Reinhard smiled warmly at the throne the blindfolded boy had conjured. Sitting with a satisfied, amused smirk, looking down on everyone as if they were mere characters.
Reinhard, breaking the silence left by her lord's earlier statement, watched him with what looked to be reverence.
"Lord Crim, thank you for gracing us with your presence."
The Sword Saint bowed before the boy, one knee pressed to the velvet carpet, her arm resting gracefully atop it. All eyes in the great hall were drawn to the blindfolded figure seated above, except for one.
Aldebaran.
Beneath his helmet, the knight's gaze wasn't on Crimson. It was fixed on the ceiling. His pupils had narrowed to pinpricks, trembling.
Something was wrong.
It wasn't visible at first. The moment Crimson entered, the world had shifted, and now, trailing from the boy's lower back, Aldebaran saw it: a purplish-black, tail-like appendage. Sinister. Alive. It slithered hypnotically, into the darkness above. He followed it with his eyes.
The ceiling.
It wasn't just dark, it was too dark. Wrong.
Then it moved.
The shadowy dome of what should have been the ceiling writhed like a nest of serpents, a pulsing, living weave of black and violet threads, tangled and vast, forming a massive, woven structure that curved across the chamber.
The Authority of Sloth.
How Aldebaran was able to see it is unknown. The long appendage began to writhe, constrict, and retract, erasing the dome-like sewing, returning to its master, now in a smaller form as if it were just his imagination.
Crimson's head turned to Al with almost curiosity.
Whispers echoed around the hall from knights and mages alike.
"How did he do that?"
"Without any chanted incantation, he created a throne?"
"When he entered, was that gravity magic?"
"It must be Yin magic from the color of the pink mana."
"How skilled do you have to be to create a construct like that?"
Then an arrogant, lady-like voice from the candidates erupted.
"Amusing… you are amusing. However, to show such arrogance in my presence, untrained dogs such as you have to learn their place.
"Wow, the pot calls the kettle black," Crimson murmured to himself.
"I have every right to my arrogance. I'm not foolishly unaware. The world revolves around me. My will is the world's. Remove yourself from that unsightly seat. My divine self cannot stand your insinuation that you are above this exalted existence in any capacity."
Turning his head as if bored, Crimson slowly got up from his self-made pink construct, stretching widely as if mocking the onlookers.
"By all means, have my seat. It's still warm."
His smirk never disappeared, yet something about his demeanor changed.
Priscilla scoffed, as if the lack of any type of backbone or retort, annoyed her deeply.
"Such a perverted statement from a cripple displeases me."
Yet still, Priscilla strode forward with regal defiance, her every step echoing across the silent hall. With a smug tilt of her chin, she turned her back to Crimson's conjured throne, lowering herself with aristocratic grace, intent on claiming what she believed hers by right.
Then, it dissolved.
The elegant construct shattered in an instant, pink dust scattering like embers in the wind.
Priscilla's poise broke as her balance gave out. Her eyes widened, an unthinkable expression of shock, as gravity took her.
But she never hit the floor.
She froze, suspended mid-fall, her back arched, long orange hair fluttering.
Held by nothing.
The hall was dead silent.
Al had already lunged forward, but stopped mid-step, watching in stunned disbelief as his master hovered, inches from the marble.
Then, Crimson moved.
Leaning over Pricilla from where he stood, the devilish smirk on his lips deepened into something cruel, yet faintly apologetic. As if two opposing minds were debating what action they took.
"It seems my control waned the moment you sat down," he mused softly. "You must be... heavy."
Anastasia hearing the jab, snickered then burst out into light giggles.
Priscilla's face was now flushed with embarrassment, a look Al had never before seen on her.
"You… you crippled bastard." Pricilla blustered.
She regained her balance, standing properly, and pointed her red and black fan at his neck threateningly. Briefly turning her head to the giggling Anastasia.
"You find that insult to my honor so gratifying, do you?"
"If I'm being completely honest, it was quite "Gratifying" as you say."
Ignoring the threat, he looked at the fan as if remembering.
"Thanks for the compliment, blind ba***rd was it… That's new.
"You filthy mutt, it wasn't a compliment." Despite her hostile tone, her face was flushed red.
"Hmm, that's a beautiful sword, one of the 10 Swords of Power. The Yang Sword, am I right?" He reached out experimentally poking the tip of the fan. "No need to answer, it was rhetorical. I'm always right."
Turning around, ignoring Priscilla entirely, who looked scandalized, he briefly glanced at Crusch, who was completely dumbfounded. Emilia just looked confused.
"Any questions for your ruler…" Slowly pivoting toward the onlooking crowd, he breathed out. "Nothing from the rest of the main cast… boring?"
As if snapped out of the sight of the drama before them, Multitudes of individuals, knights, mages, and wisemen, erupted at once.
"He can't be a candidate!"
"He's male!"
The majority of which looked to the royal knight commander Marcos, who was just staring blankly before regaining a semblance of dignity.
"Lord Crimson, if you're done..."
He paused for a moment, gesturing blankly at the flushed Priscilla.
"Showing off, then please step over here."
Reinhard's expression was a mix between amusement, disappointment, and exasperation as she stood, walking before her lord.
"Please take out the insignia."
At this, Crimson raised his hand and tapped an emerald ring three times. On the third tap, a shield-like, draconic-inscribed badge floated midair. Roswaal and Beatrice's eyes widened upon recognizing the ring. Roswaal's eyes narrowed as a subtle killing intent rose; he was enraged. His Tome of Wisdom must have been disrupted by this boy.
'Toyota was a spy. I should have killed him when I had the chance. To think he was that good at acting.'
The corner of the clown's lips suddenly curled up. If he could use Toyota as a pawn to bring the sword saint in as an ally, then this situation might have been worth it.
"Subar— mmmph!" Beatrice began, but she felt an invisible force covering her mouth. Looking back at Crimson, or who she now realized was Toyota, his face aimed toward her, he held a single finger to his mouth in a playful shushing gesture.
"Something you wanted to say, Beako?" Subaru glanced down at the little Loli, twisting a finger in his ear as if to hear better.
"No, someone scared Betty, I suppose," she murmured deep in thought.
Subaru smirked, "So you want a hug to feel better."
Beatrice pouted with a cute frown. "Stop teasing Betty, I suppose."
Gasps and sounds of surprise filled the hall as it glowed brightly, emitting an emerald, green light from the insignia.
"As you can see, the Dragon Gem has recognized Lord Crim as a candidate to participate in the Selection. Now that his participation has been approved, I believe it is time to begin the Royal Selection in earnest."
Whispers continued again.
"He must have the Divine Protection of Telekinesis."
"Yeah, how he stopped Lady Priscilla from falling... that pressure at the entrance... and the floating Dragon Jewel..."
All around, the Imperial and Royal Knights placed their hands on their hearts in respect.
"Even if the Dragon Stone has recognized him, do you not think his selection is problematic?" one of the magic users voiced his worry.
"I agree. You could have made a misjudgment," one of the Wise Men voiced his opinion, emboldened.
"He's a male. The others' insignias glowed red..."
It was then that that specific Wise Man's tone turned cruel.
"Surely you didn't just find a replacement for someone you failed to protect, Sword Saint?"
His sarcasm echoed; he clearly was privy to information that others weren't.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Another Wise Man, more polite, asked,
"Wouldn't a blind boy be too disadvantaged to be in the Selection?"
"Maybe you were just desperate and gave up, Sword Saint... to think you would choose a cripple..."
The shouts of indignation grew louder.
Reinhard's face continued to darken as she forced her head down, staying silent.
"The air's kinda dicey in here," Subaru uttered as he looked down at Beatrice with a dazed expression. "Beako, did you use up too much magic to get here? You look dizzy."
"Betty's fine… I suppose."
"The air might be dicey, but it's getting entertaining. "Al shrugged.
"It's nyo big deal to me either." Felix flapped his ears. "After all, I've already pledged my loyalty exclusively to my lady." He glanced toward Crusch.
"I feel the same. My sword already belongs to Lady Anastasia," Julius said with a resolved stare.
Subaru glared and gulped. "Well, my feelings for Emilia won't come in second to anyone else's."
The mage corner of the room was muttering to themselves as they inspected Crimson.
"You lack what's necessary to become ruler."
"You're a male."
"You appear uneducated."
"Silence," an old council member ordered. "Knight Reinhard, would you begin by explaining to us what led you to your discovery?"
Reinhard quickly placed her sheathed dragon sword on the carpeted floor beside Crimson and knelt on one knee before the council.
"I took custody of Lord Crim less than one month ago. It was by pure coincidence that the dragon jewel was illuminated."
"So he's not even from a noble family," the middle-aged wiseman scoffed.
Priscilla, regaining her composure, sighed. "All of this long-winded blather could not be more tedious." She turned to Crimson. "Of course, since you are a male, you will eventually be nothing more than a blind pig happily licking my boot."
"Excluding all men are pigs' statement, I agree, time is money. Unless you people are paying me, let's get this over with." Anastasia chimed in.
"While I do agree, wouldn't it be best to figure out if he is qualified to be our rival?" Crusch added.
"Rivals, what rivals. All I see are bickering children whining about how they're too busy to care about the kingdom. Such a disappointment." Hearing Crimson's haughty statement, the three female candidates glared at him, yet he just stood silently.
Crimson's smile remained on his face while his blindfold hid his complete expression.
Turning to Reinhard and seeing her darkened and distressed appearance, the smirk fell off of Crimson's face, turning more serious.
" Lets speed this up. All of you whiny little parasites… Let me ask you: why does being a male matter so much?"
"You insolent—"
"How dar—"
A wave of chilling, pure killing intent emanated from Crimson. Any ordinary person facing it focused directed singularly at them might have pissed themselves.
His demeanor transformed into that of an entirely different person.
Subaru, watching, could swear he saw Crimson's appearance disappear entirely. Closing his eyes and opening them again, in place of Crimson, a blurry figure sat.
Wearing a sagging gray robe with an indifferent, soulless gaze dark hollow eyes, a long orange scarf around his neck. A pot-bellied wolf demi-human stood aloofly on his left, and a blue-haired dual swordsman on his right, a single gold coin resting in his palm, as he tossed it in the air.
Blinking again, Subaru opened his eyes.
"What was that?" Subaru muttered grabbing the sides of his head as a headache disturbed his thoughts.
A chilling voice came from the blindfolded boy.
"That's strike one."
"What do you mean, strike on—" A wiseman who had been quick to show his dissatisfaction with Reinhard spoke up.
"Answer my question instead of being an echo." Crimson's voice turned dangerous.
Intimidated, the man gave up the pretense of being tough. "W-Well… A female ruler is able to create definitive heirs to recreate the royal family."
"You are disgusting."
"What?"
"So you're saying the only requirement for being able to rule Lugunica, the Dragon Kingdom, is being a glorified breeding hole?"
At this, the audience shifted, growing uncomfortable, while the candidates on the stage cringed.
"W-Well, I—"
Crimson cut the stammering man off with a flick of his wrist and a derisive glance. He turned to the other candidates with a look that wordlessly said, Would you look at this guy?, before swiveling back to face the critic.
"Now shut up and stay quiet," he snapped, voice low but sharp. "Or do you think you have the right to choose the ruler? Are you the Divine Dragon? Do you decide?"
As if to punctuate his words, a pink coin appeared, seemingly from nowhere, dropping into Crimson's palm with a faint chime.
"You have no right to decide," he said, gripping the coin tightly. "I am the one who decides."
His voice echoed off the walls.
Turning sharply to Commander Marcos, Crimson's expression twisted with restrained irritation.
"Let's begin."
Without another word, he strode back toward the candidates, the soft thud of his boots like ripples in the tense silence. As he passed, his blindfolded gaze briefly turned to Reinhard, who still knelt with her head bowed.
A flicker of concern crossed his face.
The other candidates caught the look, and something shifted. In the wake of Crimson's overwhelming hostile presence, that one, small moment of human vulnerability made him feel… real. Fallible. Mortal.
And for a fleeting second, they were less afraid of him.
"So… are you all quite finished?"
The old councilman's voice cut through the murmurs like a dull blade, tired, worn, but authoritative.
Commander Marcos stepped forward immediately, seizing the silence.
"Royal Selection candidates," he announced, "please come forth."
He cleared his throat.
"First, we'll begin with Lady Priscilla Barielle… and her attendant, Al."
Priscilla sauntered forward with regal arrogance, her chin high, eyes half-lidded with disdain.
"The selection is pointless," she said, sweeping her gaze across the chamber as if surveying insects. "I am the one suited to rule this nation. All you people need do… is grovel at my feet and serve."
A ripple of discomfort ran through the crowd as she turned with a dramatic flare of her crimson cloak.
"Next," Marcos said with a nod, "head of the Karsten family, Lady Crusch Karsten… and her knight, Felix Argyle."
Crusch stepped forward with the steel-backed elegance of a seasoned commander. Her voice was calm but commanding.
"Should I become the new ruler," she declared, "I will make the dragon forget the covenant it demanded. The Dragon Empire of Lugunica belongs not to the dragon, but to us."
Felix flashed a proud smile at her side, his ears flicking as if in silent agreement.
"Third," Marcos continued, "Lady Anastasia Hoshin of the Hoshin Company… and her knight, Julius Euckilius."
Anastasia strode forward with a businesswoman's poise, her purple curls bouncing with each step.
"I'm a greedy gal," she admitted cheerfully, "so I want everything. No amount of commercial success can satisfy me anymore."
She winked. "So I've set my sights on something new, a nation."
Julius, composed and stoic beside her, said nothing, but stood tall in silent support.
"And now…" Marcos gestured, "Lady Emilia, endorsed by Margrave Roswaal L. Mathers."
Emilia stepped forward hesitantly, her silver hair catching the light. Her eyes, however, were clear and determined.
"I only have one wish," she said softly but firmly. "For all to be equal. I want to create a nation where no one is above another, where all citizens are equal."
A short pause.
Then Roswaal clapped politely, drawing attention as he twirled a gloved finger.
"Still~," he mused aloud, voice sing-song and dramatic, "after the introduction of all these knights as attendants… I must say, I feel terribly out of plaaaaaace~."
Roswaal's theatrical flair faltered the moment his gaze fell upon Toyota.
His smirk twitched. A hand rose to his forehead.
"Am I… perspiring?" he whispered, bewildered.
A chill settled over his spine, not from fear, but uncertainty. For what purpose could he…?
Roswaal's teeth clenched.
This wasn't in his design.
The entire scheme, meticulously crafted, delicately woven from the Tome's… his master's guidance, was unraveling before his eyes.
He had planned for Subaru to act out, to be cornered and isolated. He'd orchestrated every slight against Emilia; every insult meant to stoke Subaru's temper and fracture his image before the court.
But now…
All focus had gravitated to him. That boy. That impossible prediction, Crimson, or Toyota, or whatever he truly was.
Roswaal's painted face remained still, but panic stirred beneath the surface.
He couldn't have planned this… could he?
(AN: There were so many hints and reactions from characters that I wanted to add, but I don't want to spend over 5 chapters on one scene, so I had to cut a lot. Soon we will get to Julius versus Crimson.
I've set an official release schedule: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Although when I get bored, I add extra.
Bonus chapters will drop on Saturdays if my demands are met. 🔫
Trade deal:
You give me 100 power stones, and I give you a bonus chapter.
Sounds fair, right?)