A bombshell of a statement was tossed into the tense hall.

With words akin to playing with fire in a powder keg, everyone held their breath, waiting to see how the situation would unfold. At this point, it didn’t matter who had uttered such a blunder. What mattered was the chaos it could unleash.

All eyes were fixated on Priscilla in the center, as silence enveloped the room. Showered in awe-laden gazes, Priscilla glanced towards the source of the voice and declared,

“How dull and uninspired are these jeers! The baseless envy of the lowly who are jealous of me is so familiar it’s like a lullaby.”

She cut through the stagnation gripping the hall with a voice dripping with boredom from deep within her soul. There was not a shred of consideration for the anxiety surrounding her in her tone. It was clear to everyone that this arrogant speech reflected her true self.

Subaru couldn’t help but feel that Priscilla stood on a different dimension, defined not by her status but by her unrefined boldness, setting her apart from the others, including Crusch.

Given the surrounding reactions, it seemed the earlier comment had veered dangerously close to being an insult or a contemptuous remark.

“The ‘Crimson Bride’ is indeed an unsettling title, but before delving into the significance of such a name that would be denied,”

“Let me ask for your names, including your attendants,”

Microtoff’s experience was evident as he swiftly steered the conversation back to the topic at hand before the air could grow too hostile. Despite the evident age difference, he maintained an air of respect towards an opponent much younger than himself.

Despite sitting at the top of the nation, he seemed more inclined to care for those around him rather than asserting his dominance. This came across as somewhat pitiable.

Microtoff was likely aware of the reason for his amiable demeanor. Priscilla, without a hint of hesitation, nodded in agreement,

“Very well. It would be cruel to waste what little time is left for this old skeleton of mine. Be grateful to my generous heart.”

Adding an unnecessary quip, she puffed out her ample chest even more and proclaimed,

“Now, let it be known, forgetting my name until the bitter end of this life is unacceptable. My name is Priscilla—Priscilla. Ah, what was my name again?”

Having begun with flair, she suddenly stumbled like a forgetful old person.

Subaru was on the verge of interjecting but managed to hold back, respecting the serious atmosphere surrounding them. Nonetheless, it was undeniable that her comment lightened the mood.

She tilted her head a few times before looking up at Al standing nearby, jabbing him in the side,

“Hey, Al. I’m in a bind here; hurry up and help me!”

“Well, I certainly didn’t expect you to trip at the starting line either, so I’m surprised too. What do you think I can do about my own heart racing in anticipation of my introduction?”

“I don’t care for your racing heart. Prioritize my desires, got it?”

“What a self-centered proclamation! But, just to clarify, you aren’t expecting me to not mention the Barielle family name, right?”

“Oh, then…”

As Al offered a hesitant hand, he was firmly gripped in return, causing him to gaze up at his master’s unfortunate circumstances, looking skyward and facepalming. With the servant’s silent despair set aside, Priscilla turned back, flashing a defiant smile at the council of wise men.

“I am Priscilla Barielle, the future queen. Show your respect.”

This was a declaration so succinct it felt like the ultimate self-promotion.

For Subaru, it hardly sounded like the speech of someone genuinely aspiring to be a queen.

Moreover, unlike Crusch, she seemed completely satisfied with this single statement, as if it alone communicated everything needed.

Just as Subaru started to worry that there was no way the conversation could end here, Microtoff interjected,

“Barielle… as in, Lord Lipe Barielle?”

It was Microtoff who voiced the question, contemplating the absence of Lipe with a touch of sorrow.

“Ah, that lecherous old man? He was severely injured in an unfortunate accident six months ago and recently passed away without regaining consciousness.”

“Is that so, Lord Lipe? Hmm. In that case, what was Lord Lipe’s relationship with Lady Priscilla?”

Microtoff frowned sympathetically for the deceased as he posed his question, to which Priscilla snorted in disdain.

“To me, he was a late husband. Given that we didn’t even touch fingers, it can be said we had a truly superficial relationship.”

Silence fell upon the hall once again. With a high-pitched ringing in his ears, Subaru replayed Priscilla’s words.

In other words, she had just nonchalantly discarded the topic of her partner’s death.

“Lady, isn’t that way too callous?”

Perhaps feeling the need to console her given the grim reactions around him, Al discreetly whispered to Priscilla. However, she swiftly brushed aside his concern with a wave.

“Why should I sugarcoat the truth? That old man proposed to me and ignited ambitions far beyond his means before getting caught in an unrelated accident, burning out before he could escalate his petty strife. If that’s not laughable, what is? It’s hardly a tale worth telling since it’s so utterly worthless.”

Rather than merely striking down her late husband with a swift blow, her words were like a blade, relentlessly hacking away at the memory of someone she had never even met.

Given that Microtoff seemed to share a connection with the derezzed individual, his expression showed sympathy for the apparently butchered old man.

Noting the change in Microtoff’s demeanor, Priscilla insisted on continuing with her orange locks tossed aside.

“The only significance that old man ever had was passing down everything he hoarded to me. Since we were married and without an heir… you see, the Barielle family belongs to me now.”

She reached her extravagant conclusion, eyeing those around her in search of complaints.

Feeling the sentiment of dissatisfaction rise yet finding no one willing to voice it, all eyes turned to Rickert, who had openly opposed Crusch, but even he remained silent, his face laden with discontent.

It appeared her outrageous behavior might just be overlooked.

Then,

“Hmm, I understand your story. While I was somewhat shocked by the news of Lord Lipe’s passing, your claims are quite valid. Indeed, it is clear that you are the head of the Barielle family,”

Microtoff stated, nodding calmly.

“Naturally,” she replied, puffing out her chest even further.

“I would like to hear more details, but what of that knight over there?”

With a composed expression, Microtoff now turned to Al, standing silently beside Priscilla, as if shifting focus midway through.

“Oh, um… me?”

Al answered with a voice that seemed to barely suppress a yawn, thus proving he was a perfect representation of their laid-back demeanor.

The two of them, competing to see how casually they could regard the situation, further contributed to the already peculiar atmosphere in the room. Among the other candidates, the fact that they knew each other made Subaru’s heart race even more.

“Yes, you. Quite an unusual getup you have there, but I don’t recognize that face from the royal guard… Is that a helmet?”

“Hey, you can tell? This helmet is from the Volakia Empire down south, and it was a real hassle bringing it along. It’s tough and durable, and it looks pretty cool too, so I keep wearing it.”

“From the Volakia Empire then… So, you’re not part of the royal guard?”

“I’m not a knight or anything fancy like that; I’m more like a wandering mercenary, you know?”

Al casually introduced himself while gesturing to his one-armed self, his muffled voice betraying the boldness of his identity. The clang of the helmet created a tense atmosphere, inciting ire from the royal guard.

“How rude! Do you even realize where you are?!”

“Demanding proper conduct from a savage like you is pushing it, but there’s no way we can overlook your current behavior.”

“To think you would appear without hiding your face before the council of wise men. And wearing an imperial helmet? How utterly disrespectful!”

“Hey, hey, don’t get all riled up. My fragile heart can’t take this kind of pressure!”

In the face of the knights’ fury, Al maintained an air of nonchalance.

However, as he traced the surface of his helmet with his fingers, he added,

“Well, I don’t think you’re totally off-base. It’s understandable to think someone covering their face in front of important people might be suspicious.”

“Should you be acting like a suspicious individual, you wouldn’t have eluded my gaze, Al.”

“That’s unnerving to hear. But still, I’d appreciate your leniency over the fact that I’m hiding my face. After all—”

Looking up at the council of wise men, Al slipped a finger under the gap in his helmet, lifting it just enough for everyone to see the hidden part of his face.

As his chin and lower face were revealed to the air—

“U—”

A soft groan echoed through the hall at the sight of Al’s ghastly facial scars.

With a model-like spin, Al showcased his face, inevitably stealing the attention from the knights, bringing their tensions to a lowering halt.

Of course, who wouldn’t?

Even if you only saw the visible part of his face, there were burn marks, cuts, and multiple scars—a tapestry of battle etched upon his features. Though Subaru also bore visible scars upon his skin, Al’s were magnitudes more formidable.

Seeing the crowd’s reaction fall in line with expectations, Al, having replaced his helmet, chuckled.

“So, that’s what it’s like, right? My ugly mug is why I have to hide my face like this. I hope you’ll understand.”

“My apologies for my subordinate’s conduct.”

As Al casually diffused the tension, Marcos bowed in apology. Then he hardened his expression.

“I apologize again, but may I ask about your scars? Are you perhaps a veteran of the gladiatorial pits?”

“Well, well, the head of the knights knows his stuff. You’ve heard tales of that shady empire, haven’t you? Yes, indeed, I’ve been a gladiator. A veteran for over a decade.”

A murmur rippled across the assembly, with knights whispering the word “gladiator” among themselves.

While they may not know it as a verb, from the context, it would suggest “slaves who wield swords.” Which implies you had a role in

“Participating in a display of combat, I take it?”

“That’s right, bro. So, you see, I hope you’ll accept my armament and the story behind my scars. Oh, I forgot to introduce myself.”

As Subaru muttered, Al pointed to himself first, then lightly tapped his helmet, declaring,

“Having cut my ties with Volakia, I’m just a wandering vagabond now—call me Al. I’m currently serving under the lady of the house, doing my best.”

Still grinning stupidly, Al turned that same goofy smile towards Marcos.

Unfazed by the accusations previously directed at him, both he and his master seemed oblivious to the pressures surrounding them. Meanwhile, it was the knights who had earlier scolded Al that began to lose their voices, rendered speechless by the overwhelming scars Al bore.

Considering the loss of an arm, it became evident that he hadn’t walked an easy path.

And for Subaru—

“Seriously!?—”

This revelation hit Subaru with force, shaking his understanding to its core.

Up until now, Subaru had been consciously avoiding directly referencing Al’s appearance. He aimed to respect the harshness of losing a limb while subconsciously rejecting the reality that he might someday face such circumstances himself.

If Al had summoned the same fate as Subaru in their world, then what befell him was not merely Al’s problem but a looming threat Subaru had to confront.

To have lost an arm, and with such horrible scars on a face unfit for seeing—having already accumulated countless gashes upon his skin, Al stood as a solid representation of what could one day come to be for Subaru.

A chilling sensation crawled down Subaru’s spine.

While he dealt with his own reflection on mortality, the meeting regarding the royal selection continued onward.

“Hmm. Given you’re from the Volakia Empire, what ties do you have with Lady Priscilla? That nation is a world apart, not just in terms of information but in people and goods.”

“If you look for side roads or back alleys, those exist everywhere. Timing is everything; I managed to slip out of the Empire at the right moment. And the reason I’m here with Lady Priscilla is…”

“Nothing more than to entertain me.”

Priscilla, who had been silent until now, finally decided to chime in, seeming unable to tolerate her wait any longer. Cutting in to answer Microtoff’s question, she fiddled with the assorted adornments on her fingers and continued,

“My rise to royalty is a divine ordination. So, in essence, it hardly matters who serves me. Hence, I chose my attendant based on my preferences, and that’s how I ended up with that man over there.”

“I see, I understand. Then what are the criteria upon which you made your selection?”

Rather than sitting back and disputing, it seemed better for Microtoff to serve her pride while nudging her to continue.

Seemingly pleased, she puffed up her chest, exhaled on her nails, and commented flatly,

“Oh, it’s simply a matter of gathering talented individuals and testing them in my domain with my conditions for adding servants. It turned out to be an enjoyable spectacle.”

Responding to Microtoff, she shot a meaningful glance at Al.

If her words were to be believed, it meant Al somehow caught her fancy. The mystery of Al’s skill only deepened, leaving Subaru’s imagination running wild.

Microtoff, along with the council of wise men, nodded in agreement.

“In other words, it sounds like he was the victor of that competition…”

“Nope, didn’t win it.”

But then came an unexpected contradiction from Al as the old men’s surprise painted their faces.

Al observed the shocked elders with amusement, shaking his shoulders,

“A one-handed guy ain’t winning against a bunch of show-offs! I just managed to scrape into the top four through sheer luck.”

“Then why did Lady Priscilla choose him as her attendant…?”

“I told you, I picked someone I liked.”

Priscilla raised her chin, slapping Al solidly on the back. The cracking sound echoed, eliciting a pained ‘ah!’ from Al.

“To begin with, they gathered out of sheer overconfidence, unquestionably hailed as the strongest of the bunch—despite being somewhat unusual, nobody could pretend otherwise. Most importantly, it was only him who stayed in the Volakia Empire and boasted he was from beyond the ‘Great Waterfall’!”

With a smile deepening and her red eyes twinkling with delight, Priscilla’s voice rose, quickening, as she stamped her feet to command attention.

“Thus, I chose Al as my attendant. For it is both my delight and destiny that led to his choice, just as it guarantees my ascent to royalty.”

Priscilla brazenly declared that the universe had conspired to bless her.

There was no hesitation or even doubt in her proclamation—only an overwhelming confidence chilling everyone to their core.

Discounting the utter absurdity of her declaration, her determination to claim dominion reflected the charisma found only in those destined to subjugate others.

It was unfortunate that while she possessed such qualities, her lack of substance ultimately rendered them meaningless.

“Hmm, I understand your relationship now. However, this raises a question: how did people learn of your status as the Dragon’s Priestess? If it wasn’t the knight’s discovery…?”

In contrast to the speechless individuals surrounding her, Microtoff’s composure shone through as he accepted her comments and addressed the next question—truly, he was clever enough to see the merit in the inquiry.

As proceedings unfolded for each faction, it appeared that identifying candidates was contingent upon knights from the royal guard acquiring suitable candidates identified from among the aristocracy.

Crusch had Ferris, Felt had Reinhardt, and it seemed likely that Anastasia and Julius had similar setups.

So then naturally, it emerged that in Priscilla’s case—

“What of Emilia-tan…?”

Surely, Roswaal acted as her recommender, lending support to her as a patron. However, there had yet to be any knights identified in the royal capital thus far.

Subaru felt a wave of relief wash over him at the absence of whoever might have reached out to aid Emilia, despite her clearly isolated demeanor from the current atmosphere.

It dawned on Subaru just how he knew nothing of Emilia’s motivations for entering the royal selection.

Just what goals brought her here? What reasons led her to aim for the throne?

It was a revelation that struck him late, too late to dismiss the simple truth.

“Esteemed council, my lord’s inquiries have been verified by the knights’ order,”

Stepping forward in response to Microtoff was Marcos. He slightly furrowed his brow amidst his serious demeanor.

“Actually, it was the late Lord Lipe who quickly noticed the dragon stone’s inscriptions soon after the deaths of the previous king and his kin, hastening the acquisition of candidates. Originally, Lord Lipe was responsible for overseeing the dragon stone, and there are reports that a delay occurred before the contents of the inscription could be reported.”

Struggling to deliver the potentially embarrassing details about the deceased, Marcos confirmed a sudden revelation for the elderly man, who rubbed his long brows with veiled resignation.

“I see, he certainly was an ambitious man. It’s no surprise he would put effort into seeking a Dragon Priestess.”

As the future guardian of the next king—after all, since he had taken Priscilla as his wife—he must have wielded considerable political ambition.

Contemplating this, it revealed just how outrageous that old man’s designs were.

“However, even if he did find the Priestess, the very fact that she suffered misfortune makes it a tad ironic.”

“That old man was nothing more than a dullard by the end of his life. The last of his breath was wasted on stories like this. Truly, his life was infamously lacking!”

Without even a smirk, Priscilla scored a failing mark upon her late husband’s life. Marcos could only respond with a rueful smile to his friend’s cruel evaluation.

Nevertheless,

“Discussion about that usurper is irrelevant now. I stand alone. All other reasons are minor matters that need not merit further discussion. You all may honor me as your queen freely,”

Priscilla declared confidently, affirming what she had repeated many times in such a short period.

Filtered through the tense crowd, no voice rose to challenge her arrogance; standing beside her was only her black-clad knight, whose gaze remained steady, firm against her audacity.

“Lady, what’s the return on such a choice? What shall you receive?”

“It’s straightforward. To align with me is to secure your victory,”

Priscilla laughed, took a breath, and stated,

“As the royal selection is about conflict, the ultimate goal is to win. Therefore, choosing me is the answer. Hence, your path lies in obedience to me.”

“Is it really that the heavens choose you…?”

“Naturally. This world only bestows upon me favorable circumstances.”

Thus, she concluded,

“I alone am fit to be king. No one else could shoulder that mantle. There remains nothing more to be said. You all ought to admire the radiance that stands before you.”

As she tossed her orange hair whimsically into the air, Priscilla turned back with majesty, retreating in grandeur.

As she left, her black-clad knight stole one last scrutinizing glance at the assembly.

“Put simply, while the phrasing might be questionable, everything our lady claims holds the truth. If you align with Lady Priscilla, as long as it doesn’t conflict with her intention, you will undoubtedly be rewarded—heaven has chosen her, Priscilla.”

With a final statement, Al acknowledged the assembly.

His gaze swept through the hall, everyone present drawn in as he waved calmly with his lone arm,

“Well, how quickly you choose to ally with the lady is up to you. But in my view, it’s best not to wait too long to get on the winning horse.”

Both he and Priscilla emanated a confidence that seemed to dismiss any trace of humility they might have possessed.

As they returned to stand among the other candidates, the previously tense atmosphere relaxed just enough for everyone to let out a collective breath.

Subaru too found relief as he eased his nerves after the drawn-out moments of tension.

At least the speeches from the familiar candidates had reached a temporary conclusion—albeit, it wasn’t entirely appropriate. Nevertheless, it was a relief no wild chaos ever broke out.

“Why do I have to feel this anxious…?”

Subaru seethed as he glared at the backs of the returning duo. Suddenly, Priscilla turned back, locking eyes with him unexpectedly.

With their gazes entangled, she offered a meaningful smile before winking at him coyly. The act was excessive in its allure, sending Subaru into disarray, a man unexpectedly shaken.

As expected, a young noblewoman already bearing the weight of a wife, rather precisely now a widow.

Describing a wealthy young widow with her abundant curves, it felt like the very definition of fantasy clichés, filling the air with allusions.

“First a trap, then a dashing knight, now a wealthy widow—she covers quite the range.”

The only lamenting note, however, was that despite her widowhood, the reality of it seemed absent from her demeanor.

To seek more from a person who had merely lost a legal spouse felt like an unreasonable ask.

“———Oh.”

Just then, while he indulged in his frivolous thoughts, his gaze followed Emilia as she caught a glimpse of Priscilla’s stare, her eyes widening in surprise upon spotting Subaru.

Her gaze momentarily met his before she shyly averted her eyes, as if betrayed by the encounter.

The shock jarring through him struck Subaru like a blow to the gut, and he stammered,

“I-it’s not what it looks like! This isn’t mental cheating?!”

Meanwhile, the royal selection continued to unfold smoothly.

“Next up, Lady Anastasia, and knight Julius Euclius! Step forward!”

“Yes indeed,”

“Time to shine!”

With a graceful response, the purple-haired girl stepped forward, and Julius raised a hand towards the heavens, dramatically waving the sleeve of his uniform.

The sharp crack resonated throughout the hall, forcing a change in the atmosphere, prompting Anastasia to smile graciously.

By her side, Julius stood without an ounce of agitation, both appearing more suited for the role of master and servant than anyone else present.

Thus, the duo who truly embodied the spirit of a master-servant pair was about to grace the stage.

With the next candidates stepping forward, Subaru braced himself, refocusing on the serious business ahead.