Once the business with the assassin had settled, our group finally returned to the temporary accommodation in the city centre.
The Capital's complex architecture still stuck Petra.
Ram was still aloof, dutifully transporting the bag of appas.
Subaru was… still being Subaru. Despite my best efforts, the boy's mind remained a mystery to me with the short time afforded. Given a shovel, I felt as though I could not dig beyond the first layer, no matter what the aforementioned tool was forged with.
Usually, Subaru switched between the two extremes of nervousness or overconfidence—an amusing quirk he possessed. However, something happened while I was in that white, empty room. And while he had been silent the whole day, the aura surrounding him had noticeably changed.
And although it was beneath me to wonder what inane thoughts occupied him, I couldn't help being curious. For the first time in a week, I called upon Puck.
He followed my command without protest. While the spirit could gauge surface-level thoughts and emotions, more reliably, he could sense hidden intentions.
Puck told me that the emotion most prominently featured in the boy was displeasure.
Not surprising. He often outwardly expressed such feelings, so the reveal didn't concern me.
And what of his intentions?
'Unknown.'
…
Most likely, he was tired of his treatment. But if he had the immediate desire to rebel and attack me, Puck would've known. I decided not to dwell on the subject any further; there were slightly bigger issues at hand than the sensibilities of the boy.
For as I sat in the manor's drawing-room, a certain margraves' gaze was focused upon me.
Oh, what misery I felt when Roswaal welcomed us.
Despite what others may tell you, there was no problem in sorrow. As one should feel sorrow for something sad, one should feel elation at something that brings joy.
And before me, the man who had caused me such sorrow…
Ah, this would not do… It would not do at all.
When I received that tiny slip of paper, at first, I was apprehensive. And when I finally deduced its true meaning, only then did I feel sorrow.
He introduced me to the Assassin's Club.
A Club, who employs the very person that attempted to murder me. What a bizarre coincidence.
A service, which he knew of. It was irritating; his body language oozed confidence as if everything was under control—aggravating to no end.
Coils, wrapping around tighter with each sentence I exchange with the clown. My mind recalled our previous conversations… And now, I felt as though I could do nothing, trapped in a web of plots and intrigue. I concluded that every word the wretch had spoken was a lie. And by chance, were it not a lie, it was most certainly drowned in both subterfuge and deceit.
"Emilia-sama has most likely begun to deteeeeest~ me."
My brow twitched.
He was not wrong; I did detest him.
To truly earn my ire was an impressive feat. Only one other person on this continent could claim that title. If it were a competition, Roswaal would earn himself a wonderous, glimmering silver medal for his efforts.
Unfortunately, he was still nowhere near first place. No one could ever equal my hatred for her.
"And nooooow~, it's about time to stop playing around and haaaarvest~ that hatred," his previously mirthful eyes took on a more serious tenor. My lips drew into a thin line, hiding my confusion.
Was that a provocation?
I didn't understand what he meant. Some mana unintentionally crept onto my seat, crystalising the armrest.
The clown continued grinning.
He wanted me to get angry, didn't he? The selection was tomorrow. Was that what he wanted? To sabotage me at the starting line. Wasn't it detrimental for him to get in my way?
This would not do.
I asked for Puck's insight again.
Emotion?
'Amusement.'
Intention?
'Non-hostile.'
…Well, how reassuring. This cat of mine was probably broken.
With an internal sigh, I dismissed the spirit. At best, Roswaal would not attack me for no reason, and at worst, he was already planning to. Calming my mild distress, I asked a harmless, inconsequential question through gritted teeth.
"Were you the one who hired the assassin?"
A moment passed.
Then two…
…And finally…
"I was."
This would not do.
An uncontrollable wave of mana surged from my fingertips. I bit my inner cheek, trying to suppress the blazing, glacial, rampant emotions that threatened to cloud my judgement and dull my senses.
Roswaal would be unaffected by something like this. But it was still a shameful display of self-control. My emotions ebbed and flowed, as did the flapping snowflakes in the room, carried by diminishing magical winds.
Exhaling, I decided to accept his honesty. His answer was like finding the only grain of truth on a beach of lies. It was a rare occurrence that he would speak so frankly with me. Whatever the purpose of revealing this now, I wasn't planning on passing the opportunity.
"And for what reason, may I ask, did you resort to such a thing?"
…
…
Hearing his answer, only questions came to mind.
I felt like he had lied to me once again.
A light knocking woke me from a restless sleep.
Waking up, I reached to rub my eyes and panicked, thinking my hand had gone missing. I couldn't feel it. After a few seconds of freaking out, it turned out that my arm had numbed from the rope left on my wrists overnight.
The fact I could even entertain the thought of my hands being sawed off without my knowledge made me question my common sense. This world has done no good for my well-being.
That said, opening the door, an unexpected ginger ball of enthusiasm appeared, and the world itself felt just a little lighter.
"Good morning, Subaru!"
"Morning, Petra," I waved, trying to obscure my oncoming yawn. I looked down the corridor I stepped into. Left, right; no one. The lack of a grinning half-devil or apathetic maid made me nervous. Usually, we'd never get to be alone like this. "You have permission to talk with me like this?"
Hearing my question, she shifted with playful eyes. Petra's mischievous smile told me all I needed to know. If she was here, then she must have some free time.
"Emilia doesn't need you right now?"
"Mmmm… she's getting ready to visit the castle today. Emilia-sama said that she didn't want to give a bad first impression by wearing her regular outfit. Ram is helping her dress in some more appropriate clothing right now."
Both Ram and Emilia were preoccupied? That was some excellent information.
I made a mental note of the time.
And as I stood blankly staring at Petra, the concealed poison grew heavier in my pockets with each passing second; I couldn't leave it to chance.
How far back was my checkpoint?
I had to make sure.
The previous royal family spent their taxpayer's money quite frivolously. No wonder there was a bit of an economic crisis at the Kingdom's doorstep.
I couldn't wait to tear it all down.
Everywhere you looked, arched columns gilt in gold and carved of marble carried the weight of the lofty ceiling. Countless statues depicting the divine dragon Volcanica lined such pillars.
Evenly spaced, ceremonial guards bearing corseque spears stood to attention—a relatively cheap decoration compared to the elaborate artwork on display.
As my group neared the exorbitantly large red doors, my heels delicately clicked and echoed against the silent backdrop of the hallway.
An imposing man stood between us and the great hall inside.
Green hair and an unflinching face. I had a feeling that the stalwart man could quickly deal with any common threat.
"Marcos-dono, what a pleaaaasure~ it is to finally see each other face-to-face once again," a jovial voice greeted the man.
"Mm. It has been too long, Margrave. As Captain of the Royal Guard, I've been hearing a few rumours going around; it seems not all are unfounded." He turned to look at me. "So this is the one you are supporting for the selection, then."
I supposed making a decent impression would not hurt.
"Emilia," I forced a small smile. Hopefully, my practice would pay off with my facial muscles successfully conveying the meaning I wanted. I had no mirror to check, but the man didn't seem disturbed regardless.
Like a good slave to authority, he inclined his head to me, who held a higher position.
"Then, Emilia-sama, please excuse the formality. To my knowledge, you have no appointed knight yet. Are the two behind you part of your group?"
I turned to look behind me.
An incredibly straight-backed Petra and a docile Subaru, hidden beneath the recognition-obscuring robes I temporarily relinquished.
I changed my strategy. Accepting that Subaru was most likely unable to give me the required information before the selection started, I decided to view things in a slightly more extended timeframe.
Whatever information he could glean from this event would be used in the future. I'm not sure what he would learn, but merely knowing their strengths and weaknesses would give me an edge over the competition.
"They are indeed part of my group."
The Captain of the Royal Guard waited for me to elaborate further, but I saw no such need. My relation with Petra was easy to explain, but it was a little more tricky with Subaru.
I wouldn't voluntarily put myself in such a position.
"…Very well," he yielded. " I can trust Roswaal, but make sure the other two abide by the proper protocols once you're inside."
I had a feeling that such protocols were going to fall by the wayside once that assassin began her attack. Regardless…
"I understand perfectly, Marcos."
Receiving a light grunt of affirmation, the man admitted us into the halls. Slowly, the heavy doors groaned, opening to a gallery filled with countless white-robed knights and uniformed nobles.
A red carpet was rolled down the aisle, and at the very end of it, shallow steps led to an ornate throne.
A throne that was calling for me.
A seat that demanded my attention.
On the surface, security looked heavy, alert; their presence couldn't be missed—Frequent patrols, heavily armoured guards, and strict identity checks. But inside…
Oh, the insides were always so much more enjoyable…
Whether it be a system or an individual, however much one projected an air of sophistication and uniformity, another side always lurked.
Common soldiers sold their Kingdom for a coin and ceded classified maps to wanted criminals. Traitors out of necessity, and if they were hesitant, a pair of Kukri Knives in their gut was a great motivator in handing over things unneeded.
Ah, I couldn't be getting sidetracked now. Mama would have my head.
"Listen… I get that you wanna talk up a good show here, but I'm busy, y'know? As we say in Kararagi, time is money. If you're just repeating what we know, then why did y'all even gather us? The power of Capitalism is an all-knowing, consuming force. This lil' miss won't gain anything unless we get the show on the road." Wrapped in a fluffy white dress, the purple-haired girl endlessly protested to the old men.
"I agree. Observing formality is important, but it is also a fact that our time is limited. It would be wise to inform us why we are here at once. Naturally, I do have a general idea," the military-outfitted candidate added.
Time this, time that.
Why were they all in such a rush?
"You already know the purpose of this meeting?"
The woman with dark green hair and amber eyes responded confidently.
"Yes, Lord Miklotov. For a drinking party, correct? One day, we will face each other as rivals,"—coincidentally, starting today, from my perspective—"But by sharing the same table and drinks, we will learn about one another."
"…No, that is not correct."
I bit back the ridicule that threatened to spill over at the old man's curt reply.
These were the kinds of people I was facing?
Time-limited, money-obsessed, arrogant, and conceited.
Another candidate's words flowed uninterrupted.
"Rivals? Hah… I am Priscilla Barielle, the Sun Princess. And you are nothing more than mere accessories to me. I am the one that the world has selected to champion, and challenging mineself for the throne would be an exercise in futility. Can we not come together and accept the inevitable outcome? There is no need for all this blabbering."
I bristled at the woman's claims as she fanned herself. Just because she hadn't a knife in her back yet, didn't mean it was too late for her to know despair. I would almost go as far as to say that I'd fit right in were it not for a minor grievance I had with their attitude.
They were all taking the selection too lightly.
Their status, capital, or military strength… I couldn't hope to match as an unknown. However, I had the resource known as Subaru, and he could tip the scales in my favour.
As though they were going to win by virtue of simply existing, and the crown falling into their lap effortlessly, they blabbered back and forth with the council without a second thought.
They thought the stakes were low? Such thinking would cease today.
Eventually, having realised the pointlessness of their arguing, Marcos declared the prophecy engraved in the Dragon Stone and called Reinhard to come forward.
All four candidates, along with the entire room, turned to look at the knight.
"Honoured members of the council of wise men, I, Reinhard van Astrea, of the Imperial Knights, would like to announce my mission's completion. The dragon's priestess, the fifth and final candidate for the throne, has been located."
On cue, the doors announced the new priestess.
Creaking, they opened to reveal a pair of wide crimson eyes and a tress of blonde hair.
And with a thud, the bloodied, dripping head of a young girl rolled into the room, dyeing the red carpet one shade darker.
AN: We finally reach the Royal Selection! Unfortunately, down one already. What unfolds next is anyone's guess. Reinhard's gotten quite attached to felt over the past few months, so he won't handle this very well.
What will Subaru do? What should Subaru do?
Sorry for the slightly shorter chapter. Real-life stuff.
Credit to Oteycri000 for beta'ing.
Thanks for reading! Please review!