Arc 10, Part 2: "The Sacrament of the Church"

—There was a mysterious young man named Fourier Lugnica.

When they first met, he was still a boy, and even then, he was a childish person whose human impression hardly changed over the years. He was bright, innocent, and naive; one never knew what he would do or say a second later, keeping those around him in a constant state of suspense. Yet, no matter how much he pulled others along in his wake, he possessed a charm that prevented anyone from ever resenting it.

They had been together for ten years. Ten years built upon seconds where anything could happen—many things had occurred. There were surely many times when things happened that were far too serious to be laughed off.

And yet, looking back, even those events could be recounted with a smile. And at the center of those memories told with a grin was his sun-like smile.

Let it be confessed without any pretense: —I loved Fourier Lugnica.

From the day we met until this very day, that feeling has never wavered once. No matter what words Fourier spoke to me, what feelings he threw my way, what events we shared, what time we spent together, what future we dreamed of, what painful betrayals I encountered, or what tragedies tore my heart asunder—my affection for him never wavered. —Not once.

Surely, if it were him, he would never stop smiling, no matter the situation. He would never lose hope. In fact, he remained noble, pure, and devoted until the very, very end.

I respect that from the bottom of my heart. I adore him. I hold him dear. That is why—

"—Your Highness, please, forgive me."

This decision, this resignation, is by no means a result of my love for you fading.

—The "Dragon Church," as its name suggests, is a religious organization that worships the "Holy Dragon" Volcanica, who exchanged a covenant with the Kingdom, and upholds its power and blessings.

Its establishment dates back four hundred years to the era of the covenant that led the Kingdom of Lugnica to be called the Dragon-Kingdom; thus, it is no exaggeration to call it a prestigious organization with a long history. In fact, the Dragon Church has historically restrained its own expansion of influence, maintaining a certain distance from the royalty and the Royal Castle at the heart of the Kingdom. This was, above all, proof that the Dragon Church did not seek power beyond what was necessary, defining itself merely as a sanctuary for faith.

Therefore, even when the Lugnica Royal Family was wiped out by a fatal disease and the Royal Selection to determine the next successor began, the Dragon Church did not actively intervene in the Kingdom's affairs.

"—Or so the situation was, until I could no longer sit idly by. Ever since I heard of the Witch Cult’s atrocities in the Watergate City, my patience has been reaching its limit day by day."

"……"

"Of course, the target of this anger should be the Witch Cult, who treated the common folk so cruelly. However, flushing them out and punishing them thoroughly is a daunting task… or rather, even if they are punished, the victims will not be saved. In all things, there is a priority."

"……"

"Punishment must never take precedence over salvation. As the scriptures say: 'Punishment without salvation is but empty lightning; the Dragon first spreads its wings to cherish and embrace the smallest of lives.' That is the optimal solution for humanity that I believe in…!"

Emphasizing this loudly, the woman forcefully closed the thick scripture she held to her chest. She put so much strength into it that one might worry the pages would fall out. Fortunately, the book did not fall apart, and the catastrophe of her passionate speech losing all credibility was avoided.

"Ahem, ahem. My apologies. I got a bit too carried away. It’s a habit of mine. Whether it’s a good habit or a bad one depends on my future actions."

The woman, who had been delivering the speech, coughed embarrassedly as she spoke to the person who had been pointlessly worrying about the book. It was a way of reflecting that, while acknowledging her actions, sounded remarkably positive. The strength to declare that whether she was good or bad depended on her own future resolve was a trait that inspired a favorable impression. —Albeit, a very complicated one.

"……"

The person being observed was a beautiful woman clad in a nun’s habit. Claiming to be a sister of the Dragon Church, she had first held discussions with the Council of Sages at the Royal Castle before visiting this Karsten villa in the Royal Capital. The purpose of her visit was astonishing, and the shock of it had yet to fade. However, the impact she brought was not limited to her purpose alone.

A nun with long golden hair and eyes of a strong red light. Her physical characteristics, and above all, her name—Philore—the fact that she introduced herself as such, brought a shock to this old body that rivaled the purpose of her visit.

"…I feel a bit hesitant to say this, as it might seem self-conscious, but being stared at so intently makes me feel quite flustered. …Flustered. Considerably."

"—My apologies. I have been somewhat impolite."

"No, I don’t mean to reproach you. It’s just that, as a junior, being under the gaze of the one called the 'Sword Demon' makes me feel a sense of awe… fear… physical danger? Oh, anyway, I just can't help but feel something that needs a more pleasant-sounding expression."

To Philore, who overlooked the rudeness of his gaze, the "Sword Demon"—Wilhelm—bowed silently with sincere apology. The intent behind his apology was twofold: for the gaze that had intimidated her, and for keeping her waiting so long. After all, more than an hour had already passed since Philore arrived at the mansion. During that time, Wilhelm had been unable to make small talk, leading Philore, who disliked the silence, to search for topics as she had just done. Perhaps to hide her awkwardness, she kept asking for tea refills, and she was already on her sixth cup.

However, the reason for this lack of conversation wasn't just Wilhelm’s poor social skills. The double shock brought by Philore’s visit had greatly shaken Wilhelm’s inner peace and robbed him of his composure. In fact, how should Philore be treated? Seeking an answer, Wilhelm looked toward the person standing by the wall behind her. It was the tall, powerfully built man who had accompanied Philore to the mansion—

"—Captain of the Royal Guard, Marcos Gildark."

"Yes."

Called by name, the large man in silver armor who had remained silent, Marcos, straightened his already upright posture even further. His reply was but a single word, yet it carried a sense of upheaval like a giant boulder moving, and a clear sense of reverence could be felt in his heavy voice. At the consideration in that voice, Wilhelm slowly shook his head.

"Please, do not be so formal. It has been over ten years since I was the Captain of the Royal Guard. I am but an old man, incomparable to you who leads the Kingdom’s knights today."

"An old man? You jest."

Evaluating Wilhelm’s words as such, a faint smile appeared on Marcos’s stony face. He seemed to take it as humility, but it was Wilhelm’s honest self-perception. He was striving to regain his former sharpness with the sword, but the results he expected were slow to manifest in his aging body. At this rate, he would fall far short of fulfilling the reason why an old soldier cannot let go of his blade.

"At least I have returned to a level where the current Captain of the Royal Guard calls it a joke. I suppose that is a stroke of good fortune."

Naturally, the person appointed as the Captain of the Royal Guard is one of the most capable individuals in the Kingdom. Wilhelm didn't mean to praise himself, but just as he had been, Marcos was also a man of caliber suited for that position—and he saw him as one of the most formidable in history. While overshadowed by Wilhelm, whose deeds were more talked about, or Reinhard, the strongest "Sword Saint" in history, the current strength of the knights was thanks to the ability of the man leading them.

Because of that, Wilhelm evaluated Marcos as the most suitable person for the role among all the successive captains. Though, to Marcos, the evaluation of a man like Wilhelm—who had prioritized a private grudge over his duty and left his post—might be nothing more than worthless nonsense.

In any case, what Wilhelm wanted to discuss now wasn't the shared hardships of Royal Guard Captains across generations. It was something far more serious and grave. That was—

"—May I assume the Council of Sages already grasps the situation?"

"Of course. We perceive it as an extraordinary situation."

"That is… inevitably so, I suppose."

Marcos did not play dumb when Wilhelm omitted the subject. Whether that answer prioritized his personality or his position was unclear, but for Wilhelm, confirming that the Council of Sages likely felt the same shock he did made a sigh escape his lips.

"To have the same name as the daughter of Prince Ford Lugnica, Lady Philore Lugnica…"

The murmur that spilled out with his sigh sounded laden with an emotion that was neither relief nor lament, and Wilhelm could not sort out his own feelings. And as mentioned before, this wasn't limited to Wilhelm; it applied to the Council of Sages and everyone who participated in the discussions at the castle.

Philore Lugnica, who had disappeared fifteen years ago—a girl with the same physical characteristics as the Lugnica royalty and the exact same name had suddenly appeared.

"……"

Peeking at Philore, who was sipping her seventh cup of tea to hide her restlessness, Wilhelm searched her profile for a glimpse of the royalty in his memory.

There was something there, yet there wasn't; it was an ambiguous sensation. To begin with, the princess had disappeared when she was still an infant, and the degree of her growth if she had survived was purely a matter of imagination. —However, if she truly was of the lineage they imagined, it would be a grave issue that would shake the Kingdom to its core.

It would jeopardize the very continuation of the Royal Selection, and depending on the Dragon Church’s intentions, it could even be a seed of calamity that might lead to the division of the Kingdom. A seed whose sprouts and flowers no one could imagine.

Nonetheless, there was one thing that could be clearly stated at this point. Philore’s existence and her proposal on behalf of the Dragon Church would greatly affect two of the Royal Selection camps. —It went without saying that one of them was the Crusch camp, to which Wilhelm belonged.

"—Lady Crusch."

Closing his eyes, Wilhelm thought of his master, who had reached out a helping hand to him. One of the royal candidates and the talented heir to the House of Karsten, she was an irreplaceable benefactor to Wilhelm, who had spent his life chasing the White Whale, the enemy of his wife. The reason he still firmly believed she was the one suited to be King was not just because of that debt of gratitude. Crusch’s posture, her character, her way of being—those values and attitudes, as sharp as a polished sword, were the reasons Wilhelm truly wished to see her on the throne.

Even if she fell into the clutches of "Gluttony" and lost her "memories," her earnest nobility and steadfast integrity could not be taken away from her. That is to say, he believed it was the brilliance of her innate soul itself. Therefore, the fact that further calamity had struck his master was a source of bitter regret for Wilhelm, a painful experience that thrust a sense of helplessness upon him, as if his body were being torn apart.

However, being able to regret one's mistakes and lament one's lack of strength or errors in judgment was still better than the alternative.

"—Ferris."

The next name he spoke was that of the devoted first knight who, as far as Wilhelm knew, had spent the days since the Royal Selection began tormented by the strongest sense of regret and helplessness.

"……"

The reason Wilhelm was currently keeping the visitors, Philore and Marcos, waiting was for none other than Ferris. While Wilhelm and the others spent stagnant time in the drawing room, Ferris was in Crusch’s bedroom, spending time alone with her. Wilhelm gritted his teeth, thinking of how agonizing and painful that time must be.

It was a hardship so great that he wanted to pray to take his place if he could. But Wilhelm could not act as a substitute. —No, not just Wilhelm; no one else could take over Ferris’s role right now. A decision only Ferris could make, a choice only Ferris was permitted to have, lay there.

Wilhelm, Philore, and Marcos had no choice but to wait patiently for that decision and choice to be made. There was no need to be impatient. Everyone had a feeling it wouldn't take long. And in fact, that was the case.

"—Sorry for keeping you waiting."

Speaking in a painful voice, Ferris stepped into the drawing room. He must have made an effort. However, there were tear tracks on Ferris’s pale cheeks, and in his trembling yellow eyes, the conflict he could not wipe away still remained vivid. Seeing him with his thin shoulders slumped, his cat ears and tail—signs of his demi-human blood—drooping with exhaustion, Wilhelm hesitated to speak.

He couldn't ask a hollow question like "How did it go?" Then, "It’s not your fault"? With what face could he say such a thing? Furthermore, if he were to say "It can't be helped," he would want to take his own head off.

There were no words he could say. Every single word would be a blade to Ferris right now. Among them, the silence he chose was the shortest, most bearable blade.

"I don't mind the time. I believe I understand the weight of the responsibility you must bear. …Though it may only be a small comfort."

"…It is. But, the comfort helps. Because right now, I’m at my limit."

Ferris replied to Philore, who had spoken in place of the silent Wilhelm. His usual playful, childish banter was gone, and his weak smile was as fragile as sugarcraft, looking as though it would crumble if touched.

Though she must have felt that intensely, Philore continued her words. As if to postpone the moment when the seemingly broken Ferris would finally shatter—

"Please, give me your answer. —Your answer."

Philore reached out her hand and gazed at Ferris with her red eyes, asking. Taking that gaze head-on, Ferris’s thin lips trembled. A hesitation arose, but it had no power to hold back the loyal love of "Blue"—

"—Please. I… I’m not enough. Help Crusch-sama."

That was the answer of Felix Argyle—Ferris—the "Blue" and first knight of Crusch Karsten, to the hand reached out by Philore of the Dragon Church.

"—Is that true?"

At the Karsten villa in the Royal Capital, hearing that a countermeasure for the evil venom tormenting Crusch was about to be administered was something that happened while Emilia was spending a brief moment of peace, having promised to become friends with Felt, who had visited the guesthouse.

"I don't know the details, but it seems a meeting regarding the 'Dragon Church' was held at the Royal Castle. Apparently, the Church has some kind of countermeasure for the body of Duchess Karsten, who was victimized by the Archbishop of Lust."

"Some kind of countermeasure… does that mean they can heal Crusch-san’s body? With a different method than the one where Subaru’s arms turned black?"

"Unfortunately, as for the details…"

"Then we can't just sit around. —Reinhard, go to the castle for a bit and find out what they were talking about."

"Understood."

While Emilia was bewildered by the report from Otto, who had returned after brewing tea, Reinhard immediately flew toward the castle upon receiving instructions from the quick-deciding Felt. Watching Reinhard’s figure grow smaller as he jumped out the window, Emilia murmured "Dragon Church…" to herself.

"They’re the people who believe in Volcanica very, very much, right? But I heard they don't get involved in the Kingdom’s politics and don't come near the castle."

"And yet, they showed their faces at the castle even if it meant breaking their own rules. …If they can do something about Big Sis Crusch’s body, that’s great, but they should’ve said so sooner."

"The Dragon Church’s intentions are unknown. Currently, it’s still unconfirmed information. However—"

In the conversation where confusion was deepening, Otto fell silent as if deep in thought. When Emilia tilted her head and asked, "Otto-kun?", he shook his head.

"No, it’s not something I should say when nothing is certain yet. For now, let’s wait for Reinhard-san to return."

"…Really? Okay. If you feel like saying it, make sure to tell me, okay?"

"Whether the green big brother wants to say it or not, that guy Reinhard won't keep us waiting long. Geez, this is frustrating."

Felt muttered impatiently, crossing her arms and tapping her toe on the floor. Beside Felt, who was looking out the window, Emilia gently pulled her close. Instead of the castle where Reinhard had gone, she looked for Crusch’s mansion in the same noble district. Crusch, whose safety she hadn't been able to confirm since they parted in Pristella. Her heart ached with the guilt of not being able to bring back any immediately useful news from the Pleiades Watchtower. If, as Otto’s eavesdropping suggested, the Dragon Church could save Crusch—

"It doesn't have to be us at all. So…"

"—He’s back!"

Emilia’s prayer-like murmur was drowned out by Felt’s spirited voice. Just as when he headed to the castle, Reinhard returned to the guesthouse in a single leap. He landed quietly on the garden grass in front of Emilia and the others, who rushed to the window, so as not to disturb the lawn. And then—

"Lady Felt, this is an urgent matter. Could you come to the castle with me?"

"Huh? Why the castle? More importantly, about that talk earlier…"

"—Lady Felt."

Reinhard cut off Felt’s words and briefly called her name. At the sharpness of his atmosphere, Felt narrowed her red eyes, clicked her tongue, and said:

"Fine. I’m going to the castle. What about Big Sis Emilia and the others?"

"Otto’s report has been corroborated. It seems the Dragon Church has indeed headed to Lady Crusch’s mansion. Over there—"

"We’ll go. We can't just stand here!"

Hearing that Otto’s news was correct, Emilia struck her chest firmly. She was very worried about Crusch, but if Felt had to go to the castle, Emilia intended to carry Felt’s share of worry and visit her. Of course, there was a high possibility they would be turned away because of the bustle, but—

"As far as visiting goes, it should be fine. Leave this to us. …It seems we might need to go to the castle later as well."

"Yes. It’s better to assume so. Lady Felt."

"I know that without you telling me so many times."

Snorting at Reinhard as he reached out his hand, Felt hopped onto the window frame. Before jumping into his arms, she turned back to Emilia.

"The night before Pristella was trashed, I promised Big Sis Crusch we’d talk more. So…"

"—! Yes, leave it to me! I’ll make sure to tell Crusch-san that Felt-chan was very, very worried!"

"Hmph. I wonder about making the Royal Selection full of nothing but friends."

Felt shrugged at Emilia’s powerful assurance and jumped into Reinhard’s arms. Receiving her body respectfully, Reinhard adjusted his hold on her, glanced at Emilia and Otto for a moment—and immediately leaped toward the castle once again.

"Good grief, he’s beyond the norm. We’re only human, so let’s hurry on our own feet."

"If I try my best, maybe I can carry Otto-kun and go boing and fly too…"

"Please do that for Natsuki-san, not me. —Let’s hurry."

"Right!"

Nodding at Otto’s urge, Emilia also hurried out into the streets of the Royal Capital. Their destination was the Karsten estate—running faster and more impatiently than the time she had hurried there before, worried about Crusch and the others who had been attacked on their way back from the White Whale subjugation. And then—

"—Ferris!"

Emilia, who had rushed to the scene out of breath, called out to him in a voice like a scream when she saw Ferris kneeling as if in prayer. At Emilia’s voice, his flaxen cat ears trembled, and Ferris turned around hesitantly.

"…Emilia, -sama?"

"Yes, that’s right. I heard the story, though not all of it. I’m sorry I’m late."

At Ferris’s weak voice, Emilia felt a poignant pain and her heart creaked. Ferris was always cute and had a lively atmosphere, yet seeing him again after so long, he looked so painfully fragile, as if he might disappear. Wanting to hold him back, Emilia hugged his slender body without hesitation.

"—Tears and snot will get on you."

"I don't care about that. It’s nothing. Leaving Ferris alone like this would be much, much more painful."

"—!"

Being careful not to hold him too tightly, Emilia prayed that the warmth of her body and her feelings of concern for Ferris and Crusch would be conveyed. Behind Emilia and Ferris, Wilhelm, who had received them, came walking across the carpet. Wilhelm had not turned away Emilia and the others, who had visited the mansion in a panic, but had let them inside like this. Otto, who had arrived a bit later than Emilia, peeked at Wilhelm.

"I know we’re the ones who visited, but was this alright? In this situation…"

"It is my own decision, but it is precisely because of this situation. Right now, even having one more person who sincerely prays for Lady Crusch’s safety is heartening."

"…Certainly, in that regard, Lady Emilia’s power will be great."

Otto and the others were exchanging words behind her, but those words didn't enter Emilia’s ears. Right now, she wanted to devote her whole soul to Ferris in her arms. Holding his weakly, painfully trembling body, Emilia gently stroked his back.

"Ferris, Crusch-san is…"

"—Inside. In that room, right now, the treatment is…"

"……"

The door Ferris indicated while being hugged—in Emilia’s memory, that was the bedroom. Without a doubt, the treatment was being performed in the room where Crusch was lying. And yet, the reason Ferris was outside the room like this was—

"—It is said to be a secret sacrament of the Dragon Church, never to be shown to outsiders."

Emilia was surprised that the giant figure standing as still as an ornament in the hallway gave her the answer. Looking closely, he was the Captain of the Royal Guard she had seen many times at the Royal Castle. Had the Captain of the Royal Guard also rushed here because he was worried about Crusch? Or perhaps he was here because he was friends with Ferris. In any case—

"A sacrament… can that save Crusch-san?"

"I-I don't know… but, but, there was no other way… I-I, I am… useless…!"

"That’s not true…!"

She wanted to say it loudly. In fact, if it were the Emilia of a little while ago, she surely would have said it without thinking. But she knew now that saying it just out of momentum without thinking wouldn't truly encourage or comfort Ferris.

Ferris was amazing. He really was a special, very kind person with great power. But Ferris couldn't use that power, which Emilia sincerely respected, for Crusch, whom he cherished most. When he was crying and trembling like this because of such a truly painful and helpless reality, she shouldn't say it without thinking.

"It’s okay, it’s okay."

So, Emilia swallowed the words she was about to say and gently hugged Ferris. She kept hugging him. She kept hugging him and stayed by his side. Because that was what had made Emilia happiest when she felt like she was freezing from a sense of helplessness, she did the same for him.

"—Good luck, Crusch-san."

Supporting Ferris as he sobbed and trembled, Emilia prayed. Behind Emilia and Ferris, who were staying close and praying for Crusch’s safety, she could feel Otto, Wilhelm, and the Captain of the Royal Guard praying as well.

Someone from the "Dragon Church," whose face and everything else were unknown, was fighting behind that door. To save Crusch, who had fought for the people and suffered terrible wounds.

She prayed, prayed, and prayed that their efforts would reach her, and then eventually—

"—You may come in."

Suddenly, at the voice from behind the door, Emilia raised her head as if startled. It was the voice of an exhausted woman. At its content, Ferris in her arms twitched and looked at Emilia’s face in disbelief. His intense prayer had been abruptly cut off, and Ferris’s mind couldn't keep up with reality.

"Can you stand?"

"Y-Yes, I can, I can stand…"

Standing up before Ferris, Emilia lent him her arm to help him up. His thin knees trembled unreliably, but Ferris, his round eyes fixed on the door, exhaled and took one step, then another. Supporting Ferris’s shoulder as he did so, Emilia also headed toward the door. And, in place of Ferris, whose whole body wouldn't stop trembling, she turned the doorknob.

The door opened with a sound, and the bedroom lay beyond. On the bed placed in the center of the room, a woman was lying, and her appearance was—

"—Ah."

A raspy breath escaped, and with footsteps like he was dreaming, Ferris stepped forward. His legs were so unreliable that it seemed he might trip and fall at any moment. But that didn't happen. Unconsciously shaking off Emilia’s supporting hand, Ferris rushed toward the bed, toward Crusch lying there, with the momentum of falling.

"Lady Crusch… Lady Crusch… Lady Crusch…!"

Listening to the strained, tearful voice calling the name of his beloved over and over, Emilia also stepped into the middle of the room and looked at Crusch, whom Ferris was gazing at. Though she had spent a long time bedridden, Crusch’s beauty, which had been maintained daily, was haggard, and her skin was as pale as a sick person's. —However, the evil venom that had been spreading like roots over her face, neck, and body was nowhere to be seen on her visible skin.

"Prayers do reach, you know."

"—You are…"

When Emilia, standing beside Ferris who was clinging to the bed, turned around, she saw a blonde woman sitting on the floor on the other side of the bed with her legs stretched out. She was the person from the Dragon Church who had tried the method to save Crusch. While her breathing was heavy with fatigue and she was sweating profusely from her forehead, the woman broke into a smile.

"The scriptures say so too: 'The salvation of one is achieved by the prayers of ten thousand. Sharing is what makes the Dragon’s grace supreme.'"

"—Thank you."

"This much was easy. …It was only natural."

The woman, who had a brave smile, tightened her expression and immediately corrected herself. While sincerely thanking her for her efforts, Emilia knelt and put her arm around Ferris’s shoulder. Supporting the trembling, weeping Ferris, she rejoiced from the bottom of her heart that his prayer had been answered.

"Crusch-san, when you wake up, there are so many things I want to talk about. I have a message from Felt-chan, and I have a lot too."

Having the traces of the hideous evil venom erased from her face, Crusch was sleeping with her eyes closed. Toward that sleeping face, Emilia spoke while longing for the moment of her awakening.

When she woke up, there were so many things she wanted to talk about. Among them was Emilia’s selfishness, which she had acquired a taste for through Anastasia and Felt. So—

"Thank you so, so much for working so hard."

Thus, Emilia smiled warmly while thanking everyone present.

"……"

While witnessing the sacrament of the Dragon Church take effect, Otto watched Ferris clinging to his master on the bed and Emilia supporting him.

"Lady Crusch, thank goodness… thank goodness…"

Similarly, Wilhelm, who had seen the sight, was overcome with emotion, his voice trembling. Even he, known as the "Sword Demon" for his legendary swordsmanship, had been pained and worn down by his inability to help his master through her time of agony. It wasn't something to be compared with Ferris, the first knight who had offered years of loyalty, but he could still feel the relief and gratitude soaking into Wilhelm’s chest.

And that was, to no small extent, the same for Otto. Just before this, as he had happened to reflect with Reinhard, the shock brought by Priscilla’s death had affected Otto as well. Therefore, he felt a certain relief that Crusch, who had been deeply wounded in the battle at the Watergate City, had been saved.

It was good. It was truly good. At the same time, he also felt certain of a possibility he couldn't let Emilia hear.

That was—

"—The Royal Selection of Duchess Crusch Karsten ends here."

That was a conviction whispered only inside his mouth, something that didn't need to be heard by anyone, at least not here, where Crusch’s safety and recovery were being celebrated with tears of joy.