Crusch shut her mouth, a bit embarrassed.
Which meant only Anastasia hadn't backed down.
With everyone watching her, Anastasia lifted her pretty little face and said crisply:
"Even if Crusch-sama has taken back her statement, I'm not changing my mind. So let's skip the tedious introductions."
"Besides, whether you say it or not, everyone here already knows what the Royal Selection is. What's the point of wasting time, right?"
In Kararagi, they had a saying: time is money.
Anastasia very nearly said outright that Captain Marcos was wasting her money by rambling.
Faced with her stubborn insistence on skipping procedure, Marcos didn't argue. Instead, he turned to look at the two candidates who had yet to speak.
Emilia, being a very kind girl, couldn't stand to see someone struggling under pressure. Naive as she was, she started to speak up to help Marcos out.
"Um, I think it would be better if Captain Marcos continued so everyone can hear—"
But before she could finish, Anastasia cut her off with a cold snort and zero courtesy:
"I don't recall asking for your opinion."
Emilia froze, slapped into silence.
She was used to being met with looks of disgust; Anastasia treating her like some irrelevant nuisance still hurt.
Even so, her gentle nature made her want to keep trying to help the captain save face.
She just didn't understand that Marcos was intentionally remaining silent. Whether a candidate could sway him and take control of the situation was itself part of the test.
Just as Emilia was about to speak again, Hayashi Maki raised his hand and stepped forward.
"Hey, over here. Esteemed sages, and Captain Marcos— I'm new to this kingdom, so I'm honestly a bit lost. If possible, I'd actually like to hear a more detailed explanation of this Royal Selection."
His blunt interruption made Anastasia's expression sour immediately.
Aside from the white-bearded elder leading the sages, the rest all frowned instinctively.
The white-bearded sage looked calmly at Hayashi Maki, then turned his gaze to Emilia.
"Emilia-sama, this is your knight, correct? You haven't told him about the Royal Selection?"
"Yes, Miklotov-sama. His name is Hayashi Maki; he's my knight. And yes, he truly only just arrived in this country. Things have been… hectic, so I haven't had time to explain it all to him yet."
Buoyed by Hayashi Maki's support, Emilia suddenly found some courage; her tone grew steadier—she even managed to lie with a straight face.
The sage gave a small nod, then looked back at Marcos, signaling for him to continue his role as host.
"In that case— Priscilla-sama, what is your opinion? Do you also wish to skip the formalities?"
Marcos asked Priscilla directly.
She glanced once at Hayashi Maki, who'd stepped in to help Emilia, then lifted her proud chest and said:
"Whether I speak or not, you chatterboxes will run your mouths anyway, won't you? Since that's the case, proceed, Marcos."
"Very well. I'll continue."
Marcos straightened up, his expression serious, and picked up where he'd left off, explaining the current situation of a kingdom without a king or royal family.
The whole time, Anastasia kept her face twisted, practically radiating "I'm not happy" with every line.
Time was money.
They could've skipped all this, and instead she was stuck listening to Marcos drone on. It was annoying—but even she didn't say anything else.
For nobles, ceremony mattered.
After laying out the state of the kingdom, Captain Marcos finally got to the main point.
"The reason we have summoned all four royal candidates today is that a new prophecy has appeared on the Dragonstone."
"It reads: Among five potential Dragon Priestesses fit to be king, one shall be chosen to forge a covenant with the Dragon."
"Knight Reinhard van Astrea — step forward!"
As he said this, he called the red-haired Sword Saint out.
"Yes, sir!"
Reinhard answered with firm voice, then stepped forward, placing the Dragon Sword Reid tip-down on the ground, dropping to one knee and bowing to the sages.
"Esteemed members of the Sage Council, I, Reinhard van Astrea of the Royal Guard, report the completion of my mission."
"The final, fifth Dragon Priestess candidate has been found."
His words sent a jolt through the nobles and sages—everyone who didn't already know, that is. Hayashi Maki, Priscilla, and a few others just watched calmly.
When Reinhard finished, the great doors of the hall swung open.
In walked Felt, wearing a cream-colored formal dress, guided in by two maids.
Reinhard smiled and introduced her to all present.
"She is the lord whom I have chosen to serve and support—Felt-sama."
Felt walked unhurriedly to the center of the hall and nodded lightly toward Hayashi Maki and Emilia before turning to Reinhard with a faintly annoyed expression.
Since moving into House Astrea, her freedom had been heavily restricted.
That damn redhead had forced her into all sorts of stiff dresses that were a pain to move in, and on top of that had her drilled day and night in tedious noble etiquette.
For a girl raised wild and free in the slums, it was suffocating torture. No surprise that her gaze toward Reinhard van Astrea had grown chillier by the day.
Hayashi Maki met her nod with a small nod of his own, openly admiring her.
The little brat actually looked pretty decent in a dress.
Clothes make the person, after all.
Swapping torn rags for a beautiful gold dress, with her hair done and posture corrected, Felt had a surprisingly noble air about her.
Reinhard pulled out an emblem and offered it to her politely.
"Felt-sama, please take this."
She clicked her tongue, but still reached out to accept it—and the moment she did, the emblem flared with light.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"The Dragonstone glowed! She's the fifth Dragon Priestess!"
Exclamations whispered through the hall.
Seeing that, Reinhard straightened, voice ringing out:
"As you can see, the Dragonstone has acknowledged Felt-sama as a Dragon Priestess."
"I believe only when all royal candidates stand assembled can the Royal Selection truly begin."
With that, the red-haired Sword Saint made his declaration, and the knights behind him raised their hands to their shoulders in unison, striking a resolute pose in support.
The Royal Selection… had officially begun.