It was the day.Emilia, accompanied by Roswaal and her knight — or rather, the man people now called by that title — entered the grand reception hall of the royal palace.
From the first step inside, Guts hated the place.The massive room, the golden ornaments on the pillars, the towering stained glass windows… everything reeked of what he loathed most: extravagance, excess, the rotting decadence of the nobility.This world, too, wasn't free from the madness of the powerful.
The trio advanced slowly, attracting every gaze.A half-elf.A painted jester.A warrior who looked more like a barbarian dragged from a battlefield than a royal protector.
To the right of the hall: the kingdom's nobles, lined up like birds of prey.To the left: the knights of Lugnica, standing sharp as blades, hard eyes unblinking.At the far end, just below the empty throne, sat the Council of Elders — bent figures, frozen by age and the weight of tradition.
Guts was asked to stand among the knights, to the left.He said nothing.Roswaal joined the nobles' side.And Emilia, steady despite the pressure, walked to the platform where the other candidates awaited.
The doors closed behind them with a groaning thud.Silence fell.The ceremony could finally begin.
Before Guts now stood the four candidates, spaced with precise elegance between them. Four young women, four strikingly different presences.
Emilia, of course, stood out in her signature lavender and white — hues that made her silver hair gleam like moonlight. Her gaze was calm, but her breath betrayed tension she tried hard to conceal.She held herself well. Guts could tell with a glance.
To her left stood another woman in white. Not the pure white of innocence, but of someone seasoned — confident in her worth. She carried herself with a serene arrogance, radiating the calm of someone who'd walked political arenas before and never faltered.
Farther left: a strict, martial figure. Long green hair tucked beneath a military cap. Her uniform, pristine and sharp, clung to her like armor.She didn't smile. Not once.Her every move, every breath, was military precision.That one, Guts thought, probably smiled less often than a drawn sword.
And finally — the last.A storm of red.A provocative dress, blood-like and daring.She stood slightly apart, chin lifted, eyes narrowed as if the others were beneath her.In her hand, a golden fan moved lazily.It was her.The woman who'd broken his peaceful moment with Al the day before.Priscilla, of course.
Surprised to see her again, Guts scanned the room, looking for a familiar face.He found it quickly.
Al, a few rows behind him, stood among the knights' companions. Upright, quiet… but his eyes already locked on Guts, as if he'd sensed him the moment he entered.
Guts turned slightly, recognizing the outfit instantly.
Guts (muttering, with a smirk):"Thought so. A guy like you… no way you're just a tourist in this world."
Al (smirking back):"Didn't picture you playing the knight-for-hire either. Looks like we both found our roles."
Guts:"Didn't choose mine."
They exchanged a short but honest glance. The weight of the hall seemed lighter for a moment.
A familiar voice chimed in.
Reinhard (turning calmly):"I suspected it. When I heard Lady Emilia would be present, I knew you wouldn't be far."
Guts (slightly sighing):"You've got a talent for showing up where I don't want company."
Reinhard (smiling):"Or maybe you keep ending up where you're meant to be."
Then, another face appeared — flamboyant, feline, impossible to ignore.
Felix (sing-song voice):"Oooh~ So this is him? The famous silent knight of Emilia-tan?"
Guts turned slowly to the strange being — puzzled by the voice, the outfit, the tone.
Guts (eyebrow raised):"…What the hell is that?"
Felix (offended, hands on hips):"'That' has a name, you brute! It's Felix Argyle, at Crush-sama's service! And yes, I'm a boy. Before you ask."
Guts (shrugging):"I don't ask questions anymore. The world's weird enough."
Al (grinning quietly):"You haven't changed…"
Scattered laughter passed among the knights.
But then, a man stepped forward.A knight, tall and broad-shouldered, with armor that gleamed like polished glass. His gaze silenced the room with ease.
Captain Marcos (firmly):"Let us begin. I, Marcos, Captain of the Imperial Knights, will oversee today's proceedings."
A short pause. His voice echoed clearly.
Marcos:"It began six months ago. One by one, the royal family collapsed. The king… then his heirs. This void plunged the kingdom into uncertainty—"
Anastasia Hoshin (interrupting):"Look, I get the dramatics, but I haven't got all day. Where I come from, time is money. If you're just repeating what everyone already knows, why call us here?"
Crusch Karsten:"I agree."
Marcos (cold):"Lady Crusch, is this the decorum of House Karsten?"
Crusch (calm):"Formalities have their place. But so does urgency. It would be better if you simply told us why we're here. Though… I have an idea."
One of the old sages stood.
Sir Miklotov:"You say you know the reason for this assembly?"
Crusch:"Indeed, Sir Miklotov. I thought this was just a casual meeting. A cordial drink among future rivals. To share a table, understand each other better."
She shot a glance at Felix, who looked away, sheepish.
Sir Miklotov:"That is not the case."
Crusch (dry):"Felix… that's not what you told me?"
Felix (laughing softly):"I said it might be a drink. Might~."
Crusch (sighs):"I see. Then I withdraw my words."
Anastasia (snapping back):"Even if she takes it back, I stand by it. No need to waste time with history lessons. We all know why we're here, right?"
Near Guts, tension grew.
Guts (thinking, jaw tight):They never change. Nobles, here or there — it's always the same. Pretty words. Proud faces. And nothing but hot air. This farce makes me sick.Griffith probably sat at a table like this once… without a crown, without a title. Just like Emilia. Being judged before even speaking. The cycle never ends…
Emilia tried to interject, hesitant.
Emilia:"I think we should…"
Anastasia (cutting):"Sorry, but nobody asked your opinion."
Guts didn't flinch. He'd seen worse. Much worse.
But then, a voice rang from the back.
Al (raising his voice):"Hey! I don't get half of this. So if it's alright, I'd rather just listen quietly."
Muted laughter echoed in response.
Sir Miklotov (looking back):"Lady Priscilla… this man is your knight, is he not? Perhaps you might explain things to him."
Priscilla (chin high, voice dripping with disdain):"Tch… Doesn't matter. You were going to explain it anyway. Get on with it, Marcos."
The captain nodded.
Marcos:"Very well. You five have been summoned, future royal candidates, due to a new prophecy engraved on the Dragon Stone. It states:"
'Among five worthy figures shall the Dragon Priestess be chosen — to swear the royal oath.'
A murmur rippled across the hall.
Guts (quietly, frowning):"Five? But there's only four…"
Reinhard (turning):"That's right. The fifth… is arriving now."
He stepped forward solemnly.
Marcos:"Knight Reinhard van Astrea, come forth."
Reinhard (loud and clear):"Honored members of the Council. I, Reinhard van Astrea, Imperial Knight, announce the success of my mission. I have found the final candidate."
He turned slightly to the side.
Reinhard:"And I acknowledge her before you, as both vassal and man of honor… as my chosen sovereign.I present to you: Lady Felt."