Among the four royal candidates, three actually carried Divine Fragments.
That Emilia had one—Shichen found that natural. It fit the "pattern" he'd seen in other worlds: where and in whom the Fragments chose to dwell.
But why did Priscilla and the uniformed lady have them too?
Shichen knew very well what it meant for a Fragment to lodge in someone—had he really been so heedless? True, the two were beautiful and striking…
But then why would Felt and the lilac-haired girl not have one? They fit his aesthetic just as well.
"Ugh, honestly! Felix-chan only said they might be holding a banquet because I saw loads of food and wine getting brought into the castle—that's all, nya~," Ferris burbled, unfazed by Crusch's question.
"I see… then I was mistaken. Pardon me for being suspicious," Crusch apologized without hesitation.
Their lord-retainer rapport was plainly good.
"In that case, please strike my earlier remark from the record—it was shameful," Crusch told Miklotov, candidly owning the error.
"Aah~ Crusch-sama is so manly!" Ferris squealed, cupping his face and wiggling.
"…," Shichen's mouth twitched. If he didn't know Ferris was a boy, it would be quite the sight.
Even knowing—why was it still so easy on the eyes?
No. Don't be fooled by appearances.
"Hehe~ Don't mind it, Shichen. Ferris and Crusch-sama get along very well," Reinhard offered.
"…I can tell," Shichen replied.
"Then good… say, Shichen—you know Ferris' sex, right?"
"I do. A boy."
"'A boy'… oddly apt," Reinhard said, face a little strained.
"What what? Shichen, you actually saw through little me?" Ferris blinked.
"It'd be weird not to."
"No no, what's weird is seeing it so quickly… But then—if that's so, you still think my ears are charming?"
"Is there a problem? They are," Shichen said, perfectly honest.
"Ohh~ Shichen, I almost fell for you—good thing my heart belongs to Crusch," Ferris trilled.
"No skin off my nose. I hope you always belong to her," Shichen deadpanned.
"Aaah~ how cruel~"
"Ferris—enough," Julius cut in, eyes shifting to the lilac-haired girl—who was speaking.
"…Even if Miss Crusch retracts her words, our stance hasn't changed, ya know? At this point, there's no need to repeat the public window-dressing—everyone here knows what this selection really is."
Her gaze slid along the candidates. Crusch nodded; Priscilla ignored her. Emilia timidly raised a hand.
"I—I think we should at least hear them out—"
"'Scuse me. I wasn't asking you."
The girl's tone was ice-cold. Emilia's sweet face pinched with hurt—
Vwooom—!
Suddenly a pressure swallowed the hall—air turned heavy. Aside from Emilia, everyone buckled and bent, breath strangled—including Reinhard.
Thud!
The lilac-haired girl hit her knees, facing Emilia.
"What?!"
"What's happening?!"
"An intruder?!"
"I can't move—!"
Tap, tap, tap…
Soft footfalls drew every eye—toward the foremost line of knights, where Shichen stood.
"Shichen, you—" Reinhard forced his head up, incredulous. His hand strained toward the Dragon Sword—but barely. The blade trembled wildly.
"Don't worry, Reinhard. I won't do anything," Shichen said mildly.
"Doesn't look like 'won't do anything'…" Reinhard managed a bitter smile—and moved no further.
"Shichen…" Emilia watched him, anxious.
"Relax. I only got a little angry."
"Angry?"
"That girl's attitude toward you was out of line." Shichen's gaze slid, cold, to the kneeling merchant.
"Y-you are… wh—who are you?" she asked, frightened.
"Don't be scared. I'm only Emilia's knight," Shichen replied evenly.
"Her… knight…"
"I don't care to make a scene. An apology, and we'll call it even. How about it?"
"I… I—sorry," the girl managed after a beat—apologizing to Emilia.
"Good girl." Shichen smiled, and the pressure vanished.
The hall instantly lightened. Breath flooded lungs; some collapsed to the floor. Then, stunned silence—and a hundred eyes on Shichen, unruffled as though nothing had happened.
What was that? Why had none of them been able to resist? All that—just because he was "angry"…?
Only Roswaal smiled, even though he'd been pinned too.
"Emilia—there's no need to walk on eggshells. I'm here," Shichen murmured, warm as ever.
"Mm!" Emilia beamed and nodded.
"All right, let's get back to the royal selection. I'd like to hear it properly. No objections?" Shichen stepped back up beside Reinhard, smile gentle—as if nothing had occurred.
"Heh… hehehe…" Priscilla laughed.
"Splendid. Will you be my knight? Our meeting—clearly ordained."
She stared at him, brazen and hungry.
"Forget it. I'm Emilia's knight," Shichen declined at once.
"Yes, princess—don't break my heart," her knight, Al, put in, wounded.
"Al, find a way to deliver Shichen to me," Priscilla ordered, not sparing his feelings.
"Sigh," Al groaned.
"Priscilla, quit it. Let Captain Marcos finish," Shichen waved her off.
"Hmph. My will is heaven's will—but very well. Marcos, tell my future knight how I'll become king."
Marcos glanced at the now-standing, shaken lilac merchant—then to the sages. Miklotov nodded. He continued.
"…Returning to the point: we gathered the qualified priestesses at the Council's command per a new inscription on the Dragon-Chronicle. It states—When Lugunica's covenant frays, a new leader chosen by the Dragon will guide the realm…"
As Marcos spoke on, eyes eased off Shichen—back to him. As if nothing had happened. Though some still stole glances at Shichen, rattled by a man who could bind them all without lifting a finger—even Reinhard.
Julius' fists tightened, anger in his face—he, too, did nothing.
The explanation stirred Shichen's memory.
Lugunica steered by the Dragon's Chronicle—time and again the realm had survived crisis by following those prophecies. Which meant priestess and sovereign were not so easily separated; the Dragon chose its partner not for "understanding" alone, but because that person bore the kingdom as king.
Finally Marcos' voice rose. "There is more: The new leader will number five; from among them, one priestess shall be chosen to covenant with the Dragon."
Five candidates foretold—yet only four here. The reason the selection had not begun. But with all gathered today, this would not end perfunctorily.
"…That concludes the status report. Anastasia-sama—pardon my long-windedness," Marcos finished.
"N—not at all…" The lilac-haired Anastasia risked a glance at Shichen, fear lingering.
"Emilia, got it? If not, have him say it again," Shichen teased.
"I do got it—stop treating me like an idiot!" Emilia huffed, pouting adorably.
"Good."
"Is that all? Surely not," Priscilla cut in—perhaps the only one bold enough to keep talking freely.
"Quite so. I must beg your patience a little longer—this day will be one for the histories," Miklotov said, voice low and charged.
"To move history?"
Miklotov signaled Marcos.
"Sir Reinhard van Astrea—step forward!" Marcos barked.
"Yes, sir!"
Plainly ready, Reinhard strode out, bowed to the candidates, then faced Marcos.
"Sir Reinhard, report to all assembled."
"Yes!" Marcos ceded place.
Reinhard took the full weight of the hall's attention, met Shichen's eyes, and proclaimed in a steady voice: "The fifth candidate—the last Priestess of the Dragon—has been found."
At that, the great doors swung inward. A small girl, escorted by a maid, entered the hall.
Emilia saw her—eyes flying wide—then stared at Shichen in disbelief.
Shichen only gave her a small, knowing smile.
"Eeh?! Big brother!" the newly arrived girl squealed the instant she spotted Shichen, joy bursting from her face.
~~~
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