"Ha ha ha ha ha! To think a guy like me would croak not on some battlefield but in a safe zone! Never heard of a ninja dying of old age—that's too ironic for words!"
With that, the strange old man threw back his head and cackled, waving his empty sleeves where both his hands had been.
Listening to that hearty laughter, Garfiel felt conflicted as healing magic failed to reach its mark.
—After the battle against the "Great Calamity," Garfiel had linked up with the Healer Corps and thrown himself into treating the wounded.
Having come to the Empire, Garfiel had been fighting for his life in relentless battle with almost no rest. Naturally, his companions all told him that rest should come first, but he couldn't just sit still.
Fortunately, Garfiel's body was tough, and thanks to the "Blessing of Earth Spirits," standing on solid ground was the best recovery for him. Of all in
In any case— "Once you've decided to do something, no amount of talk will change your mind, will it? Then you might as well go out there and do what nobody else can—sell the Empire a favor while you're at it. It's a good time to cash in on some gratitude."
That was what she alone had said, clearly siding with him when everyone else opposed Garfiel's plan. He was glad that his lover had been the only one to back him up. Even her brutally honest way of putting it was very much her, and he liked it.
And so, Garfiel had volunteered for this role while his companions looked on in exasperation. The fact that no one ultimately tried to stop him probably meant they all understood.
"The toughest bastard around is sitting there like that, and you think we can stand around scratching our heads?"
He muttered that, then clicked his sharp canines together.
The one they'd lost had been strong—truly strong. He couldn't say they'd fought side by side against the same enemy, but the blinding brilliance of the flames she'd repeatedly unleashed in the imperial capital was seared into his eyelids.
This wasn't the kind of loss you'd feel just from losing a rival of Emilia's.
That was why Garfiel was here.
To prevent as many people as possible from being lost. With these same hands that would shatter the dead without mercy and, when necessary, forcibly remove enemies standing in his companions' way, he would pick up lives and keep them going.
It was contradictory. But contradictions were fine. He didn't need to think about complicated things. He'd just follow his heart.
Following his heart, he would use his own strength to defeat enemies, heal allies, and save them.
If Garfiel skimping on sleep meant he could save even one more person, then he'd just keep doing it.
"…Goddamn, these young ones really do leave us old folks in the dust, don't they? It's that very thing that makes me hate you so damn much, I can't help it."
"What's that supposed to mean—you being sarcastic, old man? Just 'cause your arms can't fix what my arms—"
"Ha ha ha ha ha! I ain't being sarcastic, I tell you! And let me tell you something—I've been saying 'I'm jealous, I'm envious' for decades now, and that's what drives me! When I say I'm jealous, it's no lie. Ahh, how jealous, how envious."
Orbalt bobbed his long white eyebrows up and down as he scratched his own neck with his foot.
Whether his casual attitude despite having no arms was consideration for Garfiel, whom healing magic couldn't reach—or whether he was just messing with him—it was hard to tell.
Either way, putting aside the arm thing, the fact that this old man could already move around this much despite having been half-dead was nothing short of monstrous.
Then again, if we were talking about people who nearly died and survived— "Will you quit your damn yapping, you old fossil! This guy's working his ass off for you while he's exhausted as hell, so quit busting his balls!"
"Oh my, how scary, how scary. Doesn't sound half-dead at all."
At that retort, Orbalt chuckled low in his throat, prompting Garfiel to scratch his head with a "Hey now—" and say, "I appreciate you having my back, but worry about your own body first, will ya? You were one step from 'burial-offering Viviloro' territory, I'm tellin' you."
"Huh? I'm telling you that you saved my damn life, thanks to you! Don't you start with some crap about how you can't accept my gra—guhah!"
"Shut up and go to sleep!"
Garfiel pushed down on the short man's head with his hand, and the other screamed all over his body, then flipped over. That was the appropriate level of injury—damage that healing magic at full power couldn't keep up with.
In fact, even now, searing pain should be constantly coursing through his body.
"I'm in no position to talk, but it's something else that you're up and chatting like this."
"This damn pain, this damn misery—none of it's enough to stop the great Groovy Gamlet! I just gotta deceive myself with some damn medicine or poison or… guooooh…"
"Don't bother. You ignored every signal your body was sending, and look where you are now. You're in roughly the same shape as me, an old coot who lost both hands. How about retiring?"
"Like hell I will, you dumbass!"
Snapping back at Orbalt's teasing with a flash of teeth was Groovy Gamlet—one of the "Nine Divine Generals," and probably the person who had come closest to death in the Empire and still made it back alive.
His role during the death match against the "Great Calamity" had been enormous. After all, he was the key figure in the victory: he had fought alongside
"If you hadn't done that, everyone would've been stuck unable to move because of those thorns, right?"
"I just squeezed out what I could. After seeing off the 'Thorn Emperor' and the 'Admirer,' I was just lying around until I handed that damn Cessilus the damn 'Cursed Sword.'"
Groovy grumbled sulkily, but the work he'd done before lying down had been tremendous.
The story of how he'd taken Yurgan's curse onto his own body and let himself be cut by the "Cursed Sword" made no sense no matter how many times you heard it. But according to Groovy and the others, Garfiel's fight against the "Cloud Dragon" made just as little sense, so they were even.
The best efforts of individuals and the accumulation of miracles—that was the reality that had been unfolding at that time in the imperial capital—no, across the entire Empire. Garfiel, who had fought the "Cloud Dragon"; Groovy, who had freed the "Thorn Emperor" from his thorns; Orbalt, who had sacrificed his arm to thwart the "
There was no need to excessively praise those achievements, nor to deny the facts.
"Well, for a short-lived old bastard like me, watching young people who can still go on dropping like flies one after another is pretty damn tough. But you guys survived, so I'm damn happy about that."
"…I don't know about me, but whether he survived is pretty damn questionable, isn't it?"
"He, you say…"
The mention of that topic caused Garfiel's gaze to drift toward the far end of the healing room. And there, standing stiffly like a stake, was a conspicuously out-of-place, distinctive figure.
At the edge of the still-busy healing room, where people hurried back and forth to treat the wounded, this figure stood pressed against the wall so as not to be in the way—a being with a body made of steel. Upon noticing Garfiel's gaze, it lit up what appeared to be a green jewel embedded in what seemed to be its head, and said: "I perceived a gaze. Predicted it to be a request, order, or instruction."
Saying that, it lumbered over to Garfiel and the others with a ponderous gait. This was
To be precise, Moguro was separate from the Steel People as a species—the truth was that Moguro was the core entity of the Crystal Palace, known as a "Metea." Now that both the Crystal Palace and the Magic Crystal Cannon had collapsed, that title carried no meaning whatsoever— "Oh, my bad. I just happened to glance over here, that's all. Nothin' to do with you."
"Understood. The other two?"
"Nothin'. Just stand over there and don't get in the damn way, Moguro."
"Moguro. That is me. Understood. Will await further instructions."
At Groovy's brusque dismissal, Moguro obeyed meekly and sat down flat on the floor beside a cot.
If nothing else, the creature looked rather like an oversized paperweight.
"Well, the docile ones like the earth dragons and thunder wolves are something to admire. But still—losing memories even when you're the Crystal Palace, huh?"
"The Crystal Palace and the Magic Crystal Cannon are both blown to shit. The fact that Moguro's core is the only thing left is a damn miracle. And the fact that it just happened to land near me while I was sleeping is damn too convenient."
"Maybe it came to see you because you two were the closest, huh?"
Orbalt chuckled and quipped lightly, and Groovy snorted in dissatisfaction.
As their conversation indicated, Moguro Hagane remembered nothing before the "Great Calamity." According to Subaru, this was what they called an "initialized state"—everything this "Metea" had built up as Moguro Hagane had been completely erased.
Given that the power contained within Moguro had been vast enough to potentially blow the entire imperial capital sky-high, and that it had been forcibly suppressed before rising into the air and detonating to prevent engulfing the surrounding area—perhaps the price was to be considered light.
"Easy for you to say when you've got
Garfiel understood through personal experience just how heavy it was to lose "memories." Not only for the person who'd lost them, but for the people around them, who were thrown into turmoil as well.
So he understood the feeling—he wouldn't say something that careless, though.
"Maybe the old coot's got a point, actually."
"Huh? Even you're gonna tease me with some dumbass joke?"
"No. I mean, maybe he really doesn't remember a damn thing. But look—he hasn't tried to leave your side, has he?"
Saying that, Garfiel narrowed his eyes at Moguro, who was sitting beside the cot.
Having that massive body taking up space in the healing room was honestly a nuisance, but the fact that Moguro was trying to be as compact as possible to avoid troubling others was something Garfiel could appreciate.
The reason Moguro was lingering here was, after all, probably because he didn't want to leave Groovy's side.
It might be something like imprinting—latching onto the first person who recognized you after losing your memories. When
There might be some lingering trace of "something" like that inside Moguro.
"Then again, the general said Rem pointed at him out of the blue, so who knows…"
There were patterns where that kind of "something" didn't remain, so you couldn't say for certain. But since this was a healing room—a place where others were healed—and Moguro, alone and unknown to everyone, had come here to mend his own heart, Garfiel saw no reason to drive him out.
"If anything, the old coot who can't lift a finger and just keeps talking is more of a nuisance."
"Ha ha ha ha ha! Talking big now, are you, youngster! Well, I get it."
Garfiel shrugged, and Orbalt waved his empty sleeves around with a laugh. While those two conversed, Groovy rubbed his black nose with a finger and glanced at Moguro.
At the comrade who sat motionless nearby, simply wanting to be close.
"Don't get all sentimental on me, you damn fool."
"Detected: wet sound in speech. Potential abnormal situation. Awaiting instruction."
"Shut the hell up!"
"Understood."
Hearing that futile exchange, Garfiel clicked his teeth together and couldn't help but laugh.
After laughing, he hesitated for a moment about whether it was alright to laugh—and then, following his heart, he laughed properly.
△▼△▼△▼△ "—So, Lady Anastasia will be returning to Lugnica via
"That's the plan. I entered the Empire as a special envoy from Kararagi, so even though everyone knows it's just for show, I still have to play the part properly."
Anastasia smiled sweetly as she laid out the inside information with such frankness, and Otto received it with a calm "I see" on the surface, as if it were nothing remarkable.
Inside, however, his mind was far from calm. —Whatever the case, Anastasia had fulfilled the role she'd promised the Kararagi City-State. With this, her reputation with the Kararagi Council would rise, and she would receive another solid tailwind in the Royal Selection.
Emilia, of course, had been personally requested by the Emperor, Vincent, to provide aid during the Empire's existential crisis, and had made great contributions in the battle against the "Great Calamity."
You could say they were bringing back a substantial gift—enough to make a triumphant return as dignified visitors rather than the illegal immigrants they'd been when entering the Empire.
Even so, it was inconvenient that the battle against the
Of course, if they hadn't been part of the battle against the "Great Calamity" that had struck the Empire, their camp's position wouldn't have just fallen far behind—it could have been catastrophic.
"You've got so much on your mind, Otto-kun. Must be tough, huh?"
Anastasia's light-blue eyes pierced through that brief silence.
Though it was almost certainly a fishing expedition, the question carried a weight of conviction that made it feel like she had some real certainty behind it—probably a toughness forged from the many experiences she'd had.
In response to her probing, Otto smiled back and said: "It is a fact that the burden weighs on me. But if we're talking about who has more or less to think about, I can't compare to His Majesty the Emperor, who has to rebuild the Empire from the ground up, or Prime Minister Berstetz."
With that, Otto shifted the thrust of the conversation away from himself and toward the other person present—the Empire's Prime Minister, Berstetz.
In the conference room where Anastasia, Berstetz, and Otto had gathered, they were discussing the future policies for Volakia and its cooperative partners—Volakia, which had finished its battle against the "Great Calamity" and now had to fight the battle of reconstruction and rebirth.
Berstetz, whom Otto had redirected the spotlight onto, kept the color of his eyes hidden behind those thread-thin lids and said: "As you say, the challenges are numerous. However, in truth, we do not consider them burdens."
"Oh my? That's a reassuring thing to say."
"From the start, I was a treacherous minister who colluded with the 'White Spider,'
"…But here you are, talking with us. Which means there's no such punishment, right?"
"Yes. His Majesty made that decision. Of course, if there were those who could not forgive me, I accepted that they might turn their blades on me, but—"
Trailing off, Berstetz—Otto could imagine what was going through his mind in that silence. It was probably the single biggest reason Berstetz's head was still attached to his shoulders: the declaration made after the war by the Empire's strongest warrior, the "Blue Lightning."
"Just to make sure no bit player gets any funny ideas, let me declare this: not killing Berstetz was His Majesty's decision, so everyone had better comply. If anyone goes against that, I'll have to show the sword-worthy side of me for the first time in a while. And, not that I'm certain, but it feels like Chisha's plan went all the way to the point where His Majesty wouldn't kill Berstetz. After all, wouldn't things be rough going forward without Berstetz? Chisha's not around anymore."
It was far too long to be called a "declaration," but it had been effective in stopping those who knew of Berstetz's deeds.
Berstetz, who seemed to have been thinking the same thing, twisted the corner of his mouth slightly.
"I never imagined I would be protected by General
"It didn't come to that. As the Empire's internal affairs, outsiders can't say much, but I believe it was a wise decision. In times of crisis, you can't replace military officers, and you can't replace the bureaucrats who handle the before and after."
"I agree. If even Berstetz were out of the picture and only I was left to handle the intellectual labor, even His Majesty wouldn't survive with only his lovely wife cheering him on, would he?"
"Indeed. For my part, I am truly glad that His Majesty has finally taken an Empress. —If it were anything other than a celebration, His Majesty would be bearing far too much hardship."
"————"
Berstetz slowly shook his head as he spoke, and silence fell over the conference room.
In that silence, Otto's thoughts briefly turned to Anastasia—she, too, was savoring the silence, but its taste would be different from his.
The reason for this silence need not be stated: the disasters said to have befallen Vincent—the death of his trusted subordinate and his beloved sister, the princess.
The latter's impact was something neither Otto nor Anastasia could ignore.
"She really was a willful princess, wasn't she."
Quietly, those words spilled from Anastasia's lips, and Otto closed his eyes.
Even those few softly spoken words seemed to carry a hint of vulnerability—a tiny crack in the armor of the woman who otherwise appeared unflappable in the face of any event.
It was the very weakness in Anastasia that Otto had always wished he could draw out. —And without the slightest thought of exploiting it, he let it go.
If asked why: "Because it's not reproducible."
The opening that had appeared now wasn't some handy tool that could be used again at the next opportunity. Preparing the same circumstances would be difficult, and even if possible, it shouldn't be done.
After all, the hole that had opened in Anastasia was already far smaller than the gaping wound within their own ranks.
Frankly speaking, that was undesirable from Otto's perspective as well. Over the past few months, Emilia's group and Anastasia's group had grown too close.
"You don't have to try so consciously hard to be the villain, you know."
"—. Was that… directed at me, by any chance?"
Suddenly, a voice spoke—not Anastasia's, not Berstetz's, but a third party's. Otto reacted. His gaze followed the voice to Anastasia's neck, where
At Otto's words, Echidna narrowed her eyes slightly and said: "The fact that you took it as a personal correction is proof of your own feelings, isn't it?"
"When you say that while looking at me, it's not very convincing."
"You're stubborn, you know. You and Ana are about evenly matched."
Echidna's tone turned slightly sullen, and a slender finger pressed down on her fox-head with a "Now, now." It was Anastasia. She looked down at the stole draped around Otto and said: "Don't go clinging to Otto-kun like that. You can't just talk to anyone whenever you want, and now you've gone and become a total chatterbox."
"Hmph. Spare me the implication that I'm merely following my own desires. I'll admit that my previous situation was constraining compared to my current one, but still."
"Goodness. I'm sorry, Otto-kun. Our girl here was bothering you."
Anastasia apologized, and Otto simply waved his hand with a "No, it's fine."
Echidna's remark had been to assert her own presence, not a genuine concern for Otto—she'd never intended it as that. Naturally, Echidna, who was closest to Anastasia, had noticed the same opening in Anastasia that Otto had observed.
That remark had been a feint to prevent him from probing it further. As long as Otto's true intentions—to not exploit that opening—couldn't be seen, it was a necessary move.
Even so— "I don't think of myself as a villain. …If I have a role, I'm only playing it."
In that sense, Echidna's pointed remark was completely off the mark.
As for Priscilla's death—news that had shaken even Anastasia and threatened to destabilize the camp further—Otto's heart had been so unmoved that even he himself considered it heartless.
He'd had opportunities to exchange words with Priscilla on various occasions, and he acknowledged that she was a truly exceptional person as a Royal Selection candidate. And yet.
"A candidate dropping out during the Royal Selection is entirely plausible."
A case where someone died in a war for the survival of a neighboring kingdom was indeed beyond expectation, but in political struggles involving national affairs, it was entirely possible that assassins could be sent to target Royal Selection candidates, and they could fall to those blades.
In Emilia's camp's case, the assassin had turned out to be from within their own ranks, but even setting aside such exceptions, it held true.
In the event of such a situation, the "Council of Wise Men" that currently governed the Kingdom of Lugnica's politics would certainly be deliberating.
If a Royal Selection candidate was lost, would someone fill the vacancy, or would the Selection continue with one of the five seats empty?
The latter was more likely, and Otto honestly preferred the latter as well.
Precisely because there were such circumstances of great importance to the Kingdom— "We are scheduled to return to the Kingdom within several days. From the Empire's side, too, I imagine they'd prefer not to let foreign nationals learn any more about the situation following the 'Great Calamity.'"
"We're the same. It'd be strange to coordinate our departures, so we'll head to Kararagi as soon as our preparations are done—tomorrow, if possible. Otto-kun, about the report to the Castle…"
"Leave that to me. It's not something that can be handled by letter."
Anastasia tucked her chin and entrusted Otto with the role of reporting to the royal castle.
Frankly, it was a heavy responsibility, but at the same time an important duty. Of course, Otto would accompany her, but it would be an extremely painful role for Emilia.
At times like this, the First Knight's job was to support Emilia above all else.
"…The way Natsuki-kun is now, it might backfire on Lady Emilia."
"…So his state hasn't changed, then."
"No. Knight Julius has come by a few times as well, but it's difficult. I don't mean to speak out of turn, but with Lady Priscilla, he always seemed to be at her mercy…"
"For Natsuki-kun, that's what matters. —Careful now."
Speaking in a quiet voice, Anastasia's fingertip tickled Echidna's neck. Echidna shivered at the sensation, and her black eyes seemed to be worrying about Subaru as well.
There, one could sense the unalloyed goodwill between Anastasia and Echidna.
"We've heard the views of both the Kingdom and the City-State's special envoys. His Majesty has granted me the authority to exercise my own judgment in conveying his gratitude to both nations. Should anything arise—"
"I wouldn't take that lightly. Nothing's more nerve-wracking than being handed a blank check."
Anastasia smiled wryly at the emotions hidden behind Berstetz's thread-thin eyes. Otto shared her sentiment, but he intended to make ample use of the words they had drawn out.
This was his place—the one who bore the role of "necessary evil" rather than villain for Emilia's camp.
Because of who he was, even if Priscilla had not died, he would have considered—and been able to choose—a method to have her step down from the Royal Selection on the grounds that she was of imperial nobility and therefore unsuitable as a candidate.
Yes, he could have chosen that path.
And therefore— "—Even if you hadn't died, you never would have become our enemy. With Natsuki-kun and Lady Emilia already hurting, your death is… a blow to me."
As a person from a different camp—one who had no reason to mourn or grieve that death—this was the extent of