"Priscilla-sama! Please keep your attendant in check!"
A flush-faced elder Civil Official suddenly stepped forward, shouting a sharp accusation at Priscilla.
Priscilla snapped her folding fan open with a "shua" sound, perfectly concealing most of her face and leaving only a pair of sharp, jewel-like red eyes visible.
She glanced sideways at him, her voice dripping with disdain. "The will of my attendant is my own. Furthermore, since when is it the place of a commoner like you to lecture my follower?"
"You!" The Civil Official trembled with rage, still wanting to argue.
"Silence!"
Miklotov's voice instantly suppressed all the noise.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, casting a complicated look at the "knight" who had been clapping in Priscilla's camp. He sighed inwardly before maintaining his dignity as the head of the council and continuing the agenda.
"Mhm. We have understood Crusch-sama's opinion. Now then..."
He turned toward the cat-eared knight beside Crusch. "Knight Felix Argyle, do you have anything to add?"
This question was an inquiry into the attendant's support for their lord's stance.
"Thank you for the kindness, but Ferris-chan has nothing to add."
Felix's voice returned to its cheerful tone, but her eyes were serious. "Crusch-sama's thoughts are exactly what she just said. Whether what she does is correct will be proven by future history and by those of us who follow her."
He straightened his back, his tone firm. "I have no doubt that my master will become the monarch."
He paused, then turned toward Priscilla's camp, winked, and gave a cute smile. "Also, I want to thank that young man over there for the applause. Ferris-chan will remember you."
At that moment, Crusch also took a deep look at Tsukasa. There was no flattery in that applause, it felt more like he had noted the support that seemed particularly abrupt in the silence.
"Crusch-sama is always so perfect, Ferris-chan is completely smitten." Felix returned to his pampered act, looking at Crusch with a smile.
Pulled back from her thoughts, a helpless yet gentle smile appeared on Crusch's face. "Sometimes I really don't know what you're talking about, Felix. However, I allow it. Because I know you would never do anything against my interests."
The tacit understanding and trust between the two were clear at a glance.
"Very well, we have finished listening to the thoughts of the first candidate."
Miklotov gave a brief summary, his tone complicated. "Though the content from the very beginning has stirred up quite a wave."
Crusch's earth-shattering claim was like a bolt from the blue to the Council of Wise Men and the traditional Civil Officials, it would likely cost her a great deal of the support she had firmly held.
"Then, let us continue."
Miklotov steadied his breathing and said, "Following the order, next... Priscilla-sama, who is beside Crusch-sama, please speak."
"Hmph, is it finally my turn?"
Priscilla let out an arrogant snort and walked forward with her head held high. "Now, it is my time."
At Marcos's signal, Al stepped forward with a full smile, taking his place where a knight should stand.
"The vulgar gazes of the rabble have gathered on me so quickly."
Priscilla was completely indifferent to the gazes coming from all directions, instead puffing out her impressive chest. Beside her, Al let out a few timely, though not entirely sincere, supportive coughs.
"Then, Priscilla-sama, if you please." Marcos spoke formally.
"Though it's a bit of a buzzkill, I shall cooperate."
Priscilla tapped her palm lightly with her fan. "Just let those old fogies know of my prowess, and then they can obediently choose to submit, right? Simple as that."
After speaking, with a flick of her wrist, she drew that magnificent folding fan from between the peaks of her cleavage. With a "snap," she unfurled it, the fan half-covering her red lips as she let out a low chuckle.
"The Bloody Bride..."
She lowered her voice, but the words she spat out were as clear as icicles, piercing everyone's eardrums. "Can be quite terrifying, you know."
These words seemed to boil some invisible hatred, making one feel extremely uncomfortable.
Tsukasa whispered a complaint from the ranks, his lips twitching slightly, "Even though I had a feeling she'd say something shocking... Bloody Bride? That title is a bit tacky."
"Utterly boring, topped off with such classless insults."
Priscilla's voice was filled with undisguised annoyance. She easily tore through the heavy atmosphere enveloping the hall.
"I've heard it so much it's not even fit for a lullaby."
Judging by the reactions of those around her, the title "Bloody Bride" clearly carried a strong sense of insult and contempt. Priscilla herself didn't care at all, and even used it to refer to herself.
Miklotov's voice rang out, filled with inquiry. "I have been somewhat concerned. The surname Barielle... could you perhaps be Leip Barielle's...?"
"Hmm?"
Priscilla tilted her head slightly, then seemed to remember something and said, "Now that you mention it, you haven't seen that old man. What about him?"
"I was just about to ask, where is Leip-sama now?"
"If you're asking about that old geezer with one foot in the grave..."
Priscilla's tone was flat, as if she were talking about the weather. "Six months ago, he became so senile he couldn't tell dreams from reality. Then, he just stopped breathing a few days ago."
"You mean Leip-sama...?" Miklotov's voice was tinged with surprise.
"Then, may I ask what your relationship with Leip-sama was?"
"To me, he was my late husband, I suppose."
Priscilla tapped her chin lightly with her folding fan and added, "Though he never even touched a finger, so in reality, it was only a relationship in name."
She spoke of her partner's death so nonchalantly that Miklotov was momentarily speechless.
Al, standing beside her, couldn't help but interject in a low voice, "Princess, no matter how you look at it, that way of putting it is too pitiful."
"A meaningless death, a valueless life."
Priscilla turned a deaf ear to Al's advice, her voice clear and cold. "The only meaning that old bag of bones had in living was to transfer everything he had accumulated to me. Therefore, the Barielle House belongs to me now."
Having said that, she scanned the hall, her eyes seemingly asking: Does anyone else have an objection?
Wherever her gaze landed, discontent surged secretly, yet no one dared to actually speak up.
Even Rickert, who had been arguing so vehemently against Crusch just now, was silent. He seemed to realize that arguing with someone who didn't follow common sense at all was merely futile.