(A/N: MY FINGERS ARE TREMBLES)
Silence settled heavily over the hall, pressing down on every breath like the weight of impending fate. The room seemed suspended in time, each person rooted to their seat, every eye locked on the solitary figure standing at the head of the grand podium.
McMahon stood with unyielding composure, his posture the embodiment of seasoned authority and silent resolve. His gaze moved purposefully across the vast chamber, sweeping each corner with the calm intensity of a man who had seen much, endured more, and emerged with clarity unclouded by either fatigue or sentimentality. When at last he spoke, his voice resonated through the hall—not loud, but clear, deep, and unwavering. It carried not just words, but a gravitas that commanded attention without ever asking for it.
"To all who care for the fate and the unfolding future of our kingdom, Lugnica, I extend my sincerest greetings."
His statement was concise, yet weighted, each syllable honed to precision. There was no flair, no flourish—only meaning.
"The camps gathered before us today do not simply speak for their candidates. They stand as the living embodiment of ideals, of dreams molded into purpose. And we, as those who bear witness, are here not merely to observe, but to understand the clash and convergence of these visions that will shape our nation's path."
He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle like dust upon the polished marble floor. The atmosphere tightened, the collective focus of the hall crystallizing upon him.
"This chamber," he continued, his voice now slightly more measured, "is not just a venue for formal announcements. It is a stage for silent trials, for judgments whispered through glances, for reckonings that echo louder than spoken decrees."
His eyes shifted subtly toward Emilia's party. Though he did not lock eyes with Subaru, for the briefest flicker of a moment, his gaze passed over the striking black-and-orange outfit. He gave a small, respectful nod—not acknowledgment, but recognition.
"The dialogue we partake in today will not be guided solely by law or written custom, but by the deeper, unwritten ethos we all carry. I ask each of you to wield respect as both your sword and your shield."
His tone held no need for volume. It was the quiet strength of a scholar who had once been a soldier, of a guide who had learned to lead by listening.
"Each camp brings with it a distinct path—a vision carved from their own truth, struggles, and ambitions. And I hope that before these paths diverge in conflict, they might first cross in understanding."
His final words cut through the hall like cold steel—calm, definitive, and authoritative without pretension.
"Let the royal assembly commence."
He sat, his descent into the chair as precise as a blade's fall. Even this simple act was imbued with meaning. The atmosphere shifted perceptibly. The moment of neutrality had ended. The game—political, personal, and perilous—had begun. Around the room, the various camps stirred, preparing their openings, their truths, and their illusions.
With a smooth, well-practiced gesture, McMahon indicated for the first participant to come forward. The silence that returned was no longer idle—it was expectant.
The herald's voice then rang out with polished formality, slicing through the stillness:
"We present the Sun Princess, Baroness Priscilla Barielle, escorted by her knight, Aldebaran."
From the edge of the hall, Aldebaran stepped forward first. Though his face remained hidden behind his helmet, there was no mistaking his presence. It radiated confidence and command. His voice, amplified by the space, rang through the chamber—firm, melodic, and strangely persuasive:
"Understand this—Lady Priscilla's fortune is not a tale spun by poets, but a force witnessed and feared. Her luck is no mere happenstance; it is the echo of her unbreakable will. Where she walks, the winds shift. Realms fall in line or falter under her gaze."
The words struck with rhythm and intent, each phrase carrying a blend of reverence and iron.
"She has brought prosperity to lands others deemed barren. She has resurrected war-scarred territories with vision and might. And in the moments when even hope itself withered, I have watched her forge triumph from despair, reshaping failure into resounding victory."
There was no avoidance in his manner. His words were not the challenges of a rival, but the declarations of one who spoke to future allies—or future followers.
"If you seek someone to carry this kingdom's burdens into the years ahead—someone whose will is tempered by elegance, whose presence demands loyalty and awe alike—then turn your eyes to her. For she is already here."
With that, he stepped back. The motion was fluid and elegant, never ostentatious. His message had been delivered, not shouted but etched into the air itself.
A hush followed, not of emptiness but of contemplation. Priscilla had yet to speak, and perhaps she would not. But her silence was not absence. It was orchestration.
Her knight had spoken with such confidence, such resounding finality, that his words hung in the hall like the final chord of a symphony.
And for now, that was enough to echo through the hearts of all who listened.
Priscilla Barielle stepped forward to the center of the stage with the confidence of someone who had never doubted their place at the pinnacle of the world.
In one fluid, theatrical gesture, she unfurled her crimson fan. The ornate silk snapped open like a declaration of war. With her chin lifted and posture exuding poise, she gazed down at the gathered crowd as though it were her court and they her trembling subjects. Though her voice remained calm and steady, every syllable echoed throughout the hall, as if the very walls obeyed her command to listen.
"How curious," she began, her tone laced with amusement. "Even now, people whisper and wonder why I am here. As though the answer isn't inscribed in the heavens above. Everyone born beneath the sun's radiant gaze must, sooner or later, bow before its brilliance. And I, darlings, am that brilliance made flesh."
A hush fell over the chamber. Her words, smooth and imperious, hung heavy in the air.
"I did not come here to beg for approval or to fight tooth and nail for your meager votes. Elections are for those who require validation. I am not one of them. My existence alone is a gift—an honor the wise already cherish. The rest of you... well, time is an excellent teacher."
She took a slow turn, letting her gaze sweep from noble to noble, her eyes sharp and measuring. When they passed over Roswaal, Emilia, and Beatrice, her fan paused just beneath her lips, framing her like a noblewoman in a portrait.
"Many of you carry secrets—shadows wrapped in veils, hidden behind carefully polished smiles. And some of you..." she said, her voice dipping lower, more dangerous, "...have come bearing hollow words, promises that shine brightly but are emptier than a dead star. But me? I am no illusion. I do not need masks or gilded lies. I am the truth that blinds, the sun that cannot be eclipsed."
She spun in place with elegance that bordered on menace. The silence that followed was not out of respect—it was domination.
"The sheer gravity of my presence has the power to alter a nation's destiny. At a mere glance from me, cities might rise from dust. With nothing but silence, I could send kings toppling from their thrones. In a world where chaos reigns and uncertainty looms, only one path offers clarity: the path that follows the sun. The path that follows me—Priscilla Barielle."
She took a final step backward, letting the silence stretch before delivering her final words with a searing smile.
"And do not forget... The sun may offer light, but it also scorches. Should you choose to dance in my radiance, be prepared to burn."
Subaru doubled over slightly, hand over his stomach, as if he'd been physically struck by the sheer level of grandeur. "So much arrogance... I think I'm gonna choke on it," he muttered, half-gasping.
Flugel, looked equally exasperated. "Honestly, she could rival Pandora. Maybe even outshine her in pure theatrical arrogance."
Emilia, standing nearby, fought a smile. Her lips twitched as she tried—and mostly failed—not to laugh.
Meanwhile, Reinhard, always watchful, let his gaze wander to Subaru. Their eyes met for a heartbeat.
Instinctively, Subaru smiled. Though this Reinhard didn't recognize him—at least not in this world—they had once stood as allies, even as friends, in another time and place.
Reinhard returned the smile, soft and faint, yet genuine.
Felt, ever alert to Reinhard's focus, followed his line of sight. Her eyes landed on the Emilia camp. Without hesitation, she raised her arm and waved at them with a broad, cheeky grin.
Emilia, startled at first, quickly returned the gesture, waving back. Subaru followed a beat later, offering a friendly wave of his own.
The moment of lightheartedness was broken by the clear, practiced voice of the herald.
"Now entering—The War Goddess, Duchess Crusch Karsten, escorted by her loyal knight, Felix Argyle!"
The crowd turned, anticipation building again, as another powerful player entered the grand stage.
Felix stepped forward with a graceful nod to the assembly, his gait light yet confident, drawing the attention of even the most aloof nobles.
"The Crusch Karsten House has long stood as the honor and backbone of these lands since the days of the Lion Kings, nya," he declared, his feline intonation oddly grounding in the lofty air of the chamber.
His voice rang clear, echoing with fitting weight through the ornate hall, as though every gilded surface had been built to carry his words.
"My lady is not simply a noblewoman of title—she is one who would spill her own blood to spare that of her people. She has led the forces of Lugnica to victory time and again. It was always her—striking the first blow, raising the last shield. Many of you may not even realize it, but the peace you take for granted was purchased with her resolve, her scars, her sleepless nights. She is not merely a leader. She is the pulse, the unwavering heartbeat of Lugnica."
With a respectful bow, Felix withdrew, his expression quietly proud.
Then came Crusch.
Her entrance was not flamboyant, yet it drew every gaze. Her footsteps were measured, military—each one a silent declaration. There was no need for spectacle when purpose alone could command attention. Her presence shifted the atmosphere; the very air felt denser.
She walked with poise, her back straight, her shoulders square. Her eyes scanned the grand chamber—not with haughtiness, but with clear-eyed understanding. This place bore witness to decisions that changed the course of kingdoms. Today, it would bear witness again.
"I am Duchess Crusch Karsten," she began, her voice composed but vibrant, drawing power not from volume, but conviction. "I stand before you not to claim a throne, but to answer a duty. I was born of this land. I have fought and bled for it. And I have seen with my own eyes the creeping shadows that threaten it—betrayal, fear, impotence."
She paused. A breath passed. The hall grew hushed, the stillness like that before a storm.
"A nation's dignity is not born of might alone. It comes from honor. From shared identity. From the loyalty we owe to one another. For too long, we have handed our destiny to others. In reverence to the Dragon's Blessing, we have surrendered our autonomy—not all at once, but piece by piece, silently."
Her gaze cut across the assembly. Her voice rose—not to shout, but to uplift.
"Lugnica is more than a name on a map. It is a legacy, a promise—a name etched in the struggles of our people, in the dust on our boots and the calluses on our hands. I want to be a voice for that name. Not just for the noble class, but for the farmer breaking his back in the fields. For the mother who works till dusk to feed her child. For the soldier who doesn't know if today's battle will be his last."
She placed her hand firmly over her heart, as if anchoring herself.
"This crown—if I am to bear it—will not be a trophy. It will be a burden I welcome. A sacred vow. The vow of the soldier who rises each morning to guard our borders. The prayer whispered by a mother to her hungry child, saying, 'Tomorrow, we will endure.'"
She took another step forward. Her voice now carried the subtle steel of command.
"That is why I believe this nation must reclaim its own fate. The pact with the Dragon was once our shield—but shields, too, can rust. We are no longer a fledgling land in need of guardianship. We must grow—we must fly. Imagine a Lugnica governed not by an ancient beast, but by its own people. A nation free to define its path, shape its destiny, and protect its soul."
Still, there was no eruption of applause. But there was no indifference either. The silence was alive—charged, taut. Her words had struck their mark.
"This will not be an easy path," she continued, her voice solemn. "But I am not here to offer ease. I am here to offer truth. I do not seek to merely preserve this country. I wish to awaken it. To breathe life back into its weary bones."
She allowed her gaze to linger, meeting the eyes of those who dared to hold her stare, before finally stepping back.
The silence persisted—then came the applause. No tentative claps. No forced approval. But a growing, resonant swell of genuine response. Deeper than what Priscilla had received. It echoed with a different kind of approval—thoughtful, perhaps cautious, but real.
Even so, within Crusch stirred a thread of uncertainty. She recalled Felix's cautious words:
"The people seek assurance before they accept change. They need trust—not upheaval."
But Crusch had never been one to veil her beliefs. Her way had always been one of transparency. Maybe—just maybe—that was what the country needed now.
From his seat, Roswaal tilted his head slightly, a curious glint behind his painted smile.
"A stirring speech," he mused under his breath. "Yet, so broad in scope... it gives the impression that only she could accomplish such visions. But truly, could not any chosen sovereign say the same, given the right words?"
As Roswaal reflected aloud, Subaru leaned closer to the girl perched on his shoulder.
"Hey, Beako... you think our speech will stir people like that?"
Beatrice gave a small shrug, her tone wry.
"Roswaal's already shown off your silly inventions and bizarre ideas to nearly everyone who matters. If you manage to speak with clarity and conviction, you might stir more than applause. Maybe even hope."
Subaru sighed inwardly, the weight of the moment settling over him.
"Flugel... don't fail me now, man. I need this."
A soft chuckle echoed within his mind, light and mocking.
"Oh, it would be fun to watch you flounder, wouldn't it? But fear not. Their jaws will hang open, I promise."
Subaru clasped his hands together, not for show, but in quiet prayer—
Please... let that be true.
Mc hanon's voice rang out with ceremonial clarity: "Now presenting the Greedy Princess, Miss Anastasia Hoshin, accompanied by her knight, Julius Juukulius!"
Julius stepped forward with practiced poise. With the unshakable elegance of a true knight, he stood tall before the gathered assembly. His posture was proud yet unpretentious, a man defined not just by duty but by conviction. Placing a gloved hand over his heart, he addressed the crowd in a tone both calm and firm, every syllable rich with sincerity:
"Lady Anastasia-sama was born without noble privilege. She bore no royal bloodline, and she had no ancient family crest behind her name. There were no mighty houses to protect her, no lineage to lift her. What she possessed instead was something far rarer—unyielding resolve. And time and again, history has shown us: resolve outlasts strength born of chance."
He allowed his words to hang briefly, their weight settling over the room like the last note of a symphony.
"Today, she does not stand before you simply as a contender for the throne. She stands as the voice and vision of a commercial empire so vast and efficient that even distant lands acknowledge its might. But more than that, she is a beacon to countless others—those who dare to hope, those who dare to build. She forged her own path where none existed, then turned back and widened that trail for others to follow. Her fight against the scourge of slavery in the Kararagi provinces has restored dignity where chains once bound. Now, she seeks to do for Lugunica what she has done for so many: rebuild, revitalize, and reimagine."
With graceful precision, Julius stepped aside. His presence didn't fade, but transitioned seamlessly into the backdrop—as if framing a portrait.
Anastasia stepped into that frame. She wore a velvet-textured white dress that shimmered faintly under the lights, its subtle embroidery catching the eye without overpowering the gaze. A soft fur stole lay elegantly across her shoulders, lending her the air of warmth and command all at once. Her smile was gentle yet composed, measured to disarm without deception. When she began to speak, her voice carried clearly—not loud, but confident, rich with an accessible charm and her characteristic dry humor:
"I know what you're all thinking: 'A merchant? Vying for the crown?'" She grinned faintly. "Honestly? It's a fair question. It does sound a little strange when you say it out loud. But humor me for a moment. Let's all ask ourselves—what does a kingdom truly need to thrive? Gleaming swords and ancestral pride? Or the steady hand of someone who knows the worth of a coin, the sweat behind a harvest, the balance between risk and reward?"
She walked slowly across the dais as she spoke, her eyes touching on members of the crowd as though each were an old acquaintance.
"I started my life in a modest village with more mud than mortar. My first dealings weren't in gold, but in iron—cheap, rough, and often bartered. And before I ever made a coin, I had to reckon with debt. But in that struggle, I learned something invaluable: people don't endure because of idealism alone. They endure because they find answers that work—practical, reliable, and real."
She paused, then lifted her chin, her voice threading with determination.
"The Hoshin Company doesn't just sell goods. We offer hope. We provide livelihoods. We invest in tomorrow. And that's the message I bring you today: if I could rise from a back-alley bazaar to stand here before you, then so can this kingdom rise again—from stagnation, from uncertainty, from fear."
Her voice took on a measured gravity.
"If I am chosen, I will not rest until Lugunica's ailing economy finds its breath again. I will draft and enact policies that offer lasting jobs, not fleeting promises. I will ensure that slavery—any form of it—is abolished entirely and irreversibly throughout the land. And I will build a new system—one where merchants serve not themselves, but the farmers, the artisans, the traders, and the everyday worker who makes this kingdom run."
She drew a slow, purposeful breath before concluding:
"Because I know the allure of wealth—but more than that, I remember the chill of poverty. And whoever wishes to lead must first carry the burdens of their people, understand their pain, and walk where they have walked. Isn't that what true leadership demands?"
Her words fell into a hush that filled the space like a deep exhale. The crowd stirred, not with disinterest, but with contemplation. Some nodded quietly, others exchanged glances. No one remained untouched.
With a composed and respectful bow, Anastasia stepped back into place. Behind her, Julius stood like a sentinel—his pride unspoken, but unmistakable.
All the while, Emilia had remained silent. From the beginning of the proceedings, she had watched and listened intently—absorbing every word, every nuance. Her own speech was ready now, prepared not just in form, but in spirit.
McHanon announced in a clear, ceremonial voice in the great hall. "We present Lady Felt and her knight, Sir Reinhard van Astrea."
At once, a murmur spread like wildfire among the assembled nobles. Raised eyebrows, half-whispered questions, and incredulous glances bounced from one finely dressed figure to another. One question dominated the unspoken dialogue: Who is this girl?
From the gathering, a man stepped forward. His armor gleamed with the unmistakable insignia of House Astrea, and his crimson hair shimmered under the chandeliers. He carried himself with the ease of one born into power, but his tone, when he spoke, was humble yet resolute.
"I appear before you today not under order, but by choice. The woman I accompany may bear no noble lineage. She has not known the comfort of velvet halls or the privilege of a family crest. But I have seen in her something far rarer than any birthright—unflinching courage.
She has survived not through favor, but through grit. She upholds her ideals not by yielding, but by standing firm. And for that, despite all appearances, I offer her my sword and my unwavering loyalty.
No matter how unrefined, how defiant she may seem, I have found her spirit worthy of a crown."
Reinhard bowed lightly and stepped aside. Then, with firm strides and a look that dared anyone to speak against her, Felt took his place. Her gaze was piercing, her presence raw and electric..
"Tch. So this is how it works, huh? Everyone gets up, says something pretty, and hopes it sticks. Well, don't count on me to follow your script.
Name's Felt. If you're wondering where I come from—try the slums. Yeah, the garbage heaps and piss-stained alleys. I wasn't raised with silk sheets or court tutors, but I know the filth of this country better than any of you sitting on your golden chairs.
You see a kingdom from above. I've seen it from below. And let me tell you, there's a big difference. Up here, it's clean and quiet. Down there? People are starving. Streets are ruled by fear. Hope's a joke no one's laughed at in years.
If I'm chosen to rule, that twisted ladder you all climbed up? I'll flip it upside down.
Laws won't be for nobles to hide behind anymore. They'll be shields for everyone—for the kid stealing bread and the widow paying twice her taxes.
No more begging for scraps from your high tables. Justice will stop looking at coin and start looking at truth."
She paused. Her chest rose and fell with intensity. Her fists were clenched not from nervousness, but from righteous fury.
"This kingdom won't rise from marble palaces. It'll rise from the broken cobblestones of the backstreets. And I'll build it with every last coin locked away in your noble vaults.
Don't like the sound of that? Then say so. Out loud. But don't come crawling when it turns out people prefer justice to flattery."
For a few breaths, the hall was stunned into silence. Then, scattered applause echoed from the rear—uncertain, yet real. She was not what they expected. She didn't speak with polish or poise. But to some, her raw honesty was more valuable than any practiced speech.
But the court was not done with her.
Felt's words still hung in the air when sneers crept in like smoke. An old count rose, his age-cloaked frame wrapped in brocade and gold chains. His lip curled as if the very air offended him.
"Delightful. Among the candidates for the throne, we now count a girl as coarse as a tavern knife. Tell me, where does a gutter rat find the audacity to speak of crowns? This isn't a stage for fantasy—it's the royal court."
Next, a younger voice joined in, one dripping with aristocratic condescension. Lord Darneil stood with an expression that suggested he smelled something foul.
"Apparently, nobility no longer requires blood or manners. I must commend House Astrea for their creativity—endorsing a common street urchin. Is the crown now a trinket to be tossed into the gutters?"
Laughter, sharp and cold, rippled through the hall. Polite claps turned into sarcastic applause. Felt stood through it all, unmoved. Her arms crossed, her eyes locked with those who mocked her. Then she answered—not with an apology, but a roar of truth.
"You think I came here to beg for scraps from your bloated banquet? You think I need your approval to speak the truth?
I didn't grow up in ignorance—I grew up in what you made. The streets full of people your laws forget. Kids digging through garbage. Women fearing nightfall. Men breaking their backs for a loaf of bread.
You don't see them—but I do. I lived with them. I bled with them. And while your halls echo with empty toasts, their homes echo with silence and loss.
You think your overflowing tables are signs of success? They're proof of failure—because they exist while others starve."
Gasps, scattered but audible, floated through the noble ranks.
Felt's voice climbed higher, fiercer:
"You sit here, smug in your titles, but you've forgotten what a king is supposed to be. Not a collector of taxes. Not a hoarder of land. A king protects. A king listens. A king lifts, not tramples.
So yeah—I'm not like you. And I never will be. And maybe that's exactly what this kingdom needs."
Silence followed. But this time, it wasn't awkward. It was heavy, like the pause before a storm—or the breath before a reckoning.
Whispers began to rise again, but this time the tone was darker, heavier. The tension in the hall thickened with each murmur, until a voice—cold, sharp, and cutting low through the noise—emerged from the rear.
"Today, our pride was trampled... for what? For a stray? But if you ask me, the most dangerous one hasn't even spoken yet. That half-elf girl—Emilia. She looks just like the Witch. Are we really going to put someone like that on the throne? An angel in a witch's disguise? Or a shadow from the past reborn?"
A noble grumbled loudly, his words seething with contempt. "This street rat would rule us? Someone without royal blood? Absurd!"
Another scoffed with disdain, lips curled into a sneer. "At the very least, let's agree on what's what. Were half-elves ever even meant to be contenders for the crown?"
The whispers spread like wildfire, swelling into a crescendo of suspicion and prejudice. Hushed voices gained boldness in numbers.
"She looks just like her."
"A harbinger of calamity."
"What does this child think she's doing here?"
"Is this what the kingdom has come to?"
Amid the growing unrest, Subaru stepped forward. It was subtle, but the hall shifted. The air seemed to thrum with quiet tension—like a current breaking through still water. His back was straight, eyes colder than usual. He was smiling, but it wasn't kindness; it was a blade honed in silence and forged in pain.
"Wow... All so brave now, aren't you? I thought the best you had in you was to belittle a girl."
His voice didn't rise. It didn't need to. Each word hit like a dropped stone in a still pond, echoing far and wide, impossible to ignore.
"Yes, Emilia is a half-elf. Her hair shines like silver, so stunning that some of you can't even face your own reflections beside her. But to equate her with the Witch—just because of how she was born? How easy that is. How comforting to judge, when understanding takes effort."
He took another step. His shoulders no longer drooped—they broadened with purpose, with a quiet, burning fire.
"I get it. You're scared. Scared of her. The Witch. But Emilia is not her. And if fear is your compass, then you've already lost your way."
A beat of silence. Then, a harder edge entered his voice—still measured, but iron beneath the velvet.
"But if I hear that name, spat from your mouths again, soaked in that disgusting tone... your titles won't protect you. Not from me."
It wasn't madness. He hadn't lost control. But his patience was thinning fast. Subaru stood like a blade unsheathed—not attacking, but undeniably ready. Not just a defender now—an avenger.
A noble leaned forward, twisted smirk on his lips. "Brave words, outsider. Since when does a servant speak before his mistress?"
Another chuckled under his breath. "Perhaps Emilia-sama cannot speak for herself? A half-elf, heir to a Witch... Maybe this boy is her voice."
The hall rumbled with renewed mockery, laughter laced with venom. Old prejudices awakened, danced on the tongues of those too proud to see beyond blood.
Subaru clenched his jaw. That same shadow flickered in his gaze, the one born of too many deaths and too much resolve. He opened his mouth to answer—ready to unleash fury—
But Emilia's voice rose. Gentle. Steady. Unshakable.
"Enough."
Silence crashed through the room like a sudden storm.
Emilia stepped forward, her steps deliberate and without hesitation. She reached out, placing a hand on Subaru's arm—not harsh, but calm and grounding. Her touch said more than any command could: I'm here.
Her eyes met his, and she spoke softly but firmly.
"I know you're trying to protect me, Subaru. And I'm grateful. But I can stand here and speak for myself. Your voice beside mine is a comfort—not a shield. You've carried so much—but let me carry this."
Subaru's shoulders relaxed. His breath came out like a tide receding, carrying the storm with it. His head lowered slightly, not in defeat, but in understanding.
Then Emilia turned. She faced the hall. Head high. Voice clear. Words deliberate and true.
"I am Emilia. A half-elf. That's true. But I am not a threat. I am not a curse. I am not a ghost of the past. I am a citizen of this kingdom. And I am here today because I believe in its future."
Some nobles stirred. Some flushed with guilt. Others narrowed their eyes, still unsure. But no one dismissed her now. She was no longer a silhouette behind whispers. She had stepped into the light.
She went on, softly but firmly, her voice like water over stone—gentle, but capable of reshaping mountains.
"My past does not define me. None of ours do. We are what we choose to be—right here, right now. And I choose to fight for Lugunica's tomorrow. Not as a symbol. Not as a shadow. But as someone who loves this land, and all the people in it—whether noble or common, elf or human, fearful or brave. We are stronger than our fears. We are more than our blood."
And in that moment, Emilia didn't just defend herself. She offered a vision—a kingdom united not by lineage, but by choice. By courage.
And even in silence, some began to listen.
Crusch tilted her head slightly, the motion deliberate, almost ceremonial. Her voice was calm, yet carried a weight that demanded silence:
"Words that demand courage... especially when spoken amidst deep-rooted prejudice." Her gaze, unwavering and intense, settled on Emilia. "But courage, while admirable, is not enough to gather a nation under a single banner. What is required is a leader—not one shackled to the past, but someone who dares to mold the future. I have heard you, Emilia-sama. I truly hope the people have the wisdom to hear you as well."
From the edge of the assembly, Felix turned his head toward Subaru, casting a sidelong glance. His catlike smile remained in place, though a flicker of concern danced in his eyes: "Subaru-kyun, being all claws and no purr won't help your case, nya~ You've got to know when to hiss and when to nuzzle."
Anastasia brushed a few stray strands of fur from the sleeve of her elegant coat. Her voice was laced with a kind of playful detachment, yet her eyes were sharp: "It was a touching display, I'll admit. My eyes? Practically moist. But as we all know, tears alone don't fill coffers or feed cities. Still, hearts are battlegrounds of their own. If you can conquer them, maybe you can write history before it writes you off."
Julius took a small step forward, his expression composed but attentive. He bowed his head slightly, a mark of both respect and caution: "If your sentiments are genuine, then they will echo back in time. I hope to understand you better, Emilia-sama. As for you, Subaru-dono... passion is not a sin, but untempered emotion is a weapon without a sheath. A sword flailing in chaos doesn't get to choose who it cuts."
A faint laugh rang out, light and laced with aristocratic amusement. Priscilla raised her ornate fan to her lips but made no effort to hide her glee:
"Oh, how deliciously absurd. A half-elf with dreams and a man whose eyes flicker with barely restrained madness... What a peculiar performance we've been gifted." Her gaze gleamed like polished rubies. "But the heavens are choosy. They cradle only stars that burn bright. Mud-covered ambitions? They're often washed away by the tide. Still, amuse me a bit more before your light is snuffed out."
Aldebaran, standing a respectful distance behind, sighed with the weariness of experience: "My lady always did enjoy her verbal duels... But Emilia-san, there's something in your voice. Something raw. Unfiltered. You might not know how to use it just yet, but sincerity... well, that's rare in places like this. Use it right, and you might shake the whole board."
Whispers stirred, emotions clashing beneath the surface—respect clashed with cynicism, curiosity tangled with calculation. The chamber felt like a coiled spring, waiting for a spark.
Then, as if on cue, Margrave Roswaal L. Mathers stepped forward, his robes swaying with theatrical grace. His voice cut through the room like a silk-wrapped blade:
"Whaaat a beeeautiful performance~~, huhuhu... So much passion, so much stubbornness, so much naked ambition... If that doesn't scream leadership, what does? Surely, the future of Lugunica is in capable hands... or at the very least, entertaining ones?"
The room froze. All attention turned toward him as his voice crescendoed with eerie elegance.
"But Emilia-sama does not walk this path alone. No, no... Behind her stands one of the most formidable sorcerers this kingdom has ever known—me."
He paused dramatically, scanning the hall as if basking in the ripple of tension that followed.
"And there's more still... Her faction is safeguarded by not one, but two extraordinary spirits. First, the Beast of the End—Puck, a name that once made monsters tremble. And then, the Great Spirit of Yin herself, guardian of the Forbidden Archive—Beatrice."
Gasps swept the crowd. Nobles turned to whisper behind gloved hands, their composed masks slipping under the weight of this revelation. Spiritual contracts of that caliber were rare, and this level of preparation even rarer.
Roswaal, ever the dramatist, continued with a flourish: "Let us not forget, this is not the first time a candidate without royal blood has dared to claim the stage. But Emilia-sama's path is unlike any before. With her ethereal allies and unwavering resolve, she does not follow in footsteps—she carves her own."
He stepped back, bowing slightly, and flashed a smile both gleeful and calculating:
"Now then… Emilia-sama, and her not-quite-knight but ever-loyal companion, Natsuki Subaru, you are both formally invited to the stage."
The air was thick with silence, yet all eyes found them.
And this time... not a single breath was wasted on idle words. The hall was truly, unmistakably, silent.
Footsteps echoed through the grand hall. With Beatrice by his side, Subaru walked steadily toward the podium. It was a moment none had anticipated. For a spirit as ancient and powerful as Beatrice to stand beside someone like Subaru—it left many bewildered.
Reinhard's eyebrows lifted in surprise, Julius gave a fleeting glance, and Anastasia's gaze locked onto Subaru. Crusch watched in quiet contemplation, while a mocking smirk played at the corners of Priscilla's lips.
Then came Flugel's voice in Subaru's mind: "Repeat my words exactly."
Subaru looked out at the crowd. He drew in a deep breath and began to speak:
"It was fate that brought me to these lands, and it is fate once again that brings me here today. The world I have chosen to call home has taught me much—and now, with the unique opportunity I've been given, I want to give something in return."
His gaze was steady. His voice did not falter.
"The Emilia camp pledges, during the royal selection, to eradicate hunger within the lands loyal to us," he declared.
A murmur spread through the audience, but Subaru pressed on, his tone gaining weight.
"We are ushering in a revolution in both agriculture and craftsmanship. With advanced farming techniques and machines designed to ease the burden of labor, we are producing change."
Now, his eyes swept across the hall.
"The first steps have already been taken. We've constructed windmills that operate continuously, harnessing the wind's power—not only to grind grain but to fuel irrigation systems. We've also developed sewing machines that will revolutionize garment production. What once took artisans days to complete can now be done in mere hours."
One noble furrowed their brow. Another whispered, "Won't this make the workers lazy?"
Subaru didn't pause. His voice held firm conviction:
"No. It won't make them lazy—it will give them time. Time they can spend with their children, on their education, on improving their lives in ways they never could before. These tools aren't luxuries; they are keys to liberation."
Beatrice broke her silence then, her voice clear as crystal: "These inventions aren't born from mere dreams. They are shaped by knowledge—knowledge beyond the bounds of this world. And I, for one, stand by this man's word."
The hall fell into a moment of stillness.
Subaru turned his eyes toward Emilia once more. A soft yet proud expression crossed his face.
"This isn't just about machines or progress. It's about hope. Emilia-sama can be the future of this kingdom, because she doesn't look back—she looks forward. And with her, we will build a nation where everyone has a place."
He took a deep breath and slowly turned to Emilia. His eyes gleamed with a smile full of trust.
"Now, it's time to hear the future of this kingdom—from her own lips. The stage is yours, Emilia."
Emilia hesitated for just a moment. All eyes were upon her. The hall was so silent, even a breath could be heard. She walked toward the podium with deliberate steps. Her heart pounded, but the determination in her eyes silenced the fear. And with a calm yet unyielding voice, she began to speak—challenging every prejudice she had faced as a half-elf, not with anger, but with quiet strength.
"Hello, everyone. My name is Emilia. And yes… I am a half-elf."
The words rolled through the grand chamber like a chill wind brushing the edges of a storm. Murmurs fluttered like restless wings among the nobles. Some leaned forward, others stiffened. A few furrowed their brows, others exchanged silent glances heavy with assumptions. But Emilia's voice held firm—unshaken, clear, resolute.
"When most people see my face for the first time, they don't really see me. They see ghosts of the past. They see memories that don't belong to me. They see fear shaped like a girl. But I don't want to be chained by the past anymore. I want to open the door to the future—and I want to do it with everyone, not alone."
Her voice rose, quiet strength turning into a powerful conviction that rolled through the marble pillars like a second wind.
"This kingdom needs a future that's different. A future that is fair. A future full of hope. A future where no child grows up ashamed of their name or their blood. I believe in that future with all my heart, and I believe we can build it together."
The hall was still, all eyes on her. Each syllable she spoke echoed like a drop of water in a cavern—small but impossible to ignore. Even the most skeptical among them couldn't deny the force behind her words.
"No one should be judged by their blood, or the place they were born, or what others think they represent. We are not our ancestors' mistakes. I'm standing here because I want to help make this country a place where everyone has equal rights and equal worth. I'm here because I've chosen to be. And I am not alone in this."
A hush fell again. Emilia closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. They shimmered with something more than resolve—an undeniable light.
"Roswaal mentioned it before. And yes—it's true. I have an ally. But not just any ally. This is a bond unlike any other. A bond built on trust, on truth, on hardship. A bond where we don't just support each other—we complete each other."
And at that very moment... the air itself seemed to shift. A subtle tremor passed over the crowd. The lights flickered, ever so slightly. Then, he appeared—
From a shimmer of crystal dust and chilled wind, Puck emerged. His form danced among glittering fragments of magic, and as he hovered above the ground, a cold breeze rippled through the chamber. Despite his tiny form, the weight of his presence pressed down like a silent command. When he spoke, his voice was razor-sharp and filled with clarity.
"My name is Puck. Some call me the Beast of the End. Some fear what I could do. But there's only one thing sacred to me in this world."
Gasps echoed, a few nobles bristled—but they didn't speak. Puck's glacial eyes narrowed with unwavering intensity.
"This girl… is worth ending the world for."
A second wave of murmurs. Then, silence again—deeper, heavier. Puck's tone softened, though his voice still carried to every ear:
"I may see myself as her father. But above all… I am someone who chooses to be by her side. Not by duty. Not by command. By choice—again and again. Always."
He ended with a quiet smile, small and warm. The chamber was no longer cold—it was filled with a strange, gentle heat, like the first light of dawn melting frost.
Emilia turned toward Puck with a tender smile of her own. Then, she faced the audience once more.
"I am not alone, because there are people around me who never wanted me to stand alone. Because they believed in me when I didn't believe in myself. And I don't want this country to be left alone either. Change is never easy. But if we walk together… change is possible."
She bowed her head, deeply, sincerely.
"My name is Emilia. And I stand here… not just as a candidate, not just as a half-elf… but as someone who chooses hope. I stand here to be a symbol of hope for this kingdom."
A moment of absolute silence took the room in its grasp. Even the wind outside seemed to hold its breath.
Her voice still seemed to float in the air, its echo gently threading through the cold hall. Puck's presence lingered—his aura less a threat now, more like a guardian watching over something precious. What Subaru had begun—a spark of possibility—Emilia had ignited into a quiet flame of sincerity.
The first applause came hesitantly, from a young noble seated near a marble column. It was cautious, but not mocking. Then came another. Then another. Slowly, like a tide returning to shore, the hall filled with applause. A slow, steady wave of sound that carried more than approval—it carried awakening.
The nobles' tension began to thaw. Fear gave way to an unfamiliar sense of admiration. It was not universal, not yet—but it was real. Emilia's words had planted seeds of possibility.
"That speech... it came from the heart."
"Revolutionary ideas, they said... a reform in agriculture? It's bold."
"She may be a half-elf, but..."
Heads began to nod. Some adjusted their glasses. Others leaned heavier on their canes. But no one objected. Subaru's talk of machines, of progress, of a future built with everyone—those words had found echoes in the room. Whispers of old ambitions began to stir anew.
Crusch observed Emilia intently. In the girl's voice, she had heard no threat—only longing. Her gaze moved to Subaru. The young man stood still, unflinching, a quiet fire in his eyes and a brittle kind of resolve on his face.
"This young man's courage... will clear her path," Crusch whispered to herself.
Anastasia tapped her chin thoughtfully. A bond with a spirit that deep? That kind of trust wasn't won through negotiation—it was forged in truth, in pain, in shared moments that couldn't be faked.
Priscilla lowered her fan just a little, lips curling faintly.
"At the very least, they're not dull," she mused aloud. "If that was a performance… well, it didn't bore me."
Reinhard inclined his head toward Emilia, a knight's grace mixing with a commoner's warmth. He smiled, soft and genuine. His eyes saw beyond bloodlines and rumors.
"This... this is what it means to speak for the people," he thought.
Puck glanced across the room one last time. His shimmering eyes softened—no trace of threat remained. With a flutter of his tiny paws, he twirled through the air and perched gently on Emilia's shoulder. His voice came like a breeze, heard only by her:
"Well done, my little princess."
And finally, as the official stepped up to the podium, they raised a hand to quiet the hall—but there was no need. The restless tension had shifted into a wave of anticipation. The crowd, once murmuring with impatience, now brimmed with energy—an energy born not from chaos, but from inspiration.
"Honored guests! The vision, speeches, and commitments of Emilia and her supporter, Natsuki Subaru, have been heard and appreciated by the Royal Selection Committee!"
At those words, applause surged like a tide. This time, the loudest and most heartfelt claps were for Emilia and Subaru. Priscilla's commanding aura, Crusch's noble convictions, Anastasia's strategic brilliance—each had made their mark. But what resonated most was something simpler, rawer: Emilia's unwavering sincerity, and Subaru's quiet, unshakable hope. It was not just words they had offered, but a glimpse of a future people could believe in.
Among the roar of clapping hands and the hum of renewed conversation, a calm, amused voice slipped through.
"Quite the interesting ideas, truly. Especially that rotating mechanism mill..."
Subaru turned instinctively. Purple hair, a fine coat of fox fur draped over her shoulders, eyes that twinkled with mischief and calculation—Anastasia Hoshin. Behind her, like a sentinel carved from dignity itself, stood Julius Juukulius.
Subaru blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but quickly found his footing. "Hehe... I'm glad you liked it. They're simple things, but they get the job done."
Anastasia tilted her head slightly, one eyebrow rising with interest. "Calling them simple is curious. Ideas like that—efficient water mills, basic wind harnessing, rotating mechanisms—may seem harmless, but they could change how towns produce goods. Alter trade routes. Disrupt rural economies. Even shift how noble taxes are calculated."
Subaru scratched the back of his neck. "Honestly, I wasn't aiming that high. My first goal was to make life easier for ordinary folks. The rest... I figured it might fall into place if I stayed consistent."
Anastasia chuckled lightly, though her gaze sharpened. "You're more dangerous than you realize, Natsuki Subaru. You don't even mean to, but you shake the pillars others rely on. And when those pillars tremble... some people don't take it kindly."
Subaru's smile faded to something quieter but firmer. "I'm not trying to threaten anyone. But if something really needs to change... yeah, maybe it's inevitable that some people get uncomfortable."
That answer seemed to genuinely amuse her. She nodded slowly, as though confirming something to herself.
"You might just be Emilia's most unpredictable ally. But maybe her most powerful one, too. So tell me, how long do you think it'll take for these ideas of yours to gain traction?"
Subaru met her eyes, choosing his words carefully. "If I find the right people to work with... maybe sooner than I thought." The implication was clear.
Anastasia's amused façade gave way to a moment of thoughtful stillness. This wasn't idle curiosity anymore—this was business.
"Come to my camp tomorrow," she said, voice low but purposeful. "We can speak more freely there. There are people in my circle who enjoy investing in disruptive ideas—provided, of course, that those ideas can turn a profit."
Subaru bowed slightly, formal but not stiff. "Then I'll see you tomorrow, Anastasia-sama."
As she turned, her voice floated back to him one last time:
"Just make sure you're standing beside Emilia-sama not only with your heart... but with your mind. In this world, that's the only way to truly endure."
Julius said nothing, but cast a final glance Subaru's way. It wasn't disdainful, nor was it cold. It was... a quiet, appraising look. Then he followed his master.
Subaru exhaled slowly. His shoulders relaxed a little as he whispered to himself, "Well then... let the political battles begin."
The official ceremony gradually came to an end. From behind the velvet curtains and down the golden-carpeted paths, royal attendants emerged. They moved with grace but spoke with authority.
"Royal candidates, please follow us. Knights and guards will be escorted to a separate chamber."
Subaru hesitated. His eyes instinctively sought Emilia's figure amid the nobles and candidates. She was already walking forward, poise in every step. Just before she disappeared behind the ornate doors, she turned and gave him a warm, reassuring smile.
"I'll be fine, Subaru. Take care of yourself, alright?"
His throat tightened, but he nodded. Words didn't seem necessary.
He turned to join the knights' procession. Reinhard was already beside him, silent as always, his presence like a pillar of calm. Al, a few paces ahead, scratched his head with exaggerated confusion as he tried to locate his group. Subaru walked, but slower than the rest—he felt something. A tension in the air.
Voices began to rise in hushed tones among the younger knights gathered near the chamber's edge.
"Is that him? The commoner who dared to speak in front of the royal court?"
"What's he doing here anyway? Talking about 'inventions' like some court magician."
"And walking beside a royal candidate like he belongs? What a joke."
Subaru heard them all. His steps didn't falter, but his jaw clenched. He stared straight ahead, pushing down the simmering frustration. But before he could get lost in the sting of those words, a familiar voice spoke, soft and deliberate.
"Don't let it bother you. Change in this palace is slower than the rest of the world."
Subaru turned. Julius was walking beside him now. Their eyes met—an exchange absent of arrogance, free of condescension. Just honesty.
"Thanks," Subaru muttered, tension still in his shoulders.
"Your earlier speech," Julius continued, "was impressive. Those so-called 'inventions'... Most wouldn't even consider such things. It shows a different kind of courage. A different kind of vision. It seems you are... not the kind of man this court is used to."
Subaru smiled faintly. "I'm not trying to be a knight candidate. I just... want to help."
Julius paused mid-step, then gave a respectful nod. "Sometimes, the truest knights aren't those who carry swords... but those who carry responsibility."
The words echoed softly in Subaru's mind. They weren't grand. They weren't loud. But they stuck.
As they entered the hall for the knights, the whispers behind him still lingered. But they felt... smaller now. With Julius's presence, with Emilia's trust, with his own resolve rooted deeper than before—Subaru kept walking.
As Reinhard walked down the grand stone corridor alongside the other knights, his eyes scanned the surroundings with quiet vigilance. The towering arches overhead and the flickering torches lining the walls did little to ease the growing tension that had settled over the royal palace. With the royal selection now officially underway, every movement and glance carried weight. The grand ceremony had only just concluded, and already the candidates had been escorted into a separate, elaborately adorned hall to await further proceedings. Meanwhile, the knights had been instructed to gather in a different chamber, away from the political maneuvering and highborn deliberations.
Reinhard's posture remained upright and regal, the very embodiment of knightly poise, yet there was a sharp glint in his gaze—a reflection of the inner alertness that seldom rested. This selection wasn't just a matter of politics. For him, it felt deeply personal, a quiet reckoning veiled behind ceremony and pomp. His mind, usually a still pond, now stirred with the weight of unknown consequences.
He paused as he reached the designated door, standing at ease but listening. Then, distinct footsteps approached—measured, deliberate, echoing in a way that set them apart from the usual bustle. The rhythm of the steps spoke of someone new, someone unaccustomed to the palace's etiquette yet moving with their own sense of resolve.
Subaru Natsuki.
Reinhard had encountered the boy only a handful of times before, and yet today, he had become unforgettable. The events of the ceremony had cast a spotlight on Subaru, ensuring his name and image were etched into every observer's mind. His ideas were unconventional, his inventions unfamiliar, and his confidence—bordering on defiance—had caught many off guard. Some were intrigued, others unsettled. For Reinhard, however, it was something more. It was a mystery waiting to be unraveled.
When Subaru stepped into the room, his body language spoke volumes. His eyes skirted away from contact, shoulders slightly hunched, a tension just beneath the surface. Around them, a few knights glanced his way, muttering beneath their breaths, their expressions mixed with curiosity and skepticism. Reinhard said nothing, but stepped forward, the soft tap of his boots drawing Subaru's attention. He bowed slightly, his manner respectful but inviting.
"Natsuki Subaru, is that correct?"
Subaru looked up, his brow slightly furrowed in surprise. "Ah, yes. And you're... Reinhard van Astrea. The Red Knight, right?"
Reinhard gave a soft nod, lips curving into a gentle smile. "Your presentation today was impressive. The words you spoke did not merely appeal to Emilia-sama—they moved many of us. To create such resonance in so little time is no easy thing."
Subaru chuckled awkwardly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess... sometimes I just talk, and things come out. Honestly, I was more focused on showing off some of the tech I'd rigged up, but yeah... things kind of snowballed."
A scoffing voice echoed through his mind—Flugel's voice, dry and merciless: "Pff. You didn't do anything. They're impressed by smoke and mirrors."
Subaru exhaled silently, shaking the words away as Reinhard took another small step forward, his voice lowering but carrying a note of warmth.
"You know... I've harbored some doubts about you."
Subaru blinked, caught off guard. His smile thinned a little. "Doubts? What kind of doubts?"
Reinhard tilted his head slightly, eyes thoughtful. "Not many walk away from an encounter with the Bowel Hunter. Especially not after facing her alone. That fact alone… gave me pause."
The atmosphere shifted. Subaru's face lost its levity, the corners of his mouth tightening. His back straightened, almost involuntarily. "Yeah. That happened. But it wasn't planned. Just dumb luck, and maybe a bit of sheer stubbornness. Honestly, I wouldn't have made it without others stepping in."
Reinhard nodded slowly. "Stubbornness, when channeled to protect others, can be one of the greatest strengths a person has."
Their eyes met. It wasn't a clash or a challenge—it was an exchange, fleeting but sincere. Reinhard's gaze bore no hostility, only curiosity tempered by a warrior's intuition. Subaru, for all his wariness, felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders.
"It's natural to fear the unknown. Humans are wired that way. But what I saw in you today… answered a few of my own questions. Determination. Honesty. Courage. These aren't traits that should be dismissed lightly."
Subaru's lips parted slightly in surprise before curling into a more genuine smile. "I want to reach the level of trust people place in you. Half the time, I don't know what I'm doing. But I'm always trying. That's all I've got."
Reinhard smiled, a hint of pride in his eyes. "You may already be closer than you think. From what I see, you haven't just started one thing—you've started many."
The room fell silent again, but this silence was comfortable. A quiet pact seemed to form in the space between them—something understood, not spoken. For all the uncertainty ahead, this brief interaction laid the foundation for something meaningful. Perhaps even something lasting.
Their final glance at one another held no pretense. Subaru's inner storm had calmed, if only momentarily, soothed by the recognition he found in Reinhard's gaze. As for Reinhard, something about the boy compelled him—an urge to understand, to uncover the truths buried behind that deflecting smile and casual bravado.
Beyond the heavy doors, murmurs of politics and suspicion stirred. But within this room, respect had quietly taken root—unshaken, unspoken, undeniable.
As the conversation between Subaru and Reinhard lingered, the rhythmic sound of approaching footsteps echoed from the far end of the chamber. Several figures entered, their presence shifting the room's energy.
First came Julius Juukulius, his stride poised and dignified. Behind him danced Felix Argyle, tail swishing in a lively rhythm, his aura as bright as ever. Trailing the two with quiet gravity was Aldebaran—tall, broad, and unyielding, with his helmet still fixed in place.
Julius offered a courteous nod. "Reinhard. It's been a while. And you must be Natsuki Subaru. I heard your presentation. To be honest, it was far from ordinary."
Subaru returned a slightly awkward smile. "Ah, well... thank you, I guess. Still not quite used to speaking in front of so many people."
Felix glided over and gave a playful wink. "Nyaa~ don't be so modest, Subaru-kyun. Catching that much attention takes more than just luck."
Aldebaran merely gave a firm nod. "Let's call it like it is. That presentation hit hard. Maybe ruffled some feathers, but I respect a man who speaks his mind, brother."
Soon, the group naturally formed a small circle. Conversations unfolded about knighthood, duty, and loyalty. Subaru mostly listened. Their convictions, their reasons for standing beside their respective candidates, differed vastly from his own—and yet, something connected them.
Julius took the floor, voice steady. "I serve Anastasia-sama, a candidate I believe possesses the foresight this nation desperately needs. To me, knighthood means safeguarding that vision. As a Juukulius, I uphold discipline and honor. My sword and my words are instruments of that legacy."
Reinhard nodded solemnly. "To me, being a knight is about doing what's right. I follow Felt-sama not because of lineage or expectation, but because she carries justice in her heart. I inherited my duty from my father, and as the wielder of the Divine Blade, I must embody hope for the people. This sword isn't merely a weapon—it's a symbol of responsibility."
Aldebaran leaned against the wall, arms folded. "My reasons... they're messier. But I know this: when you give someone your word, you keep it. That's what I'm trying to live by. I owe a debt to the one I serve. Can't undo every mistake I made in life, but I can try to do the right thing now."
Felix tilted his head, smiling gently. "I'm here for Crush-sama. Her grace, her brilliance~ stole my heart. Protecting her is both my duty and my delight. But knighthood isn't just about blades and battles. Sometimes, it's about bringing a smile, or healing a wound. Everything I am, I owe to her. True knighthood is loyalty, woven with love."
Then, all eyes turned to Subaru. He hesitated for a beat, then smiled.
"I'm not a knight. Probably never will be. But I want to protect Emilia. I chose to stand beside her because I believe in her. As long as I can help, as long as I can make even a small difference—I'll keep trying. That's why I'm here. I want to belong. I want to matter. And maybe, help others along the way."
For a moment, silence took hold of the room. Not awkward. Not cold. But heavy with quiet acknowledgment—a recognition of truth, raw and sincere. And in that stillness, the bonds between knights—and one determined outsider—grew a little stronger.
Felix narrowed his eyes with a feline glint, his smile playful and teasing. Then, in a motion as casual as it was mischievous, he leaned against Subaru's arm, his voice dipping into a melodic purr. "You're way too sincere, Subaru-kyun~ Makes me want to just whisk you away and bring you home with me!"
Subaru's eyes widened in surprise, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. "Wait—what?"
Felix giggled softly and waved a hand. "Kidding, kidding. Well, mostly." He tilted his head, tone softening. "But on a more serious note, Crush-sama would love to host both you and Emilia-sama at our estate. She's curious about the both of you. Your speech earlier definitely stirred some interest—not all of it political, either."
He gave Subaru a knowing smile. "You see, in this world, navigating relationships and perceptions can sometimes be more treacherous than the battlefield. And you, Subaru-kyun, happen to be right in the middle of all that."
Subaru let out a long sigh, brushing a hand through his hair. His lips curled into a lopsided grin. "So it's not just politics, but social chess too, huh? That's going to be exhausting."
"That's politics for you," Reinhard added, his tone light but firm. "The sword isn't the only thing you need to wield. A smile, an honest word—sometimes those cut deeper than any blade. And trust me, Subaru, in the halls of power, even sincerity can be a weapon."
The room had warmed with camaraderie, the knights and companions forming a temporary sanctuary from the heavy burden of the royal selection. In that moment, surrounded by people who all carried their own burdens and beliefs, Subaru felt the weight of his presence in this world deepen. The more he opened himself to these bonds, the clearer it became—trust was the currency, and it could both save and destroy.
Felix's long ears twitched slightly as he glanced toward Subaru again. "So? Subaru-kyun, got any idea when you'd be able to stop by for that visit? I'll make sure Crush-sama prepares the good tea."
Subaru scratched at the back of his neck, eyes looking toward the ceiling as he did the mental math. "Tomorrow's full—I've got a meeting with Anastasia-sama. She reached out right after the speech and locked me in before I could blink."
At that, Julius—who had been silently listening nearby—gave a faint nod of approval. There was a spark of quiet pride in his expression.
"But," Subaru continued, returning his attention to Felix, "we should be free two or three days from now. If you can pass that along to Crush-sama, I'd appreciate it, Ferris."
Felix gave an exaggerated bow and winked. "Understood, nyan~ Consider it done!"
The atmosphere turned lighter as the group continued to chat. From trivial palace rumors to who had overcooked the roast in today's lunch, the conversation was both refreshing and oddly comforting. For a brief while, the grand machinations of politics faded into the background.
Eventually, one by one, the knights began to peel away, off to attend their respective duties. As the room thinned, Reinhard stepped closer to Subaru with a thoughtful look in his eyes.
"Subaru, if you're not pressed for time, would you mind if we had a word in private?"
Subaru blinked, caught off guard but not unsettled. "Uh... sure. Beako and Roswaal went back to the manor with the twins, so I'm not expected right away. Would it be okay if Mili tagged along too, though?"
Reinhard considered this with a nod. "Of course. In that case, I'll bring Felt-sama as well. She shouldn't be left unattended too long, anyway." His tone was that of an exasperated older sibling—or perhaps a caretaker of a particularly unpredictable firework.
That image made Subaru snort, failing to hold back a chuckle. "Pff—alright, it's a deal, Red."
Reinhard blinked. "Subaru, are you alright? Also... did you just call me Red?"
Subaru straightened up, still grinning. "Yeah, I like giving my friends nicknames. Hope you don't mind."
A pause—and then Reinhard gave a rare, genuine smile. "Not at all. I'm glad you consider me a friend."
"Then don't worry about it, Red," Subaru replied, eyes gleaming with mischief and something far more earnest beneath the surface.
For all the chaos still to come, in that fleeting space between duty and uncertainty, a connection had been forged—quiet, warm, and real.
(A/N: Okay, it's time to make an announcement.
First of all, I know you're tired of all the politics, so everything will change starting from the next chapter.
I will continue with the second volume in chapter 20.
To be honest, there are currently five chapters written, but the translation process is taking a long time, and I have my university entrance exam in 20 days.
I ask for your patience (and also Powerstone).
Once I have the time, you can be sure that a new chapter will come.
Additionally, after the exam, I will post chapters regularly.
GIVE POWERSTONE FOR MORE CHAPTERS)