—Watching from a distance the servants working at Barielle Manor, Frederica found herself unable to calm a persistent unease.
"Accompanying Master and being treated as a guest is nothing unusual, but... in this house as it is now, things are a little different."
As Frederica murmured this, her emerald eyes took in the bustle of the manor. They looked brisk and well-disciplined, a staff of capable hands. Even after being told the grim news Frederica and the others had brought back, they did not fall into dysfunction—that alone commands respect.
"It seems Lady Priscilla was truly beloved."
The dire news conveyed to the servants—that the mistress of the house, their employer, Priscilla Barielle, had lost her life in the Vollachia Empire.
"——"
Lowering her eyes slightly, Frederica sighed as she looked down from the balcony over the gardens and the manor. Given her position, she too knew the feeling of having those she served—Roswaal, Emilia, and others—leave the mansion with her left behind, with nothing to do but pray for their safe return. If she were to learn that those prayers had gone unanswered, what a blow would strike her heart? In fact, many of the servants grieved, and not a few shed tears. That none of them chose to leave the manor upon hearing the news also spoke to their bond with Priscilla. Yet there was not only the fact that Priscilla was beloved—
"—It was Sir Schult's resolute composure that struck me to the core."
What moved Frederica so deeply was the conduct of the young retainer who had accompanied Priscilla to the Empire, taken on the duty of conveying her death and her will, and fulfilled it admirably. Frail and seemingly as unreliable as a small animal, Schult nevertheless did not leave the thankless role to Roswaal or Frederica; with his own mouth, in his own words, he carried out the heavy task. It is beyond doubt that the servants' decision not to leave the manor and to remain at their posts owed much to their affection for Priscilla and to their trust in Schult. As an outsider, even Frederica could not keep the heat from the corners of her eyes; she felt the same. And so—
"—Oh my, so this is where you were, Frederica. I ended up searching for youuu."
"Master..."
Welcoming the tall figure who raised a hand lightly and stepped onto the balcony—Roswaal—Frederica bent her knees where she stood and offered a small bow.
"I am sorry to have made you look for me. What did you require of me?"
"Nothing you'd really call business, you knooow. Things on my end have reached a lull in the arrangements, so I simply thought I'd have a little chat with you."
"Arrangements..."
"Yes, arrangements, indeeeed."
With a faint smile, Roswaal closed one eye—the yellow one of his mismatched pair—and came to stand beside Frederica by the railing, leaning his back against it,
"It's a land with quite a lot worth noting. I have few acquaintances in the south. And Sir Leip Barielle, Lady Priscilla's late husband, wasn't exactly a gentleman of good repute, you seeee."
"If you put it that way, Master, the gentleman would surely be quite displeased."
"Oh my, how severe. Are you, too, being corrupted by Petra and losing some of your obedience to me? Or else—"
Tilting his head, Roswaal peered into the eyes of the Frederica beside him, and
"—does my plan to make use of Schult not sit well with you?"
"I do not think what you are doing is wrong, Master. I understand that it is for the Royal Selection—and ultimately for Lady Emilia and for our camp."
"Reason may accept that, but getting the heart to go along is not so easyyy."
To say that knowing it full well—Roswaal's twisted streak is the genuine article. If you asked Emilia, she'd probably call it a mischievous impulse that deserves a proper scolding.
"Given the relationship between Master and me, that would be difficult, Lady Emilia..."
If Emilia or Petra were here, they could spur Roswaal to reflect by proper means; if Ram were here, she could do it by less proper ones. Perhaps anticipating that, only Frederica is present. And Frederica, quite apart from the unrepayable debt she owes, cannot help but see that Roswaal's affected villainy is work done for the sake of the camp.
—The primary purpose holding the Emilia camp together as a camp is, ultimately, the Royal Selection.
During the Royal Selection, the period spent in the Vollachia Empire has left them entirely behind. Even without that, it is Emilia who lagged at the start. If they are to make up that lap and, if possible, turn it into momentum, they cannot rely only on orthodox methods. To that end, Roswaal’s devoted behind-the-scenes maneuvers are proceeding calmly, aiming to win over the Barielle Domain, which has just lost its absolute pillar, Priscilla Barielle.
"Since Lady Priscilla has passed away, until the next lord is chosen, we will have to install an acting provisional administrator. Fortunately, I can put forward candidates under my influence, and as a go-between, it would be best if we could borrow someone from one of the Ryuzu—someone from 'Meyer.'"
"…Isn’t it a little premature to involve Grandmother’s girls?"
"They say you should send a beloved child out on a journey, don’t they? If you keep them dutifully in a birdcage, they’ll never learn how to spread their wings. I’m of the same opinion, ya know."
As Roswaal steadily and coolly hammers out a watertight plan, Frederica can’t help but start to wonder whether Emilia’s assessment of Roswaal is actually true—whether he isn’t feigning villainy but a real scoundrel. Perhaps because he can even commit to playing the villain without a single oversight like this, his comrades in the camp never truly open their hearts to him, no matter how much time passes. He’s too earnest.
"Master, at least show a little more leniency—"
She was just about to point this out so that the misunderstanding wouldn’t take root not only within their camp but also in the Barielle Domain, and, by extension, not plant a great doubt in Schult’s heart.
"—B-b-b-big trouble! Count of the Frontier, where are you—?!"
"Was that Sir Schult?"
Suddenly, Schult’s flustered voice came from below, and Frederica exchanged looks with Roswaal. Roswaal, eyebrows raised, seemed to have no idea either; the master lifted his back from the railing, turned, and called out, "Schult," to the boy who had burst into the garden below. Thus addressed, Schult opened his round eyes even wider, and—
"Count of the Frontier! I need you to come right away! There’s someone I want you to meet, and something I want you to hear!"
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"—What you have just seen is the last will of the late Lady."
So saying, the crimson-haired girl—who introduced herself as Yae Tenzen, a maid—revealed the contents of the sealed letter, and Roswaal’s eyes flew wide in a fixed stare.
"——"
It was rare to see the master display his agitation so openly, but that reaction was understandable. Frederica, who had confirmed the same contents, and everyone else present were likewise struck with astonishment. In particular, Schult—who was the central figure in what was written—was the most shocked. The contents of the letter were—
『—I, Priscilla Barielle, current head of House Barielle, in designating my formal successor, hereby change the name of the following person, Schult, to Schult Barielle, and declare that he shall be received as the legitimate child and heir of House Barielle.』
"Lady Priscilla… me…?"
Schult blinked at the unexpected turn of events, his expression unsure whether this was a dream or reality. But then hands were placed on both his shoulders from behind, and Yae, who had revealed where the letter had been kept, smiled and rubbed her cheek against the boy, saying, "You’re way too surprised."
"Considering how completely the Lady doted on little Schult, isn’t this entirely plausible? —If she’d had her way, I think she intended to keep it under wraps during the Royal Selection."
"Lady Yae… Lady Yae, since when have you known about this? You left the mansion months ago, and only just now finally came back to us…"
"—I learned of it right before the Lady and little Schult departed for the Empire. That was about when she prepared that letter as well."
At Yae’s quiet answer, great tears welled up in Schult’s eyes. As it turned out, Yae was a maid who had previously worked at this mansion; she had been given some time off, but, upon learning of Priscilla’s passing, she rushed back. As was evident, Yae seemed to be on familiar terms with Schult, and she was apparently also one deeply trusted by Priscilla, entrusted as the keeper of the important letter she had left behind. The facts thus revealed greatly threw Roswaal’s plans into disarray—and—
"—Even so, thinking of Sir Schult, perhaps this was for the best."
"…Frederica?"
"It may be a little different from what you had in mind, Master… but this will surely save Sir Schult’s heart—and the hearts of everyone in the household. —She truly was an extraordinary person."
Though she had been a Royal Selection candidate and thus stood opposed to Emilia, Frederica, who had almost no contact with Priscilla, could only describe her as a person of great stature. For—
「For His Lordship's designs to be thrown so far off, he must surely have been a worthy rival to Lady Emilia, don't you think?」
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「――――」
Lowering her gaze once more to the letter left behind, and hugging the small, trembling Schult from behind, Yae let out a sigh at her own decision to return to Barielle Manor of her own accord.
—All of it was a choice made to help Al reach the goal he was aiming for.
「Since there was no signal, I suppose that means the plan at the tower failed, huh~」
Originally, Yae was supposed to rendezvous in the nearest town with Al, who had headed for the Pleiades Watchtower, lend a hand with this mission he had to fulfill, and see him through to the end of his life. However, when the appointed time came, no signal for the rendezvous was raised, and Yae judged that Al's plan had failed, withdrew from the nearest town—and on those very heels, hurried back to the Barielle Domain.
「It's the first time I've been able to return to the manor openly since Lady's assassination was stopped by Al, isn't it?」
That said, so long as it wasn't out in the open, she had been coming and going from the manor fairly often to keep in contact with Al. The letter she used as her pretext for returning to the manor was also information she'd obtained while up in the attic during one of those discreet comings and goings. To Schult and to the nasty nobles who tried to prey on him—Roswall L. Mathers and his attendant maid—she passed the letter off as something entrusted to her by Priscilla.
「In reality, I only peeped when Lady prepared it and stashed it in a secret safe.」
Because the safe that held the letter was a concealed one, Yae could reveal the whereabouts of a letter no one else even knew existed, and win trust as someone entrusted with the secret. She did feel a twinge of guilt about using the dead Priscilla for that purpose, but—
「—But Lady, did you really think I wasn't watching?」
To be honest, even Yae herself didn't have a clear answer to that mystery. Priscilla prepared the letter to adopt Schult as her son right before departing for the Empire, and put it away in the safe around the same time; even so, Yae, though only her temporary retainer, did not underestimate her insight. That heroine with eyes that seemed to see straight through a person's heart—had she truly believed Yae wasn't there?
『—Make good use of the letter; put it to work for yourself. And while you're at it, save Schult.』
Perhaps hiding the letter in a concealed safe that no one but the attic-dwelling Yae could have found without turning the whole manor upside down had been Priscilla's way of arranging things. In any case—
「I'll do just that, Lady. —I have to wait for Al.」
Having decided to accept Priscilla's kindness, Yae returned to the manor for that purpose. As mentioned above, since he couldn't send the signal to continue the plan, Al had likely made a blunder at the watchtower and ended up in a state where carrying out the plan was difficult. But Al won't die. He's alive.
「Because Al is a monster, after all.」
Al doesn't die; he can't be killed. It's because he's that kind of monster that Yae follows him.
To see him fulfill his goal, die satisfied, and witness the disappearance of the existence she feared. For that, she needed Schult to keep his distance from Emilia's camp. If something had happened to Al, then Emilia's camp, who had accompanied him to the watchtower, would be involved. She had to be somewhere she could move at any time, ready for when he broke free from there. So—
「Schult dear, let's carry on Lady's last wishes. It's all right. From now on, I'll also be back at the manor to help you, Schult dear.」
「Miss Yae... yes. Yes, ma'am...! I'll live up to Lady Priscilla's expectations! And I want you to help me with that, Miss Yae!」
At the resolve of the honest, adorable Schult—no, the boy who had become Schult Barielle—Yae exaggeratedly lowered her outer eyelids, and the other servants, too, seemed moved to tears. Even Roswaal's attendant maid wiped the tears at the corners of her eyes with a finger, touched by his gallant devotion. Only the Count of the Frontier, whose expectations had apparently been dashed, wore an ambiguous expression, but even that felt pleasantly satisfying—a sign that, even in death, Priscilla had outstripped someone's designs. Yes, Priscilla was a mistress worth serving. That, at least, is the truth.
「I'll do my best! When Al and Heinkel return, I want to show them how dependable I've become!」
However, when Schult, face flushed, declared that so fervently, Yae hesitated over how to answer. She too longed for Al's return. But when it came to Heinkel—
「...As for Heinkel, coming back might be a little difficult, you know~」
△▼△▼△▼△
「—Gwah!」
And then, right after the sensation of floating, Heinkel crashed to the ground and let out a low scream. After groaning for a while, he slowly worked his arms and legs, undoing his restraints. Once the wrists and ankles that had been bound tight with fine threads regained their freedom, he savored the long-missed feeling of release—,
「Goddammit...!」
He spat the words out bitterly, as if to curse the misfortune that had befallen him.
—The one who tied Heinkel up and left him in a hut deep in a forest no one ever visited was a girl named Yae, who claimed to be a collaborator of Aldebaran. Formerly a maid serving Priscilla and, incomprehensibly, also an assassin sent after her, she had egged him on, saying that if he cooperated with Aldebaran, an opportunity would come around to obtain the thing Heinkel wanted—'Dragon's Blood.' And after coaxing him like that.
「The moment there was no word from that bastard Aldebaran, she says the plan's a failure—what a joke...」
And to top it off, when Heinkel demanded an explanation and for the plan to continue, she drove merciless knee kicks and elbow strikes into him, then tied up his nosebleeding self and promptly vanished. From Heinkel's point of view, there was no reason to be left in the lurch like this.
「Every last one of them...」
Priscilla, whom he'd relied on, was dead; Emilia, whom he next tried to rely on, rejected him; and when he tried to cling to the hand Aldebaran extended, that hand swatted him away and sent him into the abyss. As a result, Heinkel's prospects had reverted to the dead end from before the Royal Selection began.
「But even so...」
He couldn't give up. He couldn't completely give up. He'd never once managed even to see the act of giving up through.
「――Dammit!」
Staggering, he pushed himself to his feet, wiped the thoroughly dried nosebleed with his sleeve, and started walking. He had no destination in mind. Even without one, he couldn't just stand still.
—Because Heinkel Astrea is a husband and a father.
「Wait for me, Louanna, Reinhard. I... I will...」
Dragging his feet with a scrape, hand on the hilt of the sword at his hip, Heinkel goes. No destination. —Only a long-worn, tattered, rusted prayer.
△▼△▼△▼△
「—In the end it all turned into a scramble. Sorry for the commotion, Ezzo.」
「No, it can't be helped. We also understand that the situation has changed. At present, I can't leave here until the replacement personnel arrive, but I'll give testimony whenever necessary.」
「That's a big help... really.」
Murmuring that softly, Subaru bowed his head to Ezzo, who was responding with gentlemanly courtesy. The place was the fifth layer of the Pleiades Watchtower, the large floor with the great door right before them. There, Subaru—no, Subaru and the others—had once again finished readying for their journey and were already about to leave the tower. After a stay of only half a day, it was an early-morning departure, waiting for the outside of the tower to grow light.
「You guys are always in such a flurry, aren't you? Can't you leave the tower a little more quietly?」
「Tell me about it. Last time you got flung to the Empire, and this time it's another quick turnaround.」
「That's not Subaru's fault! It's all on Al... I don't even know what I'm supposed to say to Schult anymore. ...Stupid Al.」
The ones trading those lines, adding the last in a subdued tone, were the girls of the return group. Naturally, each had her own thoughts about how things had ended up: about the stay of just half a day, about the situation that meant they had to leave in such haste, and about the cause that had brought it about. It's just that, for Subaru, it hurt to have the person who caused it be condemned nonstop.
「Boss, I loaded the luggage onto the dragon carriage. We can head out any time.」
There, Garfiel, who had cracked the great door open and come back in from outside, called out. Having gone ahead to load the luggage onto the dragon carriage, he furrowed his brow at Subaru, who raised a hand,
「You're wearing a miserable mug, Boss. Like with that thing they call 'Laurage's Over-Trimmed Nail,' I get why it eats at you, though.」
「Yeah, I know you're trying to cheer me up, but I'm not getting it. Over-trimmed nail? Laurage?」
「Anyway! What's happened once can't be changed. So the point is we do something about what comes next, yeah? I'll help with anything.」
Grinning with his fangs bared, Garfiel gave Subaru's shoulder a hearty smack. The force of it made Subaru think his frail shoulder might shatter, but the sentiment was a hundred times welcome. And as Garfiel said—having decided to act, what comes next is what matters.
「—I'm going to really learn it. Just what it is I've taken on my shoulders.」
Saying that, Subaru touched the magic stone at his chest—the one hanging from his neck—and declared his resolve.
—Subaru and Beatrice had been sealed inside magic stones like this one, and in the meantime Al had set off a huge, huge battle, the details of which they did not know clearly.
「――――」
Inside the magic gem it was dark; he couldn’t move, even the presence or absence of consciousness was hazy, and it was as if he’d reverted to a fetus, soaking in amniotic fluid in his mother’s womb, remaining in such a dreamlike state. There, even Subaru’s boundary between dream and reality was vague, with nothing he could call certain. As expected of the adorable Beatrice, she had earnestly devoted herself to analyzing the forbidden art that sealed him here and dismantling its formula, but all Subaru could do, in those moments when he had something resembling consciousness, was to trigger the Authority of ‘Greed’—‘Cor Leonis’—and pick up only the presence of his nearby companions and the shifts of their strong emotions.
Even so, thanks to the repeated waves of yearning for his friends, desperation, and wild swings of big emotions, he could keep sensing with his soul that something out of the ordinary was unfolding. Particularly striking were Petra, whose hues of resolve and determination were intense, and Rem, whose feelings toward Subaru could only be described as enormous—bloated, even. —Because of that, Subaru, with conviction, was able to lay out the plan to leave the tower at daybreak. That was partly because he realized that their original purpose in visiting the Pleiades Watchtower had been for Al, that this was his pretext, and so it had lost any further meaning, but not only that—
—‘The Sin Archbishop of “Gluttony” has a way to cough back up what they’ve eaten, right?’
‘That’s right. That’s where those of the people eaten so far… Rem’s “memories” and “name” are, too.’
Probably, in the loop before he ‘Return by Death’, Petra had made the best use of that ‘Gluttony’ Authority in their plan; to her words, Subaru nodded deeply.
In that instant, in that sliver of a moment when they couldn’t even exchange words, Rem, with eyes that understood everything, slammed the Morning Star into Subaru. —The woman who so deftly wielded the spiked iron ball that Subaru polished every day had, without a doubt, regained herself. That was unmistakably due to the involvement of ‘Gluttony’. Having that certainty, and with ‘Gluttony’ already in custody, there was no reason not to pin them down and make them spit back out what they’d eaten. And so, for the sake of that face-to-face negotiation—
—Here we go, dear old Royal Capital! We’ll meet ‘Gluttony’ and make them spit everything back up! Besides, it seems I can’t afford to stay indifferent to the kingdom’s history or this world’s history, either.’
Pinching the magic gem between his fingers and thinking of Al sealed within it, Subaru admonished himself. At Subaru’s declaration of resolve, Beatrice, standing beside him, laced her hand with his; Garfiel ran a finger over his own fangs; Meili shrugged the shoulder on which the Crimson Scorpion perched. And Subaru received the gaze Petra turned on him, her smile dignified and strong.
For the sake of Aldebaran—who claims the title ‘Follower Star of Subaru’, opposes Subaru with the same power, and whom he has resolved to save no matter what—Natsuki Subaru goes to the Royal Capital. He would learn. He had realized that remaining ignorant was dishonest, and that he would no longer be able to forgive himself.
And so—
‘—Bring it on, Lord Fate!’
Bearing their feelings on his back and stepping over the shackles that stood in his way, Natsuki Subaru so declared.
△▼△▼△▼△
—At the very same moment as Natsuki Subaru’s declaration of resolve.
At that very time, in the far-off place that Natsuki Subaru had declared he was setting out for—the Royal Capital of The Dragon Kingdom of Lugunica—a certain incident was occurring.
‘——’
In the early morning, when most of the people of the Royal Capital were still asleep, watching the coming of morning pass by from within their dreams, an uncanny air hung over what would normally be a silence-shrouded Royal Castle of Lugunica.
The source of that air was the heart of the Royal Castle—the Throne Room.
The royal line had been severed by illness, which also served as the trigger for the Royal Selection. Because of that, with the King absent, the Throne Room of the Royal Castle of Lugunica had been kept firmly closed except when important ceremonies were held. But on this day, this morning, the doors of the Throne Room stood wide open, and gathered there were the kingdom’s heavyweights—the members of the ‘Council of Sages’, retainers who had enjoyed deep trust from the late King, and even Royal Soldiers whose presence seemed to exude a palpable tension.
‘——’
Each of them was someone who bore great responsibilities in their respective posts within a kingdom without a King. Even though it was an early morning summons, none arrived late; there was not a single miscreant there who showed sleepy eyes or betrayed a lack of focus in their demeanor. Accordingly, regardless of the hour, the weight of the attention gathered here could be called that of the kingdom itself. —And bathing in all of that, the woman maintained a serene air.
‘——’
On the marble floor covered with a red carpet, kneeling on one knee, was a figure clad in indigo, hands joined before her chest and head bowed. Her praying posture was so refined that it made military officers think of martial skill and civil officials of proper etiquette, drawing involuntary sighs. So much so that, with the mere gesture of praying, the woman overwhelmed those around her.
‘—Hmm. Would you raise your face, if you please?’
Amidst that, there was one alone who was not ensnared by the woman's praying gesture and spoke up. The owner of that voice—calm and rational, naturally inspiring such an impression in any listener—was one of the castle officials who had received the kneeling young woman—no, someone who could even be called their representative.
Miklotov McMahon. In the Kingdom of Lugunica, where there is no King, he is the central figure of the Council of Sages that steers the helm of state, and even in this hastily convened assembly he is, as expected, the grand personage with the greatest voice and the right to decide. This wise man, famed for his superior stratagems and his unparalleled loyalty and service to the kingdom, looms so large that even the King himself once joked, “Even if the King of Lugunica dies, the country will not waver, but if he dies, the kingdom will fall.” His gentle features and mild manner of speech can invite misunderstanding, but in truth he is said to be the most dependable ally if you win him to your side in the Kingdom of Lugunica, and the most terrifying opponent if you turn him against you. Miklotov has long enjoyed such an assessment to the fullest.
—Yes.
At Miklotov’s words, the woman who had been looking down slowly raised her face. And when her closed eyelids opened and she met his gaze, Miklotov drew in a faint breath. Miklotov’s reaction was not his alone. Bordeaux Zergev, who was present here as a fellow member of the Council of Sages; Marcos Gildark, the captain of the Royal Guard standing here as the representative of the military; Rickert Hoffman, the central figure among the civil officials; and everyone else present in the Throne Room at this moment each reacted in their own way.
A woman whose mere presence possessed a bewitching allure that naturally drew everyone’s attention. Yet their reactions at this moment were not due solely to her bearing—it was her appearance. Her long, lustrous golden hair and crimson eyes that held a dignified, strong will carried a meaning beyond mere beauty, piercing those present here—no, those of the Kingdom of Lugunica. And—
“First of all, I wish to thank you for receiving my sudden visit so graciously. Given our respective positions, it can hardly have been a desirable thing.”
Seemingly accustomed to such concentrated attention, the woman, still kneeling on one knee, looked over the assembled sages and dignitaries and spoke. Her opening was neither excessively deferential nor ignorant of propriety, and those present checked their momentary surprise and agitation and entrusted the response to their representative, Miklotov. Taking that cue, Miklotov, seated in his chair, stroked the long, long beard he had grown with his fingers, let out a soft “hmm,” and—
“My, my, you voice something not easy to say. That said, empty flattery would be meaningless. What you say is, after all, the truth.”
“Having you put it so plainly lifts a weight from my shoulders as well. As you can see, I am but young and inexperienced, and I was fearful that I might find myself at a loss for words before you all.”
“Hmm. For someone who says that, you bear yourself quite boldly. You seem used to drawing the public eye. I imagine there are… not a few reasons for that.”
“Indeed. I will not deny it.”
Though the two differed in age as much as grandfather and grandchild, the exchange between Miklotov and the woman was smooth, and it did not seem likely to turn into a one-sided probing born of a disparity in caliber. Perceiving as much, both of them, as if letting out a breath, smiled at the same time, and—
“It would not do to unduly rob you, so busy, of your time at such an early hour. So then, without delay… allow me to proceed to the main matter.”
“Hmm, that would be best. At my age, rising early is no burden, but important discussions are, at any age, painful to postpone—especially when they are matters coming from the Church of the Divine Dragon, which has kept its distance from the Royal Castle.”
“——”
Though he had intended to encourage her to speak with magnanimity, Miklotov’s remark caused the air in the room to grow taut for a moment. It was soon relaxed again, on the grounds that it would be discourteous to a woman who had come to the Royal Castle alone, but the reason for that tension was something that none present could do anything about.
—The “Church of the Divine Dragon” that Miklotov named is, as the name suggests, a religious organization that venerates the existence of the “Divine Dragon” Volcanica and believes in the covenant of the blessings of its power and its protection.
The Kingdom of Lugunica, as it calls itself the 『Parent Dragon Kingdom』, is known for its exceptionally deep bond with the 『Dragon』, and if one is a person of the kingdom, to a greater or lesser degree one shares in the blessings of the 『Divine Dragon』. From that awareness, even without publicly belonging to the Church, most citizens of Lugunica harbor a reverence for the 『Divine Dragon』. In such an environment, it goes without saying how strong the faith in the 『Divine Dragon』 is among those who do publicly belong to the Church. To prevent the state from being shaken by that great influence, the 『Church of the Divine Dragon』 keeps its distance from the Royal Castle, which bears responsibility for national governance, and in their respective spheres they contribute to the happiness of the people—that is the unspoken understanding. Precisely because of that, it was an unusual occurrence for a nun of the 『Church of the Divine Dragon』 to visit the Royal Castle and seek to speak before those present, including the 『Council of Sages』. However—,
「――It is worth it」
It is precisely because she understood it was an extraordinary act that there was reason enough to break that unwritten rule. That woman’s firm declaration served to make them expect that there truly was meaning in gathering Miklotov and the others in the Throne Room and hearing her out. Accordingly, at the sages’ wordless urging, the woman spoke—of the reason for her visit.
「In recent days, the kingdom’s perils have weighed heavily upon all of us believers of the 『Church of the Divine Dragon』. By tacit understanding, we had kept our distance from the matter of state that is the royal selection contest…… the Royal Selection, but since the calamity in the Watergate City reached our ears, we found we could no longer sit idly by」
「The Watergate City…… Priestella—the incident with the Witch Cult, is it. We too grieve over the damage suffered by that city, but surely the 『Church of the Divine Dragon』 is not here to lodge complaints against the Royal Selection candidates involved in the affair?」
「That’d contradict the meaning of us dashing over here even at the cost of breaking the tacit understanding, and my saying it would be worth hearing.…… It would be a contradiction」
Her true colors slipped out in that impromptu rebuttal, and the way she corrected herself betrayed her youth. To cover her embarrassment, the woman gave a small cough, and—
「In any case, we have no complaints about the Royal Selection candidates. There may be certain points that some would like to raise, but those are not the consensus of the 『Church of the Divine Dragon』, merely personal opinions」
「If it is not the Church’s view, then it is a frank opinion as a subject of the kingdom. Rather, I think we ought to listen actively to such views…… hmm, but that would be a digression」
「Indeed. I will remember that Lord Miklotov is someone one can talk to, but to the point.――What we wish to address is not the pursuit of responsibility, but the matter of the damage」
「――Very well. Let us hear it」
「Those in Watergate City Priestella who suffered harm at the hands of the Witch Cult…… I understand multiple cases have been confirmed, but the 『Church of the Divine Dragon』 can provide a means of salvation for them」
――In that instant, the very meaning of those words sent a ripple through the air of the Throne Room. Yet the woman who was the epicenter of that stir did not break her dignified posture; even under the sages’ gazes, she stood straight. There was no wavering in her eyes or demeanor; she had the conviction that one could not declare such a thing without certainty.
「――Hmm」
With that single interjection, Miklotov cut through the murmuring air. Even so, Miklotov, one of the kingdom’s foremost sages, could not suppress his surprise at the woman’s proposal. The sage betrayed a faint restlessness in the fingers that toyed with his beard, and—
「If that is true, it is more than we could have hoped for. And the reason you have brought this to the Royal Castle is……」
「If we were to proceed on our own, we would not be looked upon kindly. Besides――」
「Those who would not look kindly on it would be not only we of the castle, but the Witch Cult as well, I imagine」
At that self-evident truth, the woman dipped her slender chin in agreement with Miklotov. Naturally, if the damage wrought by the Witch Cult could be wiped away, that would be anything but desirable to the Witch Cult. Precisely for that reason, the 『Church of the Divine Dragon』 seeks it.
「――The kingdom’s assured protection. Because of the distance between us, who administer state affairs, and the 『Church of the Divine Dragon』, which administers faith, it is something that has not, in a true sense, been realized for many years」
「Yes, exactly. On this occasion, we wish to make that a reality. That is the consensus of the 『Church of the Divine Dragon』.――To give that decision a push, we have a proposal to make」
「Hmm, a proposal? And that would be?」
「First, allow us to show you—proof of the salvation we can provide」
As the woman said this, laying a hand to her chest, Miklotov raised an eyebrow. It was an offer beyond hope. Just as she said, as material for judgment it was impeccable. However, to bring victims from the Watergate City to the Royal Capital at once would be――
「There should be one person who comes to mind. Let the first be that person」
「――. Very well. You have leave to approach them first.――Captain Marcos」
「Yes, sir!」
Called by name by Miklotov, the one who responded in such a thunderous voice was a giant of a man in armor. Marcos, commander of the Royal Guard Knights, stepped forward and saluted the seats of the Council of Sages.
"Could you escort her? This is a grave matter for the kingdom. Be prudent."
"Understood. — I will accompany her."
"Yes, the big face—no, the big-bodied one. I’m counting on you."
The woman dipped her head in a small bow, and even her expression held a touch of softness. Perhaps that was because the course of the discussion was proceeding as she wished, and it seemed she could fulfill the purpose of her visit from the Church of the Divine Dragon. Knowing it would feel like a bit of a sneak attack on her, Miklotov nonetheless asked something: the reason why this woman—who claimed to be an envoy from the Church of the Divine Dragon and had gathered Miklotov and the kingdom’s worthies at the Royal Castle from early morning—was attracting attention beyond merely being affiliated with the Church of the Divine Dragon. It was—
"—I beg your pardon, but may I have your name, Sister?"
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"—I am a nun dispatched by the Church of the Divine Dragon."
Personally escorted by Marcos, the woman who visited the 王侯館—the one who called herself a nun—left Felis unable to hide his confusion.
Felis was staying in the Royal Capital together with Wilhelm to make a direct appeal at the Royal Castle—to join the expedition to the now-open Pleiades Watchtower as one of its members and learn from the wisdom of the Sage, lauded as omniscient and omnipotent, a means to save Crusch, who continues to suffer even now. Of course, they had already received letters from Emilia and the others, who had returned from the Pleiades Watchtower, informing them that neither the Sage’s existence nor his wisdom were as convenient as one might hope. Even so, compared to the slow-going development of healing magic, the possibility seemed far greater.
"Honestly, it’s ridiculous. No matter how much I improve existing healing magic, all it does is keep me from dying; I can’t even take away a single one of Lady Crusch’s pains."
Driven by a clinging hope, the research into Blue had, in this short span, raised the level of the Kingdom of Lugunica’s healing magic not by one tier but by three—yet to Felis right now, that was worthless. The person he most wanted to save could not be saved. That fact cornered Felis and dropped him into darkness. That’s why he had tried to rely on the Pleiades Watchtower, on the Sage’s wisdom—
"…You can save Lady Crusch? The Church of the Divine Dragon can? A-are you serious?"
"Faith does not lie, and I’ve no taste for further tormenting those who are lost. Even if you can’t trust me, you should be able to trust your commander."
Answering the trembling Felis, the nun gestured toward Marcos, who had come along. When Felis called out in a high voice, "Commander!", he nodded, his face like a crag,
"I have heard the Church of the Divine Dragon possesses magics and techniques not made public. Lord Miklotov and the other members of the Council of Sages deemed it worth believing."
"…B-but, what if something happens to Lady Crusch again?"
"—'The Quain Stone doesn’t rise with just one person.'"
"—!"
At those quietly spoken words of the nun, Felis involuntarily drew a breath. Eyes growing moist amid the surging turbulence of emotion, he watched as she quietly reached out toward his hand; the nun gently took his tightly clenched fingers in her slender ones and loosened them, one by one. Yielding to her, Felis suddenly took in her beautiful golden hair and the crimson eyes that held a serious light, and his eyes widened. The realization only fanned his confusion, and he could not grasp what it meant—
"Please. Let me help the person dear to you. The Church of the Divine Dragon always prays for the happiness of the kingdom’s people. Whatever creed one holds, there are no exceptions to that."
"Y-you are… who are you?"
"——"
At Felis’s question she caught her breath, but with a blink she quelled the faint hesitation, and while still gently holding his hand, she answered. It was—
"—Filore. That is my name."
—The daughter of the king’s younger brother, who was taken from the Royal Castle fifteen years ago and vanished. The nun, with the royal family’s distinctive golden hair and crimson eyes, gave the same name as that missing princess.
And with that, Chapter Nine is complete! Thank you for reading along! What I wanted to do in Chapter Nine was once again depict the light and dark of "Return by Death." What is the light in death…?? For those who finished reading, which did you think was the light "Return by Death," and which the dark "Return by Death"?
Anyway, with the next update we finally plunge into Chapter Ten! Lots of things didn’t go according to plan, but on the whole, I think the stuff I’ve actually written ends up better than what I had before writing—that’s the mercurial nature of storytelling! Chapter Ten’s plot is fun, so I think the finished version will be even more fun than the plot! Look forward to it!
"Accompanying Master and being treated as a guest is nothing unusual, but... in this house as it is now, things are a little different."
As Frederica murmured this, her emerald eyes took in the bustle of the manor. They looked brisk and well-disciplined, a staff of capable hands. Even after being told the grim news Frederica and the others had brought back, they did not fall into dysfunction—that alone commands respect.
"It seems Lady Priscilla was truly beloved."
The dire news conveyed to the servants—that the mistress of the house, their employer, Priscilla Barielle, had lost her life in the Vollachia Empire.
"——"
Lowering her eyes slightly, Frederica sighed as she looked down from the balcony over the gardens and the manor. Given her position, she too knew the feeling of having those she served—Roswaal, Emilia, and others—leave the mansion with her left behind, with nothing to do but pray for their safe return. If she were to learn that those prayers had gone unanswered, what a blow would strike her heart? In fact, many of the servants grieved, and not a few shed tears. That none of them chose to leave the manor upon hearing the news also spoke to their bond with Priscilla. Yet there was not only the fact that Priscilla was beloved—
"—It was Sir Schult's resolute composure that struck me to the core."
What moved Frederica so deeply was the conduct of the young retainer who had accompanied Priscilla to the Empire, taken on the duty of conveying her death and her will, and fulfilled it admirably. Frail and seemingly as unreliable as a small animal, Schult nevertheless did not leave the thankless role to Roswaal or Frederica; with his own mouth, in his own words, he carried out the heavy task. It is beyond doubt that the servants' decision not to leave the manor and to remain at their posts owed much to their affection for Priscilla and to their trust in Schult. As an outsider, even Frederica could not keep the heat from the corners of her eyes; she felt the same. And so—
"—Oh my, so this is where you were, Frederica. I ended up searching for youuu."
"Master..."
Welcoming the tall figure who raised a hand lightly and stepped onto the balcony—Roswaal—Frederica bent her knees where she stood and offered a small bow.
"I am sorry to have made you look for me. What did you require of me?"
"Nothing you'd really call business, you knooow. Things on my end have reached a lull in the arrangements, so I simply thought I'd have a little chat with you."
"Arrangements..."
"Yes, arrangements, indeeeed."
With a faint smile, Roswaal closed one eye—the yellow one of his mismatched pair—and came to stand beside Frederica by the railing, leaning his back against it,
"It's a land with quite a lot worth noting. I have few acquaintances in the south. And Sir Leip Barielle, Lady Priscilla's late husband, wasn't exactly a gentleman of good repute, you seeee."
"If you put it that way, Master, the gentleman would surely be quite displeased."
"Oh my, how severe. Are you, too, being corrupted by Petra and losing some of your obedience to me? Or else—"
Tilting his head, Roswaal peered into the eyes of the Frederica beside him, and
"—does my plan to make use of Schult not sit well with you?"
"I do not think what you are doing is wrong, Master. I understand that it is for the Royal Selection—and ultimately for Lady Emilia and for our camp."
"Reason may accept that, but getting the heart to go along is not so easyyy."
To say that knowing it full well—Roswaal's twisted streak is the genuine article. If you asked Emilia, she'd probably call it a mischievous impulse that deserves a proper scolding.
"Given the relationship between Master and me, that would be difficult, Lady Emilia..."
If Emilia or Petra were here, they could spur Roswaal to reflect by proper means; if Ram were here, she could do it by less proper ones. Perhaps anticipating that, only Frederica is present. And Frederica, quite apart from the unrepayable debt she owes, cannot help but see that Roswaal's affected villainy is work done for the sake of the camp.
—The primary purpose holding the Emilia camp together as a camp is, ultimately, the Royal Selection.
During the Royal Selection, the period spent in the Vollachia Empire has left them entirely behind. Even without that, it is Emilia who lagged at the start. If they are to make up that lap and, if possible, turn it into momentum, they cannot rely only on orthodox methods. To that end, Roswaal’s devoted behind-the-scenes maneuvers are proceeding calmly, aiming to win over the Barielle Domain, which has just lost its absolute pillar, Priscilla Barielle.
"Since Lady Priscilla has passed away, until the next lord is chosen, we will have to install an acting provisional administrator. Fortunately, I can put forward candidates under my influence, and as a go-between, it would be best if we could borrow someone from one of the Ryuzu—someone from 'Meyer.'"
"…Isn’t it a little premature to involve Grandmother’s girls?"
"They say you should send a beloved child out on a journey, don’t they? If you keep them dutifully in a birdcage, they’ll never learn how to spread their wings. I’m of the same opinion, ya know."
As Roswaal steadily and coolly hammers out a watertight plan, Frederica can’t help but start to wonder whether Emilia’s assessment of Roswaal is actually true—whether he isn’t feigning villainy but a real scoundrel. Perhaps because he can even commit to playing the villain without a single oversight like this, his comrades in the camp never truly open their hearts to him, no matter how much time passes. He’s too earnest.
"Master, at least show a little more leniency—"
She was just about to point this out so that the misunderstanding wouldn’t take root not only within their camp but also in the Barielle Domain, and, by extension, not plant a great doubt in Schult’s heart.
"—B-b-b-big trouble! Count of the Frontier, where are you—?!"
"Was that Sir Schult?"
Suddenly, Schult’s flustered voice came from below, and Frederica exchanged looks with Roswaal. Roswaal, eyebrows raised, seemed to have no idea either; the master lifted his back from the railing, turned, and called out, "Schult," to the boy who had burst into the garden below. Thus addressed, Schult opened his round eyes even wider, and—
"Count of the Frontier! I need you to come right away! There’s someone I want you to meet, and something I want you to hear!"
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"—What you have just seen is the last will of the late Lady."
So saying, the crimson-haired girl—who introduced herself as Yae Tenzen, a maid—revealed the contents of the sealed letter, and Roswaal’s eyes flew wide in a fixed stare.
"——"
It was rare to see the master display his agitation so openly, but that reaction was understandable. Frederica, who had confirmed the same contents, and everyone else present were likewise struck with astonishment. In particular, Schult—who was the central figure in what was written—was the most shocked. The contents of the letter were—
『—I, Priscilla Barielle, current head of House Barielle, in designating my formal successor, hereby change the name of the following person, Schult, to Schult Barielle, and declare that he shall be received as the legitimate child and heir of House Barielle.』
"Lady Priscilla… me…?"
Schult blinked at the unexpected turn of events, his expression unsure whether this was a dream or reality. But then hands were placed on both his shoulders from behind, and Yae, who had revealed where the letter had been kept, smiled and rubbed her cheek against the boy, saying, "You’re way too surprised."
"Considering how completely the Lady doted on little Schult, isn’t this entirely plausible? —If she’d had her way, I think she intended to keep it under wraps during the Royal Selection."
"Lady Yae… Lady Yae, since when have you known about this? You left the mansion months ago, and only just now finally came back to us…"
"—I learned of it right before the Lady and little Schult departed for the Empire. That was about when she prepared that letter as well."
At Yae’s quiet answer, great tears welled up in Schult’s eyes. As it turned out, Yae was a maid who had previously worked at this mansion; she had been given some time off, but, upon learning of Priscilla’s passing, she rushed back. As was evident, Yae seemed to be on familiar terms with Schult, and she was apparently also one deeply trusted by Priscilla, entrusted as the keeper of the important letter she had left behind. The facts thus revealed greatly threw Roswaal’s plans into disarray—and—
"—Even so, thinking of Sir Schult, perhaps this was for the best."
"…Frederica?"
"It may be a little different from what you had in mind, Master… but this will surely save Sir Schult’s heart—and the hearts of everyone in the household. —She truly was an extraordinary person."
Though she had been a Royal Selection candidate and thus stood opposed to Emilia, Frederica, who had almost no contact with Priscilla, could only describe her as a person of great stature. For—
「For His Lordship's designs to be thrown so far off, he must surely have been a worthy rival to Lady Emilia, don't you think?」
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「――――」
Lowering her gaze once more to the letter left behind, and hugging the small, trembling Schult from behind, Yae let out a sigh at her own decision to return to Barielle Manor of her own accord.
—All of it was a choice made to help Al reach the goal he was aiming for.
「Since there was no signal, I suppose that means the plan at the tower failed, huh~」
Originally, Yae was supposed to rendezvous in the nearest town with Al, who had headed for the Pleiades Watchtower, lend a hand with this mission he had to fulfill, and see him through to the end of his life. However, when the appointed time came, no signal for the rendezvous was raised, and Yae judged that Al's plan had failed, withdrew from the nearest town—and on those very heels, hurried back to the Barielle Domain.
「It's the first time I've been able to return to the manor openly since Lady's assassination was stopped by Al, isn't it?」
That said, so long as it wasn't out in the open, she had been coming and going from the manor fairly often to keep in contact with Al. The letter she used as her pretext for returning to the manor was also information she'd obtained while up in the attic during one of those discreet comings and goings. To Schult and to the nasty nobles who tried to prey on him—Roswall L. Mathers and his attendant maid—she passed the letter off as something entrusted to her by Priscilla.
「In reality, I only peeped when Lady prepared it and stashed it in a secret safe.」
Because the safe that held the letter was a concealed one, Yae could reveal the whereabouts of a letter no one else even knew existed, and win trust as someone entrusted with the secret. She did feel a twinge of guilt about using the dead Priscilla for that purpose, but—
「—But Lady, did you really think I wasn't watching?」
To be honest, even Yae herself didn't have a clear answer to that mystery. Priscilla prepared the letter to adopt Schult as her son right before departing for the Empire, and put it away in the safe around the same time; even so, Yae, though only her temporary retainer, did not underestimate her insight. That heroine with eyes that seemed to see straight through a person's heart—had she truly believed Yae wasn't there?
『—Make good use of the letter; put it to work for yourself. And while you're at it, save Schult.』
Perhaps hiding the letter in a concealed safe that no one but the attic-dwelling Yae could have found without turning the whole manor upside down had been Priscilla's way of arranging things. In any case—
「I'll do just that, Lady. —I have to wait for Al.」
Having decided to accept Priscilla's kindness, Yae returned to the manor for that purpose. As mentioned above, since he couldn't send the signal to continue the plan, Al had likely made a blunder at the watchtower and ended up in a state where carrying out the plan was difficult. But Al won't die. He's alive.
「Because Al is a monster, after all.」
Al doesn't die; he can't be killed. It's because he's that kind of monster that Yae follows him.
To see him fulfill his goal, die satisfied, and witness the disappearance of the existence she feared. For that, she needed Schult to keep his distance from Emilia's camp. If something had happened to Al, then Emilia's camp, who had accompanied him to the watchtower, would be involved. She had to be somewhere she could move at any time, ready for when he broke free from there. So—
「Schult dear, let's carry on Lady's last wishes. It's all right. From now on, I'll also be back at the manor to help you, Schult dear.」
「Miss Yae... yes. Yes, ma'am...! I'll live up to Lady Priscilla's expectations! And I want you to help me with that, Miss Yae!」
At the resolve of the honest, adorable Schult—no, the boy who had become Schult Barielle—Yae exaggeratedly lowered her outer eyelids, and the other servants, too, seemed moved to tears. Even Roswaal's attendant maid wiped the tears at the corners of her eyes with a finger, touched by his gallant devotion. Only the Count of the Frontier, whose expectations had apparently been dashed, wore an ambiguous expression, but even that felt pleasantly satisfying—a sign that, even in death, Priscilla had outstripped someone's designs. Yes, Priscilla was a mistress worth serving. That, at least, is the truth.
「I'll do my best! When Al and Heinkel return, I want to show them how dependable I've become!」
However, when Schult, face flushed, declared that so fervently, Yae hesitated over how to answer. She too longed for Al's return. But when it came to Heinkel—
「...As for Heinkel, coming back might be a little difficult, you know~」
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「—Gwah!」
And then, right after the sensation of floating, Heinkel crashed to the ground and let out a low scream. After groaning for a while, he slowly worked his arms and legs, undoing his restraints. Once the wrists and ankles that had been bound tight with fine threads regained their freedom, he savored the long-missed feeling of release—,
「Goddammit...!」
He spat the words out bitterly, as if to curse the misfortune that had befallen him.
—The one who tied Heinkel up and left him in a hut deep in a forest no one ever visited was a girl named Yae, who claimed to be a collaborator of Aldebaran. Formerly a maid serving Priscilla and, incomprehensibly, also an assassin sent after her, she had egged him on, saying that if he cooperated with Aldebaran, an opportunity would come around to obtain the thing Heinkel wanted—'Dragon's Blood.' And after coaxing him like that.
「The moment there was no word from that bastard Aldebaran, she says the plan's a failure—what a joke...」
And to top it off, when Heinkel demanded an explanation and for the plan to continue, she drove merciless knee kicks and elbow strikes into him, then tied up his nosebleeding self and promptly vanished. From Heinkel's point of view, there was no reason to be left in the lurch like this.
「Every last one of them...」
Priscilla, whom he'd relied on, was dead; Emilia, whom he next tried to rely on, rejected him; and when he tried to cling to the hand Aldebaran extended, that hand swatted him away and sent him into the abyss. As a result, Heinkel's prospects had reverted to the dead end from before the Royal Selection began.
「But even so...」
He couldn't give up. He couldn't completely give up. He'd never once managed even to see the act of giving up through.
「――Dammit!」
Staggering, he pushed himself to his feet, wiped the thoroughly dried nosebleed with his sleeve, and started walking. He had no destination in mind. Even without one, he couldn't just stand still.
—Because Heinkel Astrea is a husband and a father.
「Wait for me, Louanna, Reinhard. I... I will...」
Dragging his feet with a scrape, hand on the hilt of the sword at his hip, Heinkel goes. No destination. —Only a long-worn, tattered, rusted prayer.
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「—In the end it all turned into a scramble. Sorry for the commotion, Ezzo.」
「No, it can't be helped. We also understand that the situation has changed. At present, I can't leave here until the replacement personnel arrive, but I'll give testimony whenever necessary.」
「That's a big help... really.」
Murmuring that softly, Subaru bowed his head to Ezzo, who was responding with gentlemanly courtesy. The place was the fifth layer of the Pleiades Watchtower, the large floor with the great door right before them. There, Subaru—no, Subaru and the others—had once again finished readying for their journey and were already about to leave the tower. After a stay of only half a day, it was an early-morning departure, waiting for the outside of the tower to grow light.
「You guys are always in such a flurry, aren't you? Can't you leave the tower a little more quietly?」
「Tell me about it. Last time you got flung to the Empire, and this time it's another quick turnaround.」
「That's not Subaru's fault! It's all on Al... I don't even know what I'm supposed to say to Schult anymore. ...Stupid Al.」
The ones trading those lines, adding the last in a subdued tone, were the girls of the return group. Naturally, each had her own thoughts about how things had ended up: about the stay of just half a day, about the situation that meant they had to leave in such haste, and about the cause that had brought it about. It's just that, for Subaru, it hurt to have the person who caused it be condemned nonstop.
「Boss, I loaded the luggage onto the dragon carriage. We can head out any time.」
There, Garfiel, who had cracked the great door open and come back in from outside, called out. Having gone ahead to load the luggage onto the dragon carriage, he furrowed his brow at Subaru, who raised a hand,
「You're wearing a miserable mug, Boss. Like with that thing they call 'Laurage's Over-Trimmed Nail,' I get why it eats at you, though.」
「Yeah, I know you're trying to cheer me up, but I'm not getting it. Over-trimmed nail? Laurage?」
「Anyway! What's happened once can't be changed. So the point is we do something about what comes next, yeah? I'll help with anything.」
Grinning with his fangs bared, Garfiel gave Subaru's shoulder a hearty smack. The force of it made Subaru think his frail shoulder might shatter, but the sentiment was a hundred times welcome. And as Garfiel said—having decided to act, what comes next is what matters.
「—I'm going to really learn it. Just what it is I've taken on my shoulders.」
Saying that, Subaru touched the magic stone at his chest—the one hanging from his neck—and declared his resolve.
—Subaru and Beatrice had been sealed inside magic stones like this one, and in the meantime Al had set off a huge, huge battle, the details of which they did not know clearly.
「――――」
Inside the magic gem it was dark; he couldn’t move, even the presence or absence of consciousness was hazy, and it was as if he’d reverted to a fetus, soaking in amniotic fluid in his mother’s womb, remaining in such a dreamlike state. There, even Subaru’s boundary between dream and reality was vague, with nothing he could call certain. As expected of the adorable Beatrice, she had earnestly devoted herself to analyzing the forbidden art that sealed him here and dismantling its formula, but all Subaru could do, in those moments when he had something resembling consciousness, was to trigger the Authority of ‘Greed’—‘Cor Leonis’—and pick up only the presence of his nearby companions and the shifts of their strong emotions.
Even so, thanks to the repeated waves of yearning for his friends, desperation, and wild swings of big emotions, he could keep sensing with his soul that something out of the ordinary was unfolding. Particularly striking were Petra, whose hues of resolve and determination were intense, and Rem, whose feelings toward Subaru could only be described as enormous—bloated, even. —Because of that, Subaru, with conviction, was able to lay out the plan to leave the tower at daybreak. That was partly because he realized that their original purpose in visiting the Pleiades Watchtower had been for Al, that this was his pretext, and so it had lost any further meaning, but not only that—
—‘The Sin Archbishop of “Gluttony” has a way to cough back up what they’ve eaten, right?’
‘That’s right. That’s where those of the people eaten so far… Rem’s “memories” and “name” are, too.’
Probably, in the loop before he ‘Return by Death’, Petra had made the best use of that ‘Gluttony’ Authority in their plan; to her words, Subaru nodded deeply.
In that instant, in that sliver of a moment when they couldn’t even exchange words, Rem, with eyes that understood everything, slammed the Morning Star into Subaru. —The woman who so deftly wielded the spiked iron ball that Subaru polished every day had, without a doubt, regained herself. That was unmistakably due to the involvement of ‘Gluttony’. Having that certainty, and with ‘Gluttony’ already in custody, there was no reason not to pin them down and make them spit back out what they’d eaten. And so, for the sake of that face-to-face negotiation—
—Here we go, dear old Royal Capital! We’ll meet ‘Gluttony’ and make them spit everything back up! Besides, it seems I can’t afford to stay indifferent to the kingdom’s history or this world’s history, either.’
Pinching the magic gem between his fingers and thinking of Al sealed within it, Subaru admonished himself. At Subaru’s declaration of resolve, Beatrice, standing beside him, laced her hand with his; Garfiel ran a finger over his own fangs; Meili shrugged the shoulder on which the Crimson Scorpion perched. And Subaru received the gaze Petra turned on him, her smile dignified and strong.
For the sake of Aldebaran—who claims the title ‘Follower Star of Subaru’, opposes Subaru with the same power, and whom he has resolved to save no matter what—Natsuki Subaru goes to the Royal Capital. He would learn. He had realized that remaining ignorant was dishonest, and that he would no longer be able to forgive himself.
And so—
‘—Bring it on, Lord Fate!’
Bearing their feelings on his back and stepping over the shackles that stood in his way, Natsuki Subaru so declared.
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—At the very same moment as Natsuki Subaru’s declaration of resolve.
At that very time, in the far-off place that Natsuki Subaru had declared he was setting out for—the Royal Capital of The Dragon Kingdom of Lugunica—a certain incident was occurring.
‘——’
In the early morning, when most of the people of the Royal Capital were still asleep, watching the coming of morning pass by from within their dreams, an uncanny air hung over what would normally be a silence-shrouded Royal Castle of Lugunica.
The source of that air was the heart of the Royal Castle—the Throne Room.
The royal line had been severed by illness, which also served as the trigger for the Royal Selection. Because of that, with the King absent, the Throne Room of the Royal Castle of Lugunica had been kept firmly closed except when important ceremonies were held. But on this day, this morning, the doors of the Throne Room stood wide open, and gathered there were the kingdom’s heavyweights—the members of the ‘Council of Sages’, retainers who had enjoyed deep trust from the late King, and even Royal Soldiers whose presence seemed to exude a palpable tension.
‘——’
Each of them was someone who bore great responsibilities in their respective posts within a kingdom without a King. Even though it was an early morning summons, none arrived late; there was not a single miscreant there who showed sleepy eyes or betrayed a lack of focus in their demeanor. Accordingly, regardless of the hour, the weight of the attention gathered here could be called that of the kingdom itself. —And bathing in all of that, the woman maintained a serene air.
‘——’
On the marble floor covered with a red carpet, kneeling on one knee, was a figure clad in indigo, hands joined before her chest and head bowed. Her praying posture was so refined that it made military officers think of martial skill and civil officials of proper etiquette, drawing involuntary sighs. So much so that, with the mere gesture of praying, the woman overwhelmed those around her.
‘—Hmm. Would you raise your face, if you please?’
Amidst that, there was one alone who was not ensnared by the woman's praying gesture and spoke up. The owner of that voice—calm and rational, naturally inspiring such an impression in any listener—was one of the castle officials who had received the kneeling young woman—no, someone who could even be called their representative.
Miklotov McMahon. In the Kingdom of Lugunica, where there is no King, he is the central figure of the Council of Sages that steers the helm of state, and even in this hastily convened assembly he is, as expected, the grand personage with the greatest voice and the right to decide. This wise man, famed for his superior stratagems and his unparalleled loyalty and service to the kingdom, looms so large that even the King himself once joked, “Even if the King of Lugunica dies, the country will not waver, but if he dies, the kingdom will fall.” His gentle features and mild manner of speech can invite misunderstanding, but in truth he is said to be the most dependable ally if you win him to your side in the Kingdom of Lugunica, and the most terrifying opponent if you turn him against you. Miklotov has long enjoyed such an assessment to the fullest.
—Yes.
At Miklotov’s words, the woman who had been looking down slowly raised her face. And when her closed eyelids opened and she met his gaze, Miklotov drew in a faint breath. Miklotov’s reaction was not his alone. Bordeaux Zergev, who was present here as a fellow member of the Council of Sages; Marcos Gildark, the captain of the Royal Guard standing here as the representative of the military; Rickert Hoffman, the central figure among the civil officials; and everyone else present in the Throne Room at this moment each reacted in their own way.
A woman whose mere presence possessed a bewitching allure that naturally drew everyone’s attention. Yet their reactions at this moment were not due solely to her bearing—it was her appearance. Her long, lustrous golden hair and crimson eyes that held a dignified, strong will carried a meaning beyond mere beauty, piercing those present here—no, those of the Kingdom of Lugunica. And—
“First of all, I wish to thank you for receiving my sudden visit so graciously. Given our respective positions, it can hardly have been a desirable thing.”
Seemingly accustomed to such concentrated attention, the woman, still kneeling on one knee, looked over the assembled sages and dignitaries and spoke. Her opening was neither excessively deferential nor ignorant of propriety, and those present checked their momentary surprise and agitation and entrusted the response to their representative, Miklotov. Taking that cue, Miklotov, seated in his chair, stroked the long, long beard he had grown with his fingers, let out a soft “hmm,” and—
“My, my, you voice something not easy to say. That said, empty flattery would be meaningless. What you say is, after all, the truth.”
“Having you put it so plainly lifts a weight from my shoulders as well. As you can see, I am but young and inexperienced, and I was fearful that I might find myself at a loss for words before you all.”
“Hmm. For someone who says that, you bear yourself quite boldly. You seem used to drawing the public eye. I imagine there are… not a few reasons for that.”
“Indeed. I will not deny it.”
Though the two differed in age as much as grandfather and grandchild, the exchange between Miklotov and the woman was smooth, and it did not seem likely to turn into a one-sided probing born of a disparity in caliber. Perceiving as much, both of them, as if letting out a breath, smiled at the same time, and—
“It would not do to unduly rob you, so busy, of your time at such an early hour. So then, without delay… allow me to proceed to the main matter.”
“Hmm, that would be best. At my age, rising early is no burden, but important discussions are, at any age, painful to postpone—especially when they are matters coming from the Church of the Divine Dragon, which has kept its distance from the Royal Castle.”
“——”
Though he had intended to encourage her to speak with magnanimity, Miklotov’s remark caused the air in the room to grow taut for a moment. It was soon relaxed again, on the grounds that it would be discourteous to a woman who had come to the Royal Castle alone, but the reason for that tension was something that none present could do anything about.
—The “Church of the Divine Dragon” that Miklotov named is, as the name suggests, a religious organization that venerates the existence of the “Divine Dragon” Volcanica and believes in the covenant of the blessings of its power and its protection.
The Kingdom of Lugunica, as it calls itself the 『Parent Dragon Kingdom』, is known for its exceptionally deep bond with the 『Dragon』, and if one is a person of the kingdom, to a greater or lesser degree one shares in the blessings of the 『Divine Dragon』. From that awareness, even without publicly belonging to the Church, most citizens of Lugunica harbor a reverence for the 『Divine Dragon』. In such an environment, it goes without saying how strong the faith in the 『Divine Dragon』 is among those who do publicly belong to the Church. To prevent the state from being shaken by that great influence, the 『Church of the Divine Dragon』 keeps its distance from the Royal Castle, which bears responsibility for national governance, and in their respective spheres they contribute to the happiness of the people—that is the unspoken understanding. Precisely because of that, it was an unusual occurrence for a nun of the 『Church of the Divine Dragon』 to visit the Royal Castle and seek to speak before those present, including the 『Council of Sages』. However—,
「――It is worth it」
It is precisely because she understood it was an extraordinary act that there was reason enough to break that unwritten rule. That woman’s firm declaration served to make them expect that there truly was meaning in gathering Miklotov and the others in the Throne Room and hearing her out. Accordingly, at the sages’ wordless urging, the woman spoke—of the reason for her visit.
「In recent days, the kingdom’s perils have weighed heavily upon all of us believers of the 『Church of the Divine Dragon』. By tacit understanding, we had kept our distance from the matter of state that is the royal selection contest…… the Royal Selection, but since the calamity in the Watergate City reached our ears, we found we could no longer sit idly by」
「The Watergate City…… Priestella—the incident with the Witch Cult, is it. We too grieve over the damage suffered by that city, but surely the 『Church of the Divine Dragon』 is not here to lodge complaints against the Royal Selection candidates involved in the affair?」
「That’d contradict the meaning of us dashing over here even at the cost of breaking the tacit understanding, and my saying it would be worth hearing.…… It would be a contradiction」
Her true colors slipped out in that impromptu rebuttal, and the way she corrected herself betrayed her youth. To cover her embarrassment, the woman gave a small cough, and—
「In any case, we have no complaints about the Royal Selection candidates. There may be certain points that some would like to raise, but those are not the consensus of the 『Church of the Divine Dragon』, merely personal opinions」
「If it is not the Church’s view, then it is a frank opinion as a subject of the kingdom. Rather, I think we ought to listen actively to such views…… hmm, but that would be a digression」
「Indeed. I will remember that Lord Miklotov is someone one can talk to, but to the point.――What we wish to address is not the pursuit of responsibility, but the matter of the damage」
「――Very well. Let us hear it」
「Those in Watergate City Priestella who suffered harm at the hands of the Witch Cult…… I understand multiple cases have been confirmed, but the 『Church of the Divine Dragon』 can provide a means of salvation for them」
――In that instant, the very meaning of those words sent a ripple through the air of the Throne Room. Yet the woman who was the epicenter of that stir did not break her dignified posture; even under the sages’ gazes, she stood straight. There was no wavering in her eyes or demeanor; she had the conviction that one could not declare such a thing without certainty.
「――Hmm」
With that single interjection, Miklotov cut through the murmuring air. Even so, Miklotov, one of the kingdom’s foremost sages, could not suppress his surprise at the woman’s proposal. The sage betrayed a faint restlessness in the fingers that toyed with his beard, and—
「If that is true, it is more than we could have hoped for. And the reason you have brought this to the Royal Castle is……」
「If we were to proceed on our own, we would not be looked upon kindly. Besides――」
「Those who would not look kindly on it would be not only we of the castle, but the Witch Cult as well, I imagine」
At that self-evident truth, the woman dipped her slender chin in agreement with Miklotov. Naturally, if the damage wrought by the Witch Cult could be wiped away, that would be anything but desirable to the Witch Cult. Precisely for that reason, the 『Church of the Divine Dragon』 seeks it.
「――The kingdom’s assured protection. Because of the distance between us, who administer state affairs, and the 『Church of the Divine Dragon』, which administers faith, it is something that has not, in a true sense, been realized for many years」
「Yes, exactly. On this occasion, we wish to make that a reality. That is the consensus of the 『Church of the Divine Dragon』.――To give that decision a push, we have a proposal to make」
「Hmm, a proposal? And that would be?」
「First, allow us to show you—proof of the salvation we can provide」
As the woman said this, laying a hand to her chest, Miklotov raised an eyebrow. It was an offer beyond hope. Just as she said, as material for judgment it was impeccable. However, to bring victims from the Watergate City to the Royal Capital at once would be――
「There should be one person who comes to mind. Let the first be that person」
「――. Very well. You have leave to approach them first.――Captain Marcos」
「Yes, sir!」
Called by name by Miklotov, the one who responded in such a thunderous voice was a giant of a man in armor. Marcos, commander of the Royal Guard Knights, stepped forward and saluted the seats of the Council of Sages.
"Could you escort her? This is a grave matter for the kingdom. Be prudent."
"Understood. — I will accompany her."
"Yes, the big face—no, the big-bodied one. I’m counting on you."
The woman dipped her head in a small bow, and even her expression held a touch of softness. Perhaps that was because the course of the discussion was proceeding as she wished, and it seemed she could fulfill the purpose of her visit from the Church of the Divine Dragon. Knowing it would feel like a bit of a sneak attack on her, Miklotov nonetheless asked something: the reason why this woman—who claimed to be an envoy from the Church of the Divine Dragon and had gathered Miklotov and the kingdom’s worthies at the Royal Castle from early morning—was attracting attention beyond merely being affiliated with the Church of the Divine Dragon. It was—
"—I beg your pardon, but may I have your name, Sister?"
△▼△▼△▼△
"—I am a nun dispatched by the Church of the Divine Dragon."
Personally escorted by Marcos, the woman who visited the 王侯館—the one who called herself a nun—left Felis unable to hide his confusion.
Felis was staying in the Royal Capital together with Wilhelm to make a direct appeal at the Royal Castle—to join the expedition to the now-open Pleiades Watchtower as one of its members and learn from the wisdom of the Sage, lauded as omniscient and omnipotent, a means to save Crusch, who continues to suffer even now. Of course, they had already received letters from Emilia and the others, who had returned from the Pleiades Watchtower, informing them that neither the Sage’s existence nor his wisdom were as convenient as one might hope. Even so, compared to the slow-going development of healing magic, the possibility seemed far greater.
"Honestly, it’s ridiculous. No matter how much I improve existing healing magic, all it does is keep me from dying; I can’t even take away a single one of Lady Crusch’s pains."
Driven by a clinging hope, the research into Blue had, in this short span, raised the level of the Kingdom of Lugunica’s healing magic not by one tier but by three—yet to Felis right now, that was worthless. The person he most wanted to save could not be saved. That fact cornered Felis and dropped him into darkness. That’s why he had tried to rely on the Pleiades Watchtower, on the Sage’s wisdom—
"…You can save Lady Crusch? The Church of the Divine Dragon can? A-are you serious?"
"Faith does not lie, and I’ve no taste for further tormenting those who are lost. Even if you can’t trust me, you should be able to trust your commander."
Answering the trembling Felis, the nun gestured toward Marcos, who had come along. When Felis called out in a high voice, "Commander!", he nodded, his face like a crag,
"I have heard the Church of the Divine Dragon possesses magics and techniques not made public. Lord Miklotov and the other members of the Council of Sages deemed it worth believing."
"…B-but, what if something happens to Lady Crusch again?"
"—'The Quain Stone doesn’t rise with just one person.'"
"—!"
At those quietly spoken words of the nun, Felis involuntarily drew a breath. Eyes growing moist amid the surging turbulence of emotion, he watched as she quietly reached out toward his hand; the nun gently took his tightly clenched fingers in her slender ones and loosened them, one by one. Yielding to her, Felis suddenly took in her beautiful golden hair and the crimson eyes that held a serious light, and his eyes widened. The realization only fanned his confusion, and he could not grasp what it meant—
"Please. Let me help the person dear to you. The Church of the Divine Dragon always prays for the happiness of the kingdom’s people. Whatever creed one holds, there are no exceptions to that."
"Y-you are… who are you?"
"——"
At Felis’s question she caught her breath, but with a blink she quelled the faint hesitation, and while still gently holding his hand, she answered. It was—
"—Filore. That is my name."
—The daughter of the king’s younger brother, who was taken from the Royal Castle fifteen years ago and vanished. The nun, with the royal family’s distinctive golden hair and crimson eyes, gave the same name as that missing princess.
And with that, Chapter Nine is complete! Thank you for reading along! What I wanted to do in Chapter Nine was once again depict the light and dark of "Return by Death." What is the light in death…?? For those who finished reading, which did you think was the light "Return by Death," and which the dark "Return by Death"?
Anyway, with the next update we finally plunge into Chapter Ten! Lots of things didn’t go according to plan, but on the whole, I think the stuff I’ve actually written ends up better than what I had before writing—that’s the mercurial nature of storytelling! Chapter Ten’s plot is fun, so I think the finished version will be even more fun than the plot! Look forward to it!
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