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(Re:Zero) Warlock of Fascination Chapter 8: The Final Dragon Maiden
🕑 Added 2025-05-12 11:51:41 +0000 UTCChapter 8: The Final Dragon Maiden
“I’m guessing I’m in quite a bit of trouble here?” Felt started to sweat a little as Reinhard approached her, her palms clammy after witnessing the sheer carnage he could create during his battle with Elsa, if you could even call it one.
She had planned on throwing the insignia at him and using her Divine Blessing to make a run for it, avoiding the consequences of stealing from Emilia. However, it had been made clear that doing so would be naught more than a futile endeavor—her fate was entirely in Reinhard’s hands.
He sighed. “Lady Emilia is a Royal Candidate to become the 42nd Monarch of Lugunica. I assume the Bowel Hunter didn’t tell you before you accepted the stealing commission from her?”
Despite Felt’s young age, he didn’t peg her for the especially dull type. Such people were rarely capable of even mimicking a pseudo-decent level of living in the slums of all places. From his perspective, she was just a desperate girl trying to escape a terrible situation. Therefore, he couldn’t bring himself to feel any sense of genuine hostility towards her.
“R-Royal… Candidate?” She stepped backwards, stuttering with bleary eyes. “No… She didn’t tell me about that!” Granted, she should’ve sniffed out that something was awry when Elsa offered her a sum of holy gold coins just for stealing a single item from a supposedly “random” girl.
Desperate times made people act in desperation.
While stealing in general was most certainly a crime, stealing from a Royal Candidate was a whole different ballpark. You’d have to be brain-dead to think the punishment wouldn’t be at minimum a hundred times harsher.
“Sir Sword Saint, if I may,” Rom spoke up—swallowing the shock from Reinhard’s revelation about Emilia’s identity. “As Felt’s guardian, I’m responsible for her actions. I should be the one to receive punishment for this incident.” He bowed his head, placing one hand on his chest apologetically.
He knew he could do nothing to physically deter someone of Reinhard’s caliber, but he couldn’t bear to stand by and watch while his granddaughter was arrested or worse.
“Grandpa Rom! There’s no need for that! I’m the one who accepted the commission, I should be responsible for whatever happens!” And all the same, Felt couldn’t allow the person who had taken care of her all this time to be punished on her behalf.
“I know the flash of light just now was bright as hell, but I don’t think it was enough to blind you both,” Castor scoffed at the two of them.
“What…?” Felt asked in confusion.
“Look at his face,” he pointed at Reinhard. “Does that look like someone who's planning to take you in?”
Reinhard couldn’t help but chuckle softly, awkwardly scratching his cheek. “You’re quite a perceptive Castor. Is that also a common trait among people from your homeland? Beyond your strangely on-point fighting instincts?”
“No, I’m just special.” He proclaimed proudly, “And I shouldn’t need to remind you that I lost against that assassin woman.”
“That may be, but you still managed to keep up with her momentarily despite having zero combat experience. Even most of our more experienced Knights wouldn’t be capable of keeping up with someone of the Bowel Hunter’s strength.” Once again, Castor noticed an army recruiter-esque smile creeping up his face. “Of course, I’m not doubting you, I’d just like to explore your potential back at my family’s estate.”
“Library first,” Castor narrowed his eyes.
“Rest assured, I haven’t forgotten my promise,” he nodded before turning back to Felt. “Since I’m off-duty for today, I’m willing to pretend as if this incident didn’t happen as long as you return the insignia back to Lady Emilia.” Naturally, he was only talking about Felt’s thievery—Elsa’s involvement was a whole different matter that he’d need to run a fine comb through.
“You have my deepest gratitude, Sir Sword Saint.” Rom heaved a deep sigh of relief, exchanging a satisfied look with his granddaughter.
“Here,” Felt reached into her attire and pulled out a small, dark purple, shield-shaped insignia with gold engravings, and the red gemstone in the middle that Castor had spotted initially. “Just saying, if it’s so important to you, you should probably keep it better concealed next time.” She told Emilia as she approached.
“It’s a bit strange hearing that from you of all people, but I’ll take it into account anyway.” Emilia smiled warmly as she reached for the insignia.
“Wait!” Abruptly, Reinhard reached forward and gripped Felt’s wrist tightly—his eyes widening as he watched the gemstone start to emit a shine while it was in her hands. “How can this be…”
“Owowowowow! What’s the big idea!? I thought you said all was forgiven!” Felt winced under the pressure of his iron-clad clasp.
“Quick! Tell me your name!” Reinhard’s demeanor grew noticeably sporadic.
“My name? It’s Felt…”
“And your family name? How old are you?”
“I don’t have any fancy like a family name! As for my age… I’m about fifteen, probably, I’m not sure. Now hurry up and let me go already!” She pushed against his arm, ultimately finding herself unable to do anything against his freak strength.
Reinhard hesitated for a second. “Lady Emilia, I’m afraid I won’t be able to return your insignia to you immediately. I have no other choice but to bring this girl back with me for the time being.”
“May I ask why? If this is because she stole the insignia, I’m more than happy to pardon her…” Just by looking at Reinhard’s expression, she could tell that this was something grave.
“No, I’ve already given my word not to persecute her for that—and I have no intention of going back on my promise. Even though stealing the insignia was no small crime, it’s nothing compared to the severity of the crime unfolding before me.”
“Stop blabbering to each other and unhand me already!” Felt continued to squirm.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that, nor can I allow you to remain here.” He opened his palm in front of Felt’s face, somehow causing her to fall asleep out of the blue before placing her over his shoulders.
Castor and Subaru exchanged a glance, their thoughts perfectly aligned.
Are we witnessing a kidnapping in the making?
Of course, none of them were stupidly brave enough to get in the way of someone as ridiculously powerful as Reinhard—especially not after witnessing his awe-inspiring display of strength against Elsa.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing with my granddaughter!?” Rom postured with hostility, grabbing his hulking wooden club.
“I can’t allow you to interfere either.” He did the exact same to Rom, save for the slinging over the shoulders part—he had no interest in bringing the giant back to the Astrea Manor. “Castor, let’s go, something urgent has come up so we need to make haste.”
“You’re going home with him?” Subaru smouldered at Castor.
“Yeah, I got him to agree to giving me access to the library his family owns in exchange for my assistance.”
“What about me?”
“Hmm,” Castor scratched his chin, thinking of a solution. “Oh, I have an idea.”
“Well lay it on me—!”
Thwack!
While channeling some of his Yang Magic, Castor slugged Subaru in the head, knocking him out in one fell swoop.
“How unfortunate, all the pressure from today seems to have caused him to faint, if only there were someone within close proximity who could take care of him.” He said robotically while staring a hole through Emilia, “Ahem. Like I said, if only there were somebody in the near vicinity that could—”
“I think Lia gets the point!” Puck spoke up on her behalf.
“Excellent, make sure you watch over him carefully while I’m not there—I have a feeling survivability isn’t one of Subaru’s strongest traits.” Castor walked up to Reinhard, noticing that his hand had extended towards him. “What’s that supposed to be?”
“It’d be faster if I carried you.”
Castor met him with a blank stare.
“I’m getting the feeling that you’re still upset about what happened earlier…”
Castor continued to stare at him silently.
“I guess we’ll walk separately then…”
“Yeah, I guess.”
𑁋
(Castor Germain)
If I were to visualize a noble residence from one of the many, many fantasy stories I’ve read in my lifetime—the confines of House Astrea would be a picture-perfect example of that.
Marble pillars supported the entrance, large stone steps were constructed around the front gate that would make you think you were stepping into a royal palace, and hoards upon hoards of servants and guards loitered everywhere. Each of them shooting curious glances towards me, but more particularly, Felt—who Reinhard was still carrying over his shoulders.
Although I’m not sure what the point of having guards is in a place where this freak-of-nature dwells. Isn't he more than enough defense?
“Nice place you have here,” I remarked idly as we walked side by side. An illustrious garden blooming with bright-red flowers, reminiscent of the Spider Lilies back on Earth, was situated beside us.
“Technically, the place isn’t mine, the estate is the property of Heinkel Astrea—the Deputy Commander of the Royal Guards, and the House Astrea's Patriarch.”
“Yeah, but you two must be related right? That would make you the Young Master of this place or something.”
“Indeed, we are related.” As much as he tried to mask it, I could tell his mood had soured significantly.
Oh boy, I appear to have touched a sore spot here. I probably should’ve figured that out when he referred to the guy by his full name.
No worries though, I’ll just change the subject.
“Any plans on telling me why the girl’s so important? I can only presume it has something to do with the glowing insignia she was holding,” I nodded towards the shield-shaped object in his hand, which he proceeded to squeeze tightly.
“You just arrived here, so I suppose it’s understandable you aren’t aware of Lugunica’s current situation.” He took a deep breath, “The Lugunican Royal Family is dead.”
This place is called the Dragon Kingdom, it makes sense they’re run by a monarchy.
“All of them?”
“All of them,” he confirmed. “They were wiped out by an inexplicable disease some time ago.”
I scoffed. “That sounds pretty explicable to me, hint, the word starts with ass, and ends with nation.”
“Trust me, there’s been much speculation about what really transpired; however, without any evidence, that’s all it is—mere speculation. Presently, we’re amid a process of the Royal Selection to decide who’ll become the Kingdom’s 42nd Monarch.”
“And that insignia has something to do with the selection,” I hummed inquisitively while looking at Felt. I can already tell that she will have either an extremely fortunate, or an extremely unfortunate future.
“Your observations are astute as per usual,” he smiled faintly. “The insignia in her hand is called a Dragon Jewel, the Dragon History Stone foretold that five candidates will be selected across the Kingdom to become Dragon Maidens, all of which will individually campaign for the position of Monarch, the process will go on for three years, and end one month before the renewal of the Kingdom’s covenant with the Divine Dragon—Volcanica.”
I blinked repeatedly.
I don’t think I understand half of what he said; however, there were a few things I picked up on.
Shockingly, a monarchist system is using an election-based method to select their new King or Queen, although, the votes might not actually be casted by the common populace so I shouldn’t jump to conclusions.
Secondly, this Felt girl is one of those “Dragon Maidens,” which means that in the span of a single day, she’s gone from alarmingly fast thief to the potential next ruler of Lugunica.
Good for her.
Lastly, dragons are real, which is excellent, since I’d be severely disappointed if I were transported to a fantasy world that didn’t have any. That would be like having cereal without milk.
“Are you sure someone like her can handle that much pressure? I presume the other candidates come from much more affluent backgrounds than hers, like that Emilia girl.” Since the Dragon Jewel was originally her property, I can safely assume she’s also one of the candidates.
“That’s not for me to decide. The Dragon Jewel has confirmed that she is the final of the five candidates; my responsibility is to see to it that she’s running for the position.”
I recall Reinhard asking her about her family name when the jewel started to shine. Maybe the criteria for who is and isn’t chosen have something to do with bloodline? I highly doubt the jewel’s method for selection is left entirely up to luck.
“And what if she doesn’t want to run for the crown? She’s not someone of noble upbringing, there’s always a chance she won’t be interested in the position—regardless of how glamorous it might seem.”
Reinhard’s brows lifted a little as he fell into thought. Clearly, the notion hadn’t crossed his mind. It would be pretty easy to convince someone like her to run by using her life in the slums as a persuasive tool, but I’m not about to help him manipulate a mere child. I have my boundaries.
Actually, I’m a little irked that I even thought of it—come on Castor, you’re better than that.
“Let’s say she does run,” I continued. “Your responsibility will extend past simply putting her in the running; you’ll need to support her, or at least find someone to support her during the campaign. Expecting a child who was raised in the slums to know how to reach for the crown would be unbelievably foolish.”
“You make a good point,” he nodded approvingly. “You know, you’re surprisingly sharp for someone who just landed in our Kingdom, fighting potential aside—I think you’d make a good member of Lady Felt’s camp once her participation is officially announced.”
Maybe I should’ve just kept quiet.
“Time shall tell,” I gave him a diplomatic non-answer as we continued to stroll through the hallways of the Astrea Manor.
Once I get to the library, I already know what the first thing I’m going to research is.
I want to know more about this “Yang” that I apparently possess.
