The guard at the gate left to deliver the message without delay. Barely a minute passed before a flurry of footsteps approached from inside.
"Long time no see, Reinhard. And Julius." Gojo raised a hand in greeting, then noticed the additional figures trailing behind the Sword Saint.
Julius he recognized. But there were two others. One was a girl sporting a pair of cat ears, dressed in the same knight's uniform as the rest. The other was a broad-shouldered man with a close-cropped buzz cut and a square jaw that could've been chiseled from granite.
This one stood apart from the other knights. Gojo didn't know much about the order's recruitment standards, but every member he'd met so far looked like they'd walked off a portrait painter's canvas. This man was different. Rough-hewn, built like a siege engine. The same raw, weathered quality Old Man Rom carried. And unlike the others, he wore no knight's uniform. Instead, plates of armor gleamed cold against his frame, marking him out like a boulder among saplings.
"It's been a while, Satoru." Reinhard smiled as he stepped forward.
Julius offered a courteous nod behind him.
"Are you going to introduce me, or do I have to guess?" Gojo glanced at the two newcomers.
"I'm Felix, meow. Knight, same as these two." The cat-eared girl volunteered with a cheerful lilt.
Reinhard half-turned and gestured toward the armored man. "And this is the Commander of our Royal Guard Knights."
The big man stepped forward. His gaze swept across the group with measured courtesy before he spoke, voice deep and even.
"Marcos Gildark."
"Please, come inside. I believe the Margrave has already briefed you on certain matters that will require your cooperation."
"No problem. Let's get started." Felt was already moving.
She knew exactly what needed doing. Everyone did. But Felt had extra motivation. Old Man Rom was watching, and she had a point to prove.
Marcos led them through the garrison's interior. Not their first visit, so the halls felt familiar enough. Once they'd settled in a reception room, Felix brought out tea, and Marcos produced an insignia from within his armor.
"Miss Felt, please forgive the formality of the address until your identity has been confirmed."
He held up the badge. "This insignia was entrusted to me by the Council of Wise Men. I've been asked to verify your status personally."
"I know, I know. Let's just do it." Felt was already on her feet. "It lights up when I touch it, right?"
After the trial run at the mansion, this was old hat. She didn't bother waiting for Marcos to finish his explanation. She crossed the room, plucked the insignia straight from his hand, and held it up.
The moment her fingers closed around it, the badge blazed to life.
"Well?" She brandished it toward the room, radiating satisfaction. "That should settle things."
Red light spilled from the insignia. Around the room, every face shifted. Marcos, Reinhard, Julius, Felix. The levity drained away, replaced by something solemn and still.
Once the confirmation was beyond doubt, Marcos rose to his feet. Reinhard and the others followed in unison, each bowing toward Felt with formal precision.
"Lady Felt."
From the corner of the room came a spectacular spray of tea.
Old Man Rom, mid-sip, had just performed an involuntary fountain. Tea leaves clung to his lower lip. He didn't seem to notice.
"Heh heh." Felt's grin threatened to split her face. "So? Believe me now, Old Man Rom?" She waved the glowing insignia at him like a trophy. "Who was it that said I put on noble clothes and started believing my own hype?"
"See this? This is a badge from the Divine Dragon himself. I'm a Dragon-certified Royal Candidate."
"Indeed. Lady Felt's status is beyond question. I stake my reputation as Marcos Gildark on it." The Commander's voice rang with conviction.
Rom wiped the tea from his chin, staring at Felt with an expression caught somewhere between bewilderment and wonder.
"You're not joking?"
"Why would I joke about this?"
Felt preened. Then Rom fell silent for a long moment, and something shifted behind his eyes. When the laughter came, it was sudden and full-throated, booming off the walls of the reception room.
But it wasn't just amusement. Woven through it was something quieter. Relief. As if some part of him had always known this was where the story was heading.
"Sounds like your dreams need a bit of an upgrade, Felt."
"From the Slums to the royal throne. If you actually pull it off, they'll have to write your name into the history books."
Felt answered with a grin and nothing more. Some things didn't need words.
"Now that my identity's confirmed, this is mine to keep, right?" She held up the insignia.
"Yes, Lady Felt. It serves as proof of your candidacy. Please safeguard it carefully." Marcos inclined his head.
"Got it, got it." She tucked the insignia away and stood. "Anything else? If not, I'm heading out."
"You're aware of the Royal Candidates' assembly?"
"Four days from now, yeah. I'll come with Emilia."
Felt waved a hand, already halfway to disengaged.
"Then there's nothing further from our end."
She turned to round up Gojo and the others when Reinhard's voice cut in.
"Lady Felt, might I ask you to stay a moment longer?"
"Hm?" She stopped and looked back, curious. "What's up, Reinhard?"
"There's a personal matter I'd like to ask you about."
"Sure, go ahead."
Marcos and the others read the room instantly. They excused themselves with polite nods and filed out, leaving the space to Reinhard.
"Should we step out too?" Gojo raised his hand with exaggerated eagerness.
"Nah, you're fine. I've got nothing to hide." Felt shrugged. Every scheme she'd been running had Gojo's fingerprints all over it. You didn't cut your strategist out of the loop.
"As Lady Felt says." Reinhard smiled gently.
"The truth is, I kept Lady Felt behind because I have a small question." A pause. "Forgive the impertinence, but may I ask how old you are?"
Asking a girl her age was rude in any world. Felt couldn't have cared less. The Slums didn't leave much room for that kind of delicacy.
"Me? Let me think... if I'm remembering right, fourteen."
She glanced over her shoulder. "Right, Old Man Rom?"
Rom looked at Reinhard for a quiet beat, then nodded with a smile. Said nothing.
"Fourteen." Reinhard murmured the number, brow furrowing. Something turned behind his eyes.
After a moment of thought, he looked up at Felt again. Gojo caught it instantly. There was a new brightness in the knight's gaze, sharp and intent.
"May I approach to verify something? You have my word as a knight that no harm will come to you."
"Uh, sure, I guess. But what are you doing?"
Felt didn't refuse. Reinhard's character had been public knowledge across the Royal Capital for years. The man's reputation was spotless.
"Just a brief check."
He crossed the distance and knelt before her. Even on one knee, his height nearly matched hers. As he leaned closer, Felt's composure began to crack.
His face was filling her entire field of vision.
"W-wait, why are you so close? What are you..."
"My apologies."
With careful fingers, Reinhard lifted a single strand of golden hair from her shoulder and held it up to the light. He ran his thumb along it, studying it as if it held the answer to some question no one else had thought to ask.
"Does this guy have some kind of weird hobby?" Betty watched the peculiar display and instinctively tucked her own hair behind her. She leaned toward Gojo, voice low.
"Couldn't tell you. But I don't think he's interested in yours, so you're safe." Gojo was already twirling one of Betty's twin drills between his fingers. The springy, coiled texture was oddly satisfying.
After finishing his examination of the hair, Reinhard shifted his attention to Felt's eyes.
"You're... a little too close, don't you think?" She swallowed, the words coming out smaller than intended.
"Please bear with me just a moment longer."
He stared into her crimson irises without blinking, as though trying to see past their surface to something buried deep within. The silence stretched. Neither of them moved.
Then Reinhard's expression changed. The warmth ebbed. What replaced it was something harder, more resolved.
"Lady Felt. Would you consider visiting the Astrea estate as our guest?"
"Visit?"
"I don't really have time in the next couple of days. I need to get back to Roswaal's, sort out my outfit for the assembly... after the assembly, maybe..."
"This matter is of the utmost importance." Reinhard's voice cut through hers, firm in a way she'd never heard from him. His eyes locked onto hers. "I must ask that you grant me this."
"What's going on, Reinhard?" Gojo straightened, studying him. "Is there something about Felt that's got you this worked up?"
In the handful of times they'd met, Reinhard had always been composed to the point of serenity. This was new. The intensity. The edge of insistence bordering on demand.
"Y-yeah, what he said." Felt edged closer to Gojo without quite realizing it. Reinhard's reputation was sterling, sure, but when it came down to trust, Gojo was the one she gravitated toward.
Reinhard's frown deepened. He didn't answer immediately, wrestling with something internal. When his brow finally smoothed, the decision was made.
"This concerns something of great significance."
"I'm prepared to share it with all of you. However, once you've heard what I have to say, I must ask that everyone remain at the Astrea estate until the assembly convenes. The information cannot be allowed to leak."
Gojo processed this for approximately half a second. Then, in one fluid motion, he scooped Meili under his left arm and Betty under his right, and was at the door before anyone registered he'd moved.
"Oh, I just remembered. The Royal Capital has this famous Fuwafuwa Candy I've been dying to try..."
He nudged Betty forward, angling her toward the door handle.
The door swung open an inch before a sudden weight dragged at his leg. He looked down. Felt had materialized around his shin like a barnacle, arms locked tight.
"Let go!"
"No!"
"Don't you dare leave me here alone. We're a team!"
"He's asking for you, not me."
"Then you don't get to run either, you coward!"
Her teeth sank into his calf.
"Hey, hey, HEY! Get off!"
After a brief and undignified struggle, the barnacle won. Felt hauled him bodily back into the room.
"You saw that, Reinhard." Gojo slumped into his seat, defeated. "I was dragged here against my will. Any chance we can pretend I didn't hear anything?"
"I wish that were possible. But I'm afraid the gravity of this matter allows for no exceptions." Reinhard shook his head, unmoved.
No room for negotiation, then. Gojo sat up straight.
"Just until the assembly, right?"
"Yes."
"And the outfit fitting and all that..."
"The Astrea family will handle everything. I give you my word that Lady Felt will not be inconvenienced in the slightest."
"Deal."
Quick and clean. Roswaal's mansion had only ever meant a change of clothes and a few days of being waited on. One noble estate was as good as another. A few days at the Astrea household might even be interesting, see how a different kind of aristocracy lived.
"Subaru, this actually works out. You can ask Reinhard about becoming a knight while we're there. I've noticed all the knights carry swords. Picking up some swordsmanship wouldn't hurt." He grinned. "The man's called the Sword Saint for a reason."
"That would be no trouble at all." Reinhard agreed without a breath of hesitation.
"Old Man Rom, you're good with this too?"
"If you're staying, then I'm staying. Otherwise Felt would never let me hear the end of it."
"Hmph." Felt, still clutching a fistful of Gojo's pants, let out a single, satisfied grunt.
...
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