As time passed, at midnight the next day,

the broadcast spirit-harp attached itself to Dalia and Erilot.

The match began.

Hanjihyuk glanced at the broadcast harp and said,

“Shall we confirm the owner of the Celestial Steed via the Information Guild...?”

Conrad and I, both cloaked, chuckled at his tentative question.

“That’s why proper habits matter.”

“Conrad, you always appear natural, even before a broadcast harp.”

“I am ever filled with respect for the Lady, wherever we are.”

Hanjihyuk’s eyes widened—he wished to say more but was silenced by the harp.

I draped my robe over my shoulder and said,

“We’ve already confirmed the owner.”

“Ah, yes—the Crown Prince of the Laontra Empire.”

“Indeed, Prince Mercedes, member of the Solar Council.”

A prince whose silver hair dazzled as if it gathered moonlight—benevolent at a glance, but cunning as befits a Solar Council member.

“Shall we make contact...?” Hanjihyuk asked sharply.

“If feasible.”

Conrad shook his head.

“That will not be easy.”

“Indeed.”

On the vast continent of Irad exist two empires:

the Eastern Empire Laontra, and the Western Empire Kalsoye.

Kalsoye came first—but two centuries ago, Laontra’s greatest sovereign united neighboring realms and proclaimed himself emperor.

Kalsoye would not stand idle; two suns cannot coexist, so they warred repeatedly.

Though a peace treaty was signed during the previous reign, they still view each other as rivals.

“There is scarcely any exchange between Kalsoye and Laontra. There won’t even be the usual diplomatic channels.”

“Then we must first watch for any news of the new Steed.”

So saying, I headed to the door.

Hanjihyuk asked,

“Where are you going...?”

“To find the Celestial Steed.”

“But your attire—”

Conrad nodded and asked,

“Are you heading far? This is not your usual dress.”

I held out the hem of my robe and spread my arms.

“I must move freely—that makes this most practical.”

Normally, I dress as a proper noble lady in splendid gowns.

But today I wore breeches and a tailored jacket—akin to a knight’s ceremonial attire:

a black stand-collar jacket; fitted yet stretchy riding breeches; a pauldrons-enchanted robe; my hair tied high.

To an onlooker, I might seem bound for war.

“Are you off to capture the divine beast...?”

“I think I shall.”

“What?! ...You say?”

I opened the door and smiled quietly.

I would not reveal all my cards now.

I cast a glance at the broadcast harp—

Cannot lay out every move yet.

In Duchess Constantine’s salon, one Bijou watching the broadcast murmured and wrapped a cookie in her napkin.

Giselle asked,

“Why so, sister?”

“The battle between the Astrea maidens isn’t like combat training or a display monster hunt that ends in a day.”

“Of course.”

“Imagining watching for a week or a month already bores me.”

At that, the Duchess spoke,

“Give it three days—four at most, and the match must conclude.”

“But Prince Mercedes holds the Steed. How can it end so soon?”

“Both Erilot and Dalia aim to acquire the Steed for the No-Moon Rite.

Considering the time needed to prepare the rite, it must finish within four days.”

“I see....”

“Both were confident, so it shall be quite a spectacle.”

Giselle said softly,

“Actually, the duel between the two is even more tantalizing than the Steed.”

“Indeed. This is not merely their contest.”

Appointed by the Crown Empress, Erilot stands as proxy;

by the Empress, Dalia stands.

It is also the duel of their houses—Grimie and Damon—and a contest for succession.

The Duchess laughed heartily,

“Whichever side prevails, it shall be delightful.”

“Indeed. The world’s attention is already immense.”

“Everyone is curious.”

The Bijou giggled.

Katya Montague, sister of former Northern Guardian Star Benya, said,

“My father asked me for the broadcast code. He and the Northern nobles will watch for entertainment.”

Giselle nodded,

“The West as well. The direct Astrea line requested it.”

“And the South no less, gathering in Delphre Province, mouths watering.”

The Duchess laughed,

“The Imperial Palace requested it too—how eager the nobles must be.”

“Shall we send them the code?”

“Yes—festivities are for sharing. A prelude to the No-Moon Rite—!”

The Bijou chuckled and gripped ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) their Orbs.

The Empire stirred: whose hand would clasp Astra’s shining future—Grimie’s or Damon’s?

Which to ally with?

Whose favor emboldens the divine?

The girls’ contest became a festival to divine the Empire’s fate.

Watching the broadcast, Dalia grinned.

“What now? No contact with the Laontra prince?”

[Right—she ventures outside in such awful attire. No dignity! Everyone thinks it atrocious.]

Dalia glanced at Masa thoughtfully.

Indeed. Erilot cannot help it.

[Yes?]

Father said only the spirit-harps allow me to contact Laontra royalty.

[Erilot, lacking harps, can’t observe the match magically.]

True—she knows nothing of Dalia’s position.

Thanks to Hera, I learned the code to watch Erilot’s progress.

[But Erilot said she has no ties with the Bijou.]

Thus only we observe Erilot’s situation.

In sum:

– We can monitor Erilot.

– We can contact Prince Mercedes directly: a harp agent is his servant, and another agent operates among Pessel’s officials.

– The world’s greatest information network supports us: we may learn Mercedes’s desires and propose terms.

– Wealthy patrons like Symmah provide funding: despite Damon’s realm lowering taxes and distributing aid, we have greater resources.

“This match is mine to win.”

[All thanks to the harps! How exciting!]

Dalia laughed, then turned to the aide Damon had assigned.

“Have we heard from Prince Mercedes?”

“Not yet.”

“What... we have no time to spare.”

Dalia pouted.

I want to win quickly.

I wish to show the harps how superior I am to Erilot. And so, even if Erilot is the Messiah, to keep her near me.

Tapping the table impatiently, she sprang up with a cry.

“I’ll go first!”

“Eh?”

“This is the Stone of Translocation, yes?”

“Please wait, my lady.”

“It’s fine. I’ve used the Translocation Stone before.”

Dalia beckoned to the broadcast harp. When it fluttered and perched on her shoulder, she eyed it warily.

Ugh, it’s creepy.

[Even magic items become monsters.]

Masa recoiled with distaste.

“My lady, I thought we awaited Prince Mercedes’s reply—”

“I’ll return!”

“My lady—”

The room flashed with light. Before her aide could grasp her, Dalia vanished with the harp.

The aide’s face hardened as he hastily connected his Orb.

[What is the meaning of this? Why was the Messiah not restrained—!]

Pavil, chief strategist of the Chronote Sect, always composed, spoke sharply:

“She used the Stone before we could intervene—my apologies.”

Masitavubva’s sister, who overheard, bristled,

“Damn it! The broadcast harp can’t remain with the Messiah!”

Her brother sighed,

“Erilot must have permitted the broadcast for this very reason—she’s cunning.”

“You praise that wretch? Pavil, I shall go!”

“...”

“Pavil!”

Pavil was silent, considering. The sister shouted,

“A member of Astra alone in a foreign land! Do you grasp the danger? Pessel has fewer of our people than Kalsoye! Will you leave the Messiah unprotected?!”

[Her escort will be Masitavubvas whose faces are unknown.]

[Where is she?]

[Pesselmarshi will confirm via Orb.]

Yes.

[You alert Symmah and request assistance. Fulfill the Messiah’s wish by any means.]

“Understood.”

The aide ended the call and contacted Symmah at once.

At that moment, in the Pessel Kingdom:

[So this is Pessel...]

‘First time here?’

[I haven’t even seen many places in the Empire myself. I heard Pessel was nearby, but its culture is quite different. The clothing is novel.]

‘It’s Indian-style attire!’

[India?]

‘Yes—ancient India.’

Dalia chuckled and looked around. Having studied maps beforehand, she arrived near the palace.

Now to contact the Pessel officials who serve as the harps’ agents.

She knew the code. She lifted her Orb—already buzzing furiously.

“Hello?”

[Greetings, Miss Dalia. May I call you Dalia? It’s Michelle Oshron from the Lily Garden Party.]

“Oh... I think I recall?”

[I sought your code to contact you. Pardon the impertinence.]

“No, not at all...”

[My family is watching the match with me—eagerly. Once it ends, please do invite us to your mansion!]

Dalia’s lips twitched.

She wishes to be close to me.

[Yes! I’ll surely win the match!]

And then another, and another—and still more calls.

Her Orb practically glowed red.

“I can’t handle any more calls.”

She grumbled but wore a pleased smile—unlike at the Duchess’s party, now all attention was on her.

Yes—they already think I’ll win.

I want the harps to know,

The worthy Messiah is me.

Pocketing the saturated Orb, she said,

“I cannot use the Orb freely. I must find collaborators directly.”

She headed for a nearby mansion—the secondary house of Pesselmarshi, where Prince Mercedes was resting.

At the gates, a guard stopped her.

“I am Dalia Astra.”

“And?”

“I have an appointment with Minister Komud.”

“And?”

“I said I have an appointment.”

“And what shall we do? If you have business with the master, go to the main house, not here.”

Ah—they hadn’t informed Komud of her arrival.

Too swift, perhaps.

She smiled sweetly.

“I have a meeting with Prince Mercedes. Minister Komud will verify my identity.”

The guard sneered.

What business has the likes of you...

Masa bristled,

[Why does he snub me? Dalia, speak up!]

Dalia frowned and spoke sharply,

“How dare you!”

“I—huh?”

“I am Dalia of House Astra, daughter of Grimie Astra! How dare a mere Pessel guard insult me?”

As the guard opened his mouth, another jabbed him in the side.

“[We might as well confirm.]”

“[But this wench insulted Pessel! A noble lady wouldn’t walk here unaccompanied.]”

“[So we’ll just check with the prince, that’s all.]”

They conversed in Pessel tongue, clicked their tongues, then allowed her entry.

Soon after...

“My lady! Please forgive our rudeness—!!”

He rushed out, breathless.

Dalia smirked.