9

He was really beating himself up for being so tardy.

While he had felt the presence of a metaphorical clock over his shoulder while walking to the castle with Roswaal, its presence had been much easier to ignore than it was now.

He should have known that the minute he entered the throne room, opening a door that clearly wasn't meant to reopen until much later, it was going to cause a scene.

In his defense, he hasn't been having the best week, dying, suddenly gaining a second chance at life, and discovering he was a candidate for a kingdom he knew absolutely nothing about had put a little bit of a dampener on his ability to make rational decisions.

Nevertheless, even his brain was functioning enough to realize that the fact that several knights were inching toward their weapons wasn't a great thing.

Luckily, a flame-haired saint came to his rescue, "Arthur, glad to see you made it."

Reinhard's warm words instantly pacified the room, allowing Arthur to make his way unimpeded to the knight.

"Honored members of the sage's council, I, Reinhard Van Astrea of the imperial knights would like to announce the completion of my mission."

Reinhard's voice propagated through the room, the weight of his words turning heads to gaze in Arthur's direction.

"The fifth and final candidate for the throne, as well as the one to which I'm sworn, Arthur Pendragon!"

Arthur came to a halt next to Reinhard just as his words ended, leaving the crowd to gaze silently at him.

Arthur, not the type of person to balk at being the center of attention, stood resolutely next to the flame-haired knight, undeterred by the room's lingering gazes.

Spurned forth by Reinhard's expectant gaze, he raised a small, jeweled insignia for all to see, the confirmation of Reinhard's words manifesting as ruby light filled the room.

"I am terribly sorry for my tardiness."

Arthur's warm voice permeated the corners of the room, melting whatever icy sentiments Reinhard's words hadn't reached.

"It can be overlooked," One of the sages spoke, a wrinkly hand stroking a lengthy white beard, "After all, we did steal your escort away."

The elderly sage's gaze lingered on Arthur for only a moment longer before it snapped to the foot of the table, offering the commander of the knights a slow nod.

Taking a curt step forward, the imposing armor-clad figure of Marcos Gildark stole the attention of the room.

"With the arrival of the final candidate, the Royal Selection may now begin," Gildark's gaze swept over the candidates, pausing only for an instant as it passed over Arthur. "When called, would each candidate and their attendant step forth."

"Lady Priscilla Barielle and her attendant Al."

The farthest candidate on the right strutted forwards, accompanied by the strange man wearing an iron helmet.

"Lady Barielle, why should you be selected as the next king?"

Holding an expensive fan before her mouth, Arthur nearly choked as the woman began to speak.

"This selection is utterly pointless," the orange-haired woman drawled, the ruby red dress she wore likely costing tens of times more than his own suit, "I am the only one capable of ruling this nation, all you need to do is to grovel at my feet. Frankly, I am insulted that the best the kingdom has to run against me is a half-devil and a man who had the audacity to make myself wait."

Priscilla, seemingly proud of her short speech stepped back into the line of candidates, leaving Arthur's thoughts scrambling to figure out if his brain was tricking him into thinking a female Gilgamesh was standing in the same room as him.

"Head of the Karsten family, Lady Crusch Karsten, and her attendant, a knight of the royal guard, Felix Argyle."

This time the candidate on the leftmost end of the line stepped forward, a cat-eared demi-human hot in her footsteps.

"If I become the new ruler," the green-haired woman began, throwing a glare towards Priscilla, who merely huffed into her fan, "I will make the dragon forget the covenant it demanded, it's time for the Kingdom of Lugunica to break free from the hands of the dragon. For too long it has demanded our piety while failing to assist us when it is needed the most, we have nothing to lose by throwing away a covenant with a protector that fails to act."

Yet there is nothing to gain either. Arthur thought, watching as the woman stepped backward, while admittedly his knowledge wasn't the greatest, as far as he was aware the covenant the kingdom had with the Divine Dragon was fairly one-sided, with the dragon vowing to intervene in conflicts while asking for little in return, even if the dragon only intervened occasionally wouldn't the chance of intervention be better than none at all?

Evidently, he wasn't alone in the thought, as while her argument and demeanor had been much more refined than the candidate before her, many in the crowd still held skeptical gazes.

"Lady Anastasia Hoshin, head of the Hoshin Company, and her attendant, a Knight of the Royal Guard, Julius Juukulius."

This time, the woman directly on his right stepped forward, her purple hair perfectly matching the hair color of Julius, who only stood a step behind her.

"You know, I'm a greedy gal, so no amount of commercial success could satisfy me, my business continued to grow and grow and now I've been given the opportunity to have my own kingdom, to take my success to a level the Hoshin Company could never reach, and I believe the success of the Hoshin Company speaks for itself."

A businesswoman then… Arthur mused as the purple-haired duo slinked back into line, Anastasia's speech had been much more grounded in reality than the other two before her. Rather than make weighty promises or alienate potential allies she instead tried to intertwine the success of her company to herself and herself alone, promising to share that success with Lugunica as a whole.

It was shrewd and undoubtedly well well-rehearsed.

The exact opposite of what he was going to be.

While he managed to figure out his platform fairly easily, rehearsing a speech was simply something that was foreign to him. His remarks as the King of England had always been short and concise, typically delivered on a messy green hill or upon the fortified battlements of a castle, their purpose was, first and foremost, to inspire. Soldiers didn't need grandiose words or flowery language to lead them, his presence alone was enough.

Yet no longer was he surrounded by the flames of war, this kingdom didn't need an everdistant king, perhaps England never needed it either. Regardless, he didn't have any experience with events like this, so he didn't even try to prepare any remarks, well aware he would likely be making a speech on the fly anyhow.

"…I wish to create a society where everyone is equal, where nobody will be judged by their birth, that is my one true wish." interjected a familiar, serene voice, its owner diving into a deep bow, Roswaal only a few steps behind her.

Before Emilia could begin to rise, a lone voice finally broke the facade of the room.

"Pathetic, to even allow her to speak is senseless!" A pale skin noble yelled, his voice traveling across the room. "To think we'd ever consider someone like her to rule us!"

Instantly the throne room was abuzz with others following the noble's rallying cry, hurling insults at the silver-haired candidate, whose still prostrate figure tensed at their words.

Arthur could help but bristle at their words, minus a single incident his interactions with Emilia had been nothing but pleasant, what could possibly justify such hatred? He had half a mind to defend her himself but the look on one of the sages caught his eye as their face tensed, undoubtedly, to quell the room.

"I agree," the sage spat, his large blue eyebrows furled in anger, "To think that Margrave Mathers would offer us a half-devil as king, what utter foolishness."

Or maybe not, the sage's scorching remarks only emboldened the room, the previously barely disguised hatred at the silver-haired candidate baring the full extent of its hate.

"Calling a half-elf a half-devil isn't very polite, Bordeaux" Roswaal spoke, his tone uncharacteristically serious, the accent that plagued his conversation with Arthur anything but present.

"You're truly defending that thing? Her appearance perfectly matches the recording description of the Witch of Envy, I'm afraid that her very presence is permanently marring this castle."

Arthur took a half-step forward, only barely managing to stop himself from interjecting, Reinhard's worried gaze manifesting in his periphery.

This isn't my fight, I shouldn't intervene… Arthur's thoughts formed a muddled unorganized mess, every fiber of being screaming for him to inject, to not allow such hatred to pierce at Emilia's already timid behavior, but the colder, more rational side of his mind was urging him to not make a scene, there are too many uncertainties. In the thinly veiled games of the nobility, certainty never existed, but Arthur was an outsider trying to play chess, the board and the various pieces were entirely unknown to him, and any action he took could permanently sour relations in ways he could currently comprehend.

You are a figure in ways you might never fully comprehend, your mere presence alone extrudes an air of authority, of safety.

These thoughts weren't his own, they were the observations of someone he now considers one of his few friends, even if he never realized his thoughts on her at the time.

If such short-sighted fear changed who he was, he didn't deserve this opportunity in the first place.

With a flourish of his white jacket, he strode forward, the soft steps of Reinhard following right behind him.

"I'm afraid good sir, that this castle was marred far before Lady Emilia ever stepped foot in it," Arthur spoke as he stopped at Emilia's side, her purple eyes widening in surprise. "If appearance alone was enough to shake your beliefs, I fear no monarch will ever be able to improve this country."

His words reverberated through the hall, eliciting hushed discussions in the corners of the room as the nobility got their first true insight into the final candidate, one who was somehow, more of a wildcard than Emilia.

"You truly-"

"Oh, would you elaborate on that, Lord Pendragon?" The white-haired sage questioned, cutting off what would have become Bordeaux's latest scorching remark.

With a final instant to prepare himself, Arthur took a singular forward, pulling the gaze of the room with him, further away from the half-elf behind him.

Although different from the other candidates, this was Arthur's introduction, only now he was going to be going slightly off script, the speeches of the earlier candidates, and the treatment of Emilia pushing him to discard his preplanned speech.

"To my knowledge, this country faces a grim future, destined to be left adrift without a guide in a deep fog, forgotten by the world. While before I had hoped the kingdom could chart its own course, I now see that it could only have been destined for failure."

The pessimistic words cut into his audience, with angry looks being directed to him from the knights while the assembled nobility seemed to want to jeer at him.

"Yet when the selection of a new guide was offered, by the very being this country revers as a god, you would instantly discard one based on her likeness to an evil long since passed. Now I know the strength of your faith can be severed by appearance alone. So, I will ask you this, do you truly believe that Volcanica, would select someone with a connection to the Witch of Envy to be the kingdom's next leader?"

Arthur let his words hang in the air, waiting for someone to answer him. Yet, even without a solid knowledge of this world's history, he could make a solid argument, as not a singular soul dared to argue against the golden-haired king.

"Yet I must admit, I am disappointed." Arthur sighed, slowly sauntering around the front of the room. "Every candidate that has stepped forth has spouted a platform based on personal desires, not thinking for a moment about what this kingdom as a whole needs or desires."

"What this country need is-"

A hair-raising scream interrupted Arthur's speech, electrifying the room.

Reinhard and Arthur both spun on their heels, one guided by the activation of one of his numerous Divine Protections, and the other by years of combat experience, only managing to turn in time to see the entrance to the hall explode in a shower of wooden needles as a red and gold colored blob skidded past the two on the floor.

That couldn't be…

"My, my," spoke a horrifically familiar voice, "To think you'd end our dance so quickly, the others couldn't compare to the main course after all."

In all her twisted glory, Elsa stood in the ruined mess where a door once stood, the disemboweled bodies of the knights guarding the door visible behind her.

"Elsa?" Emilia muttered; her purple eyes widened in shock as she recognized the figure, the other candidates beside her bristling at the name of the infamous killer.

"You" Elsa sneered, recognizing the owner of the insignia she failed to obtain, "It seems our dance isn't over yet."

With a sneer, Elsa threw herself forward, the glint of a blade following beside her, an action that began the process of awakening a slumbering great spirit.

Yet, flesh would have met blade long before it could manifest itself, if not for the actions of a former king.

With an equally thunderous momentum, Arthur forced himself between the two, rapidly drawing Excalibur from its ethereal sheath.

The air screeched as Elsa's kukri met the invisible blade in Arthur's hands, with the intervention of Arthur only managing to invoke a slimmer of annoyance in her features before Arthur parried her blade upwards, stopping his sword momentum directly above his head.

Aware that she was fighting for every second, she spun her blade into a reverse grip, thrusting it downwards towards her unarmored foe.

Yet before the blade could even reach the apex of its path, Arthur responded in kind, thrusting his sword downwards with two words to empower it, uncaring about the threats spewed by a grey cat that now floated behind him.

"Strike Air!"

At his words a hurricane descended into the room, the compressed layers of wind that had until now kept Excalibur hidden from the world being released all at once, ravaging the stone floor below him, it was a technique aptly named 'The Hammer of the Wind King.'

The layers of compressed hair tore through Elsa's body, turning her once pale skin into intertwined rivers of blood, while the force of the blast simultaneously threw her backwards, directly into the path of the oncoming train that was Lugunica's Sword Saint.

With Perfect timing, Reinhard punted Elsa with a tremendous front kick, redirecting Elsa's limp body to the side of the room where she was sent careening through one of the glass windows mosaics onto the Royal Grounds below.

"Arthur, should I let…"

"Not again!"

Reinhard took off immediately, leaping through the shattered window, his response a mere whisper on the wind, "Understood."

Without another thought, he ran to where the gold-colored blob came to a halt, where it currently sat, unmoving. He was only faintly aware of the frightened screams around him, of the Knight's Commander furiously barking orders only a few feet away from him, of the candidates being swarmed by a sea of Royal Knights.

The entirety of his focus was on the figure before him, one so bloodied and bruised that it was almost unrecognizable to him. The golden hair that had at once shined as brightly as his own, was now matted and dyed a light pink from the blood that continued to pour out from various cuts and lacerations across her body.

Even after living in the slums her entire life, Felt had never looked so broken.

Every few moments her body would struggle to take a breath, having to fight harder and harder every time, every cell in her body keenly aware it was merely delaying the inevitable.

"This girl needs a healer!" He wasn't somebody who could heal people, he was always the one harming them, all he could do was scream for somebody to help, hoping they would answer his call, "Please! This girl is my ward!"

The knights barely spared him a glance, content to let their pity be conveyed by their gaze alone, yet one of their numbers broke away, sprinting towards him, the purple pigment of his hair revealing his identity immediately.

Julius came to a stop directly beside him, settling into a low crouch while taking a quick look a Felt.

"Kua." Julius whispered, a blue orb manifesting in front of him, slowly hovering the air before being to flutter over Felt, a light blue glow resonating between them.

The process only seemed to begin before Julius whipped his head behind him, screaming toward the center of the room.

"Felix! We're going to lose her without your assistance!"

The Felix that Julius was referring to could only be the cat-eared knight that Arthur had only gotten a glance at before focusing on the candidate's speech.

Said Knight was standing next to the green-haired candidate, Crusch Karsten, if his memory was to be believed, wearing a look on their face that Arthur could relate to all too well.

Uncertainty.

It was evident that Felix must have a reputation as a healer considering Julius was requesting him by name, but he was also the sworn knight of one of the candidates, duty-bound to protect her. Ordinarily, the two wouldn't clash but given that there was a prolific murderer on the loose and suddenly, he was caught at a crossroads.

Elsa had a reputation as a quick and ruthless killer, even with Reinhard on her tail, if she gained so much as a second of leeway and was still in the general vicinity, disaster could strike at any time.

While Arthur was almost certain even Elsa wouldn't dare make another appearance at the castle, he couldn't completely discount it, and neither could Felix.

"Please Felix!"

Julius's voice was louder this time, as the blue orb continued to slowly bind Felt's wounds, the red hue of her blood becoming increasingly vivid as her skin paled.

Despite his plea's Felix remained unmoving, unable to leave his Lady.

Every fiber of Arthur's being was demanding he rage against the world, unwilling to let the girl before him die, but time wasn't on his side, as while he might not be a medic, he had seen enough death to know Felt was at its doorstep, likely only a minute or more away from death.

And…. He didn't want to leave her to die alone.

Even if he left now, what could he do? The odds of him finding another healer, bringing them here, and having enough time to pull Felt from the clutches of death were next to impossible at best.

He knew the feeling of death, how your body went cold but was so unbelievably warm, how it seemed to be over in a moment yet stretched for eternity, how you wanted nothing more than to live, yet welcome its arrival.

How you wish for nothing more than someone to be with you, even if you spent your whole life pushing others away.

He would never let Felt go through this alone.

A rustle of fabric graced his ears, causing his head to snap to his left, his entire vision taken up by the immaculate white of the Royal Guard uniform.

"You should be grateful for Lady Crusch's kindness." A distinctively feminine voice spoke her, or was it his? hand hovering over Felt, the once faint blue glow now cascading over them, mending her body at a tremendous rate.

"That's enough Felix, I couldn't just watch as someone died while knowing you could prevent it." A voice spoke from beside Arthur, the right side of his vision now dyed a dark green.

"She's lost a lot of blood," Felix spoke, to the group, "she'll recover but she'll likely be unconscious for quite some time, seeing as how that woman had some interest in her for a lack of better words, we should prioritize her safety for the time being."

"I must say, Felix, I don't think I've heard you so serious in quite some time."

Arthur didn't listen to Felix's retort, too engrossed in his own mind to care for the small talk occurring next to him, with Felt's situation taken care of Arthur's mind returned to Elsa.

He had full confidence that Reinhard would easily best Elsa in a fight, being leagues above the dark-haired woman. But Assassins were tricky, they were deadly despite their relatively weaker strength in comparison to typical fighters precisely because they knew they were inherently at the disadvantage.

Elsa wouldn't dare face Reinhard in a head-on fight, likely trying to sneak away and position herself in the shadows before striking the moment their guard was down.

It was entirely possible her next target could be another bystander, someone simply in the way, like the knights guarding the door.

His heart burned at the possibility.

His decision did not need to be spoken.

"Julius."

The three's gazes snapped to him, all of the entirely aware that the person standing in front of them wasn't the same person that had been chastising Bordeaux earlier, the previous richness of his tone being cast with a monochromatic hue.

"I need you to protect Felt while I'm gone, I know Reinhard trusts you, and I'm trusting him, so can I trust you?"

"Arthur, what are you-"

"Can I trust you?" he repeated, casting his gaze at the purple-haired knight.

Julius froze, as Arthur's eyes settled on him, every fiber of his being screaming to run, that there was something more to the golden-haired candidate than visible by eyesight alone, but his pride as a knight wouldn't allow him to take so much a step back.

"You can."

Arthur's gaze remained locked on him for a precious few seconds longer, with it taking all of Julius's willpower not to visibly balk.

"Very well," he spoke finally removing his gaze from Julius, "Duchess Karsten, thank you for having your knight save Felt, you have my gratitude."

"It was-"

Before Crusch could even finish her response Arthur took off in a dead sprint, the hall becoming flooded with his mana as it soaked into him, before he pushed off the ground with all of his might, flying through the same broken window Elsa had been sent careening out of earlier.

Reinhard was ashamed to admit it, but he was having problems.

Elsa was a crafty opponent, the instant she touched the solid ground after being launched onto the castle grounds she ran directly for the second district, well aware that her capture was imminent if she stayed in the relatively open ground of the first district.

He had been right behind her, mere seconds behind her, before they reached the boundary, with Elsa offering the sword saint a cheshire grin before she threw herself through a window, into a random building, forcing Reinhard to follow suit.

From that moment forward Elsa used everything at her disposal to limit Reinhard's speed, sending debris flying while throwing a knife at the shocked landowners as she jumped out of the building, onto the streets, forcing Reinhard to get the person out of harm's way before once again taking off after her, the process repeating the moment she felt Reinhard got too close.

However, the real problem began the moment they entered district three, as the number of people on the street increased drastically, allowing Elsa to simply force herself through the crowd in Reinhard hot on her heels, throwing bystanders into his way before disappearing into an alleyway, disappearing into a bustling crowd on the other end before Reinhard could so much as step foot on the street.

Within the city, he couldn't unleash even a fraction of his speed or power, or he would risk severely injuring the random citizens Elsa was putting in his path.

Nevertheless, he managed to stay consistently on her trail, managing to keep her within eyesight almost continuously.

Just as Elsa threw another bystander in his path, once again preparing to disappear into an adjacent alley, a glint of light caught his eye from the rooftops above him, a familiar thickness entering the air.

Just as Elsa crossed into the alley, the ground around her exploded as a figure smashed into the ground, his blade streaking through the air directly for Elsa's neck.