Word reached the mansion that same evening: Reinhard van Astrea, the Sword Saint, had arrived in the capital.
His presence was significant—not just because of his legendary combat abilities, but because of what he represented.
The Astrea family was one of the oldest and most respected noble houses in Lugunica.
Their members had served as guardians of the kingdom for generations, wielding divine blessings that made them nearly invincible in battle.
Reinhard was the latest in a long line of heroes, and his support could tip the balance of the Selection.
But Reinhard had not declared for any candidate.
He remained officially neutral, serving the kingdom rather than any individual claimant.
His appearance in the capital was therefore a subject of intense speculation.
“He’s here for the ceremony,” Roswaal explained during dinner.
“The Sword Saint always attends major events.
His presence lends legitimacy to the proceedings.”
“Has he shown any preference for a candidate?” Ayanokoji asked.
“Not publicly.
But privately…” Roswaal’s eyes glittered.
“There are rumors that he has a personal connection to one of the candidates.
A connection that could prove decisive.”
“Which candidate?”
Roswaal smiled mysteriously.
“That’s the question, isn’t it?
If I knew for certain, I would already be exploiting it.”
Ayanokoji filed the information away.
Reinhard van Astrea was a wildcard, a variable that could disrupt even the most carefully laid plans.
If he declared for a rival candidate, Emilia’s chances would plummet.
If he declared for Emilia, victory would be within reach.
I need to learn more about him, Ayanokoji thought.
His strengths, his weaknesses, his motivations.
Every piece of information is a potential advantage.
The opportunity came sooner than expected.
Two days later, a grand ball was held at the palace, ostensibly to celebrate the beginning of the Selection.
All the candidates were invited, along with the kingdom’s most powerful nobles and officials.
Ayanokoji accompanied Emilia, his eyes scanning the crowd for potential threats.
The ballroom was a sea of silk and jewels, the air thick with perfume and political intrigue.
Reinhard van Astrea stood near the center of the room, surrounded by admirers.
He was exactly as Ayanokoji had imagined—tall, handsome, with the kind of presence that made everyone around him seem smaller.
His red hair gleamed in the candlelight, and his blue eyes held a calm, almost serene confidence.
He’s dangerous, Ayanokoji thought.
Not just because of his power, but because of his charisma.
People want to follow him.
They believe in him.
Ayanokoji observed Reinhard for the better part of an hour, noting his interactions with various nobles and candidates.
The Sword Saint was polite to everyone, but there was a subtle difference in how he treated certain people.
He was warmer toward some, more reserved toward others.
He’s not neutral, Ayanokoji realized.
He has preferences.
I just need to figure out what they are.
The opportunity came when Reinhard’s gaze fell on Felt, the wildcard candidate.
The young girl was standing in a corner, clearly uncomfortable in her formal attire.
Reinhard’s expression softened, and he excused himself from his admirers to approach her.
Interesting, Ayanokoji thought.
He has a connection to Felt.
A personal one, if his expression is any indication.
He filed the information away and continued his observations.
The other candidates were also present—Priscilla holding court near the refreshments, Anastasia working the room with practiced ease, Crusch standing rigidly with her military advisors.
Emilia was speaking with a group of lower nobles, her sincerity evident in every gesture.
She’s outmatched in terms of political experience, Ayanokoji noted.
But she has something the others lack—authenticity.
In a room full of masks, she’s the only one showing her true face.
He pushed it aside and focused on the task at hand.
As the evening progressed, Ayanokoji managed to position himself near Reinhard during a lull in the festivities.
The Sword Saint was alone for a moment, sipping wine and watching the dancers with a distant expression.
“Lord Reinhard,” Ayanokoji said, bowing slightly.
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.
I am Ayanokoji Kiyotaka, advisor to Lady Emilia.”
Reinhard turned, his blue eyes sharp despite his relaxed posture.
“Ah, yes.
The strategist who rescued the hostages at Arlam.
Your reputation precedes you.”
“All good things, I hope.”
Reinhard smiled, but there was something guarded in his expression.
“Interesting things, certainly.
The capital is buzzing with stories of your…
methods.”
Ayanokoji noted the subtle probe.
Reinhard was testing him, trying to gauge his character.
“I do what is necessary to protect Lady Emilia’s interests.
Nothing more.”
“And what are Lady Emilia’s interests, exactly?
The throne?
Power?
Or something else?”
“The peace and prosperity of the kingdom.
Lady Emilia believes that all people—human and demi-human alike—deserve a chance to live without fear.”
Reinhard’s expression shifted, a flicker of respect in his eyes.
“Those are noble goals.
But also dangerous ones.
The kingdom is not kind to those who challenge its established order.”
“Lady Emilia is not afraid of danger.
She faces it every day, simply by existing.”
There was a long moment of silence.
Reinhard studied Ayanokoji with an intensity that would have made a lesser man flinch.
“You’re different from other advisors I’ve met,” Reinhard said finally.
“Most try to flatter me, to win my favor with empty words.
You speak plainly, without pretense.”
“Flattery is inefficient.
It wastes time and creates false impressions.
I prefer honesty.”
Reinhard nodded slowly.
“A rare quality in politics.
I respect that.” He paused, his gaze drifting toward Felt.
“Tell me, Ayanokoji-san.
What do you think of the other candidates?”
The question was a test.
Ayanokoji considered his answer carefully.
“Priscilla Barielle is arrogant but not stupid.
She believes her victory is inevitable, which makes her predictable.
Anastasia Hoshin is cunning and resourceful, but her focus on profit may blind her to other considerations.
Crusch Karsten is honorable and capable, but her rigid thinking limits her flexibility.
And Felt…”
He trailed off, watching Reinhard’s reaction.
The Sword Saint’s expression remained neutral, but his eyes sharpened slightly.
“Felt is an unknown quantity,” Ayanokoji continued.
“Her background is humble, her experience limited.
But there’s something about her—a spark, a potential—that the Dragon recognized.
She could become a powerful leader, or she could flame out under the pressure.”
Reinhard was silent for a long moment.
“You see more than most, Ayanokoji-san.
That’s a valuable trait—and a dangerous one.”
“I’m aware of the risks.”
“Good.
Then you’ll understand when I say this: be careful.
The Selection is not just a political contest.
It’s a battle for the soul of the kingdom.
And there are forces at play that even I don’t fully understand.”
The warning was delivered casually, but Ayanokoji recognized its weight.
Reinhard was telling him that the game was more dangerous than it appeared—that there were players moving in the shadows, manipulating events from behind the scenes.
“The Witch’s Cult,” Ayanokoji said quietly.
“You’re warning me about them.”
Reinhard’s expression became grim.
“They’re part of it.
But there are others.
The other candidates have their own secrets, their own hidden agendas.
Trust no one, Ayanokoji-san.
Not even me.”
The words hung in the air between them.
Then Reinhard smiled again, the serious mood vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
“But I’m being too dramatic.
This is a celebration, after all.
We should enjoy ourselves.”
He raised his glass in a casual salute and moved away, disappearing into the crowd.
Ayanokoji watched him go, his mind racing.
He knows something, he thought.
Something about the Selection, about the other candidates, about the forces at play.
And he’s trying to warn me without revealing too much.
It was frustrating, but also informative.
Reinhard was not an enemy—not yet.
But he wasn’t fully an ally either.
He was a potential resource, a source of information that could prove invaluable if cultivated properly.
I need to build a relationship with him, Ayanokoji decided.
Slowly, carefully.
He’s too powerful to ignore, and too dangerous to antagonize.
The ball continued late into the night, but Ayanokoji’s mind was elsewhere.
The game was expanding, revealing new layers of complexity.
The Cult, the Council, the other candidates, and now whatever secrets Reinhard was hinting at.
There’s more going on than I realized, he thought.
I need to dig deeper.
Find out what’s really happening behind the scenes.
The night ended with Emilia exhausted but satisfied.
She had made several new connections, and her speeches had been well-received.
It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
As the carriage carried them back to the mansion, Emilia leaned her head against the window, her eyes heavy with fatigue.
“Did you learn anything useful?” she asked softly.
“Several things,” Ayanokoji replied.
“But nothing I can share yet.
I need more information before I can draw conclusions.”
Emilia nodded, too tired to press further.
“Just…
be careful.
These people are dangerous.”
“I know.
But so am I.”
The carriage rumbled on through the night, carrying them toward an uncertain future.