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“It seemed the person accompanying him could use sorcery…”
“Oh, so that was it. My, how demanding he had become—little Wenceslav and all.”
Lizelotte snorted softly and let crumbs fall from her lips.
“Lady Lizelotte, that is His Majesty the King, so if you could refrain from calling him ‘little—’”
“From my perspective, he is little in every sense. I see no mistake.”
With movements heavy but unhurried, she finished her breakfast and had Mireine clear the plates.
Lizelotte slipped out of her nightgown and stood naked, then activated the spell “Wash” without chanting, wiping away the smell of meat clinging to her skin.
Mireine took a vivid red dress from the wardrobe and dressed Lizelotte in it.
Standing behind her, Mireine gathered Lizelotte’s hair as she sat before the large vanity mirror.
After a light spritz of perfume, Lizelotte slipped into her heels.
“Lady Lizelotte, the private audience has already begun. We ask that you hurry.”
“No matter. Let them wait as long as they like. Wenceslav already robbed me of my precious morning sleep. For him to prattle on about punctuality is far too much, wouldn’t you say?”
Her heels clicked sharply as Lizelotte walked, Mireine opening the doors in time with her movements.
“Now then, where was the grand hall again? It has been so long since I last went that I have forgotten.”
Hiding her mouth behind an opened fan, Lizelotte murmured,
“Well, such trifles hardly matter.”
“I will guide you, Lady Lizelotte.”
In her heart, Mireine wanted nothing more than to strike this arrogant woman square in the solar plexus, sling her over her shoulder, and dash into the throne hall.
But Lizelotte, as if oblivious to Mireine’s thoughts, advanced at an unhurried pace with a fearless smile.
“Oh dear, how careless of me.”
Lizelotte suddenly raised her voice theatrically and snapped her closed fan against her palm.
“…Is something the matter?”
“Mireine, you have forgotten something.”
“Forgotten… what, exactly?”
Mireine answered while bracing herself for the worst.
“The wine was not served earlier. That will not do. I must have wine. Bring it at once. I shall wait here.”
Mireine forcefully restrained the fist that nearly lashed out with a curse of “You wretched woman!”
“…As you command.”
Her voice trembled slightly as she hurried away from the spot.
“Hehehe. Truly, there is nothing more delightful than tormenting an immature child.”
Lizelotte’s laughter echoed down the long corridor, sounding genuinely amused.
Before long, Mireine returned carrying a glass and a bottle, but—
“There is no way I could drink an entire bottle here, Mireine.”
Saying, “One glass will suffice,” Lizelotte took the glass from her and cast her a glance to pour.
Had a third party been watching, they would have pitied Mireine, fearing the force in her grip might crack the bottle in her hand.
After draining the poured red wine, Lizelotte began walking again.
“Oh? How noisy. Is that not Darte’s voice?”
From beyond the door leading directly to the raised dais with the throne, Darte’s angry shout could be heard.
“In terms of loyalty, even I must tip my hat to him,”
Lizelotte said with a mocking tone.
Mireine alone opened the door, still holding the wine bottle.
“Truly… what is the meaning of this?”
There stood the captain of the Royal Guard, his face crimson, sword drawn.
“The throne hall was forming a spell structure?”
Of the exchange between Ains and Laika, only the king’s brow twitched.
“Yes. I had never seen anything on such a scale before, so my curiosity could not be helped.”
Ains explained that his remark about wanting to sit on the throne carried no ill intent, but Darte was not persuaded.
“Your curiosity and your true intentions are irrelevant! The issue is your loyalty—to the kingdom, to His Majesty—after uttering words that suggested treason! ‘Next-Era Luminaries’ or not, those who call themselves sorcerers are all a pack of fools!”
The intensity of Darte’s furious words continued to mount.
“Loyalty? I could tell just from the atmosphere that the people standing there were important. Still, this was one point I could not yield.”
Ains rose to his feet.
What had been hidden while he knelt was now laid bare.
An empty right sleeve and a prosthetic left leg. His clouded white right eye reflected nothing.
Darte thought there was no way he could lose to someone burdened with such disabilities.
“I move for the sake of magic and sorcery. If I were to swear loyalty, it would be to the nature of magic itself—never to a nation.”
Ains tapped Sophia on the shoulder between them, signaling her to step aside.
Leaving behind Sophia’s quiet “As you wish,” Ains and Darte now faced each other at point-blank range.
“I can prove it here if you like. Look—we are already within sword range. What is the matter?”
Just as Darte was about to swing his sword at those words—
“Stop it, Darte.”
A woman’s voice rang through the hall.
At her words, Darte’s arm froze.
“He is not an opponent you can defeat, Darte. Stand down.”
“…Lady Lizelotte. Even if it is you, as captain of the Royal Guard, this is—”
“Enough. Stand down, Darte.”
Overwhelmed by her commanding presence, Darte fell silent and returned his sword to its scabbard.
“You are late, Lizelotte,”
The king said.
“Wenceslav. You have grown bold, sending me on errands.”
After grumbling at King Wenceslav, Lizelotte turned her gaze to Ains.
“…Hmph. It has been a long time since I have seen a face I so dislike. Wenceslav, you owe me dearly for this.”
As she spoke while glancing sidelong at the king, the magical power surrounding Lizelotte surged explosively.
Ains met her gaze.
“Ains…”
Laika’s voice trembled with concern.
Those around them could do nothing but watch the situation with bated breath.
Yet Ains wore a feral grin unlike anything he had shown before.
“So you will be my opponent? This should be worth looking forward to!”
“Restriction released—‘Miracle Right Arm.’”
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