4.8

Murmurs spread through the throne room. The cause of this exchange of whispers was obvious. The uproar had begun when Marcus, receiving a report from the guards, dragged a vagabond who had infiltrated the castle into the throne room. At first, many doubted the judgment of the captain of the guard, but one look at the intruder made numerous participants understand the reason for his decision.

And then…

"I told you, let Old Man Rom go. That's all I'm asking."

"—Unfortunately, I cannot comply."

In the center of the chamber, a tense deadlock continued, with Felt and Marcus squared off against each other. A vein bulged on Felt's forehead at the way Marcus dismissed her demand.

Reinhard raised his voice in an attempt to mediate.

"Captain, I believe that explanation is insuffi—"

But Marcus rebuffed his intervention.

"Silence, Reinhard. I understand you wish to support the master you have sworn your sword to, but her acceptance of your sword is premised on her willingness to become your king. During the proceedings of this conference for the royal selection, Lady Felt publicly announced she has no intention of participating in the selection process. Abandoning her qualifications means abandoning any right she might have to give commands to us Knights of the Royal Guard… Do you understand?"

Marcus laid out the logic of his refusal to comply with Felt's demand. His words brought a scowl to the former thief's face as she furiously clawed at her own blond hair.

"This is getting annoying, so let's sum it up, 'kay?—In other words, you won't do as I say because I don't wanna do this royal selection thing?"

"—That is indeed the crux of it."

"Ohhh, I see. I get it… You are so annoying."

Felt's catlike eyes glared fiercely at Marcus. Marcus easily maintained his usual poise under the pressure of the young girl's near murderous gaze.

Then the old man, having kept his silence up to that point, made a plaintive yell that echoed throughout the chamber.

"Never mind all that…!—Hurry up and save me!! Felt, it's me! The Old Man Rom you lived with in the slums! I don't really get all this, but you can save me now, right? Then save me! I don't wanna die!!"

Kneeling on the carpet spread across the floor, the old man made the most amicable smile he could as he pleaded to her. The shameful display left Felt speechless. Even the attendants showed hints of disgust at the miserable old man.

"I always saved you when you were in trouble! Many, many times over! Pay those favors back, now! Now, I say! Quick, quick!! Do something, will you?!"

The old man sent spittle flying as he cried out for a quick rescue, flailing around with self-serving logic. It was such a mean and disgraceful sight that even those predisposed to sympathy and compassion would be sorely tempted to walk away.

In a brief span of time, the old man had made enemies out of most occupants in the hall.

Reinhard, sensing danger in the old man's behavior, instantly began to step forward.

"This is bad—"

The red-haired knight instinctively realized the old man's true intent and judged he needed to adapt to the circumstances.

"—Do not move, Reinhard. 'Tisn't good to do anything untoward here…"

But his efforts were frustrated from the outset by Priscilla, smiling craftily as she hid her mouth with her fan.

"Why do you act in such haste, Reinhard? …It almost looks as if you wish to silence this elderly man before he says something troublesome for you. Simply frightening…"

She got me, thought Reinhard, clenching his teeth as he realized his mistake. Priscilla shrugged her shoulders in a manner more typical of her. Around them, people seemed to recover from their stupor, whispering about what they had just seen—an old man pleading pathetically for his own life.

"Did you see? How unsightly."

"And that face is even worse. I cannot even feel sympathy. It is the spitting image of a thief."

"He shouldn't be released, though Lady Felt defends him…"

Even the knights hoping to have the crime dismissed began to faintly scowl at the old man.

"Lady Felt was raised in the slums…where people like him live?"

"Even if she really does have royal blood, can someone with such an upbringing handle royal duties…?"

"We need to rethink this. Or just do what the Dragon Tablet says in name only…"

Reinhard bit his lip as the spreading murmurs confirmed his worst fears. He had been too late, denied any opportunity to refute the words putting down the girl he revered as his master.

Then, with the knights' murmurs all around her, he watched from behind as the girl slightly lowered her head—

Finally, unable to listen to any more, the young girl let loose with a high-pitched, foul-mouthed shout, "—Would you all shut up, you ball-less jerks!!"

A wave of shock plunged the chamber into silence. Attendees looked at one another, seemingly unable to believe what their ears had heard, when the girl, her shoulders slumped, marched forward. The giant old man was kneeling, and she was a little girl, but she still had to look up at him. Her red eyes filled with grief.

"What's with you here? That's the worst-looking, most pathetic plea for your life, ever, and I really, really hate it."

"—"

The old man's amicable smile at her approach froze over.

"Hey, Old Man Rom. We people from the slums, there's no help for us, right? We know the people above us look down at the poor lives we lead, and we all have rotten personalities, me included. It's a terrible place to live."

Having rated so many things so lowly, including herself, Felt paused for breath and added, "But…

"Yeah, we're a pile of garbage at the bottom of the trash heap…but even if we do live in a place like that, we've come this far by having at least a smidgen of pride in ourselves. No matter how lowly other people see us, we don't lower our heads."

"Felt…"

"I wish I could show you your face in the mirror right now. Looking all meek and submissive, wagging your tail and eager to please, just to save your life… You can't call that living!"

Many of the attendants gravely nodded at Felt's words, with Crusch among their number. The ideas Crusch had voiced were very much in tune with Felt's words.

The small girl put her hands on her hips and bluntly stated, "If you wanted me to spare your life, you went about it all wrong. There's no way I'd give up my right to run from a crummy place just to save you, if that's how you're gonna be."

The red-haired young man watched. Her declaration meant she was abandoning someone very close to her, abandoning her right to issue commands—and refusing to participate in the royal selection.

"…Lady Felt."

Reinhard couldn't bear the pain that her declaration sent running through his heart. He'd seen it coming. He'd guessed what reaction the proud girl would display when she saw the old man's behavior. In that sense, she was playing right into the hands of Priscilla and the old men—no, of one old man.

Now abandoned, the old man's shoulders fell, bending forward onto the floor as if all strength of will had left him. But Reinhard did not miss the faint, instinctive slackening of the old man's lips. This was a display of neither despair nor regret; no, he was filled with a sense that his actions had achieved their intended result.

The old man had gambled his very life, and had succeeded in grand fashion.

Truly, Reinhard wanted to expose the old man's scheme even then, to tell Felt that she needed to change her decision. But Reinhard could do no such thing—His hands were tied, precisely because of who, and what, he was.

Marcus, watching the old man hang his head before the girl, must have decided the discussion was over. The knight pulled on the old man's manacles, sending the clink of the chain echoing through the chamber.

"I deeply apologize for causing this uproar before the throne. I shall immediately remove this—"

Suddenly, Felt interrupted Marcus's apology and attempt to leave.

"Or something like that, I guess. I was waiting for someone to jump to conclusions…"

Marcus's mouth closed with a rare look of shame. Seeing his solemn facade crumble, Felt beamed, feeling very proud of herself. She twirled before the dumbfounded audience.

"Sooo, get his hands loose, captain. Those shackles are way too small for him. It hurts just to watch."

"I have already informed you several times over, Lady Felt, I cannot comply with your comma—"

"Because I didn't wanna do this royal selection thing, right? Then it's simple.—I'll do it, the royal selection. I just gotta try to be king, right?"

"—!"

The declaration, accompanied by a laugh showing off her snaggletooth, sent a shudder throughout the entire chamber.

Many of the onlookers seemed aghast at how lightly she made such a critical decision. But naturally, the old man's reaction was even greater, his feelings about her announcement plain on his face.

"Wh-what are you saying, Felt? I-I accepted it. What you said is right. You can't live by losing your pride. Having you cut me loose couldn't be hel—"

"Cut the crap, you shitty old man. What, you've lived this long without knowing you can't act worth a damn? I've been with you long enough to know all sorts of things about you, like—when you tell a lie, the swirl on your forehead turns backward!"

Felt raised her cheeks and drew a little pattern on her head to demonstrate. Her gesture made Old Man Rom's face go pale. He cried out, "You're lying!" and touched his bound arms to his own head in haste.

Felt watched him and said, "Yep, I'm lying. Wow, do you look stupid. No sympathy from me."

"—Ah?!"

Old Man Rom was beside himself at falling so easily for her trap. Felt shook her head.

"So there you have it. Get those shackles off him. Everything up to now was just the wild fantasy of a senile old geezer."

Marcus dragged his feet even then.

"We cannot simply let him go on such flimsy grou—"

"—This old man's my family," Felt resolutely stated. "Let him go, now."

Hearing these words, Marcus's face registered surprise for a brief instant. The next moment, the hesitation vanished.

"As you command."

Marcus stood at attention and let go of Old Man Rom's shackles. Then, he ordered the guards behind him, "Unlock the manacles." But Felt raised a hand to stop them.

"Too slow—Reinhard!"

"Here."

Reinhard responded instantly to the girl's sharp voice, his tall frame advancing to the chamber's center. As the red-haired young man stood at Felt's side, Felt didn't even look at him. Instead, she crossed her arms and motioned with her chin.

"Do it."

It was the world's shortest command.

"Yes, my Lady—"

Reinhard raised a hand up to the sky, fingers straight, slicing down through the air like a knife. The old man's wrists were bound by metal shackles, but the knight's hand sliced through them as if they were paper. The manacles, cut clean in two, slid off as if they melted, falling to the floor. A high-pitched clink echoed in the chamber. In a true sense, this sound announced this was the moment the two had become lord and vassal.

Felt remarked, "So this all went the way you wanted, didn't it?"

"Not at all. This was guided by the hand of Fate."

"Ha! Fate again. What, are you a slave to fate?"

"No—I am, more than anything, your knight, Lady Felt."

Felt seemed to yield in the face of his unrelenting support as she murmured, "You're no fun…"

Old Man Rom was still prostrate as the two bantered right in front of him.

"Why, Felt… I—I wanted you to…"

Felt replied, "I have a pretty good idea why you said all that embarrassing stuff and what you were after—You saw how I hated being here so much I couldn't stand it, right? So you thought you'd give me a helpful nudge."

"If you understand that, then why—"

When the old man tried to pose the question, Felt broke into an awkward laugh.

"What, you think I can sneak back into the city after abandoning my own family? There's no way I could be that shameless."

When Old Man Rom heard these words, his face broke into an expression different from bitterness. He turned his back to her, rubbing an arm over his face to hide it.

"I-I've lost! And all because…"

Old Man Rom looked up to the heavens, his hoarse voice quivering with chagrin and something powerful and inexpressible.

"…I raised her too well—!!"