Without hesitation, Priscilla cut through the disquiet governing the chamber
with a thoroughly wearied voice.
"Such boring, insignificant jeers. I am so accustomed to them that they do not
even serve as a lullaby."
She was no doubt referring to the reaction around her moments earlier,
including boisterous jeers that called her the Bloody Bride. Priscilla did not let it
bother her, nor did she make any attempt to refute them.
Following Priscilla's statement, Miklotov interrupted inquisitively.
"This has been on my mind since well before. Bariel… As in, Mr. Lyp Bariel?
Mmm. Now that I think of it, I have not seen any sign of Mr. Lyp. Where is
he…?"
"That lewd old man suddenly went senile half a year ago. He remained unable
to tell the difference between dream and reality, and passed away but a few
days later."
"What, Mr. Lyp has…? Mmmm. Lady Priscilla, what does that make your
relationship to Mr. Lyp?"
With Miklotov expressing surprise, Priscilla dully commented on the death of
her partner.
"I suppose it makes me his widow. He had not touched me with so much of a
fingertip, so our relationship is, quite literally, in name alone."
Al promptly stated, "Princess, isn't it just a little too harsh to put it that way?"
Priscilla paid him no heed, sweeping her gaze across the crowd as if daring
anyone else to complain.
"A meaningless death to end a worthless life. If the life of that old man had
any meaning whatsoever, it is in the fact he transferred his entire estate to me.
Accordingly, the House of Bariel is mine."
Her stare only increased the discontent in the hall, but no one actually lodged
an objection. Even Rickert, having protested against Crusch with such
vehemence, apparently lacked the courage to enter a war of words with an
opponent immune to logic. And so, Miklotov replied, "Mmm. I understand,
then. As Mr. Lyp was an acquaintance of many years, I regret to hear of his
passing… But I see that your claim is on firm ground, Lady Priscilla."
"But of course."
As Priscilla arrogantly nodded, Miklotov now shifted the conversation to the
vassal at her side.
"Though I would like to press for further details, does the knight beside you
have anything to add?"
"Aahhh… Ah, me?"
Al's yawning reply did a splendid job of drawing the antagonism all around
him. It was as if the servant was cooling off the heat that his master had brough
to the hall.
"Yes, you. Your attire is highly unusual. I have not seen you among the Knights
of the Royal Guard…and your helm?"
"Oh, can you tell? This was made in Volakia down south. It was a lot of
trouble getting it out of there. It's tough, so it's held up for a long while. Also, it
looks cool, so it's pretty important."
"A Volakia Empire…? Then, you are not assigned to the Knights of the Royal
Guard."
"I've cut all my connections to Volakia. Now I'm a wanderer who goes with
the flow… So please, just call me Al. Also, you seem a little upset that I'm not
showing you my face… Can you gimme a break on that?"
Al's profusion of rude statements drew even sharper glares. Under so much
attention, Al deftly slipped his one hand under the chin of his helmet and began
to lift it up.
"Urk—!"
Out of the blue, someone let out a pained cry as the helm rose to about
mouth level. It was hard to blame him for that. After all, the visible part of Al's
face was blanketed with old scars from burns, cuts, and perhaps other sources
still.
It was no exaggeration to say his scars were ten times as bad as Subaru's.
"So y'see, my face is a sorry sight. That's why I hope you permit me the
discourtesy of keeping my face covered in front of everyone."
Marcus interrupted.
"This may be an even greater discourtesy… If you hail from Volakia with such
wounds, were you a Sword Slave by any chance?"
"Hehhh, that's the captain of the knights for you. That Empire likes to keep its
secrets, but apparently you know a thing or two about the darker parts of it.
Yes, I was a Sword Slave, a ten-odd-years vet at that."
Murmurs spread across the chamber once again as the term Sword Slave was
repeated on the lips of many a knight. From the words forming the compound,
it seemed to mean "a sword-wielding slave."
"I take it you were in a battle or two, then?"
"That's the size of it, bro. I messed up when I was young and lost an arm that
way, y'see."
Al, ever playing the fool, didn't flinch from discussing the gruesome
experience. For their part, those who had gazed upon him with such hostility
moments before were now dumbstruck.
But Subaru was shaken by the impact even more than the rest.
Back in the dragon carriage, Al hadn't said much about his own body. He
downplayed the cause of losing his other arm and dodged the subject of his
helmet altogether. But Subaru had been subconsciously avoiding that subject,
too. After all, just like him, Al had been summoned there from another world—
in other words, his experiences hit Subaru very close to home. Losing an arm,
having his face scarred up to the point he couldn't show it to anyone else—that
was a future Subaru, with countless scars already carved into his body, could
easily have encountered for himself.
If the icy chill running up his spine was any indication, Subaru would never
have been able to endure it.
Miklotov spoke again.
"Mmmm. Hailing from the Empire of Volakia… Is that why you came to stand
at Lady Priscilla's side?"
Priscilla replied, "Not at all. It is the result of a little game of mine. From the
beginning, my becoming king was as good as divine providence. The result will
be the same regardless of my vassal. And so, I am free to select the vassal that I
like. As a showpiece, this man is sufficiently amusing and then some."
"How did you come to select him, then?"
"What, you want to know?—I caught sight of him in a bodybuilding contest I
held on my estate, with the winner to be offered the job of my vassal. It was an
amusing sight."
Priscilla gave Al a glance rich in meaning as she replied to Miklotov.
"Mmmm, I see. So he was the winner of that contest, I ta…"
Al corrected him, "Nah, I didn't win it. Life's not kind enough for a one-armed
guy to beat a pack of beefy bodybuilders. I was lucky to round out the top five
at the victory ceremony."
Miklotov's face registered surprise that Al would interrupt even him.
"My word. Then how did you become Lady Priscilla's vassal…?"
Priscilla straightened with pride as she gave Al's back a hard slap.
"I told you. I am free to pick whomever I please."
Al yelped a loud, dry Ahhnn! audible to all, as she continued, "To begin with,
my keen eyes allowed me to discern that he is a physical wonder, far more than
a collection of dim-witted louts overconfident in their muscle-bound arms. And
more than that, only he boasted an escape from Volakia and a birth beyond the
Great Waterfalls."
Priscilla briskly concluded her tale, loudly stomping with a high heel as all eyes
fell upon her.
"And so, I selected Al to be my vassal. It is providence that my selection of Al,
and my path to become king, shall both shine in accordance with my glory."
She did not bear even the smallest molecule of doubt or hesitation. She was
so full of confidence it was frightening.
"You say that…Heaven has chosen you…?"
"But of course. After all, nothing happens in this world that is does not benefit
me. Furthermore, 'tis I who is worthy of becoming king, and no other. You need
only bow before me and serve."
Everyone was agape at her insolent declaration. The only one unaffected by
her haughtiness was the man who called the girl his master.
"Princess, what's your basis for all that?"
" 'Tis very simple. Serving me means siding with the winner. You may have
anything you desire; I allow it. But I shall not permit you to serve anyone else.
That is all."
Priscilla brushed her orange hair back, raising her hand in a lofty wave toward
the heavens. It was a gesture that meant, I have said all that there is to say.
With that, she turned her back to the Council of Elders on the dais and walked
away. Before turning his back to follow, her knight looked up at the dais and
said, "You might not like how she says it, but Princess is on the money. If she
wants something, so long as she doesn't change her mind, she gets it.—That's
because the heavens themselves have chosen Priscilla. I'm sure you've heard
how the old… Er, Mr. Lyp's lands have bounced back lately?"
Al sent a meaningful look in Marcus's direction.
"We have already confirmed this for ourselves. Following the passing of Mr.
Lyp Bariel, Lady Priscilla took control of policy within his lands…resulting in the
region's unprecedented prosperity."
"Well, don't mistake that as us working hard for the sake of everyone else or
something, okay? Princess's guesses are always on the mark like she's a natural.
She's just right about everything, no ifs, ands, or buts."
" "
"Well, if you're under Princess, you can do whatever you want. If you're
gonna bet on the winning horse, I think it's best to do it sooner rather than
later, though."
It was as if both master and servant, so full of confidence, had forgotten their
humility back in their mothers' wombs. When they returned to their place
among the candidates, the tension in the air relaxed as a matter of course.
"A cross-dressing guy and pretty-girl combo, a rich widow and a guy from
another world, this is totally genre-breaking stuff here…"
As Subaru murmured, the royal selection ceremony continued on. The next
person called by Marcus was the girl with violet hair.
"Next, then, is Lady Anastasia, and her knight, Sir Julius Juukulius. Come
forward!"
The girl reacted elegantly, but Priscilla had left vestiges of feverish agitation
hovering over the chamber. That was when Julius lifted a hand up to the sky
and swung it downward. The dry crackle echoed, forcing an inescapable change
in the atmosphere.
To this generous deed, Anastasia said, "Thank you kindly," smiling pleasantly
as she advanced. Julius stood at her side.
—Thus the most conventional-looking master and servant advanced to the
fore.
Faced with the next royal candidate, Subaru cleared his thoughts and focused
ahead once more.