Chapter 1 - Friends

"—Ain't that just like that princess. Sticking to her own damn way to the very end."

At Felt, who said that as she brought a cup of tea to her lips, Emilia's eyes softened. Sitting across from her on the reception sofa with one knee hugged up, Felt had listened to Emilia's account to the end without interrupting, and mourned Priscilla in a way that was very her. Seeing in Felt's eyes—red, though a shade different from Priscilla's—that there was no great grief or sense of loss, Emilia didn't think it was cold-hearted. She just thought she was strong. Including the fact that she had come here of her own accord to learn the details of the news of Priscilla's death.

Right now, Emilia and Felt faced each other in a room of the Noble Residence in the Royal Capital of Lugunica. In the reception room of the residence assigned for dignitaries staying in the Royal Capital, Emilia was receiving Felt. It wasn't prearranged. Felt just happened to be staying in the Royal Capital, heard that Emilia had brought word to the Royal Castle, and came to see her like this.

To be honest, Emilia was very happy that Felt had come to visit like this. In the first place, Emilia's camp owed Felt a big debt—she'd heard from Annerose that while they were away from the kingdom, Meili had been greatly looked after. A relative of Roswaal and a supporter of Emilia, Annerose had been asked to handle various negotiations regarding Meili and the Pleiades Watchtower. Apparently, Felt and her people had lent a great deal of help in bringing those negotiations to fruition.

For that reason, Emilia had meant to make time to go and thank Felt herself, so being able to meet like this was a huge help. Only, if possible, she wished she could have brought back better news—

"—At least, that's the look on your face, Sis Emilia."

"Eh, was I really that easy to read?"

"Pretty much. With your brow all furrowed and your gaze down, it's a dead giveaway."

Prompted by Felt, who tapped between her own brows with a fingertip, Emilia rubbed hers as well. People often told her that what she was thinking showed on her face, but to have it come out that specifically startled even herself. It made her anxious, too—she'd been steeling herself: I'm totally over it now, I'm fine. No need to make everyone worry anymore.

"And yet, it's no good. At this rate, Subaru and the others will get mad at me."

"That guy blowing his top at you, Sis Emilia? Can't picture it."

"That's not true. Even Subaru would be in trouble if I didn't keep it together. So he tells me straight when I'm not at my best."

"Heh. We'll see about that."

Grinning as she rested her chin on her raised knee, Felt flashed a little fang. Emilia pursed her lips at Felt's faintly impish, teasing smile, then continued, "But—"

"It sounds like my thoughts were an open book to you, Felt, but... don't you feel that way?"

"Bit of a tangle, but you mean this, right? That it's been a while since we showed our mugs to each other, and you're sorry the topic is the princess's death notice?"

"Um, yes... yes. That's it."

"As for that, I'm actually glad I heard it from you, Sis Emilia."

"Heard it from me?"

Caught off guard, Emilia asked back, and Felt nodded, "Yeah." Scratching her head in front of the wide-eyed Emilia, she said,

"Honestly, when I heard that princess was dead, I figured it had to be a joke. She was the poster child for a woman who wouldn't die even if you killed her. If it had stayed like that, half-baked guesses would have just kept swelling up inside me and the real story would have gotten buried."

"——"

"So hearing it from you, Sis Emilia, who was actually there, gave me closure. ...No, maybe it got me ready for closure. Tch, now I'm tying myself in knots. Sorry 'bout that."

"— No. I think I get what you're saying, Felt."

Felt made a wry face, saying she couldn't explain it well, but Emilia understood how she felt. If it were the other way around—if somewhere far away, without her knowing it, she heard that someone she knew had lost their life—Emilia would probably spin all kinds of imaginings around that death. Those imaginings, right or wrong, would fill her head with things she had no way to verify, until she couldn't tell what was true anymore. So even though it's very painful, having that room for speculation cut away is a kind of salvation.

"And if the one who tells you is someone you trust, it's even better."

“…Doesn’t that make it sound like I’m saying I trust Emilia?”

“Yes, I trust you too, Felt… and you feel the same, right? That’s why you came to see me like this, isn’t it?”

“For the record, we’re rival candidates, so it’d be weird to nod along here!”

Felt lowered her feet from the chair, propping her cheek on a hand braced on her knee, looking exasperated. Even so, since she didn’t shake her head, Emilia was able to smile in relief. Thinking of Priscilla still made Emilia’s chest ache dully. But she was glad they hadn’t let the answer to Felt’s muddled feelings stay buried.

——

Just then, a faint breath cut into Emilia and the others’ exchange. At once, sharp-eared Felt picked up on it and, with a displeased “Hey,”

“You—what are you smirking at?”

“No—my apologies. It’s so rare to see Lady Felt being cleanly talked down by Emilia that I couldn’t help myself.”

“Don’t give me that ‘couldn’t help it.’ What kind of knight grins while his Master is getting worked over?”

“Forgive me. I hesitated to interrupt the two of you.”

Saying so, hand to his chest and head bowed, was Felt’s knight, Reinhard, distinguished by his red hair and blue eyes. Naturally, Felt wouldn’t come to see Emilia alone; he too had been listening in on the conversation up to this point. At Reinhard and Felt’s friendly back-and-forth, Emilia prefaced with a “Come on,” and said,

“You don’t have to be that considerate. Even our Otto has been joining the conversation since earlier… huh? Hasn’t he?”

“Indeed. Thank you for noticing. Believe it or not, I do have the good sense not to butt into a conversation between two people of exalted standing.”

Startled, Emilia lifted her brows; the one who gave that wry smile beside her was Otto, who had been there the whole time. On this trip to the Royal Capital, the only one accompanying Emilia was Otto, so naturally he’d been at her side everywhere—when reporting to the Royal Castle, at meetings in the Noble Residence, wherever. Otto’s very presence was reassuring, so she’d found herself completely at ease even when he wasn’t talking.

“Sorry I didn’t notice. Since you love to chat, Otto, staying quiet must have been sooo hard.”

“If I may, I only speak about what’s necessary when it’s necessary; I’m pretty sure that doesn’t make me a chatterbox!”

“Oh, sure, real convincing. A guy who can chat not just with people but with bugs and water dragons and such says he isn’t talkative—yeah, right.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mix up talk of blessings with a person’s character.”

Pressing down the green hat on his head, Otto answered the easygoing Felt like that. Since Otto can talk with all kinds of living things thanks to the power of the 『Blessing of Spirit Language』, Emilia felt Felt’s remark had hit the mark. Come to think of it, wherever they went, Otto would chat with animals, insects—every sort of creature—and widen his circle of friends.

“Otto has sooo many friends. I don’t have that many myself, so I really respect how you can get along with anyone.”

“Calling them ‘friends’ is a bit off. More often than not, what I approach others with are negotiations or deals—it’s a different know-how than making friends. Thinking of it that way, I can’t exactly say I have many friends either.”

“No need to nitpick the definition of ‘pals.’ If that’s the case, make friends with our Reinhard. He’s short on friends too.”

“Huh, really? That’s super surprising.”

Winking one eye, Felt pointed at Reinhard standing behind the sofa, and Emilia couldn’t help looking up at the red-haired knight. Reinhard is easy to get along with and very famous; ask anyone in the kingdom and they’d know his name and rely on him. Ever since they first met, he’d been nothing but kind to Emilia, to the point she thought he might be friends with everyone in the kingdom. To Emilia’s surprised gaze, Reinhard continued, “I’m afraid,” and said—

“Leaving my own feelings aside, it seems I often make the other party shrink back. In fact, outside of people in the Knights Order or within our camp—well, Subaru and Ferris aside—I may not have many friends.”

“I see. Even you, Reinhard, have worries like that. …Hey, Otto, if you don’t mind, would you be friends with Reinhard?”

“That’s a pretty outrageous favor to ask, but wouldn’t that be a bit embarrassing for Reinhard!?”

“Not at all. On the contrary, I’d be delighted. Will you be my friend?”

"Isn't this a pincer attack—or rather, a sneak attack?"

Sandwiched between Emilia's gaze and Reinhard's smile, Otto groaned, "Gnnn," in indecision. Felt alone watched with a smirk, and after agonizing for a long while, Otto let out a long, deep sigh, and—

"As Lady Felt said a moment ago, we are currently members of opposing camps. Until the Royal Election is over, we should avoid overly friendly relations."

"I see. That's a shame, but if that's your wish, I'll respect it. We're not friends, though."

"Yes, please do. Since we're not friends."

Even as Otto slumped his shoulders while saying something so sad, Reinhard responded with a smile that, strangely, showed neither hurt nor disappointment. The two hadn't managed to become friends, sadly, yet to Emilia's eyes they somehow gave off the vibe of being proper friends. And on top of that—

"Good grief, the tea's gotten completely cold. I'll brew a fresh pot. Emilia and the others, please continue your chat. I'll—"

"—In that case, I'll come along. We may not have become friends, but let me show you the effect of the 'Protection of Tea Ceremony'."

"You're surprisingly the type to hold a grudge, and having the 'Sword Saint' hold one against me makes me fear for my life."

With that kind of banter, the two of them left the room together. Watching their backs as the door closed between them, Emilia turned back to Felt.

"Somehow, they looked sooo much like friends, didn't they?"

"Heh-heh, yeah, I thought so too. Usually that punk Reinhard's way of acting just ticks me off, but when it's someone else's problem, it's hilarious."

"Ah, that's the face of a bad girl. But because of our Royal Election, making Otto hold back from becoming friends with Reinhard..."

"Hah. That guy just used what I said as a convenient excuse. Not that I don't get why he did it... but 'we can't be friendly because there's a Royal Election'—that's not something you ought to take at face value."

"So it's okay not to take it at face value..."

Maybe she found it that satisfying, because Felt looked so cheerful she seemed ready to hum; after thinking for a bit as she watched her, Emilia said, "Alright," and stood up then and there. Otto had given up on becoming friends with Reinhard out of consideration for the Royal Election. Emilia felt sorry about Otto's decision and thoughtfulness, but she had made up her mind. After what happened with Priscilla, she didn't want to have any more regrets.

"Hey, Felt, is that okay?"

"Oh? What is it?"

Striding right up, Emilia sat down beside Felt, who was looking up at her, and faced her head-on at a distance where their shoulders almost touched. Bowled over by Emilia's momentum, Felt blinked her red eyes as Emilia leaned in close. Thinking about it now, the first time Emilia met Felt was, of all things, when Felt stole the insignia that proved her eligibility to enter the Royal Election. Her mind had gone completely blank then, and she had even wanted to take it out on Puck, who wouldn't panic in a situation like that at all; in any case, her encounter with Felt had certainly not gotten off to a good start.

Even so, now Emilia felt this way toward Felt, a fellow Royal Election candidate.

"I want to get along with you, Felt. Not just be friends—be really, really close friends."

"...Huh?"

"The truth is, Anastasia and I promised that once the Royal Election is over, we'll become friends. We'll travel together and talk about all sorts of things... It wasn't all really Anastasia the whole time, but we talked a lot, and we made that promise."

As Felt's big eyes wavered in confusion, Emilia pressed on briskly. A promise made with Anastasia—since she so strongly identifies herself as a merchant, she'll surely keep it. Unlike with Subaru, she could feel at ease about that promise.

"Subaru breaks promises so quickly that it worries me, but with Anastasia I can relax. Still, even aside from promises, I feel like I can't be friends with Subaru, and I don't even think I feel like I want to be friends with Subaru, and... oh? What was I saying again?"

"You mean you can't be friends with Subaru, Emilia?"

"Yes, that's right. ...No, not that—I'm talking about you and me, Felt!"

Emilia felt a chill at how she had almost lost sight of the main point. Right then, in front of Emilia who had narrowly avoided that, Felt suddenly looked upward. Drawn by the movement, Emilia looked up at the ceiling too. There was nothing in particular there.

"Felt?"

"I ain't starin' at the ceiling. I was just thinking what to do."

"Um, right. Subaru and Petra often say that just looking at my face really perks them up. How about it?"

"Are you, by any chance, trying to pitch me on your good points?"

"That's right—because I want to be friends with you, Felt."

Over the past year or so, even Emilia had gotten used to the face she saw in the mirror. Since Subaru and Petra, and sometimes even Ram, complimented her looks, she tried saying it on the off chance it might work on Felt too. At Emilia’s desperate attempt to reach out, Felt kept her face tilted up and—

"Why d'you wanna be friends with me so bad? Things are fine as they are…"

"With Priscilla—I wanted to be friends."

"——"

"But I kept putting off telling her that. I'm just hopeless, aren't I? I should have known that you can suddenly be parted from someone important to you, someone who was fine just yesterday."

Pressing a hand tight to her chest and touching the magic crystal hanging from her neck, Emilia murmured. The same went for Puck, who still slept on, and for Emilia’s precious family frozen in the Elior Forest. Partings come without warning, even to those dearest to you. That sad truth—her parting with Priscilla—made even forgetful Emilia remember.

"I don't want to forget that anymore. So I've decided I won't hold back. I'll tell the people I love that I love them, and I'll tell the people I want to be friends with that I want to be friends."

"Damn it—that princess, she had to go and do it right to the very end."

"—?"

Emilia put her feelings into words as straightforwardly as she could. Felt, who had been listening with her face still tilted up, slowly lowered her gaze. The look on Felt’s face was a smile that was neither frustrated nor bitter.

"Alright, got it. Fine. I'll be friends with you too, Big Sis Emilia."

"Really!? Does that mean, after the Royal Election is over…"

"Doesn't have to wait. If it's gonna happen anyway, I'll be friends with Big Sis Emilia before Big Sis Anastasia and make her jealous."

"Ah, don't say that. Anastasia is going to be my friend too."

"Doesn't that make me, the one who's already your friend, rank higher in your book than Big Sis Anastasia, who ain't your friend yet?"

"Stop trying to put me on the spot!"

At Felt, who laughed with a cackle, showing off her little fang, Emilia couldn't help but let her lips curve into a smile as well. In response to Emilia's offer, Felt had given a happy answer. The realization that she had become friends with Felt slowly filled Emilia's chest with warmth. And as she laughed together with Felt, Emilia thought—of Al, still unable to fully accept Priscilla's death, and of Subaru and the others who were staying by his side.

"Al, too—"

Someday. It doesn't have to be right away—someday. She wanted, from the bottom of her heart, for the day to come when he could talk about Priscilla—whom Emilia had wished to befriend—with an expression that wasn't on the verge of tears.

Yes—so thought Emilia, shoulder to shoulder with her friend.

△▼△▼△▼△

"—So, you even gave me a look. You have something you want to talk about with me, don't you?"

Leaving Emilia and Felt in the parlor and walking a ways down the corridor, Reinhard broached the subject out of the blue. Carrying a silver tray bearing a tea set, Otto nodded without looking back. "That's right."

"You catching on saved me. With Lady Felt coming to visit and Emilia finally managing a natural smile, I didn't want to ruin that mood."

"As I thought, Priscilla's passing hit her hard."

"Honestly, I doubt there's a single person who took part in that battle who didn't feel it. Even I, who hardly had any connection with her, have feelings I can't quite digest."

Of course, the shock Otto felt couldn't compare to Emilia, who had held a favorable impression of Priscilla, or to Subaru and Al, who watched her vanish right before their eyes. Even so, as someone who had been working to bring back alive as many allies as possible who fought against the Great Calamity, the death of a figure tied to the kingdom—a Royal Election candidate—hit Otto quite hard. On the other hand, there was also a part of him that coolly analyzed the situation and noted the elimination of a rival who possessed an outrageous charisma.

"…That's unexpected."

As if he'd heard the thoughts in Otto's chest, Reinhard murmured that. When Otto stole a glance back at the man behind him, he saw Reinhard raise his brows in genuine surprise, just as his words suggested. At that reaction, Otto let the corner of his mouth curl in a slightly self-mocking smile,

"Was it unexpected that I should feel pain over Priscilla's death? It would be a lie to say I felt no sense of welcoming the fall of a rival…"

"No, I was surprised that you so frankly voiced your own vulnerability. You don't need to go out of your way to craft such a put-on, faux-villainous version of yourself."

"——"

「Or is baring your true feelings a sign you've let your guard down... a sign we could become friends?」

「It seems I chose my words poorly.」

Teased in a playful way, Otto stiffened his shoulders a little and started walking again. Apparently, his state of mind was worse than he himself realized. Having realized that, Reinhard had kindly conceded to treat his earlier blunder as just a moment of banter.

「Get a grip, Otto Suwen.」

This won't do, he told himself, and he tightened his own reins. Even if Felt bears no hostility toward Emilia, she is still a rival candidate. There's nothing to be gained by showing weakness to the other side. Being in a state of emotional imbalance is about the worst thing you could show. Re-centering himself with that in mind, Otto moved to fulfill the purpose for which he had pulled Reinhard aside. That was—

「—I want to bring you up to speed on Heinkel Astrea.」

「——」

With that opening, he felt the air in the corridor change distinctly. Whether it dried out or grew damp, the humidity shifted. Whether it rose or fell, the temperature changed. And the only thing certain was that what caused it was the 『Sword Saint』 walking right at his side.

「As for Heinkel, he took part in the fighting in the Empire as a member of Lady Priscilla's camp and made it back alive. But after he was seen in a state of terrible agitation following Lady Priscilla's death, his whereabouts became unknown.」

「...Was he taken into custody by the Empire?」

「No, I doubt that. Their national character lets them be ruthlessly pragmatic in pursuit of practical gain, but in their current exhausted state after that war, they aren't so blind to the situation that they'd make an enemy of the Kingdom—of the 『Sword Saint』, Reinhard van Astrea.」

「Then he disappeared of his own accord, did he.」

Otto heard Reinhard murmur that faintly, eyes cast down and drained of strength. He hadn't meant it as payback, but as with Otto's own earlier misstep, the result was that he'd put the other party in a mentally unbalanced state. Even so, he wasn't in the mood to take advantage of that and gouge at, or probe into, the other's weak points. Honestly, he knew this wasn't his strong suit, but—

「Heinkel... your father—are you worried about him?」

Asking him that was a genuine expression of concern for someone who had just shown him concern. In truth, it was probably a hard question for Reinhard to answer. Otto didn't know the details of Reinhard and Heinkel's relationship, but that this parent-child bond was cracked and broken was already common knowledge. All the more so since, back in Priestella, Otto had even witnessed Heinkel point his blade at Felt and attempt to pin down Reinhard's movements.

If you wanted to bring it up, the mere fact that three generations of the family each supported different Royal Election candidates openly testified to the dysfunction of the Astrea family. Be that as it may—

「Whether or not this is any comfort, according to Garfiel, your father even withstood a blow from the 『Dragon』. So I don't think there's much risk of him being attacked and his life being in danger.」

As he said that, Otto deliberately concealed the possibility of Heinkel taking his own life. From what he'd heard, after losing control over Priscilla's death, Heinkel had even tried to switch the target of his loyalty to Emilia and asked to be taken on as one of her subordinates. Rejected by Emilia and left with nowhere to go, it wasn't impossible that he might be driven to an extreme—but—

「—That's not going to happen, Otto. My father would never do something like take his own life.」

「...Did it show on my face, like with Emilia?」

Nailed right on the head, Otto rubbed the bridge of his nose with one hand. Reinhard gave a wry smile and said,「No,」before continuing,

「I figured you were being considerate because you intentionally didn't voice the worst possibility. But that worry is groundless. My father has a goal he is absolutely determined to live to accomplish. Choosing death without accomplishing it—that's simply not possible.」

「In that case, while that's reassuring, it also raises new concerns. Cornered like this, who knows what he'll do... What if his next move is to approach Lady Felt?」

From Heinkel's perspective, that would be a far more viable option than clinging to Emilia. Of course, making that choice would mean discarding his one and only absolute advantage—the ability to exert some sort of compulsion over the 『Sword Saint』, Reinhard. Even so, it's still an option with a high chance of being accepted into service.

Having lost Priscilla and been rejected by Emilia, Otto thought it perfectly plausible that Heinkel would choose Felt as his next host to latch onto. However—

「—That won't happen either.」

It was delivered in a tone even more certain than before, and it stifled Otto’s next words.

「――――」

Those twin blue eyes that mirrored the clear sky took on a shade as if night had fallen over them. Even the faint trace of a smile at his lips vanished, and Reinhard walked at the side of the now-silent Otto. Two, three steps passed with neither of them saying a word as they closed the distance to the kitchen. It seemed the conversation would end in silence, but—

「My father wants me to quit being the 『Sword Saint』. So, in the Royal Election that I absolutely have to win, he can’t even consider lending his strength to Lady Felt, whom I support.」

「…He wants to win the Royal Election. But he doesn’t want to let you win, Reinhard?」

「That’s about the size of it. On that point, my father and I are irreconcilable. Whatever he may wish, I am the 『Sword Saint』—I have to be the 『Sword Saint』.」

Everyone must have their own circumstances. Understanding that well enough, Otto had no thought of butting into another household’s affairs. Even if he couldn’t help feeling that, as a parent and child, theirs was a warped relationship, and even if that last remark sounded as though Reinhard were telling himself as much. Thus, all Otto could do was make his own stance clear.

「—. Good grief, what an outrageous little scene that was. Never in my life did I imagine I’d be making small talk like this with the 『Sword Saint』.」

With a shrug to show it, Otto signaled to Reinhard that he would not be prying into the matter. It was a survival tactic he had learned as a traveling merchant, meeting people of all sorts in many lands: no matter what circumstances he heard, he would conspicuously show that he had no intention of exploiting them, declaring himself harmless. That way, in most cases, he could leave the posting town without incident.

「Every so often, someone gets carried away over drinks, lets slip information that absolutely mustn’t be leaked, and then unreasonably tries to silence the person who heard it…」

Which is why, even in taverns—ideal places to gather information while traveling—you need to take care not to carelessly pick up anything more serious than necessary. The fact that such a traveling merchant’s maxim also proves useful when getting involved with the Royal Election is just one of those you-never-know-what-life-will-bring things. In any case—

「Thanks for sharing about my father. I’ll keep it in mind.」

Reinhard, too, nodded as if accepting Otto’s statement of intent. In response, Otto shrugged and added, ‘Sorry about that.’

「Did I just add to your needless worries? In the lofty position of the 『Sword Saint』, I’m sure you already have plenty to trouble you.」

「It’s a blessing and a station I obtained by choice. That’s something I should call my responsibility.」

Blessings are things bestowed. Obtained by choice struck him as a strange way to put it, but Otto quickly realized that the one exception, the 『Blessing of the Sword Saint』, is inherited after the fact by one deemed worthy. Reinhard, too, had taken it on after the previous 『Sword Saint』 died.

「For those blessed, the troubles of dealing with their blessings never end. From what I can see, though, Otto, you handle yours quite well—so perhaps that’s not the case for you?」

「Handle it well? Hardly. I’ve been at the mercy of an unmanageable blessing since birth. If I could give it to someone, I’d gladly hand it over.」

「Haha, you shouldn’t say such careless things. There are plenty of people who envy the blessed. Of course, I doubt I need to tell you that.」

「In truth, I don’t think it’s anything worth envying.」

Just as Reinhard said, for those blessed, the troubles their blessings bring never end. It’s like having to keep answering problems with no model solution—dilemmas you can’t share not only with those who have no blessings, but even among those who possess different ones. His response to Reinhard’s compliment was, unmistakably, Otto’s true feeling. He had never once been conceited enough to think he was mastering the 『Blessing of Spirit Language』—and probably never will be.

「Unlike your 『Blessing of the Sword Saint』, what I’ve got isn’t the kind of thing that leaves a name in history.」

「Don’t get so wound up over all this 『Sword Saint』, 『Sword Saint』 talk. In the end, I’m still immature, easily dragged around by the title; I’ve no intention of putting on airs because of it.」

「They say position makes the person. You may simply not be aware of it, but that very 『Sword Saint』-ness of yours might be intimidating the people around you, Reinhard.」

「Intimidating people with my 『Sword Saint』-ness… Could you tell me more? It might be why Lady Felt and Rachins and the others keep saying all sorts of things to me.」

「Hey now, don’t press me so hard over a mere offhand remark!」

Taken unawares and pounced on, Otto let out a yelp at Reinhard's barrage of questions. As their exchange shifted into something a touch lighter, less fraught, Otto slightly lowered his guard toward Reinhard, giving himself some room and composure.

At the very least right now, Otto had no reason to hurry into political maneuvering against Felt or Reinhard at the cost of damaging his standing with them. His own condition was by no means good. Above all, at this very moment in a distant place, Subaru was in the thick of exhausting himself with worry for Al's sake.

"Even I feel guilty about scheming behind the scenes while Natsuki and the others are trying to save someone's heart. —Well, Margrave Mathers is another matter."

Unlike Subaru and the others who headed for the Pleiades Watchtower with Al, Roswaal took along Schult, who had been Priscilla's attendant, and accompanied him to her domain, the Barielle Territory. Beneath that concern and solicitude, there was no doubt his aim was to use this opportunity to interfere in the Barielle Territory. That conduct was proper and zealous for a Royal Election stakeholder—and worthy of contempt. At the same time, Otto felt that being unable to be that cold-blooded himself was either soft of him, or perhaps the better way.

"Well then, let's brew some tea. Allow me to show off my skills."

"By all means, I'll be happy to see what you can do."

As soon as they reached the kitchen, Reinhard snatched up a tray with a tea set and began the preparations. Watching him, Otto let out a breath and allowed himself a brief respite as he contemplated what lay ahead. But he had a premonition—a sense that something would soon set events in motion again.

"…They've postponed Emilia and Lady Felt's visit to the castle to prioritize some kind of discussion there. Just what is going on?"

Beside Otto as he murmured that, a small shadow lurking behind a pillar squirmed—the Zodda Bug with which he had struck a deal to report if there was any movement at the castle.

—Otto's premonition hit the mark in two senses. One was a report from the Zodda Bug that the talks at the castle, which had deliberately excluded the Royal Election candidates, had reached some kind of conclusion; the other was a report from Grassis, a girl from Felt's camp who had come to the Noble Residence.

It was complicated, tumultuous news: trouble had broken out on Subaru and the others' side as they headed for the Pleiades Watchtower; after taking Al into custody, Subaru and the others had set out for the Royal Capital.