Chapter 3 - Glimmer of Light

――When she steps into the Royal Castle, Felt always feels as if she’s breaking through a thin film of resistance.

Back before the Royal Selection even began, for Felt, who grew up in the slums of the Capital, the Lugunica Royal Castle was forever at the edge of her sight, a symbol of separation utterly unrelated to her life. It was there, but a place she would never be involved with. Vague and without substance, like a mirage whose existence held no value—that was the impression.

So even now, every time she gets the chance to go up to the Royal Castle as a Royal Selection candidate, she might feel as if she’s barging into a dream or an illusion—something unreal. And that—

"――Lady Felt?"

Called by name, Felt, who had paused, lifted her face. With his hand on the door, her knight turned back, blue eyes meeting the red ones she turned on him. Felt gave a small snort and a brief, "It’s nothing." Right—nothing to it. No one can stop the steps they’re taking.

"Let’s go."

With that declaration forcing both herself and the others to commit, Felt broke through that thin film of resistance and moved forward. When she poked her face through the doorway her nodding knight—Reinhard—had opened, the place was, as ever, packed with human presence and filled with a strange tension. Individual wills mingled chaotically, trading volleys as glances and words; yet the instant Felt stepped into that space, those scattered wills were, unwittingly, unified—namely, into the blunt intent to appraise Felt for the sake of the kingdom’s future.

"Well, I don’t particularly mind. I ain’t exactly free of those feelings myself when I’m facing someone."

This wasn’t even about the Royal Selection; it was more like Felt’s way of getting by, the street smarts she’d honed surviving the slums. Whether someone was useful or useless to her, what they were really thinking underneath—she’d gotten into the habit of always gauging that. In fact, that ingrained habit had helped her even after she became a Royal Selection candidate. After all, she’s been swamped with chances to meet far more people than in her slum days and to pin down their aims. If she’d had to rebuild her values from scratch, there’s no telling how much harder it would have been. Still—

"There are folks like Emilia who are totally removed from that kind of thing."

Emilia, a fellow Royal Selection candidate, had somehow remained almost miraculously defenseless. Felt figured that behind her being able to stay the way she is were the extraordinary efforts of her knight, Natsuki Subaru, and of Otto and the others who had accompanied her this time as well. On the other hand, Felt’s assessment was that neither the Royal Selection nor the environment around it was so forgiving that you could get by while being protected without question. Even Emilia, for all that, has a keen eye for people and an intuition for sensing their designs. And with that in place, she still acts like that—making things awkward for Felt in various ways.

"In the end, she went and made me her friend."

Looking back on the decision she herself had just made, Felt let out a deep sigh. She didn’t regret accepting Emilia’s offer, but she also thought it had once again made the path ahead harder to see. It’s not like she had any intention of relying on underhanded means or schemes, but it’s also true that when rival camps are crackling and clashing, it’s easier to make decisions without pulling your punches. If it’s just the other side holding one-sided goodwill toward you, the only one at a disadvantage is them. In fact, Felt had suspected that was Anastasia’s basic strategy—that inviting the other camps to Priestella had been her true aim. Unfortunately, that design seems to have been smashed by the turn of events where she’d end up friends with Emilia after the Royal Selection. Anyway—

"Fine by me. I don’t hate it—having those appraising eyes turned on me for a change."

Not as bluster, but with a crooked grin, Felt accepted the attention on herself that way. In the Throne Room she had stepped into—the very place where the start of the Royal Selection had been declared—many associates of the Lugunica Royal Castle had been gathered, among them the presence of the Council of Sages, who sit at the heart of national governance. She had exchanged words with them the other day as well, when she reported the achievements of Meili Portroute, who had sold her own value by claiming she could guide the way to the Sage’s Tower—the matter of the Augria Dunes and the Pleiades Watchtower. But the atmosphere now was clearly different from then.

It was the gaze directed at Felt—the look people give to an outlier or an alien element. At the very beginning, at the gathering to participate in the Royal Selection, Felt had picked a fight with everyone there. The hue of confusion and bewilderment that had been turned on a slum urchin back then—this was close to that. And—

"Looks like the reason’s you lot with the unfamiliar mugs, huh?"

Clomping along the red carpet, Felt walked to the center of the Throne Room. She shut one eye and glared at the pair—a man and a woman—who had been standing there ahead of her.

"——"

Turning to face Felt were a pair, both around twenty. A mild-looking handsome man with spring-green hair, and a beauty who wore her purple hair—reminiscent of flowers that bloom in the rainy season—cut short. Despite the setting, the two were unbowed by their surroundings and carried themselves with dignity. In fact, even when Felt tried to seize the initiative right from the start, neither of them was rattled. The man gave a wry smile, and the woman fluttered a soft wave with an "oh my, oh my," and—

"Ufufu, how abrupt you are. This is our first time meeting like this, and yet, Felt-chan, you’re as prickly as the rumors say."

"Rumors, huh. And what kind of rumors are going around about me?"

"That though you’re small and adorable, you carry yourself with stately poise; you’re bold, never yielding an inch to anyone, a real tomboy… The contrast in your charms makes people swoon—so they say."

"Now that’s a rumor I’d rather not have…"

At Felt’s disgruntled reply, the woman chuckled bewitchingly. Dressed in a deep crimson like ripe fruit, with a hat of the same color set at a jaunty angle on her lovely head, her attire and air suggested a scribe somewhere, or perhaps a lady-in-waiting serving someone of high birth. Yet the way she closed the distance without restraint, combined with those drowsy, reddish eyes, made her hard to pin down. In short, she gave the impression of someone who wouldn’t be handled easily—

"—Sakura, the person you’re talking to is one of the Royal Selection candidates. Don’t just slide into the conversation like you always do. We wouldn’t have enough lives to spare."

So said the mild-looking man standing at the woman’s side, chiding his companion’s manner. That said, his admonishment also carried a strong note of banter, and it did nothing to guarantee the man’s seriousness or sincerity. In fact, at his remark, the woman called Sakura kept smiling with an amused "hmm," and—

"So even you, Tiga-chan, are going to make me out to be the villain? As it is, thanks to that kid’s selfishness I barely have a leg to stand on, and to hear that from my only ally is such a disappointment."

"All the more reason not to make more enemies. First impressions trail after you for a long time. Especially now, we’re not exactly in a welcomed position… right?"

"Yeees, yeees, Tiga-chan’s argument is the correct one, it is."

"As long as you understand."

When Sakura stuck out her tongue in a sulky way, the mild-looking man nodded with a theatrical flourish. Then he turned back toward Felt and the others, took off the broad-brimmed hat he’d been wearing low over his head, and set it to his chest over the deep-purple cloak he wore.

"And so, my companion was terribly rude, Lady Felt. I am Teega Rauleon, and this is Sakura Element. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

As he spoke, the mild-looking man—Tiga—gave a stylish bow, winking one of his yellow eyes at Felt; even the affected gesture suited the handsome fellow. Taking the two, Tiga and Sakura, into her field of view, Felt understood. Without a doubt, these two—so completely out of step with the atmosphere of the Royal Castle—were the reason Reinhard had hurriedly whisked her out of the nobles’ quarters—

"Reinhard, these two are…?"

"Yes. They are envoys from the ‘Divine Dragon Church.’"

Reinhard came to a stop beside Felt and faced the pair in question. By chance, right in the center of the Throne Room, Felt’s group and the two from the ‘Divine Dragon Church’ now stood opposite each other, drawing the undivided attention of the Royal Castle’s personnel. Paying those gazes no mind, Felt folded her arms and glared at Tiga,

"From what I know, the ‘Divine Dragon Church’ isn’t supposed to get involved in the country’s politics. So what’re you doing here?"

"You may find this hard to believe, but this contact is actually against our wishes as well. As you say, the Church has kept its distance from national politics. Of course, that isn’t to say we feel no sense of belonging to the kingdom."

"Unwilling contact, huh? You’re saying that even knowing you might be able to do something about Royal Selection candidate Crusch Karsten’s condition?"

"—. That…"

At Felt’s words, Tiga visibly faltered. Then, beside him, Sakura put a hand to her mouth and tittered yet again. At that smile, Felt let out a low "Huh?" and Sakura tilted her head slightly,

"Oh no, no, but Felt-chan, you do have quick ears. That little discussion was supposed to be a secret limited to inside this castle, you know."

"Hah, don’t underestimate the bat-ears on the guy standing next to me. He can even hear the sound when I climb out of bed at night to go to the toilet."

"I won’t deny it, but that’s a misleading way to put it that invites misunderstanding, Lady Felt."

"Shut it. Lose the wry grin and just look brazen. That'll spook 'em more."

The talks with the Divine Dragon Church at the castle—since the tip that it involved Crusch came from Otto, Felt kept that under wraps out of obligation. At this point, piling on more rumors about Reinhard having hellishly sharp ears or a habit of eavesdropping wouldn't do any harm; it's practically true he could pick out the sound of a pin dropping a kilometer away. Anyway—

"—The 'Divine Dragon Church' part doesn’t sit right."

"Oh my, Felt dear, do you dislike the Church too? I thought our activities—for example in the slums—had a positive effect."

"Sorry, but I hate being on the receiving end of charity. I've never lined up for bread the Church hands out. Not that I'm saying those activities are useless or that I hate them. What I'm saying is the part where you lot can save Duchess Karsten."

"Does that mean you'd rather leave your suffering rivals be?"

"You trying to make me say that's not it? Sorry, I ain't got that much time to waste."

She stuck out her tongue at Sakura, whose syrupy way of talking belied the poisonous way she poked. Crusch was certainly on the opposing side, but the reasons she ended up in her current state are what they are. Everyone present at that scene bears the guilt for that, and if there's a way toward her recovery, human decency says you take whatever measures you can. —With one exception: having Crusch accept the hand of the Divine Dragon Church is a terribly bad match. Because—

"—Duchess Crusch Karsten declared, at the Royal Selection, that she would annul the covenant made with the Dragon and break away from the sheltered peace under its protection."

"——"

Cutting into Felt and the others' conversation like that was Miklotov McMahon, the long-bearded old man seated in the Council of Sages' row. One of the sages who finally opened his mouth—at his words, Felt let out a small sigh,

"…The very person who flat-out said it's pathetic for the whole country to rely on the Dragon can't keep face if she borrows the power of the Divine Dragon Church that worships the Dragon."

"Mind your tongue, Lady Felt. This isn't a matter of appearances—"

"No, Lady Felt is correct. Appearance—namely, how it looks—is the issue. In that respect, Lady Crusch would suffer an irreparable blow. Though that is only if she takes the hand being offered."

One of the civil officials present tried to interject into Felt and Miklotov's exchange, but he was admonished by none other than Miklotov. The additional remark from the sage meant that the ultimate right to decide on the offer from the Divine Dragon Church lay with Crusch and her people. However—

"—Felis."

Lowering his eyes slightly, Reinhard spoke the name of his friend—the one who bears the title of "Blue," Crusch's first knight, who is right now in the depths of suffering. His beauty, which could be mistaken for that of a delicate woman, had withered; Felt had seen for herself, when she visited to check on the illness, just how much he writhed in agony at Crusch's side. Since then, she had not heard that Crusch's condition had improved; his state of mind must be the same.

With his precious liege burning unendingly in hell, in venomous flames—if a means to save her is set before him, no one can blame the first knight for whatever decision he makes.

"Of course, we, too, debated the proposal from the Divine Dragon Church. First we need to determine whether what it claims is true. Depending on how that turns out…"

"It might even let us save the folks in Priestella who were harmed. Thinking about that, the stuff we're hung up on starts to look pretty petty, doesn't it?"

"Hmm. Are you convinced…?"

"You think I could be?"

I understand the logic and the reasoning. But emotional acceptance is another matter. Having entered the Royal Selection, Felt intends to keep moving with the aim of winning. But if, after Priscilla's recent death in the Empire, Crusch is now eliminated because of this, that's nothing like the way Felt wanted the contest decided. If that's how it gets settled, how is it any different from Reinhard going on a rampage and putting all the other Royal Selection candidates out of commission?

"It's not that anyone in particular is at fault. If I had to say, all the blame lies with the Witch Church."

"Too late now, but before we tossed that bastard Wrath into the dungeon, we should've worked him over a bit more. Maybe then I'd be a little less pissed."

Of course, doing that wouldn’t solve anything, and it’s obvious it probably wouldn’t even make me feel any better. In the first place, most of the damage that occurred in Priestella was brought about by 'Gluttony' and 'Lust', and the aftereffects of 'Wrath' were extremely minor. Reinhard understands that too, so the spiteful words Felt muttered weren’t taken seriously by anyone. In any case—

"I get the gist of it. The Church brought in a treatment, and with that the Duchess... ah, whatever. Whether Sis Crusch can be saved comes down to whether her knight accepts that treatment. ...We don’t have any right to butt in there."

Whatever we may think, only the people involved can decide what to choose. Acknowledging that, Felt went, "So?" and threw the question not only to Reinhard beside her but to everyone present at once.

"I follow the flow up to here, but why was there a need to hurry and bring me? Sure, explanations are appreciated, but you know it’s not just me in the Capital—Sis Emilia is there too. With what you just explained, telling us together shouldn’t make any difference."

The matter could have a major impact on the Royal Selection. All the more reason the information should have been promptly shared not only with Felt but also with Emilia. In such a situation, it’s hard to imagine Reinhard trying to outmaneuver Emilia and the others by taking only Felt aside. It’s doubtful Reinhard even has the notion of outmaneuvering others to begin with. Even so, there had to be a reason they brought only Felt here.

"If there’s a reason, is it you lot from the Church? But as of now, there’s nothing we want to discuss with the Church. ...We could talk about the 'Divine Dragon,' though."

Her words grew a bit evasive and her voice dropped toward the end—Felt herself had only just recently had her view change about Volcanica, the 'Divine Dragon' so grandly worshiped by the 'Divine Dragon Church.'

"See, when I tagged along with Meili to the Pleiades Watchtower, I ended up having to watch up close as that empty-headed 'Dragon' and Reinhard went at it..."

The battle between the 'Sword Saint' and the 'Divine Dragon' shouldn’t have been in an environment where either could go all out, yet it was still a ferocious clash like the end of the world. From that fight, Felt learned that the 'Divine Dragon' was in a state with none of the awe sung of in legend, but if she were told to recount the details, she’d be at a loss for words as to how to answer. However, to Felt’s concern, Tiga just shrugged his shoulders,

"No, summoning Lady Felt wasn’t at our behest. And regarding what we’ve been discussing up to now, the Church’s position is a bit delicate."

"When you say up to now, you mean the stuff involving Sis Crusch? Delicate how?"

"Right. Put simply... as the Church, we hadn’t yet reached a firm answer on whether to move to save Duchess Crusch Karsten."

"Huh...?"

Frowning at Tiga’s reply and looking troubled, Felt couldn’t help but let out a low groan. It was a baffling statement. She’d taken it that the 'Divine Dragon Church' had a means to restore those harmed by the 'Witch Church,' had declared they would use it to save Crusch, and had approached the Royal Castle on that basis. But the way Tiga had just put it undermined that premise.

"But that treatment is supposed to be being administered to Sis Crusch, right? If the Church hasn’t reached an answer, then why is that...?"

"Well, you seeee... one of our impatient kiddos ran on ahead all by themselves."

"...Jumped the gun?"

"Yeees. Sooo, we rushed over to the castle in a panic too, and were in the middle of hearing everyone’s side of things. What a bother, riiiight?"

It was hard to know how seriously to take Sakura’s words; they lacked any real gravity. Yet even Tiga, who seemed far more capable of holding a sensible conversation than Sakura, didn’t stop or deny her, putting a hand to his brow as if ashamed of his own. If that was the truth, then it meant the 'Divine Dragon Church' had its share of reckless personnel too. But even if so—

"In the end, that still doesn’t explain why I was called."

"Hmm. On that point, we too are terribly vexed. Since the knight Reinhard happened to be present, we asked you to come as well, Lady Felt. After all, in the problem we are facing, Lady Felt is a directly involved party."

"——"

“—A matter connected to me…?”

When it was put that way, Felt narrowed her red eyes and slowly traced her lips with her tongue.It seemed they had taken quite a long detour, but at last they were finally getting to the real point.

The fact that the movements of the “Divine Dragon Church” had influenced Crusch’s future, and that this had been completely unexpected even for the Church itself.And the reason Felt had been summoned to the very place where the Church’s envoys happened to be present.

That reason was—

“The individual who has been mentioned several times already… the person who approached us alone from the ‘Divine Dragon Church’… is a woman with beautiful golden hair and red eyes. And furthermore…”

At the words delivered by Miklotov, Felt did not interrupt.

She was not so dull as to fail to grasp what such deliberately emphasized features were meant to imply.Watching Felt’s reaction, Miklotov continued his explanation.

“That person introduced herself as Filole—the same name as the daughter of His Highness Prince Ford Lugunica, who disappeared fifteen years ago.”

△▼△▼△▼△

—Filole Lugunica, daughter of Prince Ford Lugunica.

The meaning carried by that name and that existence was significant even for the Kingdom of Lugunica.But for Felt in particular, it carried an especially great significance.

After all, one of the major reasons—equal to, or even greater than the fact that her badge embedded with a Dragon Jewel had shone, proving her eligibility—that Felt had been forced to participate in the Royal Selection was the suspicion that she herself might be the missing Filole.

In fact, Filole disappeared as an infant fifteen years ago.That matches Felt’s age, and her hair color and eye color also match the traits seen within the Lugunican royal family.

Of course, Felt had never once thought of herself as royalty, nor had she ever tried to exploit such a possibility.—But neither was she selfish enough to completely ignore the expectations others placed upon her.

Many people in the Kingdom of Lugunica see in Felt the possibility of a lost royal.

Regardless of how Felt herself views it, it is simply human nature that such hopes and envy cannot be brushed aside.And this was not limited to the broad category of “the citizens of the kingdom.” Even those involved who had been present when the Royal Selection was announced—even Reinhard—had held a fragment of that hope.

There is no doubt that the possibility of her being a surviving member of the royal family gave Felt, a girl from the slums, the very first sword with which to fight on the stage of the Royal Selection.

And now—

“...So the real Filole has turned up, huh.”

The situation finally settled into place in her chest, and Felt murmured the words silently to herself.

It was easy to understand why shockwaves had run through the Royal Castle.Perhaps even the fact that Crusch had been saved by the “Divine Dragon Church,” and that, as a result, there was now a risk she might be forced to withdraw from the Royal Selection, had been treated as a minor issue in comparison.

That was how shocking the existence of a nun from the “Divine Dragon Church” claiming to be Filole truly was.

“—Lady Felt.”

Suddenly, Reinhard spoke to her from beside her, and Felt caught her breath ever so slightly.

It was not as though the call had come out of nowhere.And yet, she had failed to pick up what emotions were contained in his voice.

—No. She admitted it to herself.

The unmistakable disturbance that had taken root within her own heart had kept her from sensing Reinhard’s feelings.


“……”

When Reinhard had first dragged her to the Royal Selection, Felt—still reeling from being forcibly confined in a mansion after being taken from the stolen-goods warehouse—had felt nothing but resistance and hostility.

In the end, with Old Man Rom’s interference thrown into the mix, she had been swept along into deciding to participate in the Royal Selection.But the reason Reinhard had brought her here and recommended her as a candidate in the first place was surely that very suspicion—that she might be a surviving royal, a foundation that was now being violently shaken.
And now, that foundation had been denied.

—No. Not denied. It was still only a suspicion.

What made it worse was that Felt herself had always mocked that possibility and treated it with contempt.

And yet, when it was actually overturned right in front of her, a very real shock ran through her chest.

That was not because she had wanted to be royalty.

It was because there were people who had hoped she was a member of the royal family—and because she was now facing the disappointment of those expectations, brought about by something entirely beyond her control.

“...Pathetic.”

Seeing through the true nature of the unease that had sprouted within her, Felt found herself disgusted with her own weakness.

She always acted bold and brazen, pretending that nothing could ever shake her.And yet, the moment she realized that something she had thought she could easily throw away might truly be lost, she found herself flustered and shaken in the most unsightly way.

She hated that about herself.

"——"

Bracing herself and looking up, Felt found that the twin eyes—eyes that seemed to hold the azure sky—fixed straight on her showed not a trace of anxiety or agitation. Let alone disappointment or discouragement. There was only an immense trust in Felt. Nothing else.

"...What’s with that look in your eyes, huh?"

"For my part, I intend to carry unwavering loyalty to Lady Felt."

"— Hah, shut it."

Whether he meant it as a joke or not, Reinhard’s faintly smiling reply earned him a jab in the ribs from Felt. She couldn’t help it. Annoyingly enough, his attitude had made the weight filling her chest suddenly feel much lighter.

"No matter what or how, I’m me. I just gotta own that."

She’d always known that, but she needed a cue to say it outright and square her shoulders. Reinhard, unwittingly, had given her that, and though Felt was displeased, she didn’t click her tongue. Displeased, but not in a bad way. Not that she’d ever tell Reinhard that. It was just after that clear line had settled inside her.

"—Knight Marcos Gildark has returned."

With that report from a guard in the Throne Room, the faces of those concerned tightened at once. When Felt eyed their reaction skeptically, Reinhard leaned to her ear and murmured,

"Captain Marcos apparently took the woman in question to Lady Crusch. Regardless of whether to treat her or not..."

"So we’re meeting face to face. Good thing I steeled myself first."

She answered Reinhard’s whisper like that, took a long, deep breath, and, leaving Reinhard standing at her side, waited for the moment. And then—

"—Quite a crowd has been waiting for me, I see. Given the circumstances, perhaps that’s only natural."

Felt heard the person who slipped through the Throne Room doors and peered inside offer that remark.

"So that’s..."

So that’s the nun from the Divine Dragon Church who calls herself Filole and barged into the Royal Castle. Just as they’d heard in advance, a nun with long golden hair and resolute red eyes. Though she held herself proudly, the barrage of gazes in the room made her look ill at ease. And with a massive armored figure right behind her, retreat wasn’t an option. At length, she shook her head as if resigning herself and stepped straight into the chamber—

"—Filole?"

"Yikes."

The moment she took her first step and noticed Sakura waving at her, her well-formed features went rigid in a dramatic grimace, and her face blanched. She froze with her weight on the foot she’d leaned forward on, then, after a beat, started to turn her back.

"Filole, it’s all out already, so be a good girl and come here."

"Guh—Tiga too, not just Sakura...?"

"Of course I’d show up. Honestly, you’ve done as you pleased, haven’t you."

At Tiga’s weary-shouldered call, Filole, half-turned, looked pained but seemed to resign herself. Giving up on retreating, she slunk over with her shoulders hunched, took a deep breath before Tiga and Sakura—both of whom obviously knew her—and then—

"Devoting our prayers to the people of the Kingdom is the Divine Dragon Church’s true calling. I merely followed that doctrine. How’s that?"

"That’s not the issue..."

"I don’t think you’re getting out of a scolding and a lecture."

"But I’m not wrong!"

No sooner had she thrust out her chest and declared it boldly than that bravado shattered. At the nun—Filole—who clutched her head with a yelp, Felt couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. She was a girl whose vibe differed a lot from the first impression she’d given at a glance. And besides—

"You’re way taller than me. Is that what you get for living it up when you were a kid?"

"Hold on—luxury? Luxury, as in me? If so, that’s a huge mistake. The Divine Dragon Church’s motto is the spirit of alms! Most of the Church’s mercy and charity are directed outward, not inward. In other words..."

"In other words?"

"We’re pretty much always starving!"

Pressing a hand to her own stomach, Filole loudly proclaimed the Church’s austere poverty. At her force and volume, Felt scratched her cheek with a finger—then Filole, having finished, got smacked on the back of the head. "Ouch," she yelped, turning; the one who’d smacked her was Tiga, standing behind her. He looked at Filole the way you would at a troublesome little sister,

「Don't go around shouting our disgrace. We've gone to the trouble of keeping this secret hidden at the heart of the nation until now. You're not planning to spill everything at this rate, are you?」

「Th-that's not the case. You think I'm that loose-tongued...?」

「Then how about the sacrament?」

「――――」

The sound of Filole sucking in a breath under the questioning echoed oddly loud in the Throne Room. With Tiga and Sakura peering at her from either side, Filole opened and closed her mouth for a while, then,

「…I-I did clear the room.」

「「Sigh...」」

「What a huge sigh! Is this—this how you treat me after I helped people? It's written in the scripture, too! 『Even evil deeds done under cover of dusk are, to the Dragon's eye, like bonfires at high noon. The arrogance of thinking you can keep them hidden is itself the darkness of delusion you created』!」

Holding aloft the thick scripture she'd hastily pulled out, Filole made that excuse. Felt wasn't particularly well-versed, but from the content, she took it to mean, "Secrets will be found out anyway, so you'd best not over-rely on hiding them." Even so, the Divine Dragon Church probably wouldn't be pleased to have its doctrine treated like a dictionary of excuses.

「Knight Marcos, how did it go?」

Setting aside the exchange among the Divine Dragon Church members, the one Miklotov addressed was the captain of the royal guard who had entered the Throne Room together with Filole. Called by name and asked, Marcos replied with a curt "Yes" without changing his stern features,

「I accompanied her myself and witnessed the power of Lady Filole's sacrament.」

「You witnessed it, which means...?」

「—That the evil flame that had taken up residence in Duchess Crusch Karsten's body has had its lifeline severed and lost its influence.」

At Marcos's report, Felt's cheeks tightened with an emotion she couldn't name. That Crusch had been saved—that was cause for joy. But that she'd been saved by the Divine Dragon Church—that wasn't something she could celebrate without reservations. However, as she'd steeled herself just a moment before, only the people involved had the right to choose that.

「—Hmmm, I see.」

Accepting with the wisdom of age a sentiment akin to the one Felt had felt, Miklotov glanced at Filole. Meeting that gaze, Filole lifted her face, and Miklotov stroked his long beard with his hand and continued, "Now then,"

「There are many things we must discuss. Of course, the matter of the sacrament that Lady Filole has demonstrated for us, and above all...」

「—? Was there something else?」

Tilting her head, Filole furrowed her brows as though she had no idea what it was that Miklotov had left unsaid. Be that reaction as it may, the reason Miklotov hesitated to speak further was probably consideration for Felt, who was present here. But—

「I don't need that kind of consideration. —Reinhard」

「Yes.」

At her words, when Felt held out her hand, Reinhard, as if he knew that's what she wanted, gently set it into her palm. In the next instant, Felt confirmed the feel of it in her hand, then flicked it with her fingers straight ahead—toward Filole.

「W-whoa, what is it?」

Filole caught the thing that had been sent flying with both hands she thrust out on reflex. Blinking at Felt's sudden action, she heard Felt give a small snort. Then, to everyone there who was bug-eyed at what she'd done, Felt shrugged and—

「This is what everyone here wanted to see, right?」

Where Felt indicated with her raised thumb, there stood Filole, cupping what she'd received in both hands—in those hands, the insignia she'd caught was shining with dazzling light.

It was, unmistakably, proof of a priestess chosen by the Dragon Jewel—a vivid budding of light blessing the existence of the sixth priestess acknowledged by the Dragon Jewel.