Arc 10, Part 3: "Glimmer of Light"

Whenever she set foot in the Royal Castle, Felt always experienced a sensation akin to breaking through a thin layer of resistance.

To Felt, who had grown up in the capital’s slums before the Royal Selection began, the Lugnica Royal Castle had always been there at the edge of her vision—a symbol of isolation, entirely unrelated to her own life. It was a place that existed, yet one she would never have any dealings with. A vast, insubstantial thing; a mirage whose existence held no value. That was her impression of it.

Perhaps that was why, even now, every time she had the opportunity to enter the castle as a candidate for the Royal Selection, she felt an unrealistic sensation, as if she were stepping into a dream or an illusion. And that—

"—Felt-sama?"

Her name was called, and Felt, who had stopped in her tracks, looked up. Her knight’s blue eyes looked back at her as he held the door, and Felt, meeting them with her own red gaze, gave a small snort and replied shortly, "It’s nothing." Yes, it was nothing. No one could stop their progress.

"Let’s go."

With that declaration to steady both herself and her companion, Felt broke through that thin layer of resistance and moved forward. As her knight—Reinhard—opened the door and she stepped through, the place was, as usual, crowded with the presence of many people and filled with an extraordinary sense of tension. It was a space where various wills clashed and intermingled, manifesting as gazes and words; however, the moment Felt stepped inside, those disparate wills were unintentionally unified. Namely, into a blunt, appraising will that weighed Felt’s worth for the sake of the kingdom’s future.

"Well, I don't give a damn. I’m the same way whenever I have to face someone."

Regardless of the Royal Selection, this was a survival tactic—a bit of life wisdom—that Felt had honed to stay alive in the slums. It was her habit to constantly gauge whether the person in front of her was useful or useless, and what they were thinking behind the scenes. In fact, this ingrained habit had served her well even after becoming a Royal Selection candidate. After all, she was now overwhelmed with opportunities to meet people incomparable in number to her days in the slums, and she had to discern their true aims. Had she been forced to rebuild her values from scratch, there was no telling how much she would have struggled. Though—

"There are people like big sis Emilia who are totally unrelated to that kind of thing, though."

Despite being a fellow candidate, Emilia maintained a miraculous level of defenselessness. Felt suspected that the reason she could remain that way was due to the extraordinary efforts of her knight, Natsuki Subaru, and people like Otto, who had accompanied them this time as well. On the other hand, Felt’s assessment was that the Royal Selection and the environment surrounding it were not so easy that one could get by simply being protected. Even so, Emilia possessed a keen eye for people and an intuition for sensing their motives. Because she maintained that attitude despite having those traits, Felt found her difficult to deal with in many ways.

"In the end, she went and made me her friend."

Reflecting on the decision she had just made, Felt let out a deep sigh. She didn't regret accepting Emilia’s proposal, but she felt that her outlook on the future had become uncertain again. She had no intention of relying on underhanded methods or schemes, but there was no doubt that it was easier to make cold decisions when rival camps were at each other's throats. If the other side was the only one harboring one-sided goodwill, they would be the only ones at a disadvantage. Felt speculated that this might have been Anastasia’s basic strategy—the true aim behind inviting the other camps to Pristella. Unfortunately, that plan seemed to have been shattered by the turn of events where she became friends with Emilia after the selection. At any rate—

"Fine by me. I don't hate it. It’s been a while since I’ve felt people sizing me up like this."

It wasn't bravado; Felt curled the corner of her mouth and accepted the scrutiny. Stepping into the Throne Room—the very place where the start of the Royal Selection had been declared—she saw many officials of the Lugnica Royal Castle gathered, including the "Council of Sages" who formed the core of the national government. Recently, Felt had spoken with them when reporting the achievements of Meili Portroute, whom she had used to sell her own value by claiming Meili could guide them to the Pleiades Watchtower and the Augria Sand Dunes. However, the atmosphere now was distinctly different from then.

It was a gaze directed at Felt as an heretic or an outlier—much like when she had first joined the Royal Selection and picked a fight with everyone in the room. It was close in color to the bewilderment and confusion directed at a street urchin from the slums back then. And—

"Hey. Looks like the reason for all this is you two with the faces I don't recognize."

Stiding across the red carpet to the center of the Throne Room, Felt squinted one eye and glared at the man and woman standing there ahead of her.

"————"

The two who turned to look at Felt were a young man and woman, both in their early twenties. A slender, handsome man with light green hair, and a beautiful woman with short, purple hair reminiscent of flowers that bloom during the rainy season. Despite the location, the two stood tall, unpressured by their surroundings. In fact, they didn't waver even at Felt’s opening remark, which was intended to seize the initiative. The man gave a wry smile, while the woman waved her hand softly and said, "Oh my, oh my."

"Ufufu, how very sudden. Even though this is our first time meeting, Felt-chan is just as prickly as the rumors say."

"Rumors, huh? And what kind of rumors would those be?"

"That despite being small and cute, you are majestic, bold, and a tomboy who doesn't back down from anyone... They say the gap in your charm is enough to make one dizzy."

"Those are some unwelcome rumors..."

As Felt looked exasperated by the answer, the woman chuckled sensually. She was a beauty dressed in deep crimson clothes like ripe fruit, wearing a hat of the same color tilted to the side. Her attire and aura made her look like a scribe or a lady-in-waiting serving someone noble. However, the combination of her unreserved way of closing the distance and her drowsy, drooping red eyes made her difficult to pin down. To put it simply, she gave the impression of being a handful.

"—Sakura, the person you're talking to is one of the Royal Selection candidates. Stop talking to her in that slippery way of yours. No matter how many lives you have, it won't be enough."

The handsome man standing beside the woman scolded his companion’s attitude. However, his remark was heavily tinged with lightheartedness, and it didn't exactly guarantee his own seriousness or sincerity. In fact, in response to the man’s point, the woman called Sakura kept her smile and said, "Hmph."

"Are you going to make me the villain too, Tiga-chan? I already have no standing because of that girl’s selfishness, and now my only ally says that? I’m so disappointed."

"Then all the more reason not to make more enemies. First impressions linger for a long time. Especially now, when we’re in a position where we aren't exactly welcome... right?"

"Yes, yes, Tiga-chan’s argument is perfectly logical."

"I’m glad you understand."

As Sakura stuck out her tongue in a sulky manner, the man nodded with a theatrical gesture. Then, he turned back toward Felt and the others, removing his wide-brimmed hat and pressing it against his chest over his dark purple cloak.

"At any rate, my companion has been very rude, Felt-sama. I am Tiga Laureon, and this is Sakura Element. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

As he spoke, the man—Tiga—bowed elegantly, winking one of his yellow eyes at Felt. He was a dandy whose affected gestures suited him well. Taking in both Tiga and Sakura, Felt understood. Without a doubt, these two, who seemed to float out of place in the atmosphere of the Royal Castle, were the reason Reinhard had hurried her away from the Astrea Mansion.

"Reinhard, these two are..."

"Yes. They are messengers from the 'Divine Dragon Church'."

Standing beside Felt, who had stopped walking, Reinhard confronted the two in question. Unintentionally, in the center of the Throne Room, Felt’s group and the two from the Divine Dragon Church faced each other, drawing the full attention of everyone in the castle. Ignoring that attention entirely, Felt glared at Tiga and crossed her arms.

"From what I know, the 'Divine Dragon Church' isn't supposed to get involved in the country’s politics. So why are you here?"

"I’m not sure if you’ll believe me, but this contact is actually reluctant on our part as well. As you said, the Church has maintained its distance from national affairs. Of course, I’m not saying we have no sense of belonging to the Kingdom, but..."

"Reluctant contact? You’re saying that even though you know you might be able to do something about the condition of Royal Selection candidate Crusch Karsten?"

"—. That is..."

At Felt’s words, Tiga flinched slightly. Beside him, Sakura pressed a hand to her mouth and chuckled once more. Felt let out a low growl at the laugh, and Sakura tilted her head.

"My, my, Felt-chan, you certainly have quick ears. That story was supposed to be a secret within this castle, for the most part."

"Hah, don't underestimate the 'hell ears' of the guy standing next to me. This guy can hear the sound of my feet hitting the floor when I get out of bed to go to the toilet at night."

"I won't deny it, but that is a misleading and prejudicial way of putting it, Felt-sama."

"Shut up. Don't just stand there smiling wryly; look defiant. It’ll scare them more."

The source of the information that the discussions with the Divine Dragon Church involved Crusch was actually Otto, but Felt kept that hidden as a matter of courtesy. At this point, adding rumors about Reinhard having "hell ears" or a habit of eavesdropping wouldn't hurt him much anyway. It was a fact that he could probably distinguish the sound of a needle dropping a kilometer away. At any rate—

"—The 'Divine Dragon Church' part is what I don't like."

"Oh? Does Felt-chan hate the Church too? I thought our activities had a good influence on the slums, for example."

"Sorry, but I hate being given charity. I never lined up when the Church was handing out bread. I’m not saying those activities are useless or that I hate them, though. What I’m saying is the part where you guys can save Duchess Karsten."

"Does that mean you want to leave a suffering rival camp alone?"

"Do you want me to go out of my way to say 'no'? Unfortunately, I’m not that bored."

Felt stuck her tongue out at Sakura, who, contrary to her sweet way of speaking, was poking at her with venom. It was true that Crusch was a rival, but the reason she had fallen into her current state was what it was. Everyone who had been present at that scene bore a sense of debt toward her, and if she could recover, it was only human to want to take whatever measures possible. —However, the one thing that sat poorly was the idea of Crusch receiving help from the Divine Dragon Church. After all—

"—Duchess Crusch Karsten declared at the start of the Royal Selection that she would discard the covenant made with the 'Dragon' and break free from its sheltered peace."

"————"

The one who interrupted their conversation was an old man with a long beard sitting in the row of the Council of Sages—Miklotov McMahon. As one of the Sages finally spoke, Felt gave a small sigh.

"...The very person who said it was pathetic for the whole country to rely on the 'Dragon' would look like a joke if she took help from the 'Divine Dragon Church' that worships it."

"Mind your words, Felt-sama. It isn't a matter of appearances..."

"No, Felt-sama is likely correct. It is a matter of 'appearances'—how things are perceived. In that regard, Crusch-sama would suffer an irreparable blow. Though, that is only if she takes the hand offered to her."

A civil servant present tried to interject in the exchange between Felt and Miklotov, but he was silenced by Miklotov himself. The Sage’s added comment meant that the final decision regarding the offer from the Divine Dragon Church rested with Crusch and her camp. However—

"—Ferris."

Lowering his eyes slightly, Reinhard spoke the name of his friend—the person holding the title of 'Blue,' who was Crusch’s primary knight and currently in the depths of suffering. Felt had seen for herself how haggard his beautiful face, often mistaken for a lovely woman's, had become, and how much he was struggling and gasping by Crusch’s side when she visited. She hadn't heard that Crusch’s condition had improved since then. If so, his state of mind would be the same.

In hell, his precious master continued to be burned by venomous flames. If a means to save her was offered, no one could blame the knight for whatever decision he made.

"Of course, there was debate among us regarding this proposal from the Divine Dragon Church. First, we must determine if the contents of the proposal are factual. Depending on the result..."

"The people in Pristella who were affected might be saved too. Considering that, the things we’re hung up on are small fry."

"Hmm. So you are convinced...?"

"Do you think I can be?"

She understood the logic, and she understood the reason. But emotional acceptance was a different matter. Since she was participating in the Royal Selection, Felt intended to keep moving with the intent to win. But if Priscilla died in the recent events in the Empire, and Crusch dropped out because of this, it was entirely different from the way Felt wanted the winners and losers to be decided. If that was how things were settled, how was it any different from Reinhard going on a rampage and making all the other candidates incapable of recovery?

"No one is to blame. If we must point a finger, all the fault lies with the Witch Cult."

"It’s too late now, but I should’ve thrashed that 'Wrath' bastard more before throwing her in prison. Maybe then I’d feel a bit less pissed off."

Of course, she knew that doing so wouldn't solve anything and probably wouldn't lower her blood pressure. After all, most of the damage in Pristella was caused by 'Gluttony' and 'Lust,' and the aftereffects of 'Wrath' were extremely minor. Reinhard knew this as well, so Felt’s spiteful words weren't taken seriously by anyone. In any case—

"I get the gist of the situation. The Church brought a treatment, and whether the Duchess... ah, whatever. Whether big sis Crusch is saved depends on whether her knight accepts the treatment. ...We have no right to butt in there."

She had her thoughts on the matter, but what they chose was something only the parties involved could decide. Having acknowledged that, Felt asked "And?" to Reinhard beside her, and to everyone else present.

"I get the flow of things so far, but why did you need to bring me here in such a hurry? I appreciate the explanation, but you know big sis Emilia is in the capital too, not just me. Based on what you just said, it shouldn't have mattered if you explained it to both of us at once."

This was a matter that could greatly affect the Royal Selection. If so, the information should have been shared with Emilia as well as Felt. In such a situation, there was no way Reinhard would try to outmaneuver Emilia’s camp by only bringing Felt. It was doubtful whether Reinhard even had the concept of "outmaneuvering" others. Despite that, there must be a reason why only Felt was brought here.

"If there’s a reason, is it you guys from the Church? But so far, there’s nothing we want to talk to the Church about. ...Though I guess we could talk about the 'Divine Dragon'."

Her voice trailed off slightly and her tone dropped for the latter half—Felt’s perception of Volcanica, the 'Divine Dragon' that the Divine Dragon Church worshipped so grandly, had only recently changed.

"After all, when I went to the Pleiades Watchtower with Meili, I ended up seeing that empty-headed 'Dragon' and Reinhard go at it up close..."

The battle between the 'Sword Saint' and the 'Divine Dragon' probably wasn't an environment where both could give their all, but it was still a fierce, world-ending struggle. Through that fight, Felt learned that the 'Divine Dragon' was in a state that lacked the dignity described in legends, but if she were asked to speak about the details, she would be at a loss for words. However, in response to Felt’s concern, Tiga shrugged his shoulders.

"No, calling for you, Felt-sama, wasn't our intention. Or rather, regarding the talk up until now, the Church is in a delicate position."

"The talk up until now... you mean about big sis Crusch? What’s delicate about it?"

"Well, to put it simply... the Church hadn't yet reached a clear answer on whether to move to save Duchess Crusch Karsten."

"Hah...?"

At Tiga’s answer, given with a troubled face, Felt couldn't help but let out a low growl. It was a nonsensical statement. She had understood the situation as the Divine Dragon Church having a way to heal those affected by the Witch Cult, stating they would save Crusch, and contacting the Royal Castle based on that. But Tiga’s current words overturned that premise.

"But that treatment is supposed to be being given to big sis Crusch right now. If the Church hasn't reached an answer, then why is it...?"

"That’s because... our impatient little girl went and acted on her own."

"...Acted on her own?"

"Yes. So, we also rushed to the castle in a panic and were just hearing the details from everyone. It’s quite a mess."

Felt wasn't sure how much of Sakura’s words to believe, as they lacked seriousness. However, Tiga, who seemed much more sensible to talk to than Sakura, didn't stop or deny her statement; instead, he pressed a hand to his forehead as if dealing with a family embarrassment. If that was true, the Divine Dragon Church certainly had some reckless personnel. But even so—

"That still doesn't explain why I was called."

"Hmm. Regarding that point, we are also finding it very troublesome. Since Knight Reinhard happened to be here, we asked for Felt-sama to come as well. After all, Felt-sama is a party involved in the problem we are facing."

"————"

A problem related to her. Hearing that, Felt narrowed her red eyes and licked her lips. It seemed they had taken a long detour, but they were finally getting to the main point. The movement of the Divine Dragon Church, which involved Crusch’s future; the fact that it was unexpected even for the Church; and the reason Felt was called to the place where these messengers were present. That was—

"The person who contacted us alone from the 'Divine Dragon Church,' whom we have been discussing... is a woman with beautiful golden hair and red eyes. Furthermore..."

Felt didn't interrupt Miklotov’s words. The characteristics of the person, mentioned as if they were incredibly important—Felt wasn't so slow that she didn't understand what they implied. Watching Felt’s reaction, Miklotov continued his explanation.

"That person identified herself as Philore—the same name as the daughter of the King’s brother, Prince Ford Lugnica, who disappeared fifteen years ago."

—Philore Lugnica, daughter of Prince Ford Lugnica.

The meaning of that name and existence was significant for the Kingdom of Lugnica, but it held an especially massive meaning for Felt. After all, the background behind Felt being forced to participate in the Royal Selection was the suspicion that Felt herself was that missing Philore—a reason equal to, or greater than, the fact that she had made the insignia embedded with the Dragon Jewel glow.

In fact, it was fifteen years ago that the infant Philore had disappeared. It matched Felt’s age, and Felt’s hair and eye color also matched the characteristics that appeared in the Lugnica Royal Family. Of course, Felt had never once thought of herself as a member of the Royal Family, nor had she ever tried to exploit it. —But she wasn't so selfish that she could completely ignore the possibilities and expectations others had for her.

Many in the Kingdom of Lugnica saw the possibility of the missing royalty in Felt. No matter what Felt’s self-perception was, it was human nature to be unable to move the expectations and envy found there. And that wasn't just a broad framework like "the people of the Kingdom"; it was a glimmer of hope held by the officials present when the start of the Royal Selection was declared—and even by Reinhard.

Undoubtedly, the fact that there was a possibility of her being a survivor of the Royal Family had given Felt, who came from the slums, her first sword to fight with on the stage of the Royal Selection. And—

"—The real Philore who disappeared, huh."

The situation clicked into place, and Felt muttered those words under her breath. I see; it was no wonder the Royal Castle was in an uproar. Or perhaps, the fact that Crusch was saved by the Divine Dragon Church—and the resulting fear that she might drop out of the selection—might have even been treated as a trivial matter in the face of this fact. That was how shocking the existence of a nun from the Divine Dragon Church claiming to be Philore was.

"—Felt-sama."

Suddenly called by Reinhard, who stood beside her, Felt caught her breath slightly. It wasn't an unexpected call, yet she failed to pick up what kind of emotion was contained in that voice. —No, she had to admit it. The certain agitation that had sprouted within Felt prevented her from picking up Reinhard’s emotions.

"————"

When she was first brought to the Royal Selection by Reinhard’s hand, Felt could only harbor strong resentment and hostility, partly due to her forced confinement in the mansion after the loot cellar incident. In the end, she had been forced to decide to participate in the selection following a series of events that included Old Man Rom’s intrusion, but the reason Reinhard had brought Felt here and pushed her as a candidate must have been the suspicion of her being a royal survivor—the very foundation of which was now shaking violently.

It had been denied. —No, not denied, but it was a suspicion to the end. Besides, Felt had always mocked that possibility and kicked it aside. And yet, when it was actually denied before her eyes, a certain agitation shook her heart. It wasn't because she wanted to be royalty.

It was the disappointment caused by her own unavoidable failing—the betrayal of the expectations of those who hoped she was a member of the Royal Family.

"...How pathetic."

Having seen through the true nature of the agitation that had sprouted, Felt began to hate herself. Even though she usually acted bold and defiant, pretending to be unshaken no matter what happened, the moment she realized that something unexpected might cause her to lose something she thought she didn't care about, she became pathetically flustered. It was loathsome.

Gnashing her teeth at her own pathetic self, Felt moved her heavy, stiff neck and managed to turn toward Reinhard, who stood beside her. No matter what kind of face Reinhard was making—

"————"

The vision Felt looked up to see with that resolve—the blue eyes that contained the sky, looking straight at her—showed no sign of anxiety or agitation. Much less disappointment or letdown. There was only a vast, majestic trust in Felt.

"...What kind of look is that, you?"

"I intend to harbor an unwavering loyalty toward you, Felt-sama, in my own way."

"—. Hah, shut up."

Whether he meant it as a joke or was serious, Felt responded to Reinhard’s slightly smiling answer by poking him in the side with her elbow. She had to. After all, irritatingly enough, the emotions that had occupied her heart felt suddenly lighter because of Reinhard’s attitude.

"No matter what the deal is, I am who I am. I’ve just gotta stay defiant."

She had already known that, but she had needed a catalyst to truly stay defiant. Having been given that by Reinhard, Felt felt disgruntled but didn't click her tongue. It was a disgruntled feeling, but not a bad one. Though she would never tell Reinhard that. It was immediately after that certain sense of resolution had formed within Felt.

"—Knight Marcos Gildark has returned."

A report from a guard reached the Throne Room, and the expressions of the officials suddenly tightened. As Felt wondered at the reaction, Reinhard leaned in and whispered in her ear.

"It seems Captain Marcos was escorting the woman in question to Crusch-sama’s side. Regardless of the success of the treatment..."

"So it’s time for the meeting. Good thing my mind’s made up."

Responding to Reinhard’s whisper, Felt took a deep, long breath. Then, with Reinhard standing beside her, she waited for that moment. And then—

"—So many people were waiting for me. Given the situation, I suppose it’s only natural."

Felt heard the person who had stepped through the doors of the Throne Room and peered inside give that impression.

"Is that..."

The nun from the Divine Dragon Church who called herself Philore and had come to the Royal Castle. Indeed, as she had heard beforehand, she was a nun with long golden hair and strong-willed red eyes. While she held her back straight and dignified, she seemed uncomfortable being greeted by all the gazes in the room at once. However, because there was a giant figure in armor right behind her, she couldn't back away. Eventually, she shook her head as if resigned and stepped straight into the room—

"—Philore-chan?"

"Geh."

The moment she took her first step, she spotted Sakura waving at her, and her well-featured face stiffened dramatically as she turned pale. She stopped in her tracks, putting her weight on her forward foot, and after a moment, tried to turn her back.

"Philore, everyone already knows, so just come here quietly."

"Guh, not just Sakura, but Tiga too..."

"Of course we’d show up. Honestly, you’ve really done it this time, acting on your own."

At Tiga’s call as he shrugged his shoulders, Philore, who had turned halfway, looked pained but seemed to have resigned herself. Giving up on running away, she walked over with her shoulders slumped, took a deep breath in front of Tiga and Sakura—who were clearly acquaintances—and then—

"Praying for the people of the Kingdom is the true purpose of the 'Divine Dragon Church.' I simply followed that doctrine. How’s that?"

"How’s that, you say..."

"I don't think you’ll be able to avoid a scolding and a lecture."

"But I wasn't wrong!"

Immediately after puffing out her chest and speaking boldly, her bravado crumbled. Felt raised an eyebrow at the nun—Philore—who let out a scream-like voice and clutched her head. She was a girl whose atmosphere was quite different from her first impression. And—

"She’s quite a bit taller than me. Is that the difference from living in luxury as a kid?"

"Wait a moment, luxury? Luxury, did you say that about me? If so, that is a huge mistake! The motto of the 'Divine Dragon Church' is the spirit of giving! Most of the Church’s mercy and spirit of giving is directed outward, not inward. Which means..."

"Which means?"

"We are almost always starving!"

Pressing a hand to her stomach, Philore loudly proclaimed the Church’s vow of poverty. Felt scratched her cheek with a finger at the momentum and volume, and Philore, having finished her piece, was smacked on the back of the head. "Ow," she said, turning around to see Tiga, who had hit her. He looked at Philore with eyes like one looking at a troublesome younger sister.

"Don't go shouting our embarrassments so loudly. This is a secret we’ve managed to keep hidden from the core of the country until now. You aren't planning on exposing everything at this rate, are you?"

"O-Of course not. Do you really think I’m that loose-lipped...?"

"Then, what about the Secret Rite?"

"————"

The sound of Philore catching her breath at the pursuit echoed loudly in the Throne Room. With Tiga and Sakura peering at her face from both sides, Philore opened and closed her mouth for a while before saying—

"...I-I did make everyone leave the room."

""Haaah...""

"What a huge sigh! Is this, is this how you treat me after I helped someone? It says so in the scriptures! 'Even misdeeds done under the cover of dusk are like a bonfire at midday to the Dragon’s eyes. To boast that one can keep a secret is to create one’s own darkness of delusion'!"

Philore hurriedly pulled out a thick book of scriptures and held it up with both hands as an excuse. Felt wasn't very familiar with it, but based on the content, she took it to mean something like "secrets will be found out anyway, so don't be overconfident." Still, the Divine Dragon Church probably wouldn't be happy about their doctrines being treated as a dictionary of excuses.

"Knight Marcos, how was it?"

Setting aside the exchange between the members of the Divine Dragon Church, Miklotov directed his question to the Royal Guard Captain who had entered the Throne Room with Philore. Called by name, Marcos responded with his stern expression, "Yes."

"I accompanied her personally and witnessed the power of Lady Philore’s Secret Rite."

"Witnessed it... you mean..."

"—The flickering flame of evil that resided within Duchess Crusch Karsten has had its lifeblood severed and has lost its influence."

At Marcos’s report, Felt’s cheeks tightened with an unidentifiable emotion. Crusch was saved; that was a cause for joy. But she had been saved by the Divine Dragon Church; that couldn't be called a cause for unreserved joy. However, as she had resolved just moments ago, the only ones who could choose that were the parties involved.

"—Hmm, I see."

Accepting that complex sentiment Felt felt with the wisdom of his years, Miklotov glanced at Philore. As Philore looked up at his gaze, Miklotov stroked his long beard and said, "Now then."

"There are many things we must discuss. Of course, there is the matter of the Secret Rite that Lady Philore has proven, and more importantly..."

"—? Was there something else?"

Philore tilted her head, appearing to have no idea what Miklotov was referring to. However, the reason Miklotov hesitated to speak further was likely out of consideration for Felt, who was present. But—

"I don't need that kind of consideration. —Reinhard."

"Yes."

As Felt spoke and reached out her hand, Reinhard placed it gently into her palm, as if he had known she would do so. In an instant, Felt felt the texture in her hand and flicked it forward with her finger—toward Philore.

"Wa-to-to, what is this?"

Philore caught the flying object with both hands in a reflex. As she blinked at Felt’s sudden action, Felt gave a small snort. Then, she shrugged her shoulders at everyone in the room who was staring at her action.

"Everyone here wanted to see this, right?"

Felt pointed with her thumb, and there stood Philore, clutching what she had received in both hands—and within those hands, the insignia she held was glowing with a brilliant light.

It was truly the proof of a maiden chosen by the Dragon Jewel. —A vivid glimmer of light, blessing the existence of the sixth maiden recognized by the Dragon Jewel.