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{3rd Pov}
The five Royal Candidates had gathered inside a spacious mansion, preparing to begin the crucial meeting that would decide their next course of action in retaliating against the Witch Cult.
Several groups were present in the room.
The first was the Emilia camp, consisting of the Royal Candidate Emilia herself, her knight Natsuki Subaru, Subaru's contracted spirit Beatrice, the ever-resourceful merchant Otto, and finally Garfiel.
It had taken some time for Garfiel to overcome the heavy burden of guilt he had been carrying, but now he stood with renewed determination, his fighting spirit burning brighter than before. His single-minded goal was clear: to bring down the Witch Cult members who had inflicted serious wounds upon Mimi, someone he cared for deeply.
Next was the Crusch camp, assembled around the Royal Candidate Crusch Karsten.
At her side was her loyal butler and knight, the seasoned Sword Demon Wilhelm, whose reputation as a warrior was known throughout the kingdom.
Accompanying them as well was the nation's greatest healer, Ferris—better known as 'Blue'—whose extraordinary skills in restoration and healing magic had saved countless lives.
Following them was the Anastasia camp, gathered around their Royal Candidate, Anastasia Hoshin. Present with her was her knight, the famed Spirit Knight Julius Juukulius, whose reputation as both a swordsman and a spirit-user was well known throughout the kingdom.
Alongside him was his younger brother Joshua, who stood faithfully at his side, as well as Ricardo, the powerful and dependable leader of the Iron Fang mercenary group, and Hetaro, one of the mercenaries who supported them.
Tivey, another member of the Iron Fang, was absent from the main discussion as he was tending to the wounded Mimi.
Her condition was still critical, but thanks to the efforts of her companions, she was no longer in immediate danger.
Because of the Divine Protection of Trisection, shared by Mimi and her siblings, Hetaro and Tivey had been able to share in her suffering and take on a portion of her grievous injuries.
Through this burden, they managed to lessen the impact on her body and keep her alive.
Without their ability and immediate support, the injuries she sustained would have proven fatal, and Mimi would have undoubtedly lost her life the very moment she had been struck down.
Next to arrive was the Priscilla camp, gathered around their Royal Candidate, Priscilla Barielle. Beside her stood her loyal but unusual knight, who also served as her attendant, the helmeted warrior Aldebaran.
Along with him was Schult, her young but diligent child laboured butler, who despite his tender age carried himself with seriousness and responsibility in serving his mistress.
The last member accompanying them was Heinkel Astrea, a man whose reputation as a father was far from admirable.
Known for his poor parenting and callous behavior, he spent much of his time in the meeting casting bitter, hateful glances in the direction of the Felt camp, his resentment practically radiating from him.
Finally came the Felt camp.
At its center was the Royal Candidate Felt, standing with her characteristic boldness and defiance.
By her side was none other than the Sword Saint, Reinhard van Astrea, the strongest warrior in the kingdom and a knight whose very presence commanded attention.
Along with them were the two thieves, Gaston and Sacho, who had thrown in their lot with Felt and now acted as her companions, adding their support to her cause despite their humble backgrounds.
In addition to the main factions, there were also several other individuals present in the room, including members of the Iron Fang mercenary group as well as a number of knights.
They stood by to provide assistance and protection, filling the atmosphere with a mix of tension, anticipation, and determination as the gathering prepared to turn its attention to the matter of dealing with the Witch Cult.
"Now, before we proceed with the meeting to plan our strategy against the Sin Archbishops, there is an internal matter that must first be addressed," said Crusch Karsten, taking the lead in the discussion.
Her calm but commanding voice carried through the room as she turned her gaze directly toward Heinkel.
"Yes, that bastard Heinkel kidnapped Felt, and it must be brought up and dealt with properly!"
Sachin spoke out sharply, glaring with open hostility at the Vice-Commander of the Royal Knights. Heinkel only clicked his tongue in irritation, showing little remorse for the accusations directed at him.
All eyes in the room turned toward him.
The weight of the matter was heavy and undeniable.
The fact that Heinkel had taken Felt against her will and attempted not only to use her as a means to threaten Reinhard van Astrea but had even gone so far as to try to kill her was a crime of the highest severity.
His actions had crossed a line that few dared to approach.
The kidnapping of a Royal Candidate was not just a personal offense or an act of betrayal—it was a direct challenge to the Divine Dragon's decree, the very foundation of the Royal Selection.
To commit such an act was to openly defy the laws and order that governed the kingdom.
"Indeed," Anastasia Hoshin said, her sharp eyes settling on Heinkel, "if it were not for the urgent situation we currently find ourselves in, where every ounce of strength is needed to oppose the Sin Archbishops, he would already be placed under house arrest and removed from this room."
"Just house arrest?" Gaston muttered with suspicion, narrowing his eyes at Heinkel.
His expression hardened as he turned toward Reinhard and added, "Is that all he gets? Not prison? Not exile? Man, I don't mean this in a bad way, Reinhard, but your old man has crossed a line that shouldn't ever be crossed."
"That he did," Reinhard admitted with a heavy sigh, his expression filled with resignation as he looked at his father.
His tone carried no warmth, only the quiet acknowledgment of a truth he could not deny.
"Yes! Gaston is right!" Subaru said, raising his voice to ensure everyone was paying attention.
"We can't just ignore this. We have to deal with our own internal strife first, otherwise we're asking for disaster. If we can't stand together and trust one another, then we're practically handing the Sin Archbishops a victory before the fight even begins!"
His words struck a chord.
Everyone in the room knew he was right. If their alliance was riddled with cracks and infighting, it would weaken them fatally.
Against the Witch Cult, even the smallest division could lead to devastating losses, and unity was the only chance they had of survival.
"Very well," Crusch finally said, breaking the silence.
Her expression was firm as her eyes swept across the gathered camps.
"If this matter is to be judged fairly, then we will need a third party to conduct the questioning. It must be someone impartial and trusted to make the process clear and just."
If Crusch Karsten still had her memories intact, she would have seized the responsibility herself without hesitation, relying on her sharp judgment and unwavering sense of justice.
However, the once strong, decisive, and masculine side of Crusch Karsten had mellowed down ever since losing her memories.
She was no longer the absolute leader who naturally commanded respect with firm and confident decisions.
Instead, she had been forced to start from scratch, learning everything about herself, her personality, and even her values all over again, essentially beginning from zero.
Where she once acted with unshakable authority, taking decisive action in the blink of an eye and leading her people as an unquestionable commander, she now found herself slowing down.
She had learned to stop and carefully consider the situation before acting, analyzing the risks and possible outcomes before committing.
In a way, it made her approach more cautious and measured—smarter, even—but it was undeniably different from the woman she had once been.
She also knew that, in this particular matter, if one of the Royal Candidates themselves were to take charge of delivering judgment, the decision might immediately be viewed as biased.
For example, if she were to handle it directly, others could claim that she was acting unfairly toward Priscilla, her direct competitor in the Royal Selection.
Such an outcome would only add unnecessary friction and distrust between the camps.
Logically speaking, given Priscilla's reputation and the fact that she was disliked by all four of the other camps, most people in the room probably wouldn't go out of their way to defend her.
Even if the questioning or judgment ended up feeling biased against her, it was unlikely that anyone would lift a finger to intervene on her behalf.
But the truth of the matter was different.
Regardless of her arrogance and abrasive nature, Priscilla's strength was undeniable, and in the current situation, they needed every capable fighter available in order to stand a chance against the Witch Cult.
Antagonizing her unnecessarily, or making her feel cornered by unfair treatment, would not be wise.
The alliance could not afford to fracture further.
"Who do you think we should select for this task?" Anastasia asked suddenly, her sharp eyes shifting first to Crusch and then to Felt.
Her tone suggested that she already had an idea forming in her mind but wanted to confirm it with the others.
Both women turned their attention toward Emilia, giving her a knowing look.
Emilia blinked in surprise, momentarily confused, and pointed at herself.
"Huh? Me? You're suggesting I should handle this?" she asked, her voice uncertain.
"Not you, Big Sis," Felt replied firmly, shaking her head.
Then she smirked and tilted her chin toward Subaru.
"I think Big Bro would be the one to do a good job with this."
Her words left Subaru staring blankly in disbelief, as if he couldn't quite process that she was serious.
"Indeed… if it's Subaru, I also believe he would do well," Emilia added with a gentle but confident tone. She didn't even hesitate to back up Felt's suggestion.
For her, it wasn't simply blind faith—she had her reasons.
Time and again, the only reason she had survived impossible crises and avoided utter disaster was because of Subaru's persistence, cleverness, and reckless determination.
She trusted him more than anyone else to make the right call.
In her eyes, Subaru was the true brain of her camp.
Otto was reliable and intelligent as well, but Subaru's presence carried greater weight, and his reputation was stronger.
For this kind of delicate situation, where trust, fairness, and resolve mattered above all, she believed Subaru would handle it properly.
"I have no problem with that arrangement," Anastasia said after a brief pause.
Her calm tone carried a note of practicality, showing she was more interested in resolving the issue efficiently than debating further.
Once she voiced her approval, she turned her attention to Priscilla and asked, "What about you? Do you object to Subaru taking the role?"
"Hmph!" Priscilla scoffed immediately, folding her arms with her usual air of superiority.
"If you wish to place your trust in this peasant, then do as you like. In the end, everything will naturally turn out in my favor regardless of who presides."
Her haughtiness was unshaken, as though she were completely certain that no matter the outcome, fortune would inevitably side with her.
Crusch, seated with her calm and collected expression, chose not to comment on Priscilla's arrogance. Instead, she simply spoke clearly and decisively.
"I also have no objection if Subaru is chosen to act as the mediator. Does anyone else among you take issue with this decision?"
Her words were directed primarily at the members of the various camps, inviting anyone who disagreed to voice their concerns openly.
"Nope! Felix trusts Lady Crusch's judgment completely," Felix said in a lighthearted tone, giving a casual shrug while flashing his usual playful smile.
His support was less about Subaru personally and more about backing Crusch's authority, but it carried weight nonetheless.
"My Lady has already expressed her stance, and as her knight, I will naturally follow her judgment," Julius said with formality, bowing his head respectfully.
His answer was simple but clear, signaling his agreement without hesitation.
One by one, as no further voices of dissent were raised, the silence in the room confirmed that everyone present was willing to accept Subaru in the role of mediator.
No one seemed inclined to challenge the decision, whether out of trust in Subaru's abilities, faith in their leaders, or simply the desire to avoid prolonging the discussion.
Realizing that the choice had been settled, Subaru drew in a deep breath.
His expression betrayed the nervous tension building within him, and though he tried to maintain composure, a faint unease showed on his face.
The responsibility placed upon him was heavy, and as he glanced around the room filled with powerful figures and Royal Candidates, the weight of his new role pressed down even harder.
"First, let us begin by hearing each side's story. We will start with Felt," Subaru declared firmly, taking on his role as mediator.
As soon as he spoke, every eye in the room shifted toward the young Royal Candidate, waiting for her testimony.
"That drunk bastard kidnapped me while I was out exploring the city," Felt said bluntly, not mincing words as she pointed directly at Heinkel.
Her expression carried both anger and disgust.
"He threatened me, saying that if I didn't do exactly as he demanded, he would kill me. He kept me under his control until Reinhardt eventually came searching for me."
"I see. May I ask what the reason was for kidnapping you?" Subaru pressed carefully, his tone calm but serious.
He wanted to make sure every important detail was laid out clearly.
"He wanted to force Reinhardt to bow to his demands," Felt continued, glaring at Heinkel as she spoke.
"His plan was to reduce my camp into nothing more than a puppet controlled by him and his interests. And if Reinhardt didn't give in to his threats, then he was prepared to kill me outright just to reduce the number of competitors in the Royal Selection."
"Everything is exactly as Lady Felt has said," Reinhardt confirmed with a grave nod, his voice heavy with restrained emotion.
His expression was tight and troubled, the admission clearly weighing on him.
The fact that the perpetrator of such a crime was none other than his own father stung deeply, and though he tried to remain composed, the pain was evident in his eyes.
Subaru, noticing the strain in Reinhardt's voice, decided not to linger on the subject for long.
Shifting his focus, he turned toward Heinkel with a stern expression.
"Sir Heinkel, may I now ask for your side of the story? Do you deny the accusations that have been made, or do you have anything to add?"
To everyone's surprise, Heinkel showed no hesitation.
"Everything happened exactly as that little brat said," Heinkel admitted openly, almost dismissively, as though confessing to such a grave crime was nothing worth hiding.
His tone carried no shame, no remorse—only bitterness.
"And wasn't it your camp's meddling member who intervened and ruined my plan in the first place? If not for him, things would have gone the way I intended."
The room grew tense at his words.
The sheer audacity of his admission shocked many of those present.
For him to admit so freely that he had kidnapped a Royal Candidate and plotted to kill her, without even attempting to defend or excuse himself, was a blatant display of arrogance and contempt.
Crusch's eyes narrowed slightly as she turned her attention away from Heinkel and toward Priscilla.
"Priscilla, do you have anything you wish to say in response to the actions of your subordinate?" she asked, her tone even and controlled, though the question carried an unspoken weight.
Priscilla, however, merely smirked, raising her chin in her usual imperious manner.
"Hmph. My divine self has nothing to prove to the likes of you peasants," she declared proudly, dismissing the matter entirely with her characteristic arrogance.
Her response only deepened the silence in the room, leaving the tension thick and unresolved.
"Were you aware of what he was planning to do?" Anastasia asked quickly, cutting into the tense silence.
Her sharp eyes focused on Priscilla, testing to see if the proud Royal Candidate would reveal even the slightest hint of responsibility.
Priscilla didn't hesitate for a second.
"He acted entirely of his own volition," she replied, her voice dripping with disdain.
"Do you truly believe I would lower myself to such pathetic tactics? Do you think I would ever consider the likes of you rabble a threat to my divine rule?"
Her arrogant declaration caused nearly everyone in the room to frown or twitch their eyebrows in irritation.
The dismissive tone, combined with her unshakable self-confidence, made her words difficult to tolerate.
Still, knowing Priscilla's personality, most of them realized there was a strong chance she was telling the truth.
After all, for someone like her, who genuinely believed herself to be divinely chosen, orchestrating a plot in the shadows was beneath her.
Even so, Anastasia's sharp instincts left her unconvinced.
Was this really the truth, or was it simply a well-crafted pretense?
If it was the latter, then Priscilla's haughty and overbearing personality would serve as the perfect mask to hide behind.
Such a façade would make it nearly impossible to separate her arrogance from an actual lie.
However, considering the more pressing issues at hand—the threat of the Witch Cult and the fragile state of their alliance—Anastasia decided it would not be wise to push the matter any further.
Escalating tensions now would only make their cooperation weaker, and that was a risk she could not afford. So she held her doubts close and chose silence.
"Very well," Subaru said, finally speaking after carefully weighing everything he had heard.
"I believe we have heard enough from all sides regarding what happened. Based on the testimonies, it is clear that Heinkel van Astrea must be held responsible for his actions. However, since he acted of his own volition and not under the orders of his Royal Candidate, the Priscilla camp as a whole will not be held accountable for his crime."
His voice carried authority, but he intentionally avoided stating what punishment Heinkel should receive.
Subaru knew full well that he did not have the formal power or legal standing to hand down a sentence on someone of Heinkel's rank.
His role was to mediate and present a fair conclusion, not to pass judgment like a ruler.
Priscilla smirked and leaned back in her chair, her crimson eyes gleaming with superiority.
"You have just saved your own neck," she commented, her tone mocking but edged with a clear warning.
"Had you dared to pass judgment upon my divine self, your head would already be rolling down the red carpet before you had the chance to take another breath."
Her words carried such arrogance that the tension in the room thickened further.
Before Subaru could even respond, Heinkel let out a harsh snort, his face twisted in scorn.
"What a ridiculous farce," he spat. "A boy who isn't even a proper knight, clinging to the side of a silver-haired half-elf, presumes to speak of judgment to me? Me—the Vice-Commander of the Royal Knights and the head of the Astrea household? Don't make me laugh. It's an insult that someone like you would even attempt to act as my judge."
The sharpness of his words cut through the air, and for a brief moment the atmosphere in the room threatened to ignite into outright conflict.
Subaru clenched his fists tightly under the table, his knuckles whitening as he forced himself to remain composed.
Across the room, Wilhelm, who had remained silent throughout most of the meeting, finally shifted his gaze and cast a long, sharp glance at his son.
The weight in his eyes was not missed, and others in the room soon followed, turning their attention toward Heinkel as the atmosphere thickened with tension.
Subaru, however, was not angered by the insult directed at himself.
He had endured worse words and heavier scorn before, and he had long grown accustomed to being mocked or belittled.
What truly burned inside him was the way Heinkel had dared to openly berate Emilia, attacking her heritage and dignity in front of everyone present.
That was the line Subaru could never forgive so easily.
Yet, despite the fire in his chest, Subaru reminded himself of his current role.
He was the mediator of this discussion, the one tasked with maintaining order and fairness.
If he lost his composure and lashed out now, it would only undermine everything that had been established so far.
Gritting his teeth, he forced the anger down and chose silence, though his clenched fists betrayed his struggle.
It was Felt who broke the silence.
Crossing her arms firmly, she glared at Priscilla with defiance.
"Priscilla, you'll have to punish your camp member for this," she declared without hesitation. Her words were sharp and direct, cutting through the air like a blade.
Priscilla, instead of reacting with anger, chuckled softly, her lips curling into a smirk.
She seemed almost amused by Felt's demand.
"While I do not disapprove of him antagonizing others—after all, conflict is the natural order of this world—there are limits even to what I can overlook."
Her voice, haughty as ever, carried a tone that suggested she was in complete control of the situation.
She then rose gracefully from her seat, her presence commanding immediate attention.
"To hold another Royal Candidate captive, however, is a stain upon the integrity of my camp," she continued, her expression sharpening.
"Such an act does not merely tarnish appearances, it calls into question his belief in my divine rule. For if he truly believed in my inevitable victory, then why would he feel the need to stoop so low? Why would he insult me by acting as though underhanded tricks were required for me to win?"
Her crimson eyes swept across the room, daring anyone to challenge her words.
In that moment, it was clear to everyone that Priscilla's pride would not allow Heinkel's crime to pass without some kind of punishment—not out of justice for Felt, but because his actions had insulted her authority.
Heinkel gulped, a bead of sweat sliding down his temple as the weight of the situation pressed on him.
He had never held any true loyalty toward Priscilla.
His decision to join her camp had not been born out of devotion, admiration, or faith in her so-called divine rule.
Instead, it was the product of his own circumstances, his desperation, and his calculations.
His wife's condition had been deteriorating for years, and the only way to save her was through the use of the Dragon's Blood.
This substance was unimaginably rare, a treasure of immeasurable worth that could not be accessed by just anyone.
At present, only the ruler of the Kingdom—or the one destined to be its future ruler—had the authority to use it.
For Heinkel, securing Dragon's Blood was the single most important goal in his life, a goal that outweighed his pride, his duties, and even his family name.
Priscilla Barielle had promised him that once she achieved victory in the Royal Selection, she would grant him access to the Dragon's Blood.
That promise was the sole reason he had tied his lot to her camp, regardless of her arrogance or the disdain she inspired in others.
To him, it was the most practical choice, the option that offered the highest chance of fulfilling his desperate need.
From Heinkel's perspective, none of the other Royal Candidates had seemed like viable options.
He had dismissed Emilia outright, unable to fathom the possibility that a half-elf—bearing the stigma of her heritage—would ever succeed in becoming ruler.
Felt, too, he cast aside in his mind as nothing more than a "slum rat," someone unworthy and incapable of climbing to the throne, let alone granting him what he sought.
Anastasia Hoshin or Crusch Karsten might have been more respectable choices, but even with them, he knew the odds were not in his favor.
Neither had extended him an invitation to join their camps, and he doubted they would ever entertain the request he carried.
Anastasia already possessed abundant support, influence, and wealth, making it illogical for her to promise something as rare and precious as Dragon's Blood to secure his allegiance.
It would not benefit her in any meaningful way, and Anastasia was far too calculating to waste resources without gain.
As for Crusch, the situation was even more complicated.
Wilhelm, the man who was not only Reinhardt's grandfather but also Heinkel's father, had sworn his loyalty to Crusch and stood firmly by her side.
The thought of aligning himself with the very same camp that his father belonged to filled Heinkel with resentment and bitterness.
His pride would not allow it, nor would the fractured relationship he had with his family.
For that reason, he deliberately avoided joining her camp, even if it might have been the more stable choice.
In the end, Heinkel chose to join Priscilla's camp not only because she was the sole candidate who agreed to meet his conditions, but also because, from his perspective, she represented a strong contender for victory.
With Crusch Karsten's camp severely weakened after the events that robbed her of her memory, and with Priscilla's own lands thriving and prospering under her peculiar yet undeniable rule, Heinkel calculated that her chances of claiming the throne were higher than most.
To him, it seemed like the most pragmatic option, one that combined personal gain with political foresight.
That was why, when punishment inevitably came, he offered no resistance.
He knew his position, and he knew the promise that still tethered him to Priscilla.
Without a word of defiance, he accepted it as she rose from her seat and, with one swift motion, kicked him violently, sending his body crashing against the wall.
"From this day onward, until the end of this month, you will receive punishment directly from my divine self," Priscilla declared, her voice ringing with authority as she looked down on him with cold disdain.
"You have not only tarnished my name and harmed the integrity of my rule, but you also failed in the very task you sought to accomplish. Such incompetence is unworthy of forgiveness."
Everyone in the room frowned at her words, their eyebrows twitching in irritation.
It wasn't simply the fact that her chosen method of punishment was to personally kick him across the room—though that in itself was jarring to witness—it was the implication behind her declaration.
She wasn't only condemning him for damaging her reputation; she was also mocking him for his failure.
Even though she disapproved of his attempt to kidnap Felt, she was more offended by the fact that he had bungled it so badly, turning it into a humiliation for her camp rather than a victory.
The unsettling mixture of punishment and arrogance hung in the air for a moment, before Crusch spoke firmly to bring the discussion back on track.
"Anyway, now that this matter has been concluded, we should begin the true purpose of this gathering—the meeting to decide our course of action against the Witch Cult."
Her words pulled the room's focus back to the greater threat at hand.
One by one, the gazes of those assembled shifted away from Heinkel's battered form and toward the central table.
Even Priscilla, after delivering her judgment, returned her attention to the pressing issue before them.
Because they all understood, without question, that the Witch Cult was no laughing matter.
Their strength, their Authorities, and their madness posed a danger far beyond personal grudges or camp rivalries.
The fate of the kingdom depended on what was decided in this room.
To be continued...
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