With Miklotov's declaration brimming with dignity, a taut tension spread through the audience hall.
It wasn't as though they had been exchanging pleasantries up until this point, but it was true that they had been carrying on without paying much mind to the Sage Council—the highest authority of the kingdom. But now, with Miklotov suddenly asserting his presence, every gaze in the throne room naturally converged upon him.
Receiving those stares, Miklotov stroked his beard without the slightest flinch.
"Before we proceed with the proposal to convene the Sage Council, I would first like to secure the endorsement of my fellow members."
Nine seats lined the dais. In the center, Miklotov surveyed the elders around him. At his words, the old men—who had until now been virtually invisible—nodded in assent.
"I second Lord Miklotov's proposal, also on behalf of the Sage Council's authority."
"As do I."
"Let us second it as well."
With the elders' agreement, Miklotov gave a firm nod, then looked down at the candidates below.
The five who had maintained somewhat opposing stances still hurriedly grouped back together under Miklotov's silent gaze. Anastasia, who had been particularly far off, came sprinting back at full tilt.
Once the candidates had returned, the two who had been on their side naturally drifted away, re-forming a line among the knights' side where Subaru and the others remained. —And now Al and Reinhard were flanking Subaru, which was beyond uncomfortable.
"Do I really have to stay here?"
"If it were up to me, I'd rather you stay—as a kind of buffer, you know? Honestly, picking a fight with the Sword Saint is just inconceivable, seriously."
Al wiped his forehead in a gesture of trembling dread. The helmet hid his expression and his voice hadn't changed, so it was probably just banter—but Subaru had seen Reinhard's combat ability up close, so he couldn't exactly laugh it off as a joke.
Al had gone so far as to pass himself off as a mercenary and was serving as Priscilla's bodyguard with just one arm. Subaru assumed he was fairly skilled, but taking into account that he was a fellow otherworlder, it seemed unlikely he had stepped into the realm of the inhuman.
As Al himself had declared, in a real fight he wouldn't last a minute.
"When I think about it that way, maybe Elsa really was that incredible after all…"
He recalled the woman who had shown results worthy of being called swordplay, even against Reinhard. At the same time, the memory of the pain from his torn-open stomach resurfaced, and Subaru grimaced before quickly shutting that thought down.
"Her ability was the real thing. We still haven't tracked down where she went after. It seems like we won't be able to bring her to justice for the serious injury she inflicted on you anytime soon."
"Man, I just stopped myself from dwelling on flashback scenes, don't go digging them back up. Ah, now my eyes from where I got slashed in one of those horizontal lines are starting to sting again…"
Thinking back on it, among all his deaths so far, that second one had probably been the most grotesque. The mental anguish had come later, of course.
Reinhard cast a worried glance at Subaru, who was rubbing his eyes at high speed to the point of making them bloodshot.
"Are you all right? If it helps, I know a good practitioner of water healing magic. She's right here, actually…"
"Mmm, we're about to get into the important talk, so keep it down for now, nya. I'll fix you up later."
"Coming from me, I know this sounds odd, but aren't you all a bit too in your own world?"
At Reinhard's comment, Felis chimed in, and Julius gave a gentle admonishment.
Subaru was confident in his own capacity for doing things at his own pace, but he reflected from a distance that the four around him were pretty much the same.
While the candidates buzzed with tension, their attendants exchanged rather leisurely banter—and in the midst of all that, the convening of the Sage Council was officially declared. Miklotov nodded.
"My thanks to my fellow members for their endorsement. Then shall we proceed to discussion? The matter at hand, of course, is 'whom we shall entrust with the throne.'"
He parted his words while combing his beard, then closed one eye.
"Hmm. The problem, you see, is how to decide. The Dragon's Inscription Stone did instruct us to gather the five candidates, but it said nothing about the method of selection afterward. To put it in extreme terms, it would be entirely possible to have all factions compete in combat right here and crown the last one standing as king."
"Something tells me there's one faction that'd win that competition outright, though…"
At Miklotov's jesting remark, Roswaal offered a quip from among the civil officials.
The faction he was alluding to could only be one:
"Even the Chief Court Magician doesn't want to tangle with certain opponents, then?"
"Well, my one and only advantage doesn't really work on a certain someone, you see~. Sadly, the moment we're matched up, it's game over, sayonara~."
Roswaal shrugged and shook his head. At his words, even Reinhard looked somewhat abashed and lowered his gaze—but since he didn't deny it, he apparently did have confidence in his ability.
As someone who also knew just how capable Roswaal was as a magician, Subaru had to wonder whether the gap between the two was truly that vast. But if the people involved themselves were convinced of it, then that was probably an unshakeable fact.
More and more, Reinhard's inhuman nature stood out in Subaru's mind.
And then— "Since the Chief Court Magician has raised an objection as well, let us refrain from choosing such a crude method. Hmm, then what do you all think would be best?"
Miklotov retracted his jest and guided the Sage Council into discussion.
The council members who were to participate in the matter exchanged glances, and in voices somewhat rougher than Miklotov's—yet somehow audible to everyone—they spoke in hushed tones.
"First, we ought to hear what the candidates have to say."
"This is the first time we've all gathered like this and been able to meet face to face."
"Previously, even the Sage Council didn't always have full attendance."
"So, let us hear them out. Each candidate's position, their resolve to become king, and what they intend to do once they are—those would be appropriate topics, would they not?"
"Mmm, most satisfactory. Then, Commander Marcos, shall we proceed?"
The result of the Sage Council's deliberation was to entrust the conduct of proceedings once more to the Knight Commander.
The lone armored figure who had not left the candidates' side bowed, then turned toward the candidates with a stern expression.
"If you will permit my presumption, I shall once again serve as facilitator. The candidates each have their own positions and assertions. The members of the Sage Council, the knights and civil officials here in the hall—everyone wants to know what those are. Please, indulge us."
On behalf of everyone in the hall, Marcos bowed his head respectfully to the five candidates.
Then, raising his face, his strict expression opened wide.
"Then, first—Crusch-san, if you would. —Sir Knight Felix Argyle! Step forward!"
"Very well."
"Coming~"
At Marcos's call, Crusch nodded with composure, and Felis raised her hand lightly.
As Crusch stepped forward, Felis came trotting along beside her, arriving at the center of the hall. On her way, she fixed her gaze intently on Marcos's face.
"Commander. I keep telling you—don't call me Felix, call me Felis, nya~. Felis-chan gets hurt when you do that."
"I have no intention of giving any of my subordinates special treatment. Naturally, that includes you. Step forward."
Marcos coldly brushed off Felis, who was pressing her finger to her cheek in a pleading gesture, and gestured with his chin toward the spot next to Crusch, urging her along. Felis pouted and stuck her tongue out, muttering "Bleh~" in dissatisfaction at Marcos, then took her place beside Crusch, who stood with arms crossed.
"I am
"I'm Felis, the first knight of Crusch-san, from House Argyle."
"I am Sir Knight Felix Argyle, honored members of the Sage Council."
Crusch introduced herself with a dignified, fearless bearing, while Felis followed suit with an utterly casual air. Marcos corrected her self-introduction, for which Felis shot him a piercing glare—but Marcos ignored it behind his sturdy, expressionless mask.
Watching this exchange from the sidelines, Subaru murmured, "Huh."
"So that Felis kid—their real name is Felix? Sounds like a crazy masculine name."
In Japan too, it was apparently common among old samurai families for eldest sons to carry down names, which were used regardless of whether the heir was male or female. In those historical gender-swap games, the female-warrior-with-a-male-name trope was everywhere. Japan was truly a hotbed of that.
While Subaru was reaching this understanding, Al tilted his head slightly. Within his frame of reference, was this perhaps something too hard to accept so easily? There was also the gap between the era Subaru and Al had been summoned from, and Subaru wanted to deepen their mutual understanding a bit more—but.
"Subaru, weren't you listening?"
At Reinhard's sudden, surprised question, Subaru—who had been lost in thought while glancing at Al—didn't catch the point. Not understanding what the question was getting at, Subaru asked back in a dopey voice.
"What do you mean?"
"There's nothing 'sounds like a masculine name' about it—Felix is a splendid young man."
"—Wait."
"Yes?"
"What did you just say?"
Subaru's brain short-circuited at the content of Reinhard's words. Slowly, as if savoring each syllable, Subaru asked Reinhard to repeat himself. He nodded magnanimously.
"There's nothing 'sounds like a masculine name' about it—Felix is a splendid young man."
Word for word, he'd said the important thing twice.
"HUH!?!"
The moment Subaru's consciousness caught up, a shared scream from him and Al echoed through the hall.
Their shock drew the attention of the entire room, but the two were too busy flailing and gesticulating to notice.
Subaru gestured wildly toward Felis standing in the center of the room.
"Hold on—THAT'S a guy!? Even the knight among knights has got to draw the line at jokes like that, right!? There's nothing funny about this!"
He looked over at Felis, who was watching him.
Subaru had assumed Felis was tall for a woman, but除去 her facial structure, slender build, and height, there was nothing that read as male. Granted, the figure did lack some of the curves typically associated with women—but plenty of adult women in the world were flat-chested. It wasn't exactly conclusive.
"The voice is high, the figure is thin, and the skin looks translucent. Even I can't believe that's a guy… No, I don't wanna believe it!"
"You get me, bro!"
"Yeah, I get you, bro!"
Subaru locked shoulders with one-armed Al, and the two of them confirmed each other's understanding. Two was better than one—how reassuring. Convinced that Reinhard would show some sign of remorse if he heard this much of their protest against his unfunny joke— "Oh, you two? First time hearing it? My knight Felix is a man. Let me state that explicitly—there's no one better to confirm it than me."
It was Crusch who spoke to the shoulder-locked pair. She had maintained silence until now.
The unbelievable content of her clear, dignified voice made Subaru and Al snap their heads around with an audible crack. Still linked at the shoulder, they tried to turn in opposite directions and, for an instant, both shoulder joints locked. "Ouch!"—their pathetic cries chained together in sequence, and Subaru stomped the floor to regain his composure.
"A-A verbal claim could be anything! You're not gonna pull one over on us like that! Proof—yeah, we need proof!"
"Felis and I have known each other a long time. We've even bathed together, and I can tell you with certainty that there is a male organ between those—"
"STOOOOOOOP!!! I take it all back—I'll fully acknowledge, accept, and embrace every last bit of it, so please don't describe male genitalia coming out of a girl's mouth—!"
"She didn't even say the word, bro!?"
At Subaru's correction over the explicit language, Al—who was already in a state of maximum confusion—managed to throw in a tsukkomi. Blindsided by multiple layers of incomprehensible information, Subaru pointed a forceful finger at Felis—the root cause of this entire situation.
"And you! You too, damn it! What's the point of looking like that—who benefits!? And you've got cat ears on top of that—what's the deal with having a cute girl appearance while actually being a guy—! I don't have a thing for otokonoko! I'm a perfectly normal silver-haired heroine fan!"
"Well, nya, it's not my fault Subaru-kyun jumped to that conclusion on his own, nya~. Felis-chan never once said she was a girl, nya~."
"You gotta be kidding me—correction, you piece of work!"
At Felis's carefree tongue-wag and wink, Subaru stamped his feet in indignation—but it didn't seem like he'd be extracting any apology from the other side.
Dad, Mom—in the other world too, the phenomenon of "otokonoko" was alive and well.
"This is unreal… This is the first time in my life I've been blindsided like this. Even me—the guy who was once so famous for standing next to a guy in nothing but the word 'gentle' written on a shirt while watching him walk around totally naked—I can't help but be furious…!"
"That's just one man's total nudity—!"
Al dutifully threw in a tsukkomi even as Subaru, growing increasingly frantic, was losing track of what he was even saying.
The straightforward exchange of gag and comeback—the simplicity of it was genuinely welcome. Waiting for their mutual shock to subside a little— "Have we calmed down now?"
A raspy voice posed the question to the two of them.
It was Miklotov on the dais, hands clasped on his knee. To have the kingdom's top authority figure personally concerned for them—Subaru snapped back to his senses and, genuinely mortified, stammered, "S-Sorry."
He shuffled back to his original position and, for once in a truly rare display, reflected from the bottom of his heart.
"Whenever people find out Felis's gender, their surprise is always written all over their faces. No matter how many times I witness it, it never gets old. —Though I don't think I've ever seen anyone quite as shocked as those two just now."
"Mmm. To knowingly keep doing it—that's rather mean of you, Crusch-san."
Miklotov's words carried a veiled reproach at Crusch's satisfied smile. But Crusch straightened her expression and shook her head.
"Miklotov-sama, I believe you are mistaken. Felis's appearance is not something I have ordered. It is entirely a matter of his own free will."
"I would have thought dressing one's attendant appropriately was also a lord's duty."
The one who pushed back against Crusch was Rikkaard, who had returned to the line alongside Subaru and the others. Perhaps having gained the right to speak among the civil officials from the earlier exchange, several attendees nodded in agreement with his words.
Crusch glanced at those uneasy bedfellows, then fixed her sharp gaze on Rikkaard. The man's face tightened under the piercing stare, but he held his ground.
"D-Do you have an objection of some kind…?"
"You're not like the motley crew who can't meet my gaze. If I set aside the rather poor timing, the fact that your convictions differ from the rest, and how easy you are to rally behind—I do hold you in some regard."
—That was pretty harsh, wasn't it?
Subaru thought to himself, but in Crusch's vocabulary, those might actually have been words of praise. Rikkaard, for his part, still wore a look of mild bewilderment.
But before he could pursue the matter further, Crusch continued with "However—"
"You said dressing one's attendant appropriately is a lord's duty. In that case, I do indeed wish for Felis to remain as he is. Do you know why?"
"Why is that?"
The question was directed at Rikkaard, but the man was apparently intimidated by the force of her gaze and couldn't find the words. Answering in his place, Miklotov asked the question again, and Crusch nodded.
"It's simple. —Because each being should be given the appearance that lets their soul shine brightest. Rather than armor, Felis is far more suited to his current attire. Just as I prefer this outfit to a dress."
With that declaration, Crusch thrust out her chest as though projecting the very force of her soul.
Felis took his place beside her—no, beside *him*—and there the two stood, the knight smiling beside his lord's magnificent bearing as he, too, held himself with that same quiet dignity.
Gazing down at the pair, Miklotov narrowed his eyes as if looking at something dazzling. Then he gave a small nod.
"Mmm, very well. We shall conclude this matter here. Rikkaard, you are satisfied?"
"Y-Yes, I have no further objections."
"I have none either. Commander Marcos, please continue."
As Rikkaard stammered but reined in his objections, and Crusch maintained her regal composure without the slightest concession—it was clear which side the exchange had favored, though neither party had been explicitly declared the winner.
But either way— "As this is the first statement of intent among the candidates, and from the leading contender at that—I hate to say it, but the sense of reassurance is quite different from the others."
Those words were spoken in a voice a touch too loud to be a mutter.
Subaru caught them and, straining his ears, asked Reinhard beside him, "What's that supposed to mean?"
Reinhard, sensing the sincerity in Subaru's question, lowered his gaze slightly.
"The Karsten family, whose head is Crusch, is a ducal house that has long supported the history of the
"Well… what do you think the actual odds are?"
Subaru could only swallow hard at the litany Reinhard had just laid out. Even someone with limited knowledge of noble titles could grasp that a ducal seat was among the highest pillars of the state.
Royal candidates—even in the absence of the royal bloodline, the closer to the original royal house, the more desirable the next sovereign would presumably be.
Thinking along those lines, Subaru couldn't help but reflect on
"She's the obvious choice."
"The head of House Karsten, and more than that—Crusch's brilliance is the stuff of legend."
"She can be a bit bold in her judgments, but if you see that as the largeness of her character, it's beyond reproach."
The attendees around them were probably confirming the very same points Subaru had just heard. The hushed conversations all spoke to Crusch's advantages, and it was as though everyone in the hall already tacitly understood that she stood head and shoulders above the rest in this royal selection that had barely begun.
Even before Emilia's appeal time had started, the atmosphere was tilting ever more in Crusch's favor—and Subaru couldn't suppress his anxiety.
But the gnawing unease in his chest was— "Rather a lot of people seem to be under a misapprehension."
—put on hold by Crusch, who raised a finger and silenced the murmuring.
She waited until every mouth had closed and all eyes were on her. Sensing her intent, a hush fell over the hall. Then, setting a single nod as her starting point— "I believe I understand, to some degree, what each of you hopes to gain from my ascending the throne. The Karsten family has deep ties to the royal house, and we have carried a considerable share of responsibility in governing the nation thus far. Therefore, if I were to take the crown, it would ensure no disruption to governance or the running of the state. In other words—a smooth succession, free of turmoil."
As Crusch spoke with fluid eloquence, several in the audience nodded along.
Laid out so neatly, Subaru too now grasped clearly why she was considered the closest to the throne. That much seemed to leave little room for objection. But— "I hate to disappoint those of you with such expectations—but that is a promise I cannot make."
The statement, as if she were deliberately throwing away the overwhelming advantage she held, sent a momentary silence through the throne room. After a pause of several seconds, a tremor ran through the hall.
"What does that mean?" voices clamored with questions. Surveying the sea of confused faces, Crusch stepped boldly into the still-heated atmosphere.
"The day I become king, the shape of this nation will inevitably differ from what it has been until now. I want you to understand that."
"—May I ask what precisely you mean by that?"
"Of course."
The murmuring converged into Miklotov's question and quieted. As the initial shock began to settle, Crusch looked up toward the dais.
Her long green hair swayed, and with a sharp, resolute expression she gazed past the Sage Council—past them, to the dragon motif painted on the wall of the throne room.
"The Holy Kingdom of Lugunica—this nation has been protected by a covenant once sworn with a Dragon, and upon that foundation, prosperity was built. War, plague, famine—every crisis was averted by the Dragon, and throughout the long history of this kingdom, the word 'Dragon' has never been absent."
The Pact with the Dragon—that was the very story Subaru had read about in picture books.
The broad outlines of how Lugunica had been protected by a covenant with the Dragon, and had continued to flourish and prosper.
Everyone in the hall listened intently to what Crusch was saying, chewing on its meaning.
The covenant with the Dragon that had always quietly supported the kingdom from behind the scenes. It was precisely because the royal line had been wiped out and the continuity of that covenant was in doubt that this royal selection was taking place. In other words, a stipulation was imposed: the next king must be one qualified as the Dragon's Maiden.
"Precisely because of this, we must entrust the throne to a shrine maiden who can commune with the Dragon. Otherwise, the prosperity promised to the kingdom…"
"I don't care for that line of thinking."
Midway through Miklotov's explanation of the covenant, Crusch's words pierced through without warning.
The old man's eyes widened in faint surprise. Crusch crossed her arms and exhaled.
"The prosperity built upon the covenant with the Dragon—surely a fine thing. During wars, the Dragon would incinerate enemy nations with a single breath. During plague, the Dragon's mana would revitalize the land and heal the people. During famine, the soil steeped in Dragon's blood would yield bountiful harvests. All hardships would be overcome—rescued by our noble Dragon. Glory to the Holy Kingdom of Lugunica—"
Though the words themselves overflowed with splendor, Crusch spoke them flatly, her expression anything but bright.
Sweeping her gaze over the silent assembly, she murmured softly.
"Tell me—are you not ashamed of this?"
The tension in the already quiet hall grew even more taut—Subaru could feel it.
But of all the passions simmering in this room, the one burning hottest was undoubtedly that of the woman standing before the throne.
"Whatever the hardship, the covenant with the Dragon guarantees it will be overcome. And you lean on that covenant, grow complacent, and when its very survival is threatened, you scramble and cling to some alternative. If that doesn't appall me, what would?"
"—You go too far, Crusch-san!"
One of the Sage Council's members rose to his feet in fury. He was as elderly as Miklotov, if not more so. The old man struck the armrest of his seat with a trembling hand.
"To treat the covenant lightly is unforgivable! Thanks to the Dragon's grace, how many sacrifices did the kingdom not have to make? How many lives were saved? And now you would deny that accumulated history?"
"I stated that the prosperity of the past was, indeed, a fine thing. I would not—were my lips to be torn apart—deny that I have personally benefited from it. House Karsten, too, is a family that was born alongside the kingdom. When the kingdom fell into crisis, so did my house. And when the nation was saved by the Dragon, so were we."
But, she continued, drawing a breath— "The future is a different matter. Does no one think to question the pathetic state we are in now? Have we allowed our very thinking to shut down because we cling so desperately to the covenant with the Dragon? When war, when plague, when famine strikes the kingdom once more—will we have no recourse but to grovel before the Dragon?"
"That is—"
"If we have grown so accustomed to living under the Dragon's protection that we would perish without it, then let the kingdom perish. Excess begets stagnation. Stagnation leads to decadence. And decadence brings about ruin. That is what I believe."
"You would—you would destroy this nation?!"
The old man was beside himself, veins bulging to the point of rupture.
Crusch's eyes blazed with fighting spirit as she shook her head.
"If the Dragon's absence means destruction, then we ourselves must become the Dragon. Everything the kingdom has relied upon the Dragon for until now—the king, the ministers, the people—must shoulder it themselves."
Therefore, after a deliberate pause— "The day I become king, I will ask the Dragon to forget the covenant that has existed until now. If that means we part ways—so be it. The Holy Kingdom of Lugunica is not the Dragon's nation. It is our nation."
"————"
"Hardships will surely await us. Perhaps there will even be disasters that surpass all those the kingdom has previously survived with the Dragon's aid. But I wish to live without shame in my own soul."
Her voice dropping, Crusch shook her head and lowered her gaze.
"From before, I have questioned the way this nation is run. This turn of events—I believe Heaven has given us the opportunity to correct it."
Given her loyalty to the late king, her words could have been dismissed as disrespectful. And indeed, the elderly members of the Sage Council exchanged troubled looks, deep shadows falling over their faces.
But at the same time— "Her idealism aside…"
There was a weight to her words that could not be dismissed, and Subaru found himself listening intently.
The rest of the hall seemed to feel the same way—there were no voices left in the hall bold enough to raise an objection against her.
To clash head-on with the history the kingdom had built, to speak with such authority that even those who had shaped that history dared not argue back.
That was, without question, the bearing of a ruler.
"Crusch-san's convictions are now thoroughly understood. Having received them—if you would have the throne, then you are welcome to do as you see fit. That, indeed, is the choice of a king who bears the weight of the nation."
"Naturally."
With just those three words as her response, Crusch turned on her heel as though she had said everything that needed to be said.
A murmur rippled through the hall at her composed stride—but it was Miklotov who reined it in first. The old man turned the point of discussion this time toward Felis.
"Then, Sir Knight Felix Argyle—do you have anything to add?"
The thrust of it seemed to be that the attendant should also speak to the lord's strengths.
But Felis quietly shook her head at Miklotov's words.
"I appreciate the question, but there is nothing I need to supplement. Crusch-san's views are exactly as she herself has stated. And the rightness of Crusch-san's actions will be proven by history and by us who follow her. —I have absolutely no doubt that my lord will become king."
With that solemn declaration, Felis bowed deeply from his slender frame, his voice ringing clear.
Miklotov nodded in acknowledgment, and Felis saluted once before returning to Crusch's side. She caught his eye, and when she gave a small nod, he smiled with delight, his cheeks softening.
"As expected, Crusch-san is always wonderful. Felis-chan is completely smitten."
"Sometimes, Felis, I find your words hard to understand. —But I forgive you. As if you would ever do anything to my disadvantage."
An absolute trust, and a solid bond—this exchange made that plain to see.
Felis showering her with devotion to the point of character collapse, and Crusch accepting it all with unruffled grace—yes, Subaru thought, it was a fine relationship.
"Well, now that we've finally heard from one candidate—hmm, it seems we've gotten off to quite a turbulent start."
With Crusch's statement of intent drawing to a close, Miklotov offered this brief summary of the exchange.
For the Sage Council and the civil officials—those who had hoped to handle matters calmly—the front-runner's stated policy must have been a bolt from the blue.
She had likely lost many of the votes she would otherwise have garnered. But in exchange, those who still supported her after hearing all of this would possess a trust so unshakable that no turn of events could shake it.
Whether it would prove beneficial or detrimental to her in the royal selection—in the long run, this was a gambit whose pros and cons couldn't yet be measured.
"Man, I still don't really get how this royal selection thing gets decided…"
What they were doing here—the whole point of this statement of intent—was exactly that.
If it were a group blind date, it would be the initial self-promotion round to decide which girl you were going to aim for. Throwing out jabs to determine whether she was a landmine, and from there deciding what kind of straight to throw to seal the deal—it was the critical fork in the road. Even Subaru knew that was an awful analogy.
But either way— "Then, if you would allow me to continue. The order will proceed with the candidate next to Crusch-san."
"Hmph, it's about time, it is. Now it's HYPER Lady Time~."
As the Knight Commander rallied and moved the proceedings along, the orange-haired girl stepped forward, delivering a line that immediately shattered the atmosphere he'd worked so hard to restore.
"Did she just say 'HYPER Lady Time'?"
Subaru was dumbstruck by the absurd katakana-laced grammar, while Al thumbed toward himself like he was showing off a trophy, presumably wearing a smug grin behind that helmet.
He then lumbered forward with heavy footsteps, taking his place beside Priscilla.
Unlike Crusch, Priscilla was clad in a resplendent dress, her hair like sunlight given form. An array of vividly colored ornaments clattered with metallic sounds, further adorning her already flamboyant appearance with even more noise.
Standing beside this girl was a man dressed like a common townsman, his face hidden behind a jet-black helmet, with only one arm—so naturally, the stares from the surrounding crowd turned curious.
"Hmph. It seems my magnificent presence has already drawn the eyes of these lowly insects."
"You're working that really well, Princess. It's got a lot more pop to it now—looks great."
Despite being regarded not with curiosity but with looks reserved for eccentrics, Priscilla somehow puffed out her chest with pride. Al offered a characteristically off-target compliment befitting her retainer.
A brief exchange between two slightly loose screws. Marcos cleared his throat to address the pair head-on.
"Then—Priscilla Baariel-san. If you would."
"How irritating. But I shall indulge you. All I need to do is let those doddering old bones witness my radiance and then let them choose to follow me. Simple enough."
With that, she drew a fan from between her breasts, snapped it open with a sharp sound, and smiled behind it—a dainty smile, but one far more fitting for a venomous seductress than for her delicate features.
After Crusch's bombshell, the atmosphere in the hall had clearly grown uneasy. Even Subaru—who was notoriously oblivious to the mood—could feel the unmistakable tension. In the thick of it, someone muttered quietly.
"—How loathsome, that blood-red bride."
That voice, steeped in deep and festering hatred, made Subaru catch his breath.
He could not be sure whom those words targeted, nor could he guess what effect that strangely resonant voice might have—he only had a clear premonition that things were not heading in a good direction.
With the second candidate now taking center stage, the opening act of the royal selection had only just begun.