Chapter 2 - The Church's Sacrament

――There was a curious young man named Fourier Lugunica.

When we first met he was still a boy, and from then on the impression he gave as a person hardly changed—he was childlike. Cheerful, innocent, carefree; you never knew what he might do or say in the very next second, and he kept everyone around him on edge. And yet, no matter how much he dragged you around, he had a charm that never made you feel it was unpleasant.

We’ve known each other for ten years. Stacking up those seconds where anything might happen for a decade, a lot happened. There were surely many things that you couldn’t just laugh off.

And yet, looking back, even those things can be spoken of with a smile. And at the center of those memories told with a smile was his smile, like the sun.

Let me confess without any affectation.――I loved Fourier Lugunica.

From the day we met to this very day, that feeling has never once wavered. No matter what words Fourier said to me, what feelings he hurled at me, what events we shared, what time we spent, what future we dreamed of, what bitter betrayals we suffered, or what tragedies tore my heart apart, my affection for him has never once wavered—never.

I am sure that he would never let his smile fade, no matter the circumstances. He would not lose hope. In fact, to the very, very end he remained noble, pure, and single-hearted.

I respect that from the depths of my heart. I revere it. I cherish it. Therefore—,

――Your Highness, please, forgive me.

This decision, this resignation—by no means are they the result of my love for you having faded.

△▼△▼△▼△

――As its name suggests, the Holy Dragon Church is a sect that worships the Divine Dragon Volcanica, who entered into a covenant with the kingdom, and upholds his power and blessings.

Its founding goes back fully four hundred years, to the era of the covenant that became the occasion for the Kingdom of Lugunica to be called the Parent Dragon Kingdom; it is no exaggeration to call it a venerable, long-established organization. In fact, the Holy Dragon Church has itself restrained the expansion of its influence, maintaining a certain distance from the royal family, the heart of the kingdom, and the Royal Castle. That, in other words, has been proof that the Holy Dragon Church has not sought power beyond what is necessary and has defined itself solely as a pillar for faith.

Therefore, even when the Lugunica Royal Family was wiped out by a fatal plague and the Royal Selection to determine the next monarch began, the Holy Dragon Church did not attempt to intervene actively in the kingdom.

――Not a situation where we can afford to sit around saying that. Ever since I heard of the Witch Cult’s outrageous rampage in Watergate City, my patience has been pushed closer to its limit with each passing day.

――――

Of course the rightful object of this anger is the Witch Cult, who treated the common people so cruelly. But smoking them out and punishing them thoroughly is an arduous task... or rather, even if they are punished, those who suffered won’t be saved. Everything has an order of priorities.

――――

Punishment must never be prioritized over salvation. The scripture says this as well: “Punishment without salvation is empty lightning; the dragon first spreads its wings and will tenderly embrace the small lives.” That is what I believe to be the optimal answer in terms of humanity...!

Declaring this loudly, the woman forcefully closed the thick scripture she was holding to her chest. She put so much strength into it that I worried the bound pages might fall out. Fortunately, the book didn’t come apart under the mighty clack, and thus we avoided the catastrophe of her impassioned speech from a moment ago losing all its persuasive power.

“Ahem, ahem. I’m sorry. I got a little too fired up. It’s a habit of mine. Whether it’s a good habit or a bad one depends on how I conduct myself from here on,” she said, with a bashful little cough.

And to me, who had been uselessly worrying about the book, the woman who had been delivering the speech said so with a bashful little cough. It was a way of reflecting on her actions that, while repentant, sounded peculiarly forward-looking. It carried a strength that said whether it would be good or bad depended on how she minded herself from here on—a mindset that was likeable. A complicated sort of likeable, to be sure.

――――

I stole a glance at her—the person in a nuns’ habit, a beautiful woman. Calling herself a nun of the Holy Dragon Church, she had first held talks with the Council of Sages at the Royal Castle, then visited this House Karsten secondary residence in the Royal Capital. The purpose of her visit was astonishing, and its shock has yet to fade. But the shock she brought did not end with that purpose alone.

A nun with long, flowing golden hair and red eyes that held a strong-willed light. Her physical traits—and above all the name she gave, Fillole—brought a shock to this old body on par with the purpose of her visit.

「……I hesitate to say something like this for fear it will sound self-conscious, but when you stare at me like that, I get flustered too. ……Flustered. Quite a lot」

「――. My apologies. I was somewhat remiss in my manners」

「No, it isn’t that I wish to reproach you. It’s just that, as someone still young, when faced with the gaze of the one called the『Sword Demon』, I can’t help but feel awe… fear… danger to my person? Anyway, I can’t help but feel something that could be phrased more nicely」

そう、こちらの視線の不躾さを見逃してくれるフィルオーレに、その二つ名で呼ばれた『剣鬼』――ヴィルヘルムは静々と謝意を込めて一礼した。 　謝意に込めた意図は、彼女を委縮させた視線と、長く待たせていることの二つ。なにせ、すでにフィルオーレがこの館を訪れてから、一時間以上が過ぎている。 　その間、ヴィルヘルムは間を持たせる話をすることができず、沈黙を嫌ったフィルオーレが冒頭のように話題探しをする始末。気まずさを誤魔化すようにお茶のお代わりもするものだから、すでに彼女のお茶は六杯目に突入していた。

That said, the real reason the conversation refused to go anywhere was not only Wilhelm’s lack of facility with words. The double shock brought by Fillole’s visit had greatly shaken him and robbed him of his calm—that was the main reason. In fact, unsure how he ought to treat Fillole, Wilhelm looked to the person standing behind her by the wall, as if seeking an answer. It was the tall, powerfully built man who had accompanied Fillole to this manor――

「――Captain of the Guards, Marcos Gildark」

「Yes」

Called by name by Wilhelm, the big man in silver armor who had maintained his silence—Marcos—straightened his already-straight back even further and answered. His reply was but a single word, yet it carried the tumult as if a great boulder had moved, and within the weighty tone one could sense unmistakable reverence. At the consideration contained in that voice, Wilhelm slowly shook his head.

「Please, there is no need to be so formal. I was Captain of the Guards more than ten years ago. Compared to you, who lead the Kingdom Knights now, I am nothing but a decrepit old man」

「A decrepit old man? You jest」

So he appraised Wilhelm’s remark, and a faint smile surfaced on Marcos’s rocklike face. He must have taken it for modesty, but it was Wilhelm’s unvarnished self-assessment. He strives to regain the sharpness of his former swordsmanship, yet the results he hopes to lodge in an aged body are slow to come. At this rate, he is far from living up to the reason an old soldier refuses to let go of his sword.

「At the very least, have I recovered to the point that the current Captain of the Guards would call it a joke? In that respect, one might call it a stroke of fortune」

Naturally, the one appointed to lead the Royal Guard is among the foremost in the kingdom. Without intending self-praise, just as Wilhelm had been, Marcos is also a man whose power befits that station—indeed, one of the outstanding warriors in the annals. Though overshadowed by the notoriety of Wilhelm’s exploits and by the presence of Reinhard, the strongest『Sword Saint』in history, the current robustness of the knights is owed to the ability of the man who leads them.

For that reason, among Captains of the Guards throughout the ages, Wilhelm rates Marcos as the one most suited to the role. That said, coming from Wilhelm—who left his duties, putting personal enmity above loyalty—such an appraisal is doubtless worthless prattle in his eyes.

In any case, what Wilhelm wished to discuss here was not the war stories of Captains of the Guards across generations. It was something far more grave and momentous. Namely――

「――May we take it that the『Council of Sages』has already grasped the situation？」

「Of course. We are treating it as an extraordinary situation」

「That is…… inevitably so, I suppose」

Even though Wilhelm left the subject unstated in his confirmation, Marcos did not feign ignorance and ask what he meant. Whether that answer sprang more from his character or his position was unclear, but for Wilhelm it was enough to confirm that the Council of Sages had likely felt the same shock as he had, and he let out a breath.

「The same name as the daughter of Prince Ford Lugunica, Fillole Lugunica—」

The murmur that spilled out with his sigh carried a feeling that was neither relief nor lament, and Wilhelm could not sort out his own emotions. And as noted above, that was not limited to Wilhelm; everyone in the Council of Sages and all who took part in the discussions at the Royal Castle felt the same.

For a girl had suddenly appeared who bore the physical traits of the Lugunica Royal Family and even the same name as Fillole Lugunica, who went missing fifteen years ago.

「――――」

Peeking at Fillole as she sipped her seventh cup of tea to cover her idleness, Wilhelm searched her profile for traces of the royal family he held in his memory。

There is, if you say there is; there isn’t, if you say there isn’t—only a vague impression to go on. From the outset, the princess disappeared when she was still an infant, and if she survived, how far she might have grown can only be imagined. Yet if her origins are as Wilhelm and the others suppose, that would be a grave problem that would shake the kingdom to its core.

It would jeopardize the very continuation of the Royal Selection, and depending on the designs of the Holy Dragon Church, it could even be called a seed of calamity that might lead to the kingdom’s division. To the point that no one can imagine what that seed would sprout into, or what kind of flower it would bloom into.

Even so, there is something that can be stated plainly even now. The existence of Fillole and her proposal representing the Holy Dragon Church will greatly affect two of the Royal Selection factions. Needless to say, one of them is Crusch’s camp, to which Wilhelm also belongs.

"—Crusch-sama"

Closing his eyes, Wilhelm thinks of the liege who extended a saving hand to him. As one of the candidates in the Royal Selection and one of the kingdom’s foremost talents who succeeds to Duchess Karsten's House, she was an irreplaceable great benefactor to Wilhelm, who had pursued the White Whale that slew his wife. Even now, the reason he can unwaveringly believe that she alone is fit to be king is not only that debt of gratitude. Crusch’s stance, character, and way of being—those values and bearing, fierce and brilliant like a honed blade—are precisely why Wilhelm can from the heart wish to see her seated on the throne.

Even if she fell into the clutches of Gluttony and lost her Memory, they could not strip from her the earnest nobility and the backbone-deep sincerity within. In other words, one can believe that it is the very radiance of the soul she was born with. Hence, the fact that further calamity befell such a liege was a bitter regret for Wilhelm, a painful experience that thrust upon him a powerlessness as if to tear his body apart.

Still, to be able to regret his own errors and lament misjudgment and lack of strength is, comparatively, a mercy.

"—Ferris"

The next name he spoke was, so far as Wilhelm knew, that of a gallant knight who, from the day the Royal Selection began, had spent his days wracked by the keenest regret and helplessness.

"——"

The reason Wilhelm is keeping the visitors Fillole and Marcos waiting now is none other than Ferris. While Wilhelm and the others pass the stalled time in the parlor, Ferris is spending time alone with Crusch in her bedchamber. Wilhelm grinds his teeth at how agonizing and fraught with suffering that time must be.

It is a hardship that makes one pray to take their place, if only one could. But Wilhelm cannot act in his stead—no, not just Wilhelm; no one else can take over the role Ferris has now. The decision only Ferris can make, the choice only Ferris is allowed to make, lies there.

Wilhelm, Fillole, and Marcos can do nothing but wait, quietly and steadily, for that decision and choice to be made. There is no need to fidget. Everyone had a premonition it would not take long. And in fact, so it proved.

"—I’m sorry to have kept you waiting."

With a pained voice, Ferris stepped into the parlor. He must have tried, but tear tracks mar his pale cheeks, and in his quivering yellow eyes, the traces of a conflict he still cannot wipe away remain dark and deep. Seeing him with his slender shoulders slumped, his cat ears and tail—the marks of a throwback to a demi-human ancestor—limp with exhaustion, Wilhelm hesitated to speak.

He cannot bring himself to ask something as shamelessly trite as “How did it go?” Then “It’s not your fault,” perhaps? With what face could he say such a thing? And if he were to say, “It couldn’t be helped,” he would want to take his own head off.

There are no words he can say. Any and every word would be a blade to Ferris now. Of them, the silence he can choose is the least cutting blade.

"I don’t take issue with how much time it took. I believe I understand the weight of the responsibility you have to bear. ...It may be no more than cold comfort, though."

"...Yeah. But that bit of comfort helps. I’m at my limit right now."

In place of the silent Wilhelm, Ferris answered Fillole, who had addressed him. His usual light chatter tinged with mischievous boyishness was hushed, and his feeble smile had a fragility like sugarwork that seemed as though it would crumble at a touch.

Sensing that keenly, Fillole nonetheless added more words, as if to postpone the moment when Ferris, who looked ready to shatter at any instant, would finally break.

"Please, let me hear your answer. — Your answer."

Gently extending a hand, Fillole fixed Ferris with those red eyes and asked. Meeting that gaze head-on, Ferris’s thin lips trembled. Hesitation arose, and yet it had no power to hold back the loyal love of "Blue"—

"—Please. I can’t do it. Help Crusch-sama."

That was the answer of Felix Argyle—Ferris, of "Blue," the first knight of Crusch Karsten—to the hand extended by Fillole of the Holy Dragon Church.

△▼△▼△▼△

"—Is that for real?"

At the House Karsten’s secondary residence in the Royal Capital, she heard that measures would be taken against the baneful toxin tormenting Crusch, who had been brought there—news that came while she was in the midst of a brief moment of peace after exchanging a promise to become friends with Felt, who had come to visit the Noble Mansion.

"We don’t know anything for sure, but it seems a discussion involving the Holy Dragon Church was held at the Royal Castle. Apparently, the Church has some kind of countermeasure for the body of Duchess Karsten, who suffered at the hands of the Sin Archbishop of 'Lust.'"

"Some kind of countermeasure… does that mean they can heal Crusch’s body? By a different method than the one that turned Subaru’s hand pitch-black?"

"Unfortunately, not the details…"

"Then we can’t sit around dithering. —Reinhard, run over to the Castle and find out what they were talking about."

"Understood."

While Emilia was bewildered by the report from Otto, who had returned after brewing tea, Reinhard, acting on Felt’s swift decision, immediately flew off to the Castle. Watching from the window as Reinhard’s figure grew small, Emilia murmured under her breath, "Holy Dragon Church"…

"They’re the people who really, really believe in Volcanica, right? But as far as I heard, they were supposed to stay away from the Castle and not get involved in the kingdom’s politics."

"And yet they showed their faces at the Castle even if it meant breaking their own rules. …If they can do something about Crusch (sister)’s body, great, but if that’s the case, they should’ve said so a lot sooner."

"We don’t know the Holy Dragon Church’s intentions. As it stands, this is still unconfirmed information. However—"

As the conversation grew more muddled, Otto clammed up, lost in thought. Tilting her head at his demeanor, Emilia asked, "Otto (honorific)?" He shook his head and said,

"No, it’s not something I should say when nothing is certain yet. For now, let’s wait for Reinhard to return."

"…Really? All right. If you feel like talking, make sure you tell me."

"Whether the green guy feels like talking or not, that punk Reinhard won’t keep us waiting long. Tch, this is so damn irritating."

Arms folded and tapping the floor with her toe, Felt muttered impatiently. Standing by her as she gazed out the window, Emilia gently drew Felt’s head close and searched not the Castle Reinhard had headed to, but Crusch’s mansion in the same noble district. Since parting in Priestella, they hadn’t been able to confirm whether Crusch was safe. Her chest ached dully with guilt at not bringing back immediately useful good news from the Pleiades Watchtower. If, as per Otto’s eavesdropping, the Holy Dragon Church could save Crusch—

"It doesn’t have to be us at all. So…"

"—He’s here!"

Felt’s spirited voice painted over Emilia’s prayer-like murmur. Just as when he’d gone to the Castle, Reinhard returned to the Noble Mansion in a single bound. In front of Emilia and the others, who hurried to the window, he touched down softly so as not to mar the lawn. And—

"Felt-sama, the situation is urgent. Would you accompany me to the Castle?"

"Huh? Why the Castle? More importantly, what about what we were just talking about…?"

"—Felt-sama."

Cutting Felt off and speaking only her name, Reinhard’s keen air made her narrow those red eyes; she clicked her tongue with a "Tch" and said,

"Fine, fine. I’m heading to the Castle. Emilia (sister) and the others?"

"We’ve corroborated Otto’s report. It seems the Holy Dragon Church has indeed headed to Crusch-sama’s estate. As for that—"

"We’ll go. I just can’t sit still!"

Hearing that Otto’s word had been right, Emilia thumped her chest with determination. She was terribly worried about Crusch, but if Felt had to go to the Castle, Emilia intended to shoulder her share of worry and go pay a visit in her stead. Of course, there was a good chance they’d be turned away in the bustle, but—

"As far as just paying a visit goes, it should be fine. Leave things here to me. …It sounds like we may need to go to the Castle later as well."

"Yes. It would be best to think so. Felt-sama."

"You don’t gotta call me over and over; I get it."

Snorting at Reinhard as he held out his hand, Felt then nimbly hopped onto the window frame, turned back and called, "Emilia (sister)," before leaping into his arms.

"On the night before Priestella was ravaged, I promised I'd talk more with Crusch (sister). So..."

"—! Yes, leave it to me! I'll make sure to tell Crusch that Felt was sooo worried!"

"Hmph. Not sure packing the Royal Selection full of buddies is the best idea."

Shrugging at Emilia's forceful assurance, Felt dove into Reinhard's arms. Receiving her with due reverence, Reinhard adjusted his hold on her, flicked a glance at Emilia and the others—and the next instant, with another leap, he shot straight toward the castle.

"Good grief, he's out of spec. Let's hurry on our own two feet like proper humans."

"If I really try, I might be able to pick up Otto (honorific) and go boing—flying us over there..."

"Please, by all means do that for Natsuki instead of me. — Let's hurry."

"Right!"

Nodding at Otto's urging, Emilia hurried too and burst out into the streets of the Royal Capital. Their destination was Karsten Manor—she ran that route, faster and more impatiently than before, the same one they had once rushed along out of concern for Crusch and the others after they were attacked on the way back from the White Whale's subjugation. And—

△▼△▼△▼△

"—Ferris!"

Arriving there out of breath, when Emilia saw Ferris kneeling as if in prayer, she couldn't help calling his name in a scream-like voice. At Emilia's voice, Flaxen cat ears quivered, and Ferris timidly turned back.

"...Emilia, milady?"

"Yes, that's right. I haven't heard everything, but I've been told the gist. I'm sorry I was late getting here."

At Ferris's frail voice, Emilia felt a desperate ache, a creaking pain deep in her chest. Though Ferris always had a cute, lively air, seeing him again like this, he looked so pitiable and fragile it seemed he might vanish. Wanting only to hold him here, Emilia embraced his slender body without hesitation.

"—You'll get tears and snot on you."

"That doesn't bother me at all. It's nothing. Leaving you alone over something like that would hurt so, so much more."

"—"

Careful not to squeeze too tightly, Emilia wished that the warmth of her own body, her feelings for the Ferris before her, and her concern for Crusch would be conveyed. Behind Emilia and Ferris, the firm steps upon the carpet belonged to Wilhelm, who had received them. Though Emilia and the others had come to the manor in a fluster, Wilhelm had not turned them away at the gate and had let them in like this. Casting a glance over, Otto, who had arrived after Emilia, peered at Wilhelm and

"I know we're the ones who came to call, but was this really all right? In this situation...?"

"It was my own decision, precisely because of this situation. Right now, having even one person who can sincerely pray for Crusch-sama's safety is heartening."

"...Indeed, in that respect, Lady Emilia's power will be great, won't it."

Otto and the others were saying something behind her, but none of it reached Emilia's ears. Right now she wanted to pour her whole self into the Ferris in her arms. Holding that frail, painfully trembling body, Emilia gently stroked his back,

"Ferris, how is Crusch...?"

"—Inside. In that room, they're treating her now..."

"——"

What Ferris, held tight in her arms, indicated with his eyes was the door before which he had been kneeling in prayer—in Emilia's Memory, that was the bedchamber. Almost certainly, Crusch was lying in that room, and the treatment was happening there. And yet, for Ferris to be outside the room like this—

"—It's said to be a secret sacrament of the 'Holy Dragon Church,' not to be shown outside."

Emilia was surprised that the massive figure standing quietly in the corridor like an ornament was the one to answer. On a closer look, he was the Captain of the Guards she had seen many times at the Royal Castle. Perhaps the Captain of the Guards had hurried over out of concern for Crusch. Maybe he was on friendly terms with Ferris and had come by that connection. In any case—

"A sacrament... Will that save Crusch?"

"I-I don't know... But, but there's no other way... b-because I'm... I... I'm useless..."

"That's not...!"

She wanted to raise her voice and say, No, that's not true. In fact, the Emilia from a little while ago would surely have said it flat out without thinking. But now she knew that saying it without thinking, just riding the momentum, would not, in the truest sense, either encourage or comfort Ferris.

Ferris is incredible. Truly—exceptionally—he possesses a very gentle power. But Ferris cannot use that power, which Emilia respects from the bottom of her heart, for the sake of Crusch, the one he holds dearest. Faced with that unbearably painful, agonizing, inescapable reality, even as he trembles and sheds so many tears, there is no way she should say anything thoughtless.

"It's okay, it's okay."

So Emilia swallows the words she had been about to say and gently holds Ferris. She keeps holding him. She keeps holding him, keeps staying by his side. Because when she herself was about to freeze from the helplessness of being able to do nothing, that was what had made her happiest when someone did it for her, she does the same now.

――Hang in there, Crusch.

Supporting Ferris as he sobs and trembles, Emilia prays. Standing close, praying for Crusch’s safety, Emilia can tell that behind them, Otto, Wilhelm, and the Captain of the Guards are praying as well.

Someone from the Holy Dragon Church, whose face and name they do not even know, is struggling on the other side of the door. To save Crusch, who fought for the people and ended up suffering grievous wounds.

Wishing those efforts would be enough, they pray, and pray, and pray—and at last――,

――You may come in.

At the voice that suddenly came from beyond the door, Emilia jerked her head up as if struck. At the exhausted woman’s voice and what it said, Ferris twitched in her arms and looked up at Emilia’s face in disbelief. Wrenched abruptly from his single-minded prayer, Ferris’s mind hasn’t yet caught up with reality.

"Can you stand?"

"Y-yes, I—I can s-stand..."

Before Ferris could move, Emilia stood and lent him her arm to help him up. His slender knees trembled uncertainly, but Ferris, his round eyes fixed on the door, exhaled and planted one step, then another. Supporting his shoulder as he did so, Emilia, too, headed for the door. And in place of Ferris, whose whole body would not stop shaking, she turned the doorknob.

The door opened with a sound; beyond it was a bedchamber. In the center of the room stood a bed, and on it lay a woman—her figure was――,

――ah

A hoarse breath escaped, and with steps as if in a dream, Ferris stepped forward. Those all-too-unstable feet looked as though they might tangle at any moment and send him crashing down. But that did not happen. Shaking off Emilia’s supporting hand without even realizing it, Ferris all but collapsed onto the bed—toward Crusch, who lay upon it.

"Crusch-sama... Crusch... -sama... Crusch-samaaa...!"

Listening to that strained, tear-choked voice call the beloved one’s name over and over, Emilia, too, stepped to the center of the room and looked at Crusch, whom Ferris was staring at. After spending so long bedridden, even though her daily care had never been neglected, Crusch’s beauty had grown gaunt, and her skin had turned the pallor of a sick person. —And yet, the baleful toxin that had spread like roots across her face, neck, and body could no longer be found on any of the skin that showed.

"Prayers reach."

"――You are?"

When Emilia, standing beside Ferris as he clung to the bed, turned around, she saw on the far side of the bed a blonde woman sitting on the floor with her legs outstretched. She was a member of the Holy Dragon Church who had tried a method to save Crusch. Breathing with heavy, exhaustion-laden breaths and sweating profusely from her brow, the woman nevertheless let a smile spread across her lips,

"The scripture says this as well: 'The salvation of one is wrought by the prayers of all. It is in sharing that the Dragon’s grace is made supreme.'"

"――Th-thank you."

"This much is a cinch. ...It’s only natural."

Wearing a valiant smile, the woman immediately tightened her expression and corrected herself. From the bottom of her heart grateful for her efforts, Emilia crouched and put an arm around Ferris’s shoulders. Supporting Ferris as he trembled and wept, she rejoiced from the bottom of her heart that their prayer had reached.

"Crusch, when you wake up, there are sooo many things I want to talk about. There’s a message from Felt, and I have lots of my own, too."

With the loathsome traces of the baleful toxin wiped from her face, eyes closed, Crusch slept. Facing that sleeping face, Emilia spoke, longing for the moment she would awaken.

When you wake up, there’s so much I want to talk about. Among them, about Anastasia and Felt, there’s also a little selfish request from Emilia now that she’s gotten a taste for it. So――,

"Thank you soooo, so much for trying so very hard."

Saying that, Emilia offered heartfelt thanks to everyone present with a gentle smile.

△▼△▼△▼△

――――

Having witnessed the Holy Dragon Church’s sacrament take effect, Otto watched Ferris clinging to his liege, who lay upon the bed, and Emilia supporting him.

"Crusch-sama, you held on... you held on..."

Likewise, Wilhelm, upon beholding that sight, was overcome with emotion, his voice trembling. It was proof that even he—known as the 'Sword Demon' and famed for his legendary sword—had been pained by being unable to aid his lady during her time of torment, his heart worn down by it. He may be the foremost of knights, and though his feelings cannot be compared to Ferris's, who has offered long years of loyalty, even so you could see relief and gratitude seeping into Wilhelm's chest.

And to no small extent, the same was true for Otto. Just moments before, as he happened to look back on it with Reinhard, Priscilla's death had shocked Otto as well. All the more, he felt genuine relief that Crusch, who had suffered grievous wounds in the battle at that Watergate City, had been saved.

Thank goodness. Truly, thank goodness. At the same time, he became certain of what had until now been only a possibility—something he couldn't let Emilia hear.

It was—,

"—Duchess Crusch Karsten's Royal Selection ends here."

At the very least, here and now—here, where Crusch's safety and recovery were being celebrated with tears—it was a conviction murmured only under his breath that no one needed to hear.