The royal candidates' declarations weren't just about stating their convictions—they were also demonstrations of capability. A knight counted as part of that strength.
Crusch herself was outstanding and famous, and her knight, Felix, was no slouch either. Felix Argyle belonged to the Royal Guard; being Crusch's first knight was not merely because they were childhood friends. He was friends with Sword Saint Reinhard and the "Finest Knight" Julius—more importantly, he was the kingdom's strongest and youngest healer, bearer of the title "Azure."
Priscilla was formidable as well. She governed her late husband's domain with such order that it had reached unprecedented prosperity. She even said with her own mouth that her late husband had never so much as touched her finger; their "relationship" was in name only. A widow.
Her knight, Al, had some renown—a sword slave who'd spent a long time in arenas where combat was entertainment; a bona fide desperado.
Anastasia, though once a commoner and a merchant, was now the president of a trading company and not to be taken lightly. Her knight Julius was lauded as the "Finest Knight."
"Next candidate—Emilia-sama."
"Here!"
The confident girl looked toward Shichen as he approached, laughter in her eyes—but she did not stand with him alone. Roswaal stood beside her as well.
"Then, Emilia-sama, Roswaal L. Mathers-sama, and… Shichen-sama, if you would."
"Alright~ alright~ What a marvelous feeling~ With you here, Shichen, my confidence is overflowing~ I don't think I've ever fought a battle with this much in reserve~ what a headache~" Roswaal kept his usual breezy tone, grinning at Shichen.
Shichen didn't even look at him. "Don't rely on me. I still haven't settled accounts with you for trying to use me."
"Oh my~ oh my~ I'm not about to end up vaporized, am I?" Roswaal quipped, with no trace of fear.
"Hmph. If you weren't still useful to Emilia, you'd have ended up like that Ricard."
"My, how terrifying~ May I ask—how did that man die?" Roswaal asked—really, so everyone else could hear. It was what they most feared.
"Nothing impressive. I just adjusted the hall's air pressure and squeezed that loudmouth until he popped. Don't worry—just make sure you're never somewhere with no air and you'll be fine," Shichen said, smiling at the room.
"…" Silence. A few mouths twitched.
What did "as long as you're not somewhere without air" even mean? Did such a place exist? And what was that magic? Some absurd air-control blessing? Wouldn't that make him invincible?
"Shichen, if I may—can you do that so easily?" Reinhard asked.
"Reinhard, it's useless on you. Just a little parlor trick," Shichen replied with a grin.
Pressure, space, and aura—such tricks could slaughter ordinary people with a thought, but against Reinhard? Not so much.
"You overrate me," Reinhard said, wry.
Everyone else twitched again. A parlor trick?
Then what did real power look like?
Who was this man? Why had no one heard of him before? Why would someone this strong throw his weight behind—
Because she was pretty?
Almost everyone was afraid of Shichen now. Whether or not his words were true, that display had left them defenseless.
Felt, of course, wasn't afraid; she gazed at him with open adoration. Watching these bigwigs cower delighted her. Priscilla wasn't afraid either—her eyes were greedy, hunger for Shichen laid bare. Chosen by the sun, she believed only a man like that was worthy.
"Enough about me. Emilia's the main act," Shichen said, resting a hand on Emilia's shoulder and meeting her gaze, cueing her to take the floor.
Emilia smiled, nodded, and faced the assembly, her expression turning solemn.
"Honored Council of Sages—my name is Emilia. I have no family name. Please call me Emilia."
Her bell-clear voice carried to every ear without shake or quaver; her eyes did not waver. With Shichen beside her, there was no room for nerves. He'd done so much; she couldn't afford to show weakness now.
"Emilia-sama is sponsored by yours truly, Roswaal L. Mathers, Margrave. Thank you for granting us this audience," Roswaal said.
"Not a royal knight but the court mage as sponsor? May I ask why?" Miklotov stroked his beard, eyes flicking—pointedly not at Shichen, though the glance was meant for him. Shichen was Emilia's knight, but not a Royal Guard.
"Of course~ Then let's begin with Emilia-sama's origins~ As Shichen just said: her beautiful silver hair, skin fair with a blush, violet-blue eyes that seize the heart—once heard, a bell-like voice that haunts your dreams… This captivating appearance, as you all know, proves Emilia-sama's elven blood."
"Yes. Half my blood is human. I am a half-elf," Emilia said evenly.
"…Roswaal-sama, you are aware of what this means?" Miklotov asked—pointedly.
A silver-haired half-elf becoming king? Unthinkable.
"What of it~?" Roswaal laughed. "Even so, Emilia-sama will become king."
"…"
Eyes slid to Shichen. In their minds, Roswaal's confidence existed because of that unreasonable man.
"Heh. Don't look at me. Even without me, Emilia has strength," Shichen said, smiling.
"What do you mean?" Miklotov couldn't help asking.
"Aren't you coming out, Puck?"
"Aww, I was starting to think I wasn't needed," said a youthful, androgynous voice.
The ancient chill of frozen ground rippled through the hall. Then a small gray-furred cat, pink nose steaming, arms folded, popped into being before Emilia.
Clank—!
The knights' reaction was fierce; steel came up, a wall of points.
"…The Beast of the End," Miklotov murmured, hoarse.
"Oh? Someone still calls me that. Seems we've got at least one youngster who knows a little," Puck said, eyes smiling at Miklotov.
"…At my age, it's rare to be called a youth. Roswaal-sama—explain," Miklotov said calmly, unafraid.
"As you see—an extraordinary being. The old great spirit once called the Beast of the End. Now, he is Emilia-sama's contracted spirit," Roswaal said, satisfied.
"Impossible! One of the Four Great Spirits under contract—!"
"Isn't the fact before your eyes?" Roswaal cut in lightly. "So—let all behold the power of the great spirit bound to Emilia, that they may know she holds might beyond imagining… and understand our aim."
"My aim is to threaten you," Emilia said with a bright smile.
"Once more—allow me to introduce myself to the honorable Council. My name is Emilia—the silver-haired half-elf who commands Puck, the great spirit of fire mana dwelling in Elior Forest's world of everlasting frost."
"…" Shichen gave her a peculiar look. That delivery sounded a lot like Megumin. The voice even matched. If those two met, would Megumin lead her astray?
Emilia didn't notice. She added, "I am the Witch of Frost."
The word witch warped the air.
"Very well. Display power, declare terms—witch's fashion. What do you demand?" Miklotov asked evenly.
"Only one thing," Emilia said. "Fairness."
~~~
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