Chapter XII:
The Royal Selection
Subaru sat beside Felt, watching her stare out of the window as their carriage rolled toward the Royal Palace. Reinhard had left ahead of them hours ago, leaving just him, Felt, and the twin attendants, Flam and Garassis—not that Subaru had entirely figured out which was which yet. He was starting to notice a slight difference in their hair color, but it was still a challenge.
"I wish Rom were coming," Felt huffed, her arms crossed.
"You know he's never been the biggest fan of humans," Subaru smirked. "You can't blame him for avoiding this kind of thing."
Felt scoffed, tapping her fingers against the windowsill. "Still would've been nice."
Subaru glanced at her, watching as she absentmindedly picked at the frills of her dress. It reminded him of how Emilia had been the other morning, clearly anxious about the Selection.
"So, you're not free of that Roswaal guy yet?" Felt asked, not looking at him.
Subaru sighed, slumping slightly against the cushioned seat. "Nope. Not the best situation, but… we'll figure it out."
Felt muttered something under her breath but didn't argue. Her fingers kept tugging at the lace on her sleeves, a telltale sign of her growing nerves.
"What did you learn, anyway?" she asked after a long silence.
"Learn? You mean from Roswaal?" Subaru arched an eyebrow.
"Yeah."
"How to fight rocks," Subaru groaned, already regretting bringing it up.
Felt turned to him, squinting. "Fight… rocks?"
"It was part of a mana control exercise," Subaru explained with a sigh. "You make a gem glow. Sounds simple, right? It's way harder than you'd think."
Felt rolled her eyes. "That's what you spent the last month doing? Glorified night-light training?"
"Not just that," Subaru chuckled. "I also read a lot of books and learned a few spells. Not exactly grand mage material, but I've got a decent foundation now."
"That's still more than most people," Felt admitted, leaning back against the seat.
"Yeah, but it's only been a month," Subaru shrugged. "I barely scratched the surface."
As the carriage rolled forward, the first checkpoint came into view. The grand gates loomed ahead, guards standing at attention on either side. Subaru knew their carriage carried the proper magical seals, which meant they wouldn't need a full security inspection.
Still, the sight of the palace walls growing ever closer made his stomach twist. This was really happening.
"You tell the half-elf—" Felt started.
"Emilia," Subaru corrected instinctively.
Felt shot him a look. "Did you tell Emilia about the whole 'not exactly free of Roswaal' situation?"
Subaru scratched the back of his head. "No, not exactly…"
Felt let out a deep sigh, shaking her head. "She's going to be there, you know."
Subaru frowned, unsure where she was going with this. "Yeah… and?"
Felt clicked her tongue. "For someone so smart, you can be a real dumbass sometimes, bro."
"What?" Subaru blinked, thrown off by Felt's words.
"She has no idea I'm a royal candidate, and you're about to show up supporting me. If you don't think that's going to ruffle some feathers, you're as dense as Conrad's anvil," Felt rolled her eyes. "Men… honestly."
Subaru opened his mouth, then shut it. He had considered this, but he had ultimately decided it was best to let Emilia focus—maybe it would have been better to tell her back at the apartments. She'd been so nervous then, and he hadn't wanted to drop something like this on her at the worst possible time.
But now? Now it was going to blindside her, and he'd look like a backstabbing idiot.
How was he even supposed to tell her? "Hey, Emilia, turns out Felt's a Royal Candidate! So, right before the most important day of your life, I'm jumping ship to support her instead. But, don't worry! Roswaal won't let me quit as his apprentice, so I'm still technically stuck with you. Sorry!"
Before he could stew on it any further, the carriage came to a stop. Outside, the familiar form of Grimm, the ever-silent old servant, moved to open the door, stepping aside as he helped Felt and the twins exit first.
Subaru inhaled deeply. No backing out now.
He knew, thanks to the grueling etiquette drills Carol had hammered into him, that this was where he separated from Felt. As a non-noble, he was to gather with the other knights and attendants on the left side of the throne room—a place reserved for knights and the other non-aristocratic attendees.
The grand hall buzzed with conversation as Subaru entered, scanning the room filled with figures clad in pristine armor and noble attire. He instinctively sought out an open spot, finding himself standing next to a demi-human with feline features—cat ears, a tail, and piercing golden eyes.
Before Subaru could even process their presence, the feline-like knight turned to him with a playful smirk.
"Oh, nya-ow… who's this?" they purred, looking him over with amusement.
Subaru blinked at the peculiar greeting but extended his hand nonetheless.
"Natsuki Subaru."
The feline knight took it with a delicate, almost lazy handshake, their grasp far more graceful than firm.
"Ferris, pleasure~" they hummed, flicking their tail slightly. Their snow-white uniform gave away their status as a knight, but Subaru immediately noticed something different about them. Unlike Reinhard, who radiated an air of undeniable authority, Ferris exuded something more… playful.
"You're not a knight, nya~" Ferris observed, tilting their head. "So, I take it you're here in support of one of the candidates?"
Subaru hesitated for half a second before giving a half-hearted shrug.
"Something like that."
Ferris chuckled, their sharp golden eyes twinkling with intrigue.
"Nya-oh~, mysterious, are we? Well, since we're sharing, I am the Knight of Lady Crusch. Most of the other knights here are just neutral observers." They waved a hand lazily.
"Ah, Subaru, there you are."
Turning toward the voice, Subaru saw the familiar silhouette of Reinhard approaching. Clad in his official uniform, the same pristine white attire that Ferris wore, the Sword Saint carried himself with the same effortless grace that always made Subaru feel just a little out of place.
"Reinhard," Subaru greeted with a nod.
"Oh? You two know each other?" Ferris smirked, their golden eyes flicking between the two of them with clear amusement.
"We are acquainted," Reinhard confirmed smoothly. "Though, I imagine we'll be working closely together moving forward."
With a firm clap on the back, Reinhard regarded Subaru with an easy smile. "Speaking of, how was she doing?"
"Fine," Subaru replied quickly, a little too quickly. In reality, he could only imagine what Felt was doing right now. If he had to guess, she was pacing furiously in some back room, grumbling under her breath about how utterly stupid this entire thing was. He was giving it fifty-fifty odds that her dress would still be intact by the time she made her grand entrance.
"What order is she in exactly?" Subaru asked, shifting the subject.
"She is fifth," Reinhard explained.
Last. Subaru wasn't sure if that was a boon or a curse. On one hand, she'd have time to prepare herself after seeing the others go first. On the other hand, it could leave her at a disadvantage, as the audience's attention span waned by the time she took the floor.
Not much he could do about it now.
"Ooooh, who's this mysterious girl~?" Ferris leaned in, smirking playfully.
"You'll know soon enough, Sir Felix," Reinhard teased, mirroring Ferris' smirk.
"You know I hate that name," Ferris groaned, rolling their eyes. "It's Ferris, Sir Reinhard." Their tail flicked irritably as they leaned in. "Ferris," they repeated slowly as if lecturing a particularly slow student.
Reinhard chuckled, clearly amused by the correction. "Apologies, the captain has your given name drilled into my head at this point—force of habit."
"Ugh, honestly, the captain is the worst sometimes," Ferris sighed dramatically.
Before Subaru could ask who 'the captain' was, the sound of heels clicking against marble echoed through the grand hall.
Subaru turned toward the throne room entrance as the guards stiffened, standing at attention. The royal herald stepped forward, their voice ringing clear:
"Presenting the Royal Selection Candidates—Duchess Crusch Karsten, Baroness Priscilla Barielle, Lady Anastasia Hoshin of the Hoshin Company, and Lady Emilia."
Subaru's stomach tightened. He knew this moment was coming, but now that it was here, his nerves spiked.
He considered Emilia's name—or rather, the lack of anything attached to it.
No title. No lands. Just 'Lady.' It was a courtesy at best, an empty formality. The same applied to Felt. They had no grand lineage, no noble backing, nothing but the insignias that had chosen them.
The doors swung open, revealing the candidates as they entered one after another, in the order they were announced.
First was Crusch Karsten. A woman with emerald-green hair, dressed in a sharp blue military-style uniform with a sword at her hip. She carried herself with an air of absolute authority, her every step exuding confidence and composure. Even without knowing her, Subaru could tell—she was someone who commanded respect effortlessly. Second was Priscilla. An auburn-haired beauty in a flowing red-and-black strapless gown, holding a delicate feather fan. Unlike Crusch's disciplined air, Priscilla radiated entitlement. She moved with the lazy grace of someone convinced the world belonged to her, her sharp amber eyes scanning the room as though judging whether the palace itself was worthy of her presence. Behind her trailed a one-armed man, dressed in a green vest with a long yellow sash draped down his back. His face was completely obscured by a black, closed helm, a single red plume adorning the crown. Third was Anastasia Hoshin. A petite girl with luxurious purple hair, clad in extravagant white furs. Even to Subaru's untrained eye, her outfit screamed wealth—the kind of wealth that could feed an entire slum for a year. That thought twisted in his stomach, but it wasn't like the Mathers or Astrea estates were lacking in opulence either. The rich were always rich. And finally, Emilia. Dressed in her signature white and lavender gown, she stepped forward with grace despite the inevitable whispers that followed.
Subaru heard it immediately—the murmurs rippling through the gathered nobles. The faint but unmistakable scoffs, the disapproving glares, the snickers hiding behind gloved hands.
Subaru's fists clenched.
It wasn't unexpected—he had known this would happen. A silver-haired half-elf stepping into the royal palace as a candidate? Of course, the nobility would mock her.
But knowing it would happen didn't make it any easier to watch.
He ground his teeth, the urge to wipe those smug looks off their faces nearly overwhelming.
But he held back.
This wasn't the time.
As Emilia walked forward, Subaru's attention shifted behind her—his gaze locking onto a familiar, flamboyant figure sweeping into the hall.
Roswaal.
The court mage moved with his usual theatrical grace, his mismatched eyes scanning the room before briefly locking onto Subaru's.
Subaru stiffened.
There it was again—that smirk. That ever-present look of amusement, like Roswaal was watching a game unfold exactly as he planned. Subaru felt his gut tighten.
What are you thinking, Roswaal?
But before he could dwell on it, his attention snapped back to Emilia. The moment she spotted him, he saw it—the confusion, then frustration flashing across her face. Her violet eyes widened, her lips parting in disbelief.
"S-Subaru?! What are you doing here?!" The mixture of shock and anger in her voice hit Subaru like a gut punch.
Damn it. He had known this moment was coming, but facing it head-on was another thing entirely. He opened his mouth, scrambling for an explanation, but—Reinhard stepped forward first. With a graceful bow, he spoke his voice calm, measured, and composed.
"Apologies, Lady Emilia. This misunderstanding is my fault alone. You will understand soon enough; however, I must ask that you place this situation at my feet. Subaru is here as my guest at the present moment."
Subaru blinked. Reinhard… was taking the heat for him?
Emilia's frown deepened as she looked between them, clear uncertainty written all over her face.
"As your guest?" she repeated, her tone laced with confusion. "I don't understand."
Reinhard remained unwavering. "I assure you, there is a good explanation for this, Lady Emilia," he said smoothly, then, with a subtle motion towards the throne, added, "For now, you have other things to concern yourself with."
Emilia hesitated, her eyes darting around the hall. She was painfully aware that all eyes were still on her. The tension lingered, but eventually, she relented.
"R-right," she said reluctantly, her voice softer, but her displeasure still evident.
Before stepping forward, she cast one final glance at Subaru—her expression a clear warning: We'll talk about this later.
And then, she turned, moving to take her place at the front of the hall.
Subaru let out a long breath, but there was no relief to be found.
Felt was right. I really am a dumbass.
There was another announcement from the green-haired man clad in full plate armor at the foot of the throne. A moment later, a long procession of elderly men, their hair white and grey with age, filed in and took their seats on either side of the vacant throne.
Subaru was well aware of the Council of Wise Men, though he had never before laid eyes on the tottering old men who held the fate of the kingdom in their hands. His opinion of them was less than favorable—not that he had ever harbored great admiration for the now-extinct royal family, but life under the late king had been marginally better. Not by much, but enough to be noticeable, even in the slums.
The green-haired knight introduced himself as "Captain Marcos Gildark" before launching into an explanation of the Royal Selection. A brief argument broke out between the candidates, questioning the need to repeat information everyone already knew, but Marcos pressed on regardless.
He recounted the prophecy and explained that the insignias marked their bearers as "Dragon Maidens," chosen by fate itself. Once his explanation concluded, the captain shifted his attention to the knights, his gaze settling on Reinhard.
"Sir Reinhard, please step forward," Marcos called out.
The Sword Saint complied, stepping forward with his usual poise. "Yes, Sir," he said with a respectful bow. "I, Reinhard van Astrea of the Imperial Knights, have completed my mission. I have found the fifth and final Dragon Maiden, and with her, the last candidate for the throne."
At that moment, the large double doors to the chamber swung open. Subaru turned just in time to see Felt enter, flanked by Flam and Garassis. Her posture was rigid, and her expression was a mixture of defiance and discomfort, as all eyes in the room locked onto her.
"The one I, myself, revere as the next queen," Reinhard declared, gesturing toward her, "Felt."
A murmur spread through the gathered nobles and dignitaries as Felt made her way forward, moving as gracefully as she could manage. Subaru could almost hear Carol's etiquette lessons rattling in her head as she attempted to appear composed.
From the corner of his eye, Subaru caught Emilia's stunned expression, her gaze snapping toward him almost instinctively. He quickly averted his eyes, unsure how to deal with her inevitable questions. That conversation was coming, no doubt about it—especially with Roswaal's ever-looming, undefined "favors" hanging over his head.
Felt stormed over, shooting Reinhard a quick glare before stopping beside Subaru. "I hate this," she muttered under her breath, then slipped away to stand beside Emilia.
The moment Felt took her place, Emilia leaned in and spoke to her in a hushed tone. Subaru strained to understand their words, but all he could gather was that Emilia was still trying to piece everything together. Her expression flickered between confusion and concern, and she was clearly unsettled by this latest revelation.
"Sir Reinhard," one of the Wise Men finally spoke, his voice carrying over the murmurs of the gathered nobility. "If you would be so kind as to illuminate those present as to the nature of your discovery of Lady Felt?"
Reinhard bowed and began recounting the events that had led him to find Felt. Subaru noted how he carefully omitted any mention of Elsa or the bloody struggle at the loot house. The audience, however, seized on a different detail entirely—the revelation that Felt had been living in the slums just a month prior sent a ripple of outrage through the assembled nobles.
"She's a gutter rat from the slums?!"
"Impossible! A filthy beggar—or worse, a thief—as queen? Unthinkable!"
"I must protest this!" another voice called out.
Subaru clenched his fist, ready to fire back, but Felt was quicker. She spun on her heel, scowling at the assembled nobles.
"Well, sorry we couldn't all be born with a silver spoon shoved up our ass!" she shot back, her voice dripping with venom.
Reinhard sighed but made no move to restrain her. Subaru knew it was unrealistic to expect Felt to hold her tongue—he doubted he would have fared much better in her place.
"How crude," Priscilla scoffed, fanning herself with feigned amusement. "But I suppose it's only natural for a common gutter rat to behave as such. You can't expect grace from filth."
Felt's scowl deepened. "Oh? You wanna fight, lady? Because I'm more than happy to knock that smug look off your face."
"How insolent," Priscilla sneered, eyes gleaming with condescension. "To think someone as lowly as you would even dare to assume they could."
With a flick of her fan, embers crackled in the air, a clear display of magic at her command. Subaru's instincts flared—his hand shot to his sword, mana surging through his legs, ready to launch himself forward at a moment's notice.
"Princess, maybe not here!" a deep voice called out from somewhere behind Subaru.
In an instant, Reinhard was between the two girls, offering a polite bow. "Many pardons."
"This is a sacred hall," Emilia said indignantly, stepping forward. "You're behaving disgracefully."
"It is only proper for her betters to remind an undisciplined little bitch of her place," Priscilla smirked, tilting her head as if amused.
"That is hardly an apology," Emilia shot back, eyes narrowing. "You're the one acting recklessly in a place like this."
"Oh? And will you apologize for being born, silver-haired demon child?" Priscilla's gaze flicked down at Emilia, her tone dripping with contempt.
The room went deathly silent.
Subaru's sword was out before he even realized it, the sharp ring of steel echoing through the chamber. Rage boiled over inside him, mana flooding his veins, his foot digging into the floor hard enough to crack the tile beneath it. Every offensive spell Roswaal had taught him, every technique he had read about, flashed through his mind in an instant.
A firm hand clamped down on his shoulder.
Subaru turned, meeting the steely gaze of the helmed man standing beside Priscilla. Through the slit in his visor, his expression remained unreadable, but his grip was solid, unyielding. "I must apologize for the princess," the man said, his voice calm but heavy. "Please, calm yourself, brother."
Subaru glanced around the chamber. All eyes were now on him. Several knights had their hands resting on the hilts of their swords, ready to intervene. Swallowing his anger, he forced himself to let out a slow breath and sheathed his blade.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the faintest smirk on Felt's lips. Seems they had both lost their tempers.
"Princess, I think you're making one too many enemies right now," the helmed man muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
"If you are all quite finished," the oldest of the Wisemen finally spoke, his tone tinged with irritation, "perhaps we can proceed."
Subaru retook his place, seething with the lingering desire to teach that smug, auburn-haired aristocrat a lesson.
"If we are all here, then we shall proceed," the eldest of the Wise Men intoned. "If the attendants to the candidates will join their respective Priestesses, we may begin."
Reinhard stepped beside Felt, while Roswaal took his place next to Emilia. Subaru observed as the one-armed, helmed knight rejoined Priscilla, while Ferris slipped past him to stand by Crusch. A lilac-haired knight, whom Subaru had yet to meet, moved to Anastasia's side.
"Good. We shall now allow each candidate—"
"Ahem." A pointed cough cut through the chamber.
The source was a bald, thick-browed counselor, his beady eyes scanning the assembly. The shift in the atmosphere was immediate; the room quieted, eyes flicking toward him expectantly.
"Councilor Bordeaux, do you have something to add?" the white-bearded Wise Man, leaned forward, his gaze narrowing at his colleague.
"Indeed, I do." Bordeaux laced his fingers together, speaking slowly, deliberately. "I see before us three qualified candidates, Lord Miklotov." His gaze, sharp with disapproval, landed on Felt and Emilia. "However, as the esteemed Baroness so… colorfully pointed out, the Mathers and Astrea households have presented us with a half-demon bearing the likeness of the Witch and a lowborn street rat. Are we truly expected to entertain such laughable propositions?"
A murmur rippled through the gathered nobles, their hushed voices tinged with agreement. Subaru clenched his fists. This was exactly why he despised the nobility—so obsessed with bloodlines and status that they refused to see beyond their narrow, gilded perspectives.
Miklotov, however, remained composed. "Be that as it may," he countered smoothly, "the insignias have accepted them. It is not for us to determine who is or isn't qualified—that authority rests with the Dragon's divine will. Our purpose is not to judge their birthright, but to oversee the process that will reveal which among them is truly worthy."
The other councilor bowed his head. "I would be remiss if I did not voice my concerns."
Miklotov grunted but allowed the matter to rest, moving forward with the proceedings. "Each candidate will now declare their intention to participate in the Royal Selection. If they so choose, they may also elaborate on how they intend to rule the Kingdom, should they ascend to the throne."
"Naturally, I will go first," Priscilla announced with a smug smirk, already stepping forward.
"No," Crusch countered sharply, her gaze steady and unwavering. "In terms of presentation, you are second. We will proceed in the order established earlier."
Priscilla huffed, flicking her fan dismissively. "Fine, have it your way."
"Lady Crusch Karsten, Sir Felix Argyle, the floor is yours," Miklotov declared, his voice firm.
"It's Ferris," the knight corrected with a sigh, his tail flicking behind him. "If it pleases ny—er, you, counselor."
"It's Sir Felix," Captain Marcos corrected, but Crusch waved the matter aside, maintaining her composed demeanor.
"At any rate," Crusch cleared her throat, her voice commanding the attention of the room. "Allow me to dispel a misconception some of you may hold. Should I ascend to the throne, the status quo will not persist."
The room buzzed with murmurs of curiosity and apprehension. Nobles exchanged glances, clearly uneasy with her bold declaration. Crusch did not waver, her poise unshakable.
"If I am chosen to lead this nation," she continued, her voice resonating through the chamber, "I do not intend to continue our Covenant with the Dragon."
The uproar was immediate and deafening. Nobles shouted in outrage, their faces pale with shock. A few looked scandalized, clutching at their chests as if the air had been stolen from them.
Crusch remained still, her hand rising slowly but purposefully. After a moment, the room quieted once more, although anxious whispers continued to ripple through the assembly.
"If we are not able to stand on our own, we have no right to be a nation," Crusch declared, her gaze fierce and unyielding. "For centuries, we have relied on the Dragon's power to protect our land, to guide our destiny. In doing so, we have allowed ourselves to grow weak, complacent, and stagnant. It is shameful that a kingdom as vast and prosperous as Lugunica is dependent on the power of another."
Her eyes scanned the crowd, meeting the gazes of nobles and knights alike, daring them to challenge her resolve. "The world is changing. The threats we face require strength of our own, not borrowed might. It is far past time we take fate into our own hands, for better or worse."
The silence that followed was heavy, the weight of her words settling over the room like a dense fog. Subaru could see the ripples of her statement affecting everyone present. Even Priscilla had stopped fanning herself, her golden eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Crusch's conviction was clear. She was not merely vying for the throne; she was demanding change—demanding the nation to stand on its own, untethered from the past.
It was bold. It was dangerous. And it was undoubtedly revolutionary.
"Sir Felix, have you anything to add?" Miklotov leaned forward, his sharp eyes fixed on Crusch's knight.
Ferris sighed at the title but didn't attempt to correct them this time. "Nothing, other than I fully believe in Lady Crusch. In my heart, she is the only sensible choice to hold the title of King," Ferris said, his voice brimming with unwavering loyalty. His smile was radiant, a clear indication of his pride in his master.
"Very well," Miklotov said before turning his attention to the next candidate. "Baroness Priscilla, I believe you are prepared? Who is your attendant?"
"Al," Priscilla declared with a flick of her wrist, her tone dripping with entitlement. "Get over here."
Subaru watched as the helmed man moved through the gathered assembly and took his place beside her. There was a casualness to his movements, a complete lack of formality that stood in stark contrast to the other knights. Yet, there was no denying the aura of power and readiness about him.
"Now that everyone's eyes are on me, I can tell you who will be your next ruler," Priscilla declared with a smug smirk, her fan flicking closed with a snap. "After all, everything in this world exists to benefit me. The heavens themselves have chosen me. So all you need to do is bow down and serve me. I am the winning side, after all."
Subaru felt his jaw tighten. Her arrogance was staggering, her sense of superiority overwhelming. It wasn't just confidence—it was absolute certainty that the world was hers by divine right.
"Interesting," Miklotov murmured, stroking his long white beard thoughtfully. "Sir Al, have you anything to add?"
"Well, I'm not a knight," Al admitted, scratching the back of his neck casually, his demeanor so relaxed that he almost seemed out of place. "But since my lady took over the lands of her late husband, the Bariel holdings have prospered. I've never seen the princess be wrong about anything. It's like she has some natural ability to just be right. No ifs, ands, or buts."
Al's gaze swept over the gathered nobles, his tone gaining a subtle edge. "She's going to win. It's a matter of when not if. The sooner people get on board, the more prosperity they'll enjoy."
There was a murmur of unease through the assembly. The confidence, the certainty—it was difficult to argue against. Yet, the arrogance was grating.
Miklotov nodded and turned his attention to the next candidate. "Lady Anastasia Hoshin, if you would?"
Anastasia beamed, her playful demeanor instantly setting her apart from the others. Subaru noted her Kararagi accent and the casual ease with which she presented herself. There was a disarming charm about her.
"I don't have a gimmick like the last two, I'm afraid," Anastasia chuckled, her lilac eyes gleaming mischievously. "I'm just a girl from the lower classes of the Free Trading Cities, born and raised in Kararagi. But as the Chairman of the Hoshin Company, I can tell you one thing: I am extremely greedy!"
The blunt admission took Subaru by surprise. He wasn't sure what to make of it—who openly admitted to something like that?
"That's why I'm the best merchant in the world, you see. I've got a nose for gold and silver, and I want it more than anyone else! I want more and more, and now… I want a country for myself too!"
Subaru's jaw almost dropped. She was blunt, direct, and shameless about her ambitions. It was both refreshing and unsettling.
"If this country doesn't satisfy my greed, I'll use it to get more! But don't worry," she flashed a smile that was somehow both charming and cunning, "I love what belongs to me, so I'll make sure to take good care of this nation, through thick and thin. So just relax, everyone, and become mine!"
She said it so casually as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Subaru was torn between grudging admiration for her honesty and a deep-seated unease at her unabashed avarice.
"Sir Julius, do you have anything to add?" Miklotov inquired, his voice steady as ever.
Julius stepped forward, his posture regal and composed. "While my Lady's words may come off as abrasive to some," he began, his golden eyes scanning the room, "her economic acumen is unmatched. Not only that, but she is a compassionate master who would never rule with cruelty. I do not doubt that under her guidance, our nation would prosper immensely."
He bowed deeply, his loyalty evident in every word. "In these times of uncertainty, Lady Anastasia is the leader who can guide us to prosperity."
Subaru watched Julius closely. There was no deception in his words. Whatever flaws his master might have, Julius genuinely believed in her.
Miklotov turned to the next candidate. "Lady Emilia, you are next. Lord Roswaal, please join her."
Emilia took a step forward, her silver hair catching the light as she looked around nervously. Her amethyst eyes reflected a mixture of determination and uncertainty.
"How teeerribly out of place for meee to come out before her when others have such finnnnne knights," Roswaal's mismatched eyes flicked to Reinhard, a sly smirk curling at his lips.
Emilia seemed to freeze, nerves evident as she stepped forward. She took a deep breath before speaking, her voice soft but steady. "H-Hello, everyone," she began, pausing to gather her courage. "I am Emilia. I have no family name, so just call me Emilia."
Subaru felt a surge of relief, his shoulders relaxing as he realized her nerves hadn't completely gotten the better of her. Despite himself, he found his heart rooting for her, even though his purpose here was to support Felt.
"I am supported by Lord Roswaal L. Mathers, and with—"
"Lord Roswaal," Councilor Bordeaux's voice cut through the air, sharp and accusatory, "Before we entertain this any further, I must understand how you came across a half-devil who possesses the qualifications to be considered!"
"Councilor, we have already been over this," Miklotov's glare was cold and unyielding, clearly displeased by the interruption.
"And yet, I must know," Bordeaux persisted, his tone dripping with suspicion. "I must know if this is some trick of our dear Court Magician. If we're being played for fools, I would have us know before we listen to why the spitting image of the Witch of Envy stands in these hallowed halls. Insignia or no."
Roswaal's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Verrrry well," he drawled, his voice dripping with theatrical mockery. "Subaru, please, attend me."
Subaru blinked, his body freezing in place as confusion washed over him. Why was he being called upon? What could he possibly add to this?
Frowning, he moved out from where he stood among the other knights. He felt Felt's gaze on him, her expression puzzled, and he could only offer a helpless shrug as if to say, I don't know either.
As he approached Roswaal and Emilia, Subaru's heart pounded in his chest. The attention of the entire room was on him now, and he had no idea what was about to happen.
"And who is this?" Miklotov arched an eyebrow, his voice carrying a note of curiosity.
"This is my dear apprentice, Subaru Natsuki," Roswaal gestured to Subaru, his smile unwavering.
Subaru shot Roswaal a glare. What are you plotting, Master? He didn't trust that grin for a second. Whatever Roswaal was scheming, Subaru was certain it wouldn't end well for him.
"I was unaware you took on students," Miklotov's eyes flicked over Subaru, his gaze analytical, sizing him up in an instant.
"Interesting as that might be, I struggle to find his relevance to the topic of her," Bordeaux interjected, his tone dripping with disdain. His eyes narrowed as they flicked to Emilia. "Even if she is eligible, the notion that she could win is laughable."
"You will understand my young apprentice's relevance soon enough," Roswaal said smoothly, waving a dismissive hand. His voice took on an airy, almost whimsical tone as he continued, "Emilia is indeed a half-elf, and by all traditional logic, she would seem to be the woooorst earth dragon to bet on in this race. A rather… how might I put this… placeholder."
Emilia's face fell, her eyes widening in hurt and shock. Subaru's jaw clenched so hard he thought his teeth might crack. Every word out of Roswaal's mouth felt like a stab to his chest. The sheer condescension made his blood boil.
"Are you saying you don't have any confidence in your candidate?" Miklotov's voice held disbelief, his brows knitting together.
"None whatsoever," Roswaal's smirk widened, his mismatched eyes gleaming with mischief as they slid to Subaru.
Subaru's entire body went rigid, the muscles in his neck tightening. A heat started to rise within him, simmering beneath his skin. What the hell is he playing at? He could feel the anger bubbling up, his fists clenching so hard his nails bit into his palms.
Then, a searing pain tore through his hip, sharp and sudden. Subaru's eyes went wide as a bright, blinding light burst from his pocket, the heat intensifying to an unbearable degree.
Looking down, his heart skipped a beat. The training crystal—he'd completely forgotten it was still in his pocket, and it was glowing brighter and brighter, its light so intense it was nearly blinding.
In a panic, Subaru grabbed at the gem, only for his fingers to sear on contact. It felt as if he'd grabbed a white-hot billet of steel fresh from the forge. With a cry of pain, he dropped the crystal, clutching his hand as pain shot up his arm.
The crystal fell to the floor, the light within it swirling wildly, unstable and growing more dangerous by the second. It looked ready to explode.
"Damn it!" Subaru stumbled back, his eyes wide with panic.
"That's not ideal," a familiar voice cut through the chaos. A blast of cold air swept through the room, and a thick layer of ice encased the crystal in an instant. The crystal hissed and steamed as it cooled.
Subaru looked up, his heart pounding, to find Puck floating between him and Emilia, his fur bristling with irritation. The spirit's face was unusually serious as his piercing eyes locked on Roswaal.
"You," Puck's voice was cold as ice, a dangerous edge to his usually playful tone. "What was that?"
Subaru cradled his burned hand, his teeth gritted in pain. But even through the haze of pain, his eyes were locked on Roswaal, who continued to smile as if everything was going exactly as planned.
"What the hell, Roswaal!" Subaru hissed, clutching his burning hand. His thigh throbbed painfully, the fabric of his pants sticking to his skin where they'd partially melted from the heat.
"It appears my young apprentice let his anger get the best of him," Roswaal's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Crystals are delicate things, especially when so much mana is poured into them. A pity… we hadn't quite reached that lesson yet. But the appearance of you, Puck, was my intention all along."
Subaru's jaw tightened. "So you nearly melted my leg off just to get Puck to come out?"
"How cruel," Puck's voice was cold, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "That was your plan all along?"
"I don't understand, Roswaal! What exactly is going on here?" Emilia's voice wavered, her violet eyes wide with confusion.
Miklotov's eyes widened as he peered more closely at Puck. "Is that… The Beast of the End?"
Puck's lips curled into a chilling smile. "Guilty as charged," he said lightly, his tone at odds with the cold fury radiating from him. His gaze shifted to Bordeaux, his pupils narrowing. "Now, if my beloved daughter wishes it… I'll show you exactly how I earned that title."
The temperature in the throne room plummeted. Frost crawled along the floor, and the air grew heavy, almost suffocating. Subaru shivered, his burns momentarily forgotten as the cold seeped into his bones.
"I heard you lowly humans saying some vile things about my daughter," Puck's voice was as cold as the ice forming around him. "I won't stand for that."
The knights' hands flew to their sword hilts, faces pale with fear. All but Reinhard, who remained composed, only moving half a step in front of Felt in a silent gesture of protection.
Roswaal's eyes gleamed with wicked amusement. "How terrifying one of the Four Great Spirits can be," he mused, his voice lilting. "And this particular one is in the service of Lady Emilia. Such a mighty beast he is. His contractor must be quite powerful indeed."
"You're saying this… half-elf is contracted with a Great Spirit?" Bordeaux's voice wavered, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Puck's gaze locked on the counselor, his eyes gleaming with a cold light. "And if my beloved daughter wished it, I'd turn every last one of you into ice sculptures. You'd better be grateful that Lia has more patience than I do… that includes you, Roswaal."
Roswaal's smile remained, though his eyes flickered with intrigue. "Terrifying indeed."
"I see… theatrics," Miklotov's lips curled into a smirk. "A show of force? Is that what this is?"
Roswaal's mismatched eyes gleamed with amusement. "To be called out so brazenly… then yes, I suppose it is."
"You crazy bastard!" Subaru cursed, clutching his burned hand, pain radiating up his arm. "You nearly blew my leg off!"
"No, you nearly blew your own leg off, young Subaru," Roswaal sighed, his sing-song voice grating on Subaru's nerves. "If you paid attention to your lessons, you would knooow that unstable emotions can lead to mana leakage. It was meant to be a lesson in caution down the road. Whaaat an inopportune time for suuuuch a thing to transpire. Luuuucky for you, Crusch's knight is quiiiite the healer."
"I question your teaching methods," Emilia said, her voice sharp as she crossed her arms, her violet eyes flashing with anger.
"You must suck as a teacher! You can't be serious!" Felt shouted, struggling against Reinhard's iron grip. "Hey, let go!"
"Regardless, this has worked in our favor," Roswaal continued, ignoring the outbursts. "I was hoping to draw Puck out by other means… but this works juuuuust as well." His eyes flicked to Emilia. "Lady Emilia, if you wish to continue?"
Emilia hesitated, her gaze lingering on Subaru's injured hand. "Subaru's hand… are you sure you're alright?"
"I'm fine," Subaru lied through gritted teeth, the searing pain making his vision swim. "But before she goes on, if that whole gem business wasn't why you called me up… what was the point?"
"I was intending to have you speak to her actions in Arlam," Roswaal replied smoothly, his smirk never fading. "You caaaan still do that, can't you? As a favor."
Subaru's jaw tightened, a fresh wave of anger surging through him.
Favor, my ass, he thought bitterly.
He could feel the gazes of the entire hall on him, waiting for his answer. Roswaal's eyes gleamed with amusement, fully aware of the corner he'd backed Subaru into.
He was cornered, and he knew it. Saying no wasn't an option, not when Roswaal was holding all the cards. Subaru suspected the near explosion at his side was orchestrated—either as part of some twisted game or, worse, as punishment.
"You don't have to if you don't want to," Emilia said softly, her violet eyes filled with concern.
"No, it's fine," Subaru forced out, his jaw clenched against the pain in his burned hand.
"Go on then," Miklotov prompted, leaning back in his chair, his gaze expectant.
Taking a deep breath, Subaru turned to face the hall. His eyes landed on Felt, who was watching him with a frown. He gave her an apologetic glance before beginning. "Just under a month ago, an incident occurred in the village of Arlam. The children went missing—abducted by Wolgrams which had breached the village's barrier. Emilia led the members of the Mathers household to rescue them, ensuring their safety. Thanks to her leadership, there were no injuries."
There was a murmur among the nobility, some sounding skeptical while others seemed intrigued.
"Thank you," Emilia whispered, her voice soft with relief. "Now, let Ferris take care of those burns."
Subaru glanced down at his hand, the angry red welts throbbing in time with his heartbeat. A grimace twisted his face as he carefully flexed his fingers, the searing pain reminding him just how badly he'd been burned.
"Well, you're lucky," Ferris said, his cat-like tail flicking with impatience. "Come on, this way."
Subaru hesitated, his gaze drifting back to the throne room where Felt stood amidst the chaos. "I'll stay until Felt has had her turn," he insisted, his voice firm despite the increasing pain radiating from his hand and thigh.
Ferris narrowed his eyes, his ears twitching in irritation. "You're running out of whatever adrenaline boost is keeping you upright, nya. Those burns are second and third-degree. If you wait much longer, you won't be standing at all."
Subaru clenched his jaw but couldn't deny the truth. Each passing second brought another wave of pain, the burns pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He gave one last look toward Felt, his eyes locking with hers for a brief moment. Her expression was conflicted—relief mixed with worry and something else he couldn't quite place.
"Fine… you win," Subaru sighed, finally relenting.
"Ny-aturally," Ferris grinned, his tail swishing smugly. Without waiting for another protest, he took Subaru by his uninjured wrist and led him out of the grand hall.
As they exited, Subaru cast one last glance over his shoulder. Felt was still watching him, her face unreadable. He could only hope she wouldn't do anything reckless in his absence.
The relief from the Water Magic was immediate. A cool, soothing sensation washed over Subaru's burnt hand and thigh. Subaru was amazed at how quickly the pain dulled. The blistered skin knit itself back together under the bright blue glow of Ferris's healing magic. Watching his flesh mend so effortlessly was surreal.
"You're quite the oddity, you know that?" Ferris observed, his eyes narrowing as he inspected the newly healed skin.
"What do you mean?" Subaru asked, wincing as the demi-human knight's nimble fingers pressed along his thigh, checking for any lingering damage.
"You're familiar with Felt, yet here you are in Lady Emilia's camp. And stop twitching," Ferris scolded, producing a small knife and carefully cutting away the burnt fabric from Subaru's pant leg. "I can't work if you're squirming."
Subaru sighed, glancing down at the ruined garment. He hoped they had a spare pair of trousers nearby—he'd look ridiculous limping back into the grand hall half-dressed. "I'm not in Emilia's camp. I'm in Felt's."
"Oh? Really ny-ow?" Ferris's ears twitched with curiosity. "I was under the impression you were the clown noble's apprentice."
"I grew up in the slums with Felt," Subaru explained. "I've only been in his service for a month. Ouch!" He yelped as Ferris's fingers found a particularly tender spot.
"You're one of the fussier patients I've worked on," Ferris teased, his tail flicking with amusement. "Anyway, you like Emilia, don't you?"
"Yeah, I do… but…" Subaru hesitated, searching for the right words.
"She's not family?" Ferris finished for him, his eyes softening.
"Exactly. I'll always stand with my sister," Subaru said firmly. "But I owe Roswaal a few favors... unfortunately."
Ferris's eyes widened. "What? Did you sign a contract?"
"I did."
"With Roswaal?" Ferris looked genuinely shocked. "I mean… I wouldn't put my pen to any contract with a mage, especially one like him. Even if I didn't have a natural talent for Water Magic and good teachers, I wouldn't risk it. Your teacher seems to have a habit of blowing your leg off."
"Yeah… or worse…" Subaru muttered, his gaze drifting toward the door, his thoughts clouded by the implications of what Roswaal might ask of him next.
By the time Ferris had finished healing his injuries, the grand doors of the hall swung open, and a stream of nobles poured out, their chatter echoing through the corridor. Ferris gave Subaru a sympathetic smile before slipping away to rejoin Crusch.
Subaru's eyes immediately locked on Felt, who was being escorted out by the twins, their expressions impassive as they flanked her. He moved to approach her, but a firm hand gripped his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.
"Subaru, I must request that you return with Lord Roswaal for now," Reinhard said, his voice steady but unyielding.
"What? No, I'm going with my sister." Subaru took a step forward, only for Reinhard's grip to tighten, his strength unrelenting.
"I must insist," Reinhard repeated, his eyes serious.
"Why?" Subaru's frustration was palpable.
"Roswaal requested that you speak with Lady Emilia. As I understand it, you are under contract with him. Until that obligation is resolved, I cannot fully trust where your loyalties lie. Please understand my position."
Subaru's jaw clenched. "You think I'd betray Felt?"
"No," Reinhard's answer was immediate, his expression softening. "This is not about doubting you. It's about the nature of your contract. If it's as binding as Felt described, then your loyalty is not your own—it belongs to Roswaal. Until you are free of that contract, I cannot allow you to influence her candidacy. Please understand."
Subaru's gaze shifted to Roswaal, who stood nearby, engaged in conversation with several nobles. Subaru's hands curled into fists as he watched the mage's eyes flicker in his direction, his lips curling into a barely contained smirk.
"So, until I break this contract, I'm stuck with him?" Subaru took a step back, his shoulders tense.
"Yes," Reinhard confirmed, his tone firm. "Lady Felt is… not pleased about it either. I promised her it would be temporary."
Subaru's chest tightened. "Why didn't she tell me herself?"
Reinhard's expression softened, his grip loosening. "She's upset with you. Felt believed you were with her, yet you stood beside Lady Emilia today. It's… complicated."
Subaru's heart sank. He wanted to explain, but there was nothing he could say that would justify it. He looked back at Roswaal, who was watching him with amusement, clearly enjoying the scene.
I'm going to kill that smug bastard.
Shrugging off Reinhard's hand, Subaru stormed off, his shoulders tense and his jaw clenched. He didn't look back as he moved away from Roswaal and the Sword Saint, his anger boiling beneath the surface. Right now, he had more pressing concerns—like finding a new pair of trousers that weren't half-melted and singed.
A/N: This one was a bear to get done. A lot going on. The next Chapter will be out on Sunday 03/02/25. No promise that I will get out a big chapter like this one, but we'll see. I might need to slow down a bit, as it's hard to get two chapters out a week, IDK why I started doing that, but I am crazy so let's see!