Arc 10 - Chapter 12 - "Groan"

—From morning, the sky was perfectly clear, as if blessing the triumphant future to come.

"Thinking like that... am I getting a bit carried away?"

"Betty doesn't think so. In fact, if Filóre's sacred rite works just as expected, Subaru's buoyant mood is nothing more than an early celebration."

"If it turns into a pre-celebration on my own, then yeah, it does feel like I'm getting too giddy."

With Beatrice walking beside him hand in hand and backing him up, Subaru scratched his cheek with his free hand.

Given the circumstances, he wanted to defend his high spirits as understandable, but considering how little he'd actually contributed to it, he couldn't deny it felt like he was overexcited.

In truth, Subaru wouldn't be of any use in the immediate plan—heading to Priestella, the Watergate City, where the Church of the Divine Dragon's sacrament would save the Witch Cult's victims; he had no role to play in that scene.

He simply wanted to be there as Emilia's knight—one of the people to be credited—and, more than anything, as someone who knew the fierce battle in that city, to witness the moment when the ghastly scars left by that fight finally began to heal.

"So I asked Reinhard, who's been hard at work lately, to let me tag along with the expedition taking us to Priestella."

"Naturally, Betty's coming too. Emilia, who's going to thaw the citizens frozen in ice, and Garfiel and Otto, who both have unfinished business in that city, are coming as well."

"With Garfiel, I heard the father of the family he's close with is a victim of 'Lust,' and Otto is... retrieving the book he entrusted to the restorer, huh."

"So it seems. ...Honestly, what a thoroughly calculating man."

Puffing out her cheeks in a huff as she muttered, Subaru considered the complicated feelings churning inside Beatrice.

The book Otto had entrusted to the restorer in Priestella was the Book of Wisdom said to have been left behind by the Witch of Greed, Echidna—though specifically the copy that Roswaal had acquired. Not only was Otto's tenacity in bringing it back from little more than charred remnants astounding in his desire to confirm its contents, but the skill of the restorer who boasted they could repair it was also hard to believe.

Yet for Beatrice, who had lost the Book of Wisdom that had been entrusted to her, it was bound to stir up a complicated, hard-to-describe feeling.

"No need to worry, Subaru."

"Beatrice..."

"If it's a signpost for Betty's future, right now, Subaru is here. I am totally put off by Otto's penny-pinching spirit that tries to reuse even burnt scraps. But if it means we can put one over on Roswaal, it doesn't feel so bad."

"...Right."

While he fretted, Beatrice thrust out her chest so powerfully that he couldn't help but find her lovable, and Subaru petted the head of his adorable contracted spirit to his heart's content.

As mentioned, those heading to Priestella by hitching a ride with Reinhard would, as chance would have it, be the same members as the last time they went to Priestella. If possible, Subaru would have liked to move with the entire camp, but he couldn't push Ram, who was down from overwork.

Joining them from another camp would be Reinhard, tasked with hauling the Dragon Carriage, and Felt, apparently serving as his overseer. And then there were the star and key person of this expedition, Filóre, and her minder, Sakura.

"Honestly, with everything already backed up, suddenly bringing Felt and Filóre together in a single Dragon Carriage feels way too much like 'do not mix—danger.'"

"But from what I've heard, the two of them have already been introduced to each other a long time ago."

"Yeah, the day Filóre first showed her face at the castle and treated Miss Crusch. They ran into each other that very day... and it was apparently Felt who had Filóre hold the insignia to check whether she qualified as a Royal Selection candidate."

"That girl takes fearless to an extreme. Normally, you'd think about your own position being jeopardized and hesitate."

"She probably never counted on her origins to begin with. In that regard, she's crisp and cool in a way that really impresses you."

There is a charisma in the clean, uncompromising way Felt lives that draws many to her.

Indeed, those who wish to see Felt seated on the throne are captivated by her words, deeds, and bearing, and they follow her by finding their ideals in that small back of hers.

If that was the pure, unmixed result of the radiance of Felt's soul, then the current situation was all but tainted by needless complications.

"Between Felt and Filóre, one is the real princess and the other a fake, huh."

"It's a strange story to begin with. Whichever of the two is genuine, if you intend to make use of that possibility, you need to push it more actively or it's just letting a treasure go to waste. Make the masses believe, make the masses doubt—that should be the best way to use it."

The more I think about it, the more I feel the "surviving princess" theory is being used in an implausible way.

As Beatrice said, not only have they utterly failed to make use of such a powerful advantage, but you could even say that for Felt and Filóre, if one is genuine, the other must be a fake—leaving them both with a negative impression.

Which means the first thing that nags at me is—

"—In the end, what was the Church thinking, hiding Filóre's existence?"

According to Filóre, fifteen years ago she was found abandoned in front of a church and taken in, then raised as an orphan in the orphanage of the Church of the Divine Dragon. There, she received an extremely sheltered upbringing, and a monster of ignorant impulsiveness—who knew almost nothing of the outside world—was born.

Whatever one may say about that drive having led to today's chaos, the Church of the Divine Dragon should have known her distinguishing features, her age, and even her name.

There's absolutely no way that wouldn't have connected to the Lugunica Royal Family.

Moreover, if the secret art Filóre wields has the power to counter the authorities of the Archbishops of the Seven Deadly Sins—Lust and Gluttony among them—then shouldn't it have been effective against the illness that struck the royal family as well?

If so, then why were the Lugunica Royal Family left to die by the Church of the Divine Dragon?

"At the very least, unless that mystery is made clear, nobody's going to accept it."

Just now, with news of the Royal Selection spreading throughout the kingdom, everyone across the realm is watching to see who will sit on the era's throne. For better or worse, people won't overlook—and won't forget—the conspicuous deeds of the Royal Selection candidates.

That's why I absolutely want to know what the Church of the Divine Dragon is thinking.

And for that—,

"—Miklotov's invitation was a godsend."

"It is."

Beside Beatrice, who gave a brief nod, Subaru remembered the other day—when he'd accompanied Filóre as she accepted the request to enter the Royal Selection, and together with Emilia had met with Miklotov in a conference room at the castle.

Filóre's bombshell remark in choosing a knight threw everything into an uproar, and the scene ended in a flustered, slapdash wrap-up, but Subaru did come away with something.

Namely, a promise from Miklotov—an important figure in the Council of Wise Men and likely one of the foremost scholars in the Kingdom of Lugunica—that he would make time to talk with Subaru.

While the noisy Filóre show went on in the background, Subaru, taking a shot in the dark and asking if he could talk, was met with an agreeable nod from Miklotov.

"Hmm. In that case, I'll clear my schedule for you, Lord Natsuki. As it happens, there are also some things I wished to speak with you about privately."

"That's incredibly helpful, but... you want to talk to me?"

"Yes. There are things I wish to confirm, things to tell you, and things to consult you about... I apologize, but I would be grateful if you could indulge an old man's long-windedness."

With that, wearing the benign smile of a kindly old man, Miklotov told Subaru where he lived and set aside time for that private appointment.

The date for that is today—when, after the Hour of Fire, they are scheduled to depart for Priestella.

Before that major event, in accordance with his promise to Miklotov, Subaru, alone—or rather, having made it clear beforehand, bringing only Beatrice, his other half—was heading to the agreed-upon address.

"As for what Miklotov wants to say... never mind what he wants to ask or tell me, it's the 'consult' part that sounds kinda scary. Still, I've got a ton of questions of my own. Ideally, I'd like to be shown the real Dragon History Stone somewhere."

"I hear the Dragon History Stone is kept under strict control, just like the Dragon's Blood and the like. But if I see it, Betty should be able to form a hypothesis about what its workings are closest to."

"It's not that I think the Dragon History Stone itself is suspicious, but letting the royal family get wiped out and yet having only the follow-up—the Royal Selection—be so thoroughly laid out, well..."

It makes me suspect there was some sort of malice or design behind it. I'd rather not think even the royals' deaths were orchestrated by something.

"――――"

In the Mausoleum, I saw with my own eyes the stone coffins of the Lugunica Royal Family who had actually lost their lives. —Considering the beloved royals, especially the effect the Fourth Prince's death had on people I know like Crusch and Ferris, if some will was involved there, Subaru could never forgive whoever it was.

With that thought, Subaru tightened the hand opposite the one he had linked with Beatrice's.

"—That's quite a dangerous line of thought you're on there, my friend."

Startled by the breezy voice that suddenly called out from the side, Subaru spun around. At the apex of a T-intersection where the streets crossed, a dapper young man waving this way caught his eye.

At that familiar way of being addressed, Subaru broke into a grin.

"My friend? Getting all chummy all of a sudden, huh...?"

"Hey, hey, hey, you're the one who called me that first! Don't leave me hanging!"

"I'm kidding. Good to see you again, Tiga."

The young man—Tiga—whose eyes had gone wide, narrowed his eyes at Subaru, who unabashedly held out his hand, then shrugged and clasped it back.

The handshake went off without a hitch, reaffirming their friendship, but—

"Miss Beatrice, you look well. An honor to see you again."

"Betty is not displeased either, I suppose. ...But why are you here?"

"I could return that line to you exactly as is. It's not like I was sneaking around, but this was supposed to be a hush-hush summons, you know."

"Hush-hush... don't tell me, you too, from Mr. Miklotov?"

"—So that means you guys too?"

Subaru and Tiga, eyes round, pointed at each other; Beatrice, standing between them, rose on tiptoe and pushed their pointing arms down.

Perhaps helped along by that cute gesture, Tiga let out a soft "ha" of breath.

"Man, I panicked thinking I was being tailed. I figured no matter what, no one would tail me with a kid in tow, but... nah, better not."

"What? Don't stop halfway. I won't get mad, so say it."

"Yeah? Then I'll say it: if it's the famously 'handler of little girls' Natsuki Subaru, tailing someone with a kid in tow might be easy as pie for you..."

"The hell—who're you calling a 'handler of little girls,' you bastard!"

"You said you wouldn't get mad, that's why I told you!"

Incensed by that disgraceful nickname popping up again after a while, Subaru lunged for him—but Tiga neatly slipped every one of Subaru's grabs and darted to hide behind Beatrice.

At that refreshingly shameless bit of scrambling, Beatrice shrugged at Subaru.

"This isn't getting us anywhere, so let's call it even here. Subaru, you be the adult."

"Tch, fine. I'm an adult, so I won't grumble at you for pulling a kid move. Because I'm an adult."

"Adults don't make such a show of being adults, honestly."

Straightening up from his crouch, Tiga adjusted the position of his hat and jerked his chin toward the direction at the crossroads where their shared destination lay.

"Our destination's the same. The appointed time probably is, too. Let's go together."

"I don't mind, but in that case he didn't have to make that weird 'just me' stipulation. Emilia-tan or Rem could've come along too."

"Rem, maybe, but Lady Emilia is your liege, right? You're going to drag her around on your personal errands?"

"Not drag her around—I'd just rather not be apart from her even for a moment if I can help it."

"That's—"

Banter for banter. Subaru tossed that out intending to trade quips, but Tiga shut his mouth as if at a loss for words, his eyes wandering for a while.

At that reaction, Subaru exchanged a look with Beatrice and tilted his head.

"What is it? Did my big love for Emilia-tan and the others scare you?"

"It's not that this so-called big love scares me. It's just that your heavy affection snagged on some heartstring of mine I don't really understand... something like that."

"...I'm flattered, but I've already got lots of people I've set my heart on..."

"Trying to look single-minded while saying the worst possible thing, are you!?"

With the rhythm seeming to come back, Subaru laughed at Tiga's snappy comeback. He'd thought from the start they were on the same wavelength; 'my friend' wasn't just for show.

Tiga, too, was drawn in by Subaru starting to laugh, and he laughed, forgetting the momentary awkwardness from just before.

"You two, that's enough fooling around. It's coming into view."

At some point, Beatrice had wound up walking a little ahead; she was standing at the corner of the street beckoning them over. With long strides and a brisk walk—without quite breaking into a run—Subaru and Tiga quickened their pace and drew up almost simultaneously beside her.

And on the outskirts of the nobles' district, they found a large mansion that matched the specified address and the roof color they'd been told, and judged it must be Miklotov's residence.

"Tiga, what did you have to talk about with Mr. Miklotov?"

"Consulting about something I'm looking for, I guess. You guys?"

"Me and Beako are in pursuit of the romance of history—we wanted to ask about various dark corners of the kingdom, and, if only once, have him show us a Dragon History Stone."

"I see. So that ties into that alarming talk from earlier. Here's some unsolicited advice, but you probably shouldn't go around saying out on the street that you want to do this and that with a Dragon History Stone—"

He was probably about to follow it up with "All right," but Tiga's words were cut off there.

When Subaru and the others turned to see what was wrong, they found Tiga had stopped on the way to the gate of Miklotov's mansion, glaring at the stone wall that ringed the estate.

And with clear wariness set in his well-formed, handsome profile, he murmured.

It was—

"—This is bad. I smell blood."

△▼△▼△▼△

Beatrice to his left, Guiltywhip to his right. —With those two mainstays fitting snugly in his hands, Subaru held his breath and moved through the interior of the mansion, heavy with the smell of blood.

"—Subaru, stay close. We'll cover each other's blind spots."

The one whispering that in a suppressed voice was Tiga, who was keeping watch ahead of them.

In Tiga's hands, as he kept low and moved without a sound, was a blade drawn with no noise at all—the Shamshir, a silver crescent tracing a deep, keen arc.

From his bearing it was clear he possessed the skill to wield that curved sword freely, and Subaru found himself thinking, incongruously, that Filóre had a poor eye for judging knights.

"—"

Through their joined hands, Beatrice's tension flowed into Subaru, and Subaru's into Beatrice.

Thankfully, thanks to the far calmer Beatrice, they avoided falling into a negative spiral of mutually amplifying tension—the self-'Wrath' Authority.

—Miklotov's mansion had become a scene you wanted to turn away from.

Entering from the back, they had already found more than ten members of the household, all already turned into butchered corpses, every one of them cut down with a single stroke.

Whether to call the single, non-suffering blow mercy, or to call the overwhelming suppression that gave them no chance to show their strength merciless, he couldn't think of any final words to adorn the dead.

Nothing but the raw, fresh breath of death close at hand; Subaru's heart thundered as if about to burst.

"—"

This was already beyond Subaru's capacity. By that assessment, he was sure the better call would be to leave the mansion at once and seek help and reinforcements.

But at the same time, by pushing in now, there was certainly a chance they could save a life.

Because—

"All of them were killed only just now."

"...Agreed. If only even one of them still had a breath in them..."

They found yet another: a slash gouged into the corridor wall, and directly beneath it a body sprawled. The broad swing had been delivered diagonally, cleaving the person—and the wall behind them—straight through.

The blood of the hapless corpse felled by a diagonal kesa cut had yet to dry, and its heated, rank odor carried that peculiar taint in which life force and death coexisted, characteristic of someone who had been alive only moments before.

"It pisses me off that my time in the Empire proves useful at times like this..."

In Natsuki Subaru's life, the most atrocious, hellish sight—regrettably—was the carnage on the gladiator island, where so many acquaintances piled into a mountain of corpses. The calamity brought about by the accursed Todd Fang burned Subaru's world to ashes with countless deaths.

He had seen so much death there. So he could tell—how long ago a living person had become a corpse, and how much they had suffered before their last breath.

"They weren't made to suffer."

Within the mansion, this made thirteen bodies found, and none of them had been made to suffer. But whether that was the result of mercy or simply of dazzling technique, he couldn't tell.

The fact that they had not died in agony was, perhaps, a comfort only to their own hearts for having confirmed it. How arrogant—Ferris's invective flitted through his mind even now.

Why was that? Perhaps because he felt that someone who said he hated death more than anything in this world might understand the helplessness Subaru felt now in the face of this tragedy.

"Damn."

Having seen more deaths than he could count, and still carrying a nausea and sense of loss he could never grow used to, Subaru closed the eyes of the dead and moved on.

He wouldn't back down because there was still the possibility that someone had survived this tragedy that had only just begun.

He didn't want to retreat and snuff out that possibility of life.

And besides—

"—Miklotov is someone this country still very much needs."

It wasn't as if Subaru had exchanged many words with Miklotov.

Nor did he have any fond memories of those at the top of the kingdom's sages—the 'Council of Wise Men.'

But among the few points of contact, in memories smeared with negative thoughts he'd rather not recall, there was something Subaru certainly remembered.

"At the very least, he has shown that you are not the kind of half-elf feared by the world. —You have a fine retainer."

Those were the words spoken when, through Subaru's selfish rampage, he had disgraced himself before a crowd, found himself with not a single ally, and was driven from the throne room.

Up to now, up to this very instant, he had not remembered。――But there had been someone who looked at what Subaru did that day, in that place, with eyes different from everyone else's.

He hadn't realized it. But so what. Whatever the case, Subaru was grateful.

This gold surpassing any treasure—this feeling of being saved—Subaru would return to Miklotov.

「――Subaru, Lady Beatrice」

Having steeled himself with firm resolve, Subaru had made it the driving force for not running. The one who called to that Subaru and to Beatrice standing beside him, upon reaching the great doors, was Tiga.

They couldn't say they'd searched every last corner of the manor, but they had finished checking the larger rooms. Given the manor's structure, the room meant to serve as a bolt-hole in emergencies was precisely this room before their eyes.

Therefore, the likelihood that the master of the house was here was the highest――,

「――!」

Not with a shout, but right after a nod, they dove through the opened door with Tiga at the head.

The first thing that leapt into their eyes as they entered was, in that plain room, a very large Flag of the Kingdom of Lugunica stretched to cover the white wall—depicting a single sword at the center and two dragons facing each other—now slashed on the diagonal as well, one half fallen to the floor.

――And then they saw: a person, likely struck by the same slash, slumped with their back to the wall, collapsed into a pool of blood, the portion of the flag that hung down to the floor wrapped around their body.

「――ah」

A groan slipped unbidden from the back of his throat.

The person leaning against the wall kept their face lowered, so he couldn't see it clearly. But he knew full well who it was. Even that distinctive long white beard—something you could never mistake for anyone else—was soaked in the copious blood that had flowed, stained a vivid red.

「――――」

It was, beyond doubt, Miklotov McMahon—who had long supported the Kingdom of Lugunica—never to move again: an all too abrupt, merciless end for the great sage.

Yet even that death, even that end, was not the reason for Subaru's groan.

The reason Subaru groaned was not Miklotov, the victim。――It was the perpetrator.

In the middle of the room, facing the diagonally slashed flag and Miklotov's corpse, which had died with it wrapped around him, stood the perpetrator with her back to them.

Over a slender, willowy back, long, lustrous green hair swayed. The richly feminine curves of her body could not be concealed by her deep-navy attire, sketching a decadent, transgressive beauty amid the carnage.

And not a single drop of blood clung to the long, keen straight sword clasped in her hand。――Naturally. Because her sword strikes sever not with steel, but with wind.

「――――」

As Subaru and the others stood there aghast, she slowly turned to face them. A beautiful woman in men's attire—one eye covered by an eyepatch, the remaining amber eye reflecting them――,

「――Ah, Natsuki Subaru。――Are you, in fact, the ‘real one’ I know?」

――Amid a scene steeped in blood and death, to that question from Crusch Karsten, only a pathetic groan leaked from Natsuki Subaru's throat.