A girl clad in tattered, filthy clothes, with dulled golden hair and rough eyes. Though she had to walk with her head down due to her environment, she lived on with a spirit that surged in her red eyes.

That was the entirety of the impression Natsuki Subaru held of the girl named Felt.

Summoned by Reinhardt’s declaration, Felt walked quietly into the Throne Room with a maid in tow. As she stepped on the red carpet, she was careful to avoid dragging the hem of her light yellow dress on the ground, and her slender back was straight, presenting the demeanor of a noble young lady.

“She might shine if polished,” Subaru had previously remarked about her, but it seemed that this unrefined gem named Felt had been polished by the power of Reinhardt’s household, diverging regrettably from Subaru’s past evaluation.

Not just polished—she sparkled brilliantly, which was the reality.

Although still immature, her appearance was beautifully arranged.

As Subaru dumbstruckly stared with his mouth agape, she gracefully made her way to Reinhardt’s side. Once she positioned herself close enough, Reinhardt smiled and nodded at her refined demeanor.

“Thank you for coming, Lady Felt.”

“――Reinhardt.”

Reinhardt bowed respectfully. In response, Felt, being shorter, looked up, lifting her chin to call out to him.

Drawn by her cool voice, Reinhardt replied in a clear voice, “Yes.” Felt smiled gently at his demeanor.

Then—

“—You, you hid my clothes again, didn’t you?!”

As she lifted the hem of her dress, her surprisingly long legs made an arc, aimed directly at Reinhardt’s temple—yet, her kick was neatly caught in Reinhardt’s hand, who had effortlessly raised it.

Balancing on one foot, Felt spoke with exasperation as Reinhardt caught her leg.

“You surprised me. What are you suddenly doing?”

“Don’t just casually stop me and act like it’s nothing! My clothes! You hid them again, didn’t you? Thanks to you, I’m stuck wearing this annoying frilly dress!”

While balancing on one leg, Felt puffed her cheeks in dissatisfaction as she swayed the hem of the dress seemingly tailored just for her.

The fabric, previously immaculate, was now beginning to develop unseemly creases from being mishandled. As Reinhardt gently set Felt’s foot back on the ground, he said,

“You wear it quite well, so there’s no need to be embarrassed.”

“I’m not embarrassed, I told you I hate it! And it’s not just about the clothes, it’s you too! Don’t you think it’s embarrassing for a knight to abduct someone like this?!”

“If it’s for the prosperity of the kingdom.”

At Reinhardt’s unwavering declaration, Felt brought a hand to her forehead as though trying to stave off a headache. Then she seemed to notice that everyone from the hall had their eyes glued to her.

“What’s up with all of you? Stop staring. This isn’t a show, and if you think it is, you should at least throw some coins, considering you’re all rich!”

Felt, surrounded by the upper-class, displayed a blatant hostility, pouting in her dress that must have been quite fancy for the occasion.

Subaru, having been stunned until now, finally stirred as he heaved a sigh of relief at her disappointing yet familiar delinquent-like attitude.

“I thought you had completely changed, but it turns out it’s just your appearance! Phew, I’m glad. People don’t change that easily at their core, including me!”

Subaru felt satisfied as he self-righteously justified Felt’s behavior.

With that, others, who had been quietly watching the exchange between Felt and Reinhardt, began to react in kind.

“Using Reinhardt like that, she might actually be capable.”

Crusch observed, surprisingly impressed from a unique standpoint.

“Another tomboy, huh? Spare me, please.”

Anastasia shook her head, looking fed up.

“There’s no way I can be outshined by her. What could possibly give me an edge… public execution for intruders, perhaps?”

Priscilla began diving into an idea that couldn’t be ignored.

“That girl… that time…!? No wonder Reinhardt was so surprised…”

Emilia widened her eyes, arriving at some sort of conclusion.

Especially for Emilia, who wasn’t unfamiliar with Felt, her surprise was amplifying. They had been rivals over the emblem, and now it was turning into a competition for the throne.

As each person absorbed their first impact, Felt, feeling awkward from all of their attention, reacted—no, instead, with a bad attitude, she clicked her tongue and turned her face away.

Although their acquaintance had only lasted a short two weeks, she hadn’t seemed this twisted before; perhaps a lot had happened in those two weeks. While Subaru felt that he hadn’t been lacking in adventure, her rapid rise from a common street girl to a royal candidate was indeed remarkable.

As Subaru continued to ponder these thoughts, Felt’s gaze shifted and locked with his.

Suddenly, her brows drew together, and she closed her eyes as if searching her memory; within just a few seconds, it seemed she recalled something, her face brightened as she exclaimed,

“Hey! What are you doing here, big bro?!”

Roughly pushing against Reinhardt’s chest, she marched over to where Subaru was. Her luxurious dress was treated so roughly that the maids who must have meticulously coordinated it were covering their faces and turning away.

Leaving all those regrets behind, Subaru faced the approaching Felt with a grin. Honestly, he wanted to avoid crossing paths with her in the current atmosphere, but realizing that she must be feeling just as anxious with her lack of allies, he couldn’t brush her off.

“Yo, long time no see. You holding up alright?”

As he raised his hand in a cheery greeting, suddenly, a front kick slammed straight into his gut. The impact bent his body into an L-shape, dropping Subaru to his knees, coughing.

Confused by this sudden attack, Subaru groaned. Felt looked down at him, still holding her foot up.

“Seems like your stomach injuries are fine, huh? But it feels like your other wounds have increased a ton.”

“Yeah, if you’re aware, how about you show a little care? Why confirm with a full-strength hit… What if I suddenly had a tear in my stomach… Remember, I went through that around that time!”

Although his abdomen was neatly healed now, the pale scar from a clean cut remained, not to mention the various bite marks from beasts scattered across his body. The state he was in after two weeks of turmoil was quite remarkable. With countless cuts and scrapes, it went beyond the point of feeling ashamed of the scars on his back.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I had my troubles too, just like you.”

“That’d be a given. I never expected to bump into you here of all places. The emblem incident circles round and brings us to this bonanza!”

“You can’t just blurt that around; read the room!”

“Didn’t you have cuter ways to silence me? Your kicks are still fast as heck.”

Before he could cover his mouth, he got kicked again, this time lifting his chin up from below. Thankfully, it was softer than usual, and having experienced it enough, he managed not to bite his tongue. However, mentioning Felt’s past actions might turn out badly for Reinhardt too.

Yet, it was undeniable that Felt’s behavior had set quite a scene for her first appearance in high society.

“Lady Felt. While it’s lovely to reminisce, may I trouble you to come this way?”

Stepping in was Marcos, proceeding with the proceedings without succumbing to the atmosphere around them.

Felt appeared like she still wanted to argue against him, but Reinhardt, standing next to Marcos, politely bowed, causing her to yield reluctantly as she stepped forward.

“So, what do you want me to do?”

“While I’d suggest you conduct yourself as a lady, first, I’d like you to take this.”

With a light jab, Reinhardt indicated a dragon emblem he drew from his pocket.

For just a moment, Felt’s brows furrowed at the emblem’s shape, but upon seeing the precious gem start to shine in her palm, her stiff expression relaxed.

“It’s a strange stone. I’ve thought so since the first time I stole it. Why does it shine like that?”

“Stolen?”

“That’s because Lady Felt was recognized by the dragon as one worthy of carrying it.”

For having just reprimanded Subaru, Felt had inadvertently let something slip. Marcos seemed to notice her blunder, but it was quickly covered up by Reinhardt’s supportive comment.

Marcos briefly looked perplexed about his statement being diverted, but he soon shifted his focus to the reality before him.

Turning around, he addressed the wise committee members, who had been silently watching.

“Indeed, this dragon emblem has recognized Lady Felt as its priestess. With her participation approved, the true beginning of this Royal Selection is about to unfold.”

Placing his hands on the iron plate, Marcos bowed respectfully. Reinhardt followed suit, as did the entire knight order who had been investigating.

The report of mission completion from the knights ensured that five dragon priestesses—meaning future candidates for the queen of Lugnica—were gathered in that room.

“I see, so this is the day history shifts.”

Subaru found himself muttering deeply moved, realizing he had unintentionally become entangled in this monumental event. Sneaking into the royal castle on a day like today was definitely a foolish mistake for him. It was supposed to have cost him his life, perhaps.

Once again recognizing his unexplainable luck, Subaru became suddenly aware of the murmurs beginning in the Throne Room.

The source of this uproar was the officials gathered across from the saluting knights—particularly including Roswaal. Although Subaru couldn’t hear the details of the ruckus, the sentiment expressed was one of confusion, discontent, and clear disapproval.

“Excuse me, may I have a word?”

One of the middle-aged officials from the officials finally stepped forward.

With brown hair flowing down, looking to be in his forties, the man nervously stroked his well-groomed beard.

“Words fail me to commend the effort put forth by the Knights of the Royal Guard during this ceremony of Royal Selection. Without your strength, we surely could not have created circumstances in accordance with the predictions of the dragon’s prophecy in such a short time.”

“Your words are far too kind.”

The man praised the knight order with pretentious elegance, while Marcos humbly returned his gratitude.

However, the man shifted uncomfortably, looking away as he started, “But…”

“I don’t want to say this, but although we’ve followed the indications of the dragon’s prophecy, there’s some concern regarding the selection of candidates.”

“I’m sorry, what do you mean?”

“While we’re entranced by the qualifications required to be the dragon’s priestess, I worry no one has considered the most pressing qualification for wearing the crown of the kingdom itself.”

As the man’s bitter words landed sharply, Middle-aged answered back, realizing he was inept to articulate himself better. While he quickly fell silent, several in the bureaucratic crowd echoed in agreement with “Indeed.”

Seeing this moment of support briefly bolster his confidence, he cleared his throat and continued, “The alliance with dragons is of utmost importance. As the Parent Dragon Kingdom, Lugnica has coexisted with them; without friendship from them, the nation cannot flourish. However, to prioritize the dragons while undermining the people is pure folly.”

“Essentially, you’re saying this: our Knights of the Royal Guard have dedicated their very lives to searching for this dragon priestess, yet somehow have overlooked finding someone worthy of swearing loyalty to?”

“While some phrasing may not be precise, that would be the gist.”

Feeling a chill from Marcos’s succinct summary, the middle-aged man hesitated, the words tumbling as he struggled to put them together carefully.

Still, the frustration boiled among the order of knights, having worked hard to complete an essential mission—though their achievements were met with little appreciation.

Subaru could sense this uneasy feeling, feeling it easily from the knight’s side.

“This is getting fishy; the atmosphere is becoming unsettling…”

“Seems like they’re just throwing accusations at the knight order. I don’t care much about the situation, but what about you two?”

Hearing Subaru’s mutter, Al let out a muffled laugh and shifted the discussion to the other two members.

Julius and Felix turned their gazes towards them.

“Felt-chan doesn’t care, does she? After all, girl, no matter what that old man says, Felt-chan is already dedicated to one person!”

“I can’t say I entirely agree with Felix, but I share the same sentiment. We’ve already pledged our swords. They’ll eventually find themselves pledging their loyalty, too. I’m not one to criticize their wavering feelings before that happens.”

“Well said. That’s something I share with the princess too.”

Al spoke up, as if challenging them, and the two gently grinned in response.

Subaru felt a bit left out, a sensation of being set apart from them as they staked everything as knights—or mercenaries that wholly trusted their leader.

It felt as if he was taking a step back compared to them.

He shook his head, banishing the negative thoughts. He desperately wanted to help Emilia achieve her goals. His sentiments there should be no lesser than those of the three.

As Subaru felt an odd agitation, the smack talk in the hall began escalating.

Starting with the middle-aged man who voiced his discontent, the bureaucratic bodies spoke one after another.

“Being both a priestess and a king! The awareness of what it means to be a king seems to be lacking.”

“Even adorned in fine clothing, the essence of who they are shows in their demeanor.”

“Lack of dignity! They’ve received insufficient education! How can such a person be called a king?!”

“What’s wrong with that? I think it’d make for a colorful and delightful Royal Selection.”

“Be quiet!”

The familiar voice sounded as if it would cause the bureaucratic gathering to erupt, but Subaru ignored those disputes and watched Emilia and the others.

What they were particularly targeting and accusing was Felt’s earlier poor attitude, but it was clear others weren’t exempt. Indeed, Emilia’s profile seemed wrought with pain, standing under the burdens of this moment.

If someone shouted for them to shut up, perhaps it would lighten the mood, but recalling the downsides to that action, he hesitated to step in.

Therefore, it fell not to Subaru’s impetuousness, nor to the anger of the knights feeling sullied, nor the rationality of the bureaucratic group reflecting on their overly harsh words.

Merely a single phrase from an elder seated on the platform—“Quiet now,” began to settle things.

Grooming his long, long beard, Microtoff narrowed his closing eyes even further, looking down warmly at Felt.

There was silence for a moment, and then Microtoff let out a small sigh, adding,

“Knight Reinhardt.”

“Yes!”

Called by name, Reinhardt dashed up to the platform.

Kneeling before Microtoff, he drew his sword from his waist and placed it respectfully on the floor. Satisfied, the elder stroked his white beard as he seemed to draw on the tapestry of memory.

“Tell me, if you will, how did you come to find her?”

When asked about their encounter, Subaru felt a cold sweat trickle down his brow, even though he wasn’t involved in that situation. If they spoke about the truth, he would have to mention the theft that Felt committed.

But while Subaru worried, Reinhardt nodded thoughtfully and said,

“I discovered her thirteen days ago in the lower districts of the royal capital—aptly known as the Poor District. On that occasion, by chance, I had an opportunity to come into contact with the dragon’s blessing, and it became clear that she possessed the qualifications to be a priestess, which is why I brought her here.”

With a casual tone, Reinhardt glossed over elements that could be problematic.

Subaru, knowing the circumstances, found it easy to spot the holes in that narrative, yet it was not him who pointed out those shortcomings. Additionally, neither did the one who would challenge those points suit Subaru’s own grievances.

“A street urchin from the Poor District… are you out of your mind, Knight Reinhardt?!”

The middle-aged man, receiving some encouragement from the bureaucrats, sharpened his words.

With grand gestures, he pointed emphatically at Felt.

“It is unacceptable to welcome a street urchin to a ceremony where we’re to select the future leaders of Lugnica. What do you take the throne for?!”

“——”

“Silent when it is inconvenient, huh? To think this is the successor of the Holy Sword, the name of the Astrea family has been dragged into the mud.”

While still kneeling and offering a salute, Reinhardt absorbed the scorn directed at him. His tranquil profile exhibited no trace of negativity, while the middle-aged man, fueled by frustration, finally found himself at a loss for words.

“Microtoff, you really should reconsider your thoughts. Just by being chosen by the dragon does not mean the one is suitable for the throne. The crown should be bestowed only upon those who are deserving of it. It’s not enough to merely bring forth the emblem.”

“Lord Rickert, do keep your comments to yourself.”

Rickert, challenging the current authority of the nation, unwittingly sought to counter the powerful on the ground—the figure named Roswaal, who stood among the others.

With his hostile glare, Rickert directed his look at Roswaal, who raised his hands as if to soothe.

“Oh dear, how frightening. When looked at with such eyes, this timid one is aching.”

“Don’t you talk nonsense, Roswaal. I do not approve of your demeanor either. Not just me, but many within the palace as well have overlooked your actions due to the extraordinary situation, but if exceptions pile up like this, it becomes unacceptable. The Astrea family seeks to elevate a street urchin to the throne, as well as your folly in endorsing a half-demon as a candidate…”

“——Lord Rickert, you may wish to retract that last statement.”

A chilling voice seeped into the hall, turning Rickert’s once flushed face pale. The source of this shift was Roswaal, whose innocent smile belied the subtle apprehension conveyed through his concern.

“Calling a half-elf a half-demon is a vile custom, you know. And more so, Lady Emilia is still a candidate for the throne—do you comprehend who is truly out of line?”

“E-even so, I don’t think I’m mistaken. The qualifications of being a dragon priestess and being worthy of kingship are not synonymous. Microtoff!”

Rickert called, perspiring as he faced Microtoff in the midst of Roswaal’s calm intimidation.

“Please reconsider this matter. To haphazardly select a kingly candidate at this gathering is unwise. What significance is there in merely following the dragon’s prophecies in a shallow manner?”

“—Knight Reinhardt.”

Ignoring Rickert’s appeal for reconsideration, the sage called out Reinhardt’s name.

The knight replied promptly, turning his focused expression back to the podium.

Microtoff continued stroking his long beard, now turning it over as he seemed to probe into his thoughts.

“Do you believe that she is one?”

“I don’t hold certainty. The means to verify it have already been lost. However, I find it hard to call these associations to chance.”

“What then?”

“—I deem it fate.”

Reinhardt’s clear response evoked a profound response from Microtoff, who closed his eyes, lost in thought.

Subaru couldn’t grasp the exchanges between the two nor understand what they meant. He glanced around for signs from others; Al’s inscrutable expression mirrored that of Felix and Julius, who too appeared lost in the ambiance.

Only Reinhardt and Microtoff shared a mutual understanding.

Feeling a sense of urgency, Rickert stumbled forward with trembling lips.

“This is nonsensical wordplay! Knight Reinhardt, have you lost sight of what it means to be a true knight? You faint-heartedly bring in a street urchin, which fits you quite well.”

“To be entrapped by superficial things, neglecting what’s truly important is an indication of tunnel vision. Or perhaps it raises concerns about the loyalty you’ve pledged to the royal family.”

As Rickert attempted to unleash his fury against Reinhardt, he received a quiet but firm rebuttal, clearly the latter would not allow any softness.

Subaru gasped at the impromptu rebuttal, realizing that Rickert, supported by the bureaucrats, appeared almost resentfully dazed, parallel to his own internal realization.

Silence soon enveloped the hall as everyone tried to digest the exclamations, and Rickert slowly lifted his gaze, perhaps recovering a fraction of his pride in hopes to continue defending himself.

“What a peculiar situation we have here. You’re forcing me into familiar company, Microtoff. There’s no way I would ever expose my loyalty, or my vision!”

“Hmm. Then you should observe Lady Felt closely.”

Microtoff’s probing nature turned Rickert’s keen eyes to Felt.

The topic of discussion, distancing herself from the talk, appeared visibly discontent as she faced scrutiny. The other candidates who quietly watched mirrored the worsening situation, only Emilia, who appeared very much anxious, visibly demonstrated the pressure mounting on them.

Rickert lingered his gaze on Felt, rolling his eyes as he scanned her appearance from top to bottom.

“Do you notice anything in that regard… still so childish! There’s too much you must learn rather than sitting on the throne!”

Following Rickert’s direction towards Felt, his face began to tighten as if he sensed something.

He stiffened, eyes widened as he turned back to Microtoff.

“Golden hair and red eyes—!?”

“Indeed. A rare combination of hair and eye color. It entails significant meaning here in Lugnica.”

Rickert’s utterance of shock set off a ripple through the bureaucrats present as realization spread across the assembly. Only Subaru remained clueless without comprehension of this world’s norms.

Glancing sideways, he saw Felix’s and Julius’s faces twist in understanding; Al, as before, seemed inscrutable, but certainly not reacting with surprise.

Hence, Subaru assumed a posture of comprehension, feigning understanding to avoid feeling left behind.

However, the confusion was immediately addressed with Rickert’s further elaboration.

“Indeed, you would notice nothing while watching… Yet, from the very start, she’s too immature. There should be far too much she needs to learn before even dreaming of taking the throne.”

As he eagerly attempted to pick out where she ought to improve, Rickert suddenly stiffened at something.

Eyes widened, he pointed at Felt.

“A-and this girl! Her golden hair and red eyes—!!?”

“Hmm. Precisely. That’s a rare combination with enormous implications here in Lugnica.”

As Rickert blurted out the cause for his unease, the weight of that revelation reverberated through his colleagues. Subaru, who remained utterly oblivious, only felt the atmosphere shift uneasily.

Casting a glance alongside, he noticed that Felix and Julius displayed matching expressions of awareness; though Al maintained his signature inscrutability, lacking any visible shock.

Thus, Subaru settled for looking like one who understood while really being left behind.

Just then, the required explanation for such confusion came forth from Rickert, who seemed eager to share his newfound realization among the group.

“Those golden hair and scarlet eyes—They signify bloodline traits that appear within the royal lineage of Lugnica! But—! Such an absurdity is unfathomable! I’ve heard how the royal family members disappeared six months ago! There hasn’t been any space for anyone to interfere!”

“—Do you recall the incident in the palace fourteen years ago, Lord Rickert?”

Before Rickert could express his disbelief, Reinhardt quietly interrupted.

Then, with the revelation Reinhardt laid out, Rickert’s expression grew tense, hesitation curling his voice into disbelief.

“No way, you mean to tell me…”

“Fourteen years ago, bandits infiltrated the castle, and the previous king’s brother—Lord Ford’s daughter was abducted. Those very bandits were allowed to escape, and the whereabouts of the princess remain unknown.”

“Hmm. That event ended up becoming the dismantling and eventual rebirth of the previous Royal Guard. I thought your family was not free from its influence either…”

“You know of details that one should not be privy to. If you can piece this together…”

Without a hint of misunderstanding between them, Rickert had already lost his grasp on the situation, turning phreneticly again.

“A radical, or rather absurd theory! For the daughter of the royal family who has been missing for years to be residing in the streets of the Poor District, and to be fortuitously discovered by you? Moreover, that she holds the qualifications of a dragon priestess?!”

Tumbling over the unimaginable sequence of facts, Rickert began to laugh derisively.

“That’s hilarious! What a far-fetched tale! It would be far more feasible to say you painted her hair and altered her eye colors with magic! Surely, you wouldn’t have dared take such a dangerous step?”

“On my sword, I pledge.”

With a tone curling back to determine how serious Rickert’s claims were, Reinhardt stood as if to bet everything in this moment, gently exposing the sword that lay at his feet.

The flat tone of determination ricocheted off the walls, adding weight to the moment.

Even Rickert, caught up in disbelief, raised a hand to his disheveled head while others revved the controversial discussions into chaos around.

Subaru felt a sense of awkward satisfaction seeing it unfold, even if he himself wasn’t wholly aware of it all.

A tenuous quiet drifted through, though it crystallized around Rickert snapping back, struggling against the impossible.

“This is utterly absurd! The royal family is long gone, and methods for verifying bloodlines no longer exist. Don’t expect everyone to pledge their loyalty on fallacies!”

“That is only logical. Yet I firmly believe Lady Felt is the rightful heir to the throne. Even without consideration of her blood, she is.”

“The legendary Sword Saint is heavily invested, indeed.”

Rickert took a weary sigh at Reinhardt’s approach, focusing once again on Felt, who had managed to stay quiet until now.

“The bearing of the priestess can be one thing, but being from a Poor District—And potentially belonging to a bloodline long thought lost. The trials you will face are beyond imagination. Are you prepared for that?”

It was a slight provocation, but one made with purpose—a test of her resolve based on everything that had been said up till now.

And sometimes, people have to choose the most laborious of paths despite clearly acknowledging one another’s circumstances.

Watching it unfold, Subaru was finally relieved—surely, this ridiculousness would come to an end now.

“Ha?! What are you on about, old man? I never said I wanted to be a king! Just stop deciding for me!”

Felt completely disregarded the prior lines of discourse, strongly voicing her refusal.

A wave of shock rippled through the hall—a flurry of expressions danced across Rickert’s face as well as everyone else’s.

“Stop dragging me from the Poor District over here! Even if I tell you to let me go, you still won’t return me! You just keep bringing me these annoying frills! This is beyond frustrating—I’m not even satisfied with this!”

After the uproarious venting, she seemed to glare as she pointed a finger at Reinhardt.

The tall, red-haired youth looked exasperated while managing a faint smile.

“Lady Felt, you really shouldn’t say such things…”

“From my perspective, it’s your stubbornness that doesn’t add up! Look, I just don’t want this!”

“—This back-and-forth is frankly excruciating.”

Feeling the push and pull between them continued, suddenly a girl, who had mainly kept quiet up until now—the noble Priscilla, hardened her voice from within her crossed arms.

She quaked her ample bosom as she turned her gaze toward them.

“Even if you only bring together five necessary shapes to start, once it starts, those unworthy will be naturally excluded. It won’t matter in the end, for I will be the last standing.”

“Ah?”

Felt responded heatedly to Priscilla’s disdainful comment, narrowing her stance as she found herself looking up.

“I figured you were an oddity, all dressed up and fussy, but are you throwing the gauntlet in a dress that’s difficult to move in? I’m known for kicking up a storm very quickly!”

“Mind your attitude. Do you know who I am?”

“Hah, no clue…”

Felt’s threat held a schoolyard bully’s edge, and Priscilla tossed back her own brash words.

Felt tried to draw back her expression, but instead, alarm and confusion flashed across her features as her hand lifted toward her golden hair. “What is that?”

As Felt’s poise began unraveling,， beside the stunned Subaru, Al suddenly shouted.

In an instant, Al caught on that the cause of Felt’s reaction was tied to the very person whom he’d entrusted his higher hopes and loyalties to.

And sparked by Al’s shout, movement erupted throughout the hall.

Reinhardt swept towards Felt, gracefully catching her as she seemed about to collapse. Al stepped in, wedging himself between them while Priscilla loomed across.

In such a confined space, the factions of Felt and Priscilla gathered, yet all around, the tension spread and shifted.

Crusch lightly crouched, hand resting on her hips, adopting a stance that mimicked drawing a non-existent sword. And Marcos, the commander of the knights nearby, stood with his palm out to control Crusch’s movements.

On the fringes, Anastasia sheltered herself from the chaos, humorously exclaiming “give me a break” while withdrawing from the general fray, clearly lacking combat skill.

As Subaru surveyed each player amid the budding conflict, he finally honed in on his main focus—Emilia.

Simultaneously with Al’s alarmed shout, she had also acted, reaching out into the void as a soft glow formed in her hand.

“Excessive use of Light Magic—what’s going on!?”

Emilia enveloped the swaying Felt in a gentle light, transmitting waves of healing energy.

Displaying anger toward Priscilla, who bore an utterly unapologetic streak, Emilia snapped as she observed the rich lady waving her hand dismissively, heavily feigning a casualness.

“I only shared a bit of the blessing I was born with. If this invokes such a reaction, it simply proves her worth is insufficient for that position.”

“Aren’t you supposed to apologize when you do something wrong? You need to get punished once in a while to learn, right?”

With Emilia slowly regaining composure in her response, Priscilla made a remarkably stunned expression before her laughter broke free.

“Oh! This is delightful! That was unexpectedly enjoyable; I might even compliment you.”

“You’re so endlessly unpleasant. What do you—”

“If it’s wrongdoings that deserve an apology, your case shouts for something like, ‘Sorry for being born!’ — would you care to try, silver-haired half-elf?”

A shockwave of realization coursed through Emilia, abruptly striking her.

Subaru could nearly visualize the physical impact as her shoulders trembled. The previously unyielding demeanor she bore melted, and her eyes widened painfully as she stammered.

“I… Haven’t any connection to the Witch…”

“What good is that excuse? What meaning or significance does that hold? You’re merely a reflection of the taboo of this world, the embodiment of fear itself among the people! That’s why you cling to these flimsy pieces of fabric!”

Priscilla’s biting remarks piled one after another, leaving Emilia’s complexion pale as she fought to shake her head, having grown increasingly panicked.

Indeed, the implications of their dialogue were rich with nuance, yet Subaru’s understanding was limited due to the depths involved.

What he could decipher was that Emilia was being unjustly wounded through their words, and that alone was reason enough for Natsuki Subaru to act.

“Hey, princess, how about you wrap this up? I really don’t want this situation to explode any more than it has!”

Al interjected, his voice wavering as he positioned himself in front of the rampaging Priscilla, resigning before her noble fury.

“Particularly not if that means confronting the Sword Saint, that’d be a massive hassle. Let’s just apologize and move on, shall we?”

“Don’t you dare. I have the right mindset; being the strongest in this country is just a trivial matter!”

He raised his arms in a white flag signal, deliberately showcasing his unwillingness to join the fray against powerful foes.

Priscilla appeared disdainfully displeased with Al’s composure, and both Reinhardt and Emilia stared wide-eyed at the scene unfolding.

Yet it remarkably prevented the atmosphere from igniting into further pandemonium right there.

As dramatic tension thinned, so too was the need for decisive action, yet the situation signaling a steep decline could temporarily hold with a turn.

Just as everyone scrambled to devise a way to cut through the mounting tension—there echoed a sound, crisp and keen.

“—Is everyone quite finished?”

The resonance of the coin dropping into the ceramic bowl pulled attention to the elderly Microtoff.

Without rising from his seat, he surveyed the congregation, before meeting Felt’s gaze amidst her recovery from Emilia’s light.

“Lady Felt, are you alright?”

“Eh… I’m managing. Damn, if I had my knife, today would really suck.”

Unpleasantly responsive to Microtoff’s concern, Felt continued her preceding contempt toward Priscilla. Even this cynical retort hinted at her displeasure.

With that nature of bantering flowing forth, Reinhardt looked appreciatively at Emilia, who accepted with a nod despite her still dubious health. Crusch relaxed her combat stance, while the knight commander, Marcos took a breath of relief, finally unclenching his fists.

Only Priscilla remained appallingly disinterested, without a trace of remorse in her expression, leaving users feeling miffed.

Yet the tension had reached its paroxysm; the situation had for the moment, come to rest.

With everything observed, Microtoff returned to the matters at hand.

“Now then, onto the main issue at hand—concerning the Royal Selection, I’d like to propose the gathering of candidates and the Wise Council here.”