders thought of him.
Even if it meant making an enemy of the whole world, he’d be in Emilia’s corner.
Until that moment, his resolve for that part, at least, had held strong, but…
Before Subaru summoned the nerve to look back, a voice, clear as a bell, moved around to his front.
“Subaru, that’s enough.”
The trembling of the hand touching his shoulder shocked him enough that even he wanted to look away.
Emilia took hold of Subaru’s wrist as she bowed her head to the Council of Elders and said, “I apologize for the waste of your time. He will leave immediately.”
The words waste of your time sliced into Subaru’s heart sharper than any razor.
But he could say nothing.
He had indisputably taken his resolve, determination, and himself, and trampled on them all.
Subaru did not resist as he was led away from the stage by his arm. As Emilia pulled him forward, he still couldn’t look at her face.
From the dais, Miklotov sounded hoarse, yet mysteriously, his voice carried far.
“I judge some of this to have been time well spent, Lady Emilia.”
Neither of the two stopped walking as Miklotov continued.
“He showed us that, at the very least, you are not a half-elf like the one the world fears.—You have a good vassal.”
Emilia paused and looked back.
“—Subaru…”
She was watching the Council of Elders on the dais. Subaru, standing beside her, was not in her field of vision whatsoever. But when she turned, he could clearly see her face.
Her expression was frozen over. Her eyes were frigid with the readiness to emotionlessly cast something aside, when her tranquil, clear voice stated plainly—
“…is no vassal of mine.”
Thus, she spurned Subaru’s words and feelings up to that very moment.
7
Subaru wandered around in a corridor outside of the chamber, completely rudderless.
He didn’t remember much after he’d humiliated himself in front of Emilia and a huge audience. All he remembered was that the captain of the knights had permitted his departure and had left his fate to Emilia’s judgment.
It would have been wrong to say he was there because he didn’t want to cause Emilia any more trouble. The reason he’d fled, even after he had gone against her instructions to reach the palace in the first place, was far simpler.
—He couldn’t bear Emilia’s frigid eyes any longer.
Subaru was mentally berating himself as the guard who’d escorted him to the castle’s waiting room gave him a concerned look.
“Did something happen to you?”
He hadn’t seen Subaru’s humiliation because he’d been stationed outside the huge double doors. Furthermore, his demeanor showed respect toward someone he believed to be involved with one of the royal candidates.
“It’s…nothing. Sorry for all the trouble in the middle of a really important job.”
“I don’t mind. Inside the throne room, they’re deciding the future of the entire nation. Even if I’m not qualified to be inside, I’m proud just to be on the edges of it.”
The irony of the words, spoken with a clear voice, left Subaru with an uncomfortable awkwardness. Here was a guy full of pride for what he was doing at the edges of the selection of the next king.
What of Subaru? Could anyone take pride in what he had done?
No one would. And the one person he had wanted to acknowledge his efforts had rejected him.
“—”
Unable to stand still, Subaru shifted his gaze when he suddenly noticed a ruckus at the end of the corridor. Just as he turned his head to look, a guard popped in, apparently in a hurry.
“Pardon, open the way! We’ve captured an intruder. We need orders from the captain!”
“Wait, they’re still in the middle of the conference! Hold the intruder in the barracks until…”
“The circumstances do not allow us to do that. Either way, we cannot make this decision ourselves!!”
Ignoring the urgings of his comrade, the guard shouted back down to the corridor. Several men were dragging forward the intruder that’d snuck into the castle.
Subaru, wondering what was so bad they needed to interrupt the royal selection, glanced at the intruder. Then…
Regret stronger than anything else that day struck Subaru Natsuki.
“—Ah?”
He stared dumbfounded as four men dragged the man along by his hands and feet, desperately trying to move forward with a balding old man Subaru knew well.
It was Old Man Rom, who had no business being there whatsoever.
“—”
He’d left a message at the fruit seller’s place for him to wait. What was Old Man Rom doing there—
Subaru’s mind went blank, but then, for once, he instantly found the answer to his question.
“W-wait… Don’t tell me, he…”
He followed me. At first, Subaru doubted himself, but then certainty welled within him.
If Old Man Rom had tried to sneak into the castle there and then, the trigger could have been none other than the message Subaru had left at Cadmon. The sharp old man had deduced that Subaru had reason to think Felt was at the royal palace. And he’d tried to enter by any means necessary.
No doubt Old Man Rom’s own clumsiness had led to his discovery and capture. But Subaru was the one who’d brought that result about. Subaru knew how precious Felt was to Old Man Rom. He should’ve known Rom might lose his head over it…
“—!”
The guards passed before his eyes. By the time he reached out, Old Man Rom was already too far away. Subaru froze in place, watching them go in silence.
If he spoke to the guards then and there, he could explain to them who Old Man Rom was. But that also meant admitting that Subaru was connected to an intruder who’d attempted illegal entry of the palace.
It wouldn’t end just with Subaru. It would make him an even weightier ball and chain on Emilia’s ankle.
That was as far as he got before he did a mental double take.
When he considered the possibility he’d leave Old Man Rom to rot, using Emilia as the reason why, he felt filthy.
“Hey, wait a…!”
Subaru called out to stop them, but a foul-mouthed shout buried his words. Quietly, his eyes went wide as he realized the torrent of insults was coming at him from Old Man Rom himself.
“Ha! You high-falutin’ nobles have some awful taste! Is one bumbling old captive something to stare at?! If you’re going to laugh, laugh, you filthy-minded youngin!”
Old Man Rom, watching Subaru holding his breath, made a disgusting grimace with his bruised face.
“If you wanna stare, take a good, hard look at this dirty old man from the slums!”
One of the guards, offended at the rude words from the intruder toward Subaru, a VIP, swung his fist down in punishment.
“—Watch, your, tongue!”
“Ugh!”
Subaru countered, “Wait, please! There’s no need to go that fa—”
Rom replied, “You are very kind, young one. Heeey, how about it, knights? Your beloved master’s giving you an order. Why don’t you just wag your tails and do what he sa—ugh!”
“Haven’t you said enough, vagabond?!”
The knights responded to Old Man Rom’s continued verbal abuse with even harsher strikes than before.
For a moment, the boy’s gaze met Rom’s, and Subaru understood his intent.
—Even in that place, Old Man Rom was covering for him, because if Subaru said too much, it would only put Subaru in a worse position.
“—Don’t butt in, youngin.”
The small, faint murmur was followed by insults like those from before for the benefit of the guards. Subaru alone realized the true meaning of Rom’s words.
And that sentence left a very deep scar in Subaru.
Subaru had reached out, only to have his hand rejected, his assistance refused, just like in the chamber. No matter what he tried to do, the person concerned didn’t need, or want, his help.
“—”
Subaru fell into silence. The guards saluted, dragging Old Man Rom with them once more. Their destination, the throne room, lay ahead. He wondered what treatment Rom would receive at the site of the royal selection.
He shook his head, driving the images off. Rom had a much better chance at a pardon without Subaru opening his big mouth. Besides, there were three people present that knew him, with one practically a relative. Nothing bad was likely to happen to him.
Probably nothing. Almost definitely nothing. His judgment shouldn’t have been wrong, but—
“What am I…doing this for…?”
8
Murmurs spread through the throne room. The cause of this exchange of whispers was obvious. The uproar had begun when Marcus, receiving a report from the guards, dragged a vagabond who had infiltrated the castle into the throne room. At first, many doubted the judgment of the captain of the guard, but one look at the intruder made numerous participants understand the reason for his decision.
“I told you, let Old Man Rom go. That’s all I’m asking.”
“—Unfortunately, I cannot comply.”
In the center of the chamber, a tense deadlock continued, with Felt and Marcus squared off against each other. A vein bulged on Felt’s forehead at the way Marcus dismissed her demand.
Reinhard raised his voice in an attempt to mediate.
“Captain, I believe that explanation is insuffi—”
But Marcus rebuffed his intervention.
“Silence, Reinhard. I understand you wish to support the master you have sworn your sword to, but her acceptance of your sword is premised on her willingness to become your king. During the proceedings of this conference for the royal selection, Lady Felt publicly announced she has no intention of participating in the selection process. Abandoning her qualifications means abandoning any right she might have to give commands to us Knights of the Royal Guard… Do you understand?”
Marcus laid out the logic of his refusal to comply with Felt’s demand. His words brought a scowl to the former thief’s face as she furiously clawed at her own blond hair.
“This is getting annoying, so let’s sum it up, ’kay?—In other words, you won’t do as I say because I don’t wanna do this royal selection thing?”
“—That is indeed the crux of it.”
“Ohhh, I see. I get it… You are so annoying.”
Felt’s catlike eyes glared fiercely at Marcus. Marcus easily maintained his usual poise under the pressure of the young girl’s near murderous gaze.
Then the old man, having kept his silence up to that point, made a plaintive yell that echoed throughout the chamber.
“Never mind all that…!—Hurry up and save me!! Felt, it’s me! The Old Man Rom you lived with in the slums! I don’t really get all this, but you can save me now, right? Then save me! I don’t wanna die!!”
Kneeling on the carpet spread across the floor, the old man made the most amicable smile he could as he pleaded to her. The shameful display left Felt speechless. Even the attendants showed hints of disgust at the miserable old man.
“I always saved you when you were in trouble! Many, many times over! Pay those favors back, now! Now, I say! Quick, quick!! Do something, will you?!”
The old man sent spittle flying as he cried out for a quick rescue, flailing around with self-serving logic. It was such a mean and disgraceful sight that even those predisposed to sympathy and compassion would be sorely tempted to walk away.
In a brief span of time, the old man had made enemies out of most occupants in the hall.
Reinhard, sensing danger in the old man’s behavior, instantly began to step forward.
“This is bad—”
The red-haired knight instinctively realized the old man’s true intent and judged he needed to adapt to the circumstances.
“—Do not move, Reinhard. ’Tisn’t good to do anything untoward here…”
But his efforts were frustrated from the outset by Priscilla, smiling craftily as she hid her mouth with her fan.
“Why do you act in such haste, Reinhard? …It almost looks as if you wish to silence this elderly man before he says something troublesome for you. Simply frightening…”
She got me, thought Reinhard, clenching his teeth as he realized his mistake. Priscilla shrugged her shoulders in a manner more typical of her. Around them, people seemed to recover from their stupor, whispering about what they had just seen—an old man pleading pathetically for his own life.
“Did you see? How unsightly.”
“And that face is even worse. I cannot even feel sympathy. It is the spitting image of a thief.”
“He shouldn’t be released, though Lady Felt defends him…”
Even the knights hoping to have the crime dismissed began to faintly scowl at the old man.
“Lady Felt was raised in the slums…where people like him live?”
“Even if she really does have royal blood, can someone with such an upbringing handle royal duties…?”
“We need to rethink this. Or just do what the Dragon Tablet says in name only…”
Reinhard bit his lip as the spreading murmurs confirmed his worst fears. He had been too late, denied any opportunity to refute the words putting down the girl he revered as his master.
Then, with the knights’ murmurs all around her, he watched from behind as the girl slightly lowered her head—
Finally, unable to listen to any more, the young girl let loose with a high-pitched, foul-mouthed shout, “—Would you all shut up, you ball-less jerks!!”
A wave of shock plunged the chamber into silence. Attendees looked at one another, seemingly unable to believe what their ears had heard, when the girl, her shoulders slumped, marched forward. The giant old man was kneeling, and she was a little girl, but she still had to look up at him. Her red eyes filled with grief.
“What’s with you here? That’s the worst-looking, most pathetic plea for your life, ever, and I really, really hate it.”
“—”
The old man’s amicable smile at her approach froze over.
“Hey, Old Man Rom. We people from the slums, there’s no help for us, right? We know the people above us look down at the poor lives we lead, and we all have rotten personalities, me included. It’s a terrible place to live.”
Having rated so many things so lowly, including herself, Felt paused for breath and added, “But…
“Yeah, we’re a pile of garbage at the bottom of the trash heap…but even if we do live in a place like that, we’ve come this far by having at least a smidgen of pride in ourselves. No matter how lowly other people see us, we don’t lower our heads.”
“Felt…”
“I wish I could show you your face in the mirror right now. Looking all meek and submissive, wagging your tail and eager to please, just to save your life… You can’t call that living!”
Many of the attendants gravely nodded at Felt’s words, with Crusch among their number. The ideas Crusch had voiced were very much in tune with Felt’s words.
The small girl put her hands on her hips and bluntly stated, “If you wanted me to spare your life, you went about it all wrong. There’s no way I’d give up my right to run from a crummy place just to save you, if that’s how you’re gonna be.”
The red-haired young man watched. Her declaration meant she was abandoning someone very close to her, abandoning her right to issue commands—and refusing to participate in the royal selection.
“…Lady Felt.”
Reinhard couldn’t bear the pain that her declaration sent running through his heart. He’d seen it coming. He’d guessed what reaction the proud girl would display when she saw the old man’s behavior. In that sense, she was playing right into the hands of Priscilla and the old men—no, of one old man.
Now abandoned, the old man’s shoulders fell, bending forward onto the floor as if all strength of will had left him. But Reinhard did not miss the faint, instinctive slackening of the old man’s lips. This was a display of neither despair nor regret; no, he was filled with a sense that his actions had achieved their intended result.
The old man had gambled his very life, and had succeeded in grand fashion.
Truly, Reinhard wanted to expose the old man’s scheme even then, to tell Felt that she needed to change her decision. But Reinhard could do no such thing—His hands were tied, precisely because of who, and what, he was.
Marcus, watching the old man hang his head before the girl, must have decided the discussion was over. The knight pulled on the old man’s manacles, sending the clink of the chain echoing through the chamber.
“I deeply apologize for causing this uproar before the throne. I shall immediately remove this—”
Suddenly, Felt interrupted Marcus’s apology and attempt to leave.
“Or something like that, I guess. I was waiting for someone to jump to conclusions…”
Marcus’s mouth closed with a rare look of shame. Seeing his solemn facade crumble, Felt beamed, feeling very proud of herself. She twirled before the dumbfounded audience.
“Sooo, get his hands loose, captain. Those shackles are way too small for him. It hurts just to watch.”
“I have already informed you several times over, Lady Felt, I cannot comply with your comma—”
“Because I didn’t wanna do this royal selection thing, right? Then it’s simple.—I’ll do it, the royal selection. I just gotta try to be king, right?”
“—!”
The declaration, accompanied by a laugh showing off her snaggletooth, sent a shudder throughout the entire chamber.
Many of the onlookers seemed aghast at how lightly she made such a critical decision. But naturally, the old man’s reaction was even greater, his feelings about her announcement plain on his face.
“Wh-what are you saying, Felt? I-I accepted it. What you said is right. You can’t live by losing your pride. Having you cut me loose couldn’t be hel—”
“Cut the crap, you shitty old man. What, you’ve lived this long without knowing you can’t act worth a damn? I’ve been with you long enough to know all sorts of things about you, like—when you tell a lie, the swirl on your forehead turns backward!”
Felt raised her cheeks and drew a little pattern on her head to demonstrate. Her gesture made Old Man Rom’s face go pale. He cried out, “You’re lying!” and touched his bound arms to his own head in haste.
Felt watched him and said, “Yep, I’m lying. Wow, do you look stupid. No sympathy from me.”
“—Ah?!”
Old Man Rom was beside himself at falling so easily for her trap. Felt shook her head.
“So there you have it. Get those shackles off him. Everything up to now was just the wild fantasy of a senile old geezer.”
Marcus dragged his feet even then.
“We cannot simply let him go on such flimsy grou—”
“—This old man’s my family,” Felt resolutely stated. “Let him go, now.”
Hearing these words, Marcus’s face registered surprise for a brief instant. The next moment, the hesitation vanished.
“As you command.”
Marcus stood at attention and let go of Old Man Rom’s shackles. Then, he ordered the guards behind him, “Unlock the manacles.” But Felt raised a hand to stop them.
“Too slow—Reinhard!”
“Here.”
Reinhard responded instantly to the girl’s sharp voice, his tall frame advancing to the chamber’s center. As the red-haired young man stood at Felt’s side, Felt didn’t even look at him. Instead, she crossed her arms and motioned with her chin.
“Do it.”
It was the world’s shortest command.
“Yes, my Lady—”
Reinhard raised a hand up to the sky, fingers straight, slicing down through the air like a knife. The old man’s wrists were bound by metal shackles, but the knight’s hand sliced through them as if they were paper. The manacles, cut clean in two, slid off as if they melted, falling to the floor. A high-pitched clink echoed in the chamber. In a true sense, this sound announced this was the moment the two had become lord and vassal.
Felt remarked, “So this all went the way you wanted, didn’t it?”
“Not at all. This was guided by the hand of Fate.”
“Ha! Fate again. What, are you a slave to fate?”
“No—I am, more than anything, your knight, Lady Felt.”
Felt seemed to yield in the face of his unrelenting support as she murmured, “You’re no fun…”
Old Man Rom was still prostrate as the two bantered right in front of him.
“Why, Felt… I—I wanted you to…”
Felt replied, “I have a pretty good idea why you said all that embarrassing stuff and what you were after—You saw how I hated being here so much I couldn’t stand it, right? So you thought you’d give me a helpful nudge.”
“If you understand that, then why—”
When the old man tried to pose the question, Felt broke into an awkward laugh.
“What, you think I can sneak back into the city after abandoning my own family? There’s no way I could be that shameless.”
When Old Man Rom heard these words, his face broke into an expression different from bitterness. He turned his back to her, rubbing an arm over his face to hide it.
“I-I’ve lost! And all because…”
Old Man Rom looked up to the heavens, his hoarse voice quivering with chagrin and something powerful and inexpressible.
“…I raised her too well—!!”
9
Rom’s plaintive cry about how he had raised the girl resounded in the hall. Miklotov, perhaps moved by the lament, cleared his throat, seeking to clear the air in the process.
“Well, then, Lady Felt, Sir Reinhard, may I conclude that you both intend to participate in the royal selection?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Yes, as my Lady wills it.”
Felt’s behavior was insolent to the end, with Reinhard following her. The lenient sage let the incongruity pass without comment, quietly replying, “Understood,” as he nodded. He continued, “Though there have been some minor uproars, I judge that all the preliminaries have concluded. Lady Felt, do you have anything else to add?”
Surely he thought it proper to give Felt the same chance to give a speech that the other candidates had received.
She answered the prompt with a, “Hmm,” and thought about it a bit. “One thing, then.”
Landing on a proposal, Felt raised a finger and looked up, bathed in gazes from the dais. Her red eyes flared as they surveyed the faces of those assembled. Finally, she took a deep breath and smiled buoyantly as she swept one hand toward the Council of Elders.
“—I hate nobles.”
She kept that smile on her face as she pointed at the Knights of the Royal Guard with her other hand.
“—I hate knights.”
Then, with both arms still spread wide, she said, with a spectacular smile and maximum venom…
“—I hate this kingdom!”
She continued.
“—I hate all of you in this room, I hate the structure you built, I hate every little thing here. That’s why I think I’ll break it all. How ’bout it?”
Felt inclined her head. For a single moment, her behavior brought time itself to a halt. Then, the chamber exploded.
“Wh-what is she saying?!”
“This is where the king is selected, and she says she’ll destroy the nation?!”
“What have we spent all this time for!!”
Felt blew off the vociferous, angry shouts of the onlookers all at once.
“Ohh, where’s all your high-and-mighty talk now? What about that proud history? Now look, when I become king, I’m breaking all of it. I’m smacking down the lot of you knuckleheads who still can’t see the floor crumbling underneath. You all need a breath of fresh air.”
The speech of the bright-faced girl threw the hall into chaos like never before.
Miklotov, listening to the proclamation that was reckless without precedent, nodded generously, his expression unchanged as he glanced at the knight standing beside the girl.
“Your lord is quite a feisty one. Having heard her words, what do you think of them?”
“—Truth be told, I believe Lady Felt’s wishes are, unfortunately, still in the realm of fantasy.”
“However, someday, Lady Felt’s words will reach everyone. It is my duty to give her my full support until that day comes.”
Miklotov countered, “But Lady Felt counts you among those things she intends to destroy, does she not?”
Reinhard bowed deeply on one knee toward Miklotov, showing no sign of relenting.
“Surely after destruction, there will be renewal. If she will have me, I have no greater desire than to be at her side during that time.”
Felt furiously scratched at her hair as she watched his chivalrous profile.
“So in the end, which one are you, my ally or my enemy here?”
“Your ally. Yours, and yours alone.”
“…Fine, then. I’ll put you to good use.”
With her acceptance, the final candidate for the royal selection declared them lord and vassal.
Miklotov dipped his head as he gazed at the radiant row of royal candidates.
“Finally, all the candidates have been assembled. I ask the Council of Elders, do we have a consensus?”
As Miklotov closed his eyes, the atmosphere around him shifted. The old man’s voice carried the power of a strong will.
“—My brethren, I ask for your consent to announce that this royal selection shall begin with the five candidates assembled to date.”
“—By the authority of the Council of Elders, I assent.”
“And I.”
“I assent as well.”
One by one, the members of the Council of Elders agreed to Miklotov’s proposal with solemn nods. Listening to them until the end, Miklotov finally rose from his seat, walking beside the empty throne before opening his eyes.
“—Then, I shall announce the rules for the royal selection!”
Crusch Karsten, lord of the House of Karsten.
Crusch’s foremost knight, the Blue Knight, Felix Argyle.
“The candidates are Crusch Karsten, Priscilla Bariel, Anastasia Hoshin, Emilia, and Felt. All of these five bear the qualifications to be Dragon Maidens!”
Priscilla Bariel, the Bloody Bride.
The mercenary Al, one-armed wanderer from another world.
“The day shall be one month prior to the Dragonfriend Ceremony in three years, renewing the pact with the Dragon!”
The young company president from a foreign nation, Anastasia Hoshin.
Anastasia’s foremost knight, the Finest of Knights, Julius Juukulius.
“The selection shall be made according to the guidance of the Dragon via the radiance of the Dragon Jewels and the combined will of the nation’s people!”
Felt, of the lost royal bloodline (unconfirmed).
Felt’s foremost knight, Reinhard van Astrea, the Sword Saint.
“Until the appointed day, all candidates for the throne shall work to uphold their own lands and the kingdom to the greatest possible extent!”
The silver-haired half-elf, Emilia, the Freezing Witch.
And absent from that place, her self-declared knight, Subaru Natsuki.
“With the minimum conditions fulfilled, I hereby announce the royal selection has begun—!”
Miklotov’s great shout filled the chamber with an incredible fervor. No one spoke, but they all were unable to contain their heartfelt cries.
Miklotov, feeling the waves of excitement rolling against him, straightened from his stoop and declared—
“Let the royal selection—commence!!”