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Happy BEE-day

Summary:

Darkness resides within the Mathers estate this afternoon. Emilia calls upon a secret council with the other camps and their knights in order to fulfill a top-secret mission.

Operation: Subaru

Collab crack story and birthday present for a dear friend. :)

Notes:

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Events of BEE-Day

It's dark. Too dark to see, almost—the curtains are drawn, the door is closed, and the lights are off. The message is clear: Secrecy is paramount. A simple glance around the room would show quickly that this secrecy is for good reason.

In the tiny dark room, invisible to each other's eyes, stands the five candidates for the throne of a nation. Should one be an assassin for the Mother's Cult, they would start crying tears of joy as soon as they witnessed this gathering of the candidates.

Yes, that's right. A very dusty room, in a relatively unprotected domain, is holding the five most important individuals in the country. Five speedy darts and each of the women would be dead, even with their great knights standing by their side. One good arrow can doom the Dragon's holy prophecy to the fires of tragedy.

The meeting oozes a sense of fallacy from all aspects.

Priscilla Barielle, the proud Baroness as beautiful as a rosebush's flowers (and as aggravating as a rosebush's thorns), casts about the room with bloodstone eyes. She speaks first. "What matter is so important that you peasants disturb mineself so desperately?"

When no one answers immediately, the Baroness clicks her tongue in annoyance. "I do not like to be in the dark." She pauses, then frowns. "Metaphorically or literally. Mineself would not have attended this meeting without Al's pleading; do not waste my mercy."

Besides Priscilla, the one-armed knight named Al rubs the back of his helmet-covered head. "I don't know why you're blaming me, princess. I had no clue we would be coming here at all, you just grabbed my arm and led us to the carriage—"

"Perhaps the reason for this meeting is the vanquishing of a ravenous beast," Priscilla says slowly. "A beast hungry for the flesh of insolent knights."

Al sinks back in his chair.

Crusch Karsten, the iron valkyrie of her domain and the head of the Karsten royal house, decides to speak second. Her personal knight Felix and the Sword Demon that swore his blade to her cause both stand nearby. "I'm always willing to help out my allies and dear friends, especially if it's Emilia-sama's cause," Crusch starts. "But I can't help but wonder why it requires all of us candidates and so little warning."

"Yep." Anastasia Hoshin enters the conversation. "Ya didn't give us much time, and a gal like myself doesn't have time to spare in the first place!"

Beside her, her knight Julius has managed to wrangle two of the three mercenary triplets onto his lap. The third sits smugly on the third chair allocated to Anastasia's camp. The chair is pushed all the way in; he cannot see over the table. Julius looks vacantly at the ground.

"Hehe! Whatever this is, it works out well for me!" says Felt of Lugunica. "I got to skip etiquette lessons!"

Next to her, Reinhard gasps in horror. "Felt-sama," he says quickly, "I don't know why you'd choose sarcasm in this setting, but do not worry! As soon as possible, I will prepare a room inside this manor for your next lessons!"

Felt stares at her knight.

Once more, the man has managed to annihilate someone—but this time, without the help of any divine protections at all. Truly, Reinhard is a powerful foe indeed.

"If she's using sarcasm here, clearly she needs extra etiquette lessons," Ana comments. She is blatantly enjoying Felt's suffering.

Emilia clears her throat, cutting off Felt's inevitable explosion. "I've gathered you here today to discuss a terribly important matter," Emilia announces. "You of course have the right to refuse, but I hope you'll at least hear me out first."

A pause, perfect for the other candidates to exchange skeptical glances. However, a cloud has passed over the sun, and now the room is so dark that no one can see, so they don't do that.

Instead, they are left to their own devices to imagine Emilia's terribly important matter.

The Witch Cult has returned to finish the job, hm…? I see, Crusch thinks. Immediately and without consulting anyone, she starts to plan how she was going to assist Emilia and her camp in fighting the terrorists. Her plan is very badass and involves Crusch riding on two ground dragons at once—only to help her reputation recover since the blow it'd taken from her sudden amnesia, of course.

Just like that, the world has once again worked to please mineself. The half-wit is quitting her campaign out of fear! Mineself will enjoy this half-wit's pathetic display. And of course, she requires mine attention in her final moments! As expected, really. Oh, if she begs on that stage desperately enough, I might consider forgiving her for the terrible crime thinking she could ever run against mineself for the Kingdom, Priscilla thinks, in one long breath. Then she gets distracted by another terrible crime, which is of course that the room is too dark for her to see her nails.

IF FELT MISSES ANOTHER ONE OF HER ETIQUETTE LESSONS, SHE'S GOING TO CAUSE AN INTERNATIONAL INCIDENT, Reinhard thinks… calmly.

Anastasia doesn't bother thinking at all, because she did all that already. Also, she figured out the purpose of this meeting about an hour after she was sent the invites for it. "I would assume that this isn't you quittin' the election or gatherin' us to prepare for a war, hm?" she prompts with a smug smirk.

Emboldened by the lack of obvious skepticism and Anastasia's question, Emilia straightens up in her seat. "This concerns my most loyal companion," she says. "Natsuki Subaru."

Priscilla and Crush simultaneously sigh in disappointment. It is the only thing they've ever had in common. Only Mimi notices, and she is struck with the cold knowledge that no one will ever believe her.

"Natsuki Subaru?" Felt echoes. "What about him?"

"A very big event for Subaru is fast approaching," Emilia intones, ignoring the previous situation and getting back into the mood required for her super serious announcement. "Your cooperation and assistance would be greatly appreciated."

Another pause. Anastasia breaks it this time. "And what event might this be?"

"Natsuki Subaru's…." Emilia inhales, "birthday."

The announcement was made, and heavens shall fall.

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"Crusch-sama, your health is paramount, so please tell Ferris-chan what's wrong!" Felix urges his lady with worry and desperation. A thought strikes him and his tail lashes. "This isn't an aftereffect of the Gluttonyies' attack, right?"

Before him is the iron lady of Karsten House, her hat clutched to her chest and her face hidden by her hair. She is sitting in her chair, continuing to ignore Felix, as she has for the past hour—ever since Emilia's planning ceremony had come to a close.

"Leave her be, child," a voice intervenes.

Felix jumps and then whirls around. To his horror, he is met with yet another distressing sight.

Like Crusch, Priscilla hadn't left her seat when everyone else left the room. But that isn't what distressing Felix, no—it's the air of complete and utter despair that hangs around Priscilla.

"Leave her be," she says, her eyes closed and her head leaning back as if she was staring at the ceiling. "The world has failed her and mineself enough to warrant us a moment of silence."

Felix stares.

Al shakes his head at the catboy's inexperience. "Yeah, bro," he adds, casual and confident. "The lady needs to process a little bit." Now he turns pointedly toward Felix—if he had eyebrows visible, he'd be waggling then to indicate that this is a technique Felix should be following—and says, in a reassuring tone, "Hey, princess, it's nice knowing there are girls out there with the same haughtiness as you."

Without opening her eyes, nor changing her position, Priscilla answers, "Tis the world giving mineself a companion, Aldebaran."

Two Priscillas?

Both Felix and Al fumble for a chair.

There are now four people seated in the room, staring vacantly at the wall and contemplating life.

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"I wonder why nobody's around." Subaru walks through the pretty mansion's hallways aimlessly. He's had a good day so far, but he's starting to suspect that there is a plot afoot. Subaru dislikes plots when they are not his own; this is partially because he has been murdered a whole bunch of times, and partially because he hates people owning him in prank wars.

But upon further reflection, Subaru thinks that this is a different kind of plot than normal. "There were a lot of carriages outside…" he observes to himself. "And yet the estate's pretty barren—Wait."

Subaru comes to an abrupt halt. Something is unbearably, agonizingly wrong, he knows. Something wiggles at him. Scratches at the door in his mind.

In his heart of hearts, he knows what it is, yet he refuses to admit it. It's not something wrong with his surroundings, no; it's something wrong with him. And it is too shameful for him to face. It is a decree of his incompetence; it is a declaration of his true level of intelligence to the world—

"Subaru, what are you doing here?" a voice asks from behind him. "Are you lost again?"

Subaru whips around to face Emilia. "I'm not lost!" he says hurriedly. "I was simply admiring the paintings Ros-chi put up for us in this new mansion. These things cost money, Emilia-tan! They must be appreciated!"

Emilia blinks at this strange denial from her Knight. "Um… There aren't any paintings here, though."

They are standing in front of a window.

"..."

"Subaru?" Emilia stares with innocent worry.

"... Okay, yeah." Subaru lowers his head in shame. "I was lost. I couldn't find anyone and probably made a wrong turn."

"Silly Subaru. When will you learn to memorize the mansion? That is reeeeally slothful y'know!" Emilia's admonishment is serious, like she's talking to a child.

Subaru, who was already beet red from the embarrassment, flushes toward the wall.

"It's a big place, Emilia-tan! Gimme a break—!"

"We've been living here for six months!"

"I just said it was too big!" Subaru's voice verges on the edge of a breakdown.

Emilia puts her hands on her hips. "You're so lazy, honestly," she huffs.

"So!" Subaru desperately pushes for a subject change. "Where is everyone, Emilia-tan? And why wasn't I notified about the visitors we are having right now?"

The tables are turned; Emilia immediately panics. "It's nothing suspicious!" she exclaims.

Subaru squints at her. "Well, I wasn't suspicious before, but now…"

"Oh, wow, look!" Emilia shouts over him. "I have a mission for you! That I had before! I just remembered that I had to give it to you!"

Subaru squints harder. "That's still suspicious…"

"It's a suuuper important mission," Emilia assures him, wide-eyed.

"Really?" Subaru asks again. His eyes are on Emilia like a hawk's.

"Reeeeally."

Subaru leans closer to her. "Are you sure?"

Emilia is visibly sweating. "I am incredibly certain!" She whips around and her hair smacks Subaru in his face. "Look out this window, Subaru! From here you can see the source of your mission!"

"I can only see your hair, Emilia-tan," Subaru informs her, dryly.

Emilia flawlessly shuffles to the side. "Look out this window, Subaru!" she repeats. "From here you can see the delightful town of, um, the nearby town!"

The raven-haired boy immediately blinks with bafflement. "Wait a second, Emilia-ta—"

"In this town lies something terribly important to me!" She doesn't relent in controlling the conversation. Just as well as he was.

"Emilia-tan, do you not—" Subaru tried to press again but she hurried to cover his mouth as she spoke.

"Yes, this special town has something I cannot do without! And so I need, you, Natsuki Subaru—"

"Emilia, seriously, do you not know the—" It's a matter of pride at this point. Subaru moves her hand away, but she's faster than him and her second palm slaps his lips shut. Truly, multiple hands are an evolutionary mistake.

"Yes, this town that certainly has a name that I definitely know—"

"You don't know the name of the town?"

Emilia sputters, surprised at the diligence her knight offered as he persevered to ask his question with the seriousness of a hardened warrior. "Subaru! I am a candidate for the throne of Lugunica! I know an excess of town toponyms!"

Subaru frowns. "What does toponym mean?"

Emilia wilts. "I was led to believe that toponym is a modern word that you'd know," she says sadly.

"No, sorry, but that's probably my fault, not—hey!" Subaru points a finger at her. "You're trying to distract me from the fact that you don't know the town name! Did you study so hard that all the important things fell out, huh?!"

"I deeeefinitely know the town name, Subaru!" Emilia huffs. Then inspiration strikes and she straightens up abruptly. "But! I'm not certain you know the town's name!"

"I totally do!"

"No," Emilia counters. "I don't think you do! And to prove it, you have to walk me down to town, right now!"

Subaru halts in place and stares. "Wait a second…" he mutters to himself. "Is this a weird way of asking me out on a date?"

Emilia ignores his hopeful gaze. "Let's go, Subaru! Daylight's-a-wasting!" She grabs him by the arm and starts to drag him off.

"Emilia, no, you're too strong!" Subaru protests.

"Oops, sorry," Emilia apologizes and looks at his arm with guilt. "Oh! I have an idea!" She picks him up and carries him like a princess.

Subaru is so shocked and flustered that he is unable to speak for the next five minutes. While he mentally collapses, Emilia keeps walking. She trots straight out of the mansion—unlike some people, she doesn't get lost at all—and starts on the dirt path to the village.

"Emilia," Subaru says, finally regaining the ability to speak, "please put me down."

"O.K." Emilia carefully places Subaru on the ground. He scrambles up on his feet with the elegance of a dolphin that has been dropped in the sand instead of the ocean.

And to the misery of his pride and honor, Emilia questions this failure to collect himself in her usual way. "... Is this some weird dance you're practicing again, Subaru?"

"Yes, Emilia-tan." Subaru takes the card he's been dealt and looks at the floor in shame. "It was a dance."

Sweet dear Emilia nods her head, wanting to boost her knight's confidence in his dancing skills, even though she is secretly of the opinion that his dance sucked major butt.

"It's a reeeeally adequate dance! I'm sure that a lot of people with casual tastes would love it!" Emilia tries, graciously keeping her true opinion to herself.

Subaru wipes a tear from his eyes. "Thanks, Emilia-tan," he says. "I do try my best to be adequate."

"And you do a great job of it," Emilia says kindly.

"No higher compliment could be given to me," Subaru says, and now Emilia looks at him with suspicion. Even she can sense the pain in that statement.

"That's not true," she says. "I can give you a higher compliment right now."

Subaru goes red. He does not like compliments. "Emilia-tan," he says, reedy, "are you flirting with me? Is this really a date?"

"Ahahaha," says Emilia, "like the fruit?"

"What?" Subaru asks.

"A date?"

"Emilia!" Subaru frowns. "You know what a date is." He regards her with suspicion. "You look a little stressed," Subaru says diplomatically.

Emilia does indeed look a little stressed. The reason for this is that she suddenly remembered that she has to keep Subaru entertained for an entire day. Emilia likes Subaru a lot, and she likes hanging out with him a lot, but this is a little bit too much for her. This requires taking responsibility, and although Emilia is training herself to take responsibility for an entire country, she is not yet prepared to take responsibility for one Natsuki Subaru.

This thought process leads Emilia to a revelation. Perhaps she can use this as a training exercise! Yes, perfect—Emilia will treat her task as if it is vital for a nation's health. And it is, in a way, because it's Subaru's birthday.

"Subaru," Emilia says importantly, finally lifting her gaze to his. "I have a task for you."

"A task?" Subaru repeats.

"Yes," Emilia says. "A most important task."

Subaru eyes her for another moment, then decides that doing things for Emilia outweighs figuring out what Emilia is hiding. "Tell me!" he demands.

"You have to…"

"To?!"

"Tooooo….."

"To?!"

"Uh….."

"Emilia-tan?"

"Fight!" Emilia bursts out. "You have to fight!"

Subaru lunges into a fighting stance. "Fight!" he agrees. He looks around wildly. "Fight what?!"

Emilia looks around too. She looks desperately for something for Subaru to fight. Dirt road, leaves, trees, beehive, bushes—wait!

"Fight that!" Emilia shouts.

"Fight…" Subaru eases out of his fighting stance. "The beehive?"

Emilia nods very, very slowly. "Yes," she says.

Subaru looks at the beehive, then at Emilia.

Emilia looks at the beehive. "Uh-huh," she says convincingly.

"Emilia," Subaru says, with a note of concern in his voice.

Emilia begins to sweat.

"Emilia," Subaru repeats.

Emilia looks at him. She is sweating even harder.

Subaru stares deep into her eyes. "Anything for you, Emilia-tan," he says.

As he approaches the beehive he thinks to himself, "This is going to be the easiest thing in the world! Emilia-tan will be so impressed!" But as he gets closer he stalls out. A question arises in his mind, buzzing in time with the bees. "Wait…," he thinks. "How the hell am I going to fight bees?"

The question has come too late.

The bees look out of their kingdom and see sharp human eyes glaring at them with dubious intent. The message is clear: it is a call for war.

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"Man, I wish there was more excitin' shit happenin' around here! I can't deal with this bore." Felt whines loudly and slumps in her seat. Why was she given this part of the party to take care of?

Before her is a wide range of quills, pens, decorated papers, and scrolls. It's a workshop specifically tailored to Felt's mission: writing and stamping all twenty-eight invitations for the party.

And what a challenging mission it is. Felt eloquently writes the first invite. Her second invite displays remarkable penmanship. Invites three through seven are almost flawless. Invite number eight is a little shaky at times, but still technically correct. Invite number nine goes a little bit off-topic. Invite number ten has a large ink-blot covering most of its surface. Invite number eleven shall not be mentioned.

Having adequately done her job, Felt throws her pen down and goes to grab something to eat.

"Reinhard! You lazy brat, I gotta job for ya!" Felt opens the door to what she thinks is this mansion's gathering hall, going by its size and regal decorations. Peering inside the room, she finds that a lot of tables have been set up where nothing used to be. Felt internally admires the maids. "These guys work quick," she admires externally as well. With an impressed whistle, she steps inside.

"There ya are!" Felt says as she finds the person she's been looking for to abuse.

She stops for a second and observes what he's doing. Her knight is hard at work helping that obnoxious prick Julius place the plates and cutlery on the dinner tables, which extend through the entire hall. It's a challenging deed to be done alone; no wonder Reinhard was brought here to give assistance.

However, Felt notices something very weird in Julius' and Reinhard's interactions.

"Everything needs to be adequate."

Had anyone heard Julius' thoughts, they'd think him a madman by tone alone.

Julius Juukilius is a perfectionist at heart—and this applies to everything, whether it be looks or his endless case studies for the knightly code and its importance in his life. One wouldn't expect the charming, almost endlessly regal knight to have such an obsessive streak of tidiness in his home life. It is something that Julius sees as a weakness that cannot be shown. To have one's insecurity is to have one's heart in your palm. He would not lose his heart.

Overall, it's a good mindset.

Now, though…

Julius has claimed about twenty tables to set—an admirable amount, to be sure. Yet Felt notices one crucial detail that others may miss: The 'greatest' knight of all knights has yet to finish setting a single table.

"Huh?! Ain't this a bit lazy from someone as obnoxiously diligent as him?!" Felt says to herself in surprise. She creeps behind one of the room's pillars to carefully observe without being seen. Julius is standing in silence, staring at the set of spoons and forks in front of him.

"But that's only a set outta hundreds he has to do! What the hell is this guy doing, wastin' time like that?!" Felt growls under her breath.

The knight moves a fork into a better position across the set.

The air changes bizarrely. Felt is compelled to share a feeling of relief with thousands of minuscule spirits that she can't see.

"What the heck…" Felt leans closer to better understand this phenomenon. And then understanding dawns.

Julius' face often pisses Felt off, what with his haughty attitude and brazen charm, but right now Felt ascends past rage into clear pity. As Julius gazes down at his cutlery set his face is glowing with immense pride. He's the proudest Felt has ever seen him. He's staring at a fork like it's his son.

Felt can't help but sigh at the sad sight. "This is a knight in our kingdom? Really? I should burn everything to the ground…"

Julius doesn't notice or care that someone is considering violently anarchist actions because of him. He's on cloud nine as he turns the second set of utensils on the table. His first set is the most perfectly organized, comfortable to reach, relieving to look at, and beautifully ordered set of spoons he's ever done in his life. It's an example of perfect symmetry that causes Julius elation by just being near it.

Sure, it took him an hour to make it happen, but now he has an outline to make the second set even more perfect!

Julius is going to make this the best birthday ever for Subaru Natsuki. He will make the black-haired knight of Emilia thank him for such a composition of tools.

"Knowing him, actually… that guy won't get the meaning of what I've done and will start eating with his hands… like the savage he is." Julius lets a chuckle break through his serious expression.

The knight looks over to his first set again, wanting to admire its perfection before going through placing the second.

But instead of seeing the cutlery Julius sees Reinhard, with his hands on the table. For a moment Julius is delighted. Surely Reinhard will appreciate Julius' talents! But then Reinhard smiles innocently, and foreboding steals through Julius' heart.

"I noticed you had a spoon out of place, Julius." Reinhard's voice is entirely bright as he draws his hand away from the table, revealing the cutlery. "Don't worry, however, your work is absolutely beautiful. I hope me fixing this little detail won't bother you."

"..."

"Julius…?" Reinhard calls to his frozen friend. A look of worry replaces his shining pride. "Did I place it in the wrong spot? I was sure it would add more nuance to your work—"

"I appreciate your efforts to help me, Reinhard-sama." Julius looks down, hair obstructing his eyes. "Now, please… Leave this to me and go."

Reinhard has to flinch. "Go? Go… where?"

"Anywhere else. But you cannot stay here." Julius turns back to his second set with a dead look in his eyes.

Reinhard bites his lip in disappointment. But he hopes not to further enrage his friend so he walks out of the hall with a shameful feeling on his back.

Felt watches this with an increasing hatred for the violet-haired man.

"Prick." She spits on the ground and starts walking away behind Reinhard.

As soon as all doors closed, Julius takes the liberty to slam both fists on the table.

"Damn…" the perfect knight curses under his breath. "Why have the spirits forsaken me… Have I not been diligent enough?"

Julius doesn't receive the answers he wants when he feels his contracted spirits talking to him. Nor does he appreciate their sass, so he dutifully tones them out.

No.

He should focus more on what Reinhard just did.

Reinhard completely changed the order of Julius' spoon set by one move. He changed it into the greatest ordering of cutlery that Julius could ever hope to see in a lifetime.

It doesn't make any sense…. Julius has spent hours, years, perfecting his skill in organizing these and many different types of sets. Yet Reinhard comes and crushes his work in a matter of seconds.

It was evil.

It was heartless.

Julius tries his best not to sob at the tragedy of his inferior skills.

Meanwhile, one of his contract spirits attempts to comfort him by whispering in his ear.

"Nerd."

How comforting indeed.

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"Subaru," Emilia says, very seriously, "are you alright?"

Subaru sinks further to the ground. "I'm fine," he says. He stares vacantly at the scene in front of him.

It is a very stare-worthy scene: in front of them, a field of bees swirl and twirl above the grass. The bees are all frozen, connected together in a crystalline lattice of ice. It is beautiful. It is bizarre.

It is a testament to Subaru's shame.

"Um," Emilia says. She dithers in place for a moment. "Sorry," she decides on. "I didn't mean to steal your thunder."

Subaru clears his throat. His shame almost won't let him speak, but he can't stand seeing Emilia so guilty. "It's okay," he says. "I…" He trails off. He can't say it.

Emilia twists around to look at him with concern.

Subaru has to say it. "I," he says, "I didn't actually have a plan to fight the bees."

Emilia nods solemnly. It is now her turn to reassure him. "Bees are very difficult opponents," she says.

"But they're not," Subaru wails. "They're bees!"

"Bees and wasps are related," Emilia guesses. "Aren't wasps difficult opponents, too?"

Subaru pauses and considers this. He has called Emilia to his room many times to deal with wasps; Subaru had a very tragic and traumatic incident with a wasp when he was a child, and he has never recovered. "I guess," he admits.

"See?" Emilia nods again, with confidence. "There's nothing to be ashamed of."

Subaru feels as if she's lying, but doesn't want to say as much. Instead, he rallies himself and stands up. "I'll find something else to fight for you," he swears. "And I'll fight it very well."

Emilia nods a third time, then freezes. Wait! Now she has to find a different way to keep Subaru occupied! By fighting the bees in his stead, Emilia has accidentally sabotaged herself.

But just as Emilia starts to flounder in earnest, a strange sound enters her range of advanced hearing. There—the rumble of wheels on dirt. A carriage!

Wait a second—Emilia recognizes that particular sound of wheels on dirt. No other carriage would manage to sound quite so stressed.

It's Otto!

Oh, no. If Otto's here, then Subaru may be able to tell something's wrong. He may be able to put Emilia's schemes together, and then they'll all be for naught! What good is a surprise party without a surprise?

Emilia has been staring at Subaru and making increasingly agitated faces. "Emilia?" Subaru asks, concerned.

The rumble of wheels gets louder; around a bend in the road, Otto's figure flashes through the trees. He sees Emilia; his eyes go wide with horror.

Sensing Otto's horror, the ground dragon pulling the carriage also feels horrified. Together with the general aura of stress Otto always projects, the feeling of horror is too much. The ground dragon jolts forward at a slightly faster speed than normal.

The carriage rumbles over an exposed tree root. Mired in his panic as he is, Otto doesn't react in time. The carriage tips over and falls flat on its side with a resounding thud.

"Hey!" Subaru demands, whirling around. "What was that? Does someone need help?" He sets off promptly in the direction of the sound.

"AHAHAHHA," Emilia shouts over the sounds of Otto scuttling desperately to hide behind a tree. "I'M SURE IT'S NOTHING."

"You're talking awfully loudly, Emilia-tan," Subaru observes suspiciously. He narrows his eyes at her. "Are you…" He trails off. He doesn't have a good explanation for this, so he defaults to teasing her. "Are you thinking that I'm not paying attention to you? Emilia-tan is this your secret tsundere arc?!"

Emilia hides her hands behind her back and shoots out a jet of ice. It flies through the trees and nails the carriage in the overturned bottom with another loud thunk; the carriage creaks and groans and falls into a conveniently-placed nearby drainage ditch. "You caught me, Subaru," Emilia says.

Unfortunately, she forgets to shout the words, and Subaru can hear the cracking of the carriage falling into the ditch. "Emilia-tan is being cute, but there could be people over there that need help," he debates with himself. "Which one is more important?! Emilia-tan's cuteness, or the people who may be dying?" It is a difficult question.

Luckily, Emilia is great at making decisions for Subaru. "THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IS THIS NEW TASK I HAVE FOR YOU!" she shouts.

"Really?" Subaru asks suspiciously. He's been burnt by Emilia's tasks once already; he couldn't stand the blow to his pride if he failed at another one. "What is it?"

Emilia whirls around to look at the frozen-bee-covered field. What's normally in fields? Near bees? Oh, perfect! "Flowers!" Emilia exclaims. "It's picking flowers."

Subaru perks up. How hard can picking flowers be? "Yes, sir!" he chirps, and with a salute, he's scrambling off away from the carriage.

Emilia breathes a sigh of relief and follows.

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"This is exhausting…" Ram sighs as she overturns another bag of flour on the kitchen marble. "Why am I here? Barusu is fine eating the grass that Emilia-sama steps on. Why does he need a cake as well?!"

"Nyan! Crusch-sama is doing so well~! You're the best baker around, nyan!"

Ram winces at the high pitch cheer coming from the side of the big room. She looks on to see three people standing in their own corner and baking their own cakes.

"Your support is appreciated, Ferris. But shouldn't you be helping around rather than shouting encouragement at me? The Mathers maid in the back looks tired out, go and help her." Crusch elegantly flips some batter while admonishing the cute cat-eared boy beside her.

Felix gives a sly smile. "Why help someone lazy such as Ram-sama when I can give all my time to please you, Crusch-sama~," he purrs. Next to him, Wilhelm's face twitches. Ram deduces that he wants to roll his eyes but can't, so she rolls her eyes for him.

"Ferris. Go and apologize to the maid right now." Crusch frowns sternly at him, which makes his smile go sheepish. Her gaze darts to Wilhelm. "You too."

"I'd rather support you in creating the batter for this dessert, Crusch-sama," Wilhelm speaks with a serious undertone, showcasing no emotion except for sternness as he watches Crusch.

"That's not needed, Wilhelm-dono," Crusch says with a confident smirk. "I'm perfectly capable of following your direction and support." Her ponytail bobs as she turns back to rolling the batter around.

Ram watches with a similar expression to Wilhelm as Crusch fists the poor soul out of her batter like it insulted her ancestor. Of course, Felix was at the side, diligently hyping up his liege with all he could give.

"Don't they know that this is the way to make bread, not cake?" Ram rubs her temple and moves back to bring another sack of materials in. Of course, it will probably also be wasted by Crusch's incompetence and her team's inability to call her out on said faults. Ram is very good at calling out faults; these people would benefit greatly from her assistance. Unfortunately for them, Felix just insulted her, so Ram will abstain from commenting.

To her annoyance, Ram finds that the sack she had been going for had already been taken from its place.

"Sword Saint-sama, I would appreciate it if the resources of our humble abode were respected and not wasted… Ah…" Ram stops. The sight before her makes her speechless, which is a noteworthy accomplishment.

"I apologize sincerely! I didn't know that we were short on essentials like this." Reinhard bows in shame to the astonished maid.

"No no… Nevermind. Carry on." Ram shakes her head and inspects the colossal cake that's been built by the man.

She was more than impressed. While Crusch and her team fail to bake a single layer, or even the correct type of batter, Reinhard was able to create the tallest mountain of sweet-and-sour goodness that she's ever seen. It was a dessert for kings.

Felix too takes notice. In just a few seconds Ram can see an entire thought process travel over his face, and with Ram's amazing people skills, she can tell exactly what thought it is, and what order they come. That's an amazing cakefar too impressive for feeble idiotic hands such as mine to make, he thinks. Because I am very foolish, I cannot comprehend how he did that so quickly, he thinks. Oh, no, with Reinhard working so hard, I and my stupid little friends will be unable to make the cake, because Reinhard already made it, he realizes. All of Crusch's incompetent work will be for nothing! he internally exclaims. For some weird reason, making this cake is essential to recovering the confidence she lost when she realized that we're actually here for a birthday party, he reflects stupidly. And here, finally, he decides, I have to sabotage Reinhard's cake, because the alternative is having TWO PRISCILLAS in the world, and also because I am a petty little bitch whom Ram should throw things at.

That was an entirely accurate description courtesy of Ram. Thank you, thank you, please settle back into your seats.

"Wow~ that's a tall thing ya got over here, Reinhard~!" Felix gives a supportive smile toward the creation. Ram is immediately suspicious. "It looks amazing, nyan!"

"Thank you. That is very kind of you to say," Reinhard replies humbly.

Ram's eyes focus on the healer as he grins darkly at the cake.

"... Would be a real shame if anything were to happen to it, nyan."

"I hope not," Reinhard says, taking the statement at face value. "I wouldn't want to disappoint Subaru with a subpar dessert. Julius already showed me how lacking I was in cutlery placement…"

"Oh? Julius can be very mean, nayn!" Felix starts to cozy up to the depressed Reinhard. Oddly, one hand is curled into a fist. Ram's suspicion morphs into disgust.

"I don't think Julius meant to be. He's more of an expert in that field than I." Reinhard rubs the back of his head sheepishly.

Felix slowly steps even closer to the knight, then enfolds him in a hug. Ram is outraged that their distance has come so short.

Reinhard's eyes fly wide open with surprise.

"It's ok, Reinhard," Felix whispers to his friend. "Everyone's bad at some things sometimes… Julius didn't mean to be a jerk. Or maybe he was doing it because outside forces prompted him to do it, and not out of any cruel intentions to his friend."

Obviously, Reinhard receives this comfort with confusion. "... But I already told you. I didn't think he was…"

"Shhhhh~~ let Ferris be there for a friend." The catboy devilishly pats his friend's back. "Ya need to love yourself more, Reinhard."

"... Thanks, Ferris," Reinhard replies. The tension starts to drain out of him. It looks like he needed that hug. "I'm really lucky to have you as a friend, Ferris," Reinhard says, and he smiles, small.

Ram is at the perfect angle to see guilt crash down on Felix's face, and to see him chuck something at the cake. It's for Crusch to get her confidence back! he thinks to himself. I'll explain it to Reinhard later, when no one else is around! "N-No problem at all, Reinhard!" he says. "T-This is the least you deserve for being a good person, nyan!"

Reinhard notices the change in energy. "... Are you ok, Ferris?"

"Yep! All good!" Felix jumps back. His hand is hidden behind his back

Reinhard blinks at his friend's weird behavior and looks back to where his cake sits. Ram has shuffled over to it.

"Ram-san? Is there something wrong with my work?" he asks Ram.

Ram cracks her knuckles while staring into Felix's soul. "... You shouldn't present this cake to Barusu's party anymore," she declares.

Reinhard doesn't notice that Felix is rubbing his hand frantically behind his back. "Did I do something wrong in one of the layers?" he asks.

"I'm afraid a… decent amount of salt has been dropped on the cake as a whole," Ram says, dangerously monotone.

Reinhard immediately activates his vitally important salt-and-sugar identifying divine protection of Salt and Sugar. In his magical eyes, the cake screams, SALT.

Reinhard is crushed. "I was sure that the taste was sweet and sour… I don't remember placing salt anywhere near the ingredients." He steps back. "It appears that a generous amount of it is covering the outer shells of the entire cake… I apologize for wasting your ingredients, Ram-san."

Ram doesn't reply to Reinhard. She only glares with hatred at the healer who threw this salt while hugging his 'friend'.

"I'm sure it was a simple mistake," Felix says desperately. "Or maybe—" He trails off. He is very obviously caught between counseling his friend and hiding his crime. In his depression, Reinhard takes no notice.

"Ferris? What are you doing?" Crusch calls over. She whacks the dough with a rolling pin, and the pin's wooden handle goes flying.

"Coming, Crusch-sama," Felix calls, and he flees. Ram stares down his retreating back.

"Hey, guys!" Petra enters the kitchen hurriedly. "Anastasia-sama wants volunteers to help her decorate the halls with her new birthday 'balloons' whatever those are. Can anyone help?"

Her innocent eyes fall on one raised hand from the small group.

"Reinhard-sama? That's perfect! Anastasia-sama is waiting in the grand hall." Petra runs out of the room quickly as she came.

"Wait… I didn't…" Reinhard looks at Ram with a confused expression. She lets go of his arm and steps away, and his arm falls back down to its normal position.

"I think it's safer for our ingredients if you try your hands at something else," Ram says plainly and coldly. The knight wilts with guilt and walks out of the room with a lowered head.

Ram gives one look towards Crusch's corner, where the duchess is failing to crack even more eggs on the batter she has decimated.

Ram's eyes are on the catboy beside the duchess.

"You rock, Crusch-sama! No one in this kitchen could oppose your superior skills, nyan!" Felix has made his loyalty clear. He claps as his lady fails, with great confidence, at the one job given to her.

Ram does what is right. She walks towards the door to the kitchen and opens it so she can leave right behind Reinhard.

"Owwwwwww!"

Then she throws a can of corn at Felix's head, making him drop to the floor.

"Ferris! Stop messing around, we need to finish hundreds of these for Natsuki Subaru's party!" Crusch orders as she starts to kick the batter instead of punching it.

I deserve this, Felix thinks, with a tear running down his cheek.

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Hours have passed. Subaru and Emilia have scoured the forest. They have found moss. They have found mushrooms. They have found animal scat. They have even found a very neat feather. But somehow, they have not found any flowers.

"This is what the economy has come to," Subaru grumbles, whacking a branch out of his way. "The resources are being sucked dry, the ocean levels are rising, and nature itself rebels against the stock market exchange."

"Uh-huh," Emilia says.

Emilia has no idea what Subaru's talking about. Subaru has no idea what he's talking about either. Both their comprehension skills have been sucked away by their search for a flower.

With misty eyes and a background soundtrack of Subaru saying pessimistic socioeconomic nonsense, Emilia recalls her passion at the start of this quest. When Emilia had realized that flowers would be harder to find than she'd thought, she'd been delighted. Finally, she'd found something that would keep Subaru distracted for an extended period of time.

But! Not! One! Flower! Could! Be! Found!

"—suppression of the working class!" Subaru mutters.

"Uh-huh," Emilia drones.

"Unionizing placates the masses like a beast fed tranquilizers," Subaru continues.

"Uh-huh," Emilia drones.

"To achieve true change, one must not be swayed by meager attempts at compromise," Subaru declares.

"Bzzzzhhhhhhh," Emilia drones.

"Wow, Emilia, I didn't know you cared so much," Subaru comments in surprise.

Emilia has gone still. "That wasn't me," she says.

"What?" Subaru looks around.

"There," Emilia says. She lifts one trembling hand. "Do you see it?"

Subaru gasps. He does see it.

There, in a beam of golden-dappled forest light: a flower.

It's an alright flower, all things considered. It's small and whiteish, and a little bit bent. It's okay. It's the best flower Emilia and Subaru have ever seen.

Subaru starts forward.

"Wait," Emilia says. She grasps his shirt.

Subaru gives it another look. And—

There's a bee.

It's sitting on the flower.

It's staring them down.

This is the only flower in this forest, and it wants the flower too.

Subaru looks at the bee. The bee looks at Subaru. Subaru is shaking in fear.

Emilia turns Subaru to face her. "You can do this!" she whisper-shouts to him. "You're Natsuki Subaru! You've defeated things thought unbeatable! You've overcome challenges beyond most people's imagination! You've got this, Subaru!"

Fire fills her eyes. She doesn't normally care about flowers, but she's put so much work into getting this flower that she wants this one—desperately. Also, she wants Subaru to feel better about himself or something.

Subaru picks up on the stronger of the two motivations. He nods. "I would do anything for you," he whispers to her.

He faces the bee. His childhood trauma flashes in his head, and his earlier failure, and he steels himself. His hands curl into fists; he slides one foot forward on the leafy forest floor. He takes a deep breath.

The bee twitches a leg in Subaru's general direction.

Subaru immediately flees.

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Looking over the room, Anastasia can't be happier with the efforts done to commemorate Subaru's birthday. It's such a happy occasion, one of joy and compassion for a great hero's—

"It's amazin' cuz 'o me!"

Ana glares with pure concentrated annoyance towards one tiger boy, who is currently shouting at Petra and Meili.

"I'LL MAKE CAP'N'S BIRTHDAY AMAZIN'! JUS' YA WAIT!" Garfiel shouts at the top of his lungs, bringing his fists together. "Mine amazin' self's gonna blow 'em outta the water as Cap'n says!"

"Wouldn't it be better if you stop talking about doing it and just help us, Onii-san?" Meili smiles exasperatedly as she ties another braid where the room is missing some color. "I mean… You have a lotta balloons that need air over there."

"... Oi, don't go 'bout makin' me look weak, ya hear! I can do dis easy!"

"Suuuuure." Meili looks unconvinced as the tiger warrior shuffled above the pile of discarded rubber.

"Garfiel-san is scared of balloons… You think we should help him, Anastasia-sama?" Petra steps to the candidate overseeing their work with a worried look. "I don't think he'll do much good…"

"It's alright, Petra-chan." Anastasia brings a hand to pat the little maid's head. "He's much more useful occupied than helpin' us anyway."

Looking amazed by that reply, Petra nods and continues wrapping colorful braids all over the giant hall.

"Besides," Anastasia says to herself, replacing her annoyed expression with a grin, "I've gotta much better worker to make up for Garf-kun's ego~."

Saying that, she looks onto the second half of the hall. Petra glances at her silently. She can remember so clearly the events of a moment ago…

"I wanted everythin' to be perfect for Natsuki-kun. It's my duty as the overseer of this part of Emilia-sama's plans… I paid good money for these balloons!" Anastasia grits her teeth as she sees what's been done to the room in an hour of work. It has not been good. "So tell me—how did you wrap the streams outside the windows and not inside?! Why did you even put them outside?!"

Garfiel pointed at the triplets which were pointing at him in turn.

"He said we couldn't put up decorations better than him!" Mimi stuck out her tongue at the tiger boy.

"You know how Mimi gets when she's challenged, boss…" Tivey sighs and tries to pull his sister away with help from Hetaro.

"HUH?! YA LISTEN TO MINE AMAZIN' SELFS YA SPOILED BRAT—"

"No, Garfiel-san! Stay away from them and face Anastasia-sama with respect! She's working really hard to make this a super happy birthday party for Subaru!" Petra glares heatedly at the blonde boy, making him look down in shame.

Anastasia pats Petra's head in gratitude.

Back to the present. Petra is very proud that she got close to one of the other candidates, especially one so charismatic as Anastasia Hoshin. The little maid was a little infatuated with the origin story of the merchant company head from the western lands. She'd love to get more details about how Anastasia brought up her own network and associations that created her trading company with. Also, Anastasia was super smart, and nice, and funny, and pretty.

Petra had already presented the most perfect present for Anastasia. If the candidate wanted a better decorator, then why not bring her the best knight in their country to help them? Petra had intelligently noticed that he was out of place in the kitchen, so she called him here to help with the flyers and streamers.

"I hope he's done a good job… Julius-sama won't stop talking about how good at decorations he is…" Petra finishes a braid and stands up to sneak a look where her new recruit was working.

She gets out of breath immediately upon seeing the entire other half of the hall—the section Reinhard has been working on while she was messing around with Garfiel and Meili.

"No way…" Petra hears Garfiel croak in defeat. He is surely seeing what she and Anastasia are seeing as well.

Even Meili is affected. "He's so much better than your 'amazing self' at this…" she jeers. "Must be embarrassing, Onii-san!"

The contrast is despicably terrifying. Reinhard's decorations are a masterpiece of interior design.

Anastasia almost sheds a tear at the perfection of the room—or, at least, half of it.

"This… This…"

Petra is shocked and delighted. Not only is this going to make Subaru happy, but it's also shocked Anastasia to the point that it made the smooth lady stutter! Reinhard-sama really is amazing!

"I don't know what to tell you, Hoshin-sama… I apologize for the sloppy work. It's my first time," Reinhard says.

The children in the room stare at him with equal shock. Ram, who was watching him do all the work, narrows her eyes.

"Reinhard…" Anastasia says. "Can ya kneel for me?"

"Pardon?"

The Sword Saint faces the western candidate with something akin to bafflement at her forwardness. Anastasia gives him the most serious and imposing expression she has ever shown anyone in the room.

"Kneel in front o' me real quick."

Reinhard frowns. "Hoshin-sama, I already gave my sword to a master. Though you're lovely and—"

"What're ya on about? I jus' wanna give ya a hug without having ya tower over lil' ol' me." Anastasia chuckles at the notion and moves forward to wrap her short arms around the mountain of a man.

Petra and Ram exchanged glances at the beautiful moment. The expression on Reinhard's face was more than emotion-inducing, it was pure art. Perfection.

The knight looks like the stars from above have answered his thirst with a drink of wine. His trouble and need to be validated finally came to a close. He is flooded with relief and happiness as he let the western candidate hold on to him; he fights back tears.

"She looks like a vegetable near that guy," Meili says.

Petra immediately claps her hand over her mouth. Oh no. It's accurate. The height difference is that big. Petra struggles to contain her laughter.

"Yer righ', Assassin girly… That lady is tiny…" Garfiel laughs bombastically. Meili relaxes on one of the chairs with a sly smirk aimed at Anastasia.

Unfortunately for her, Tivey catches wind of her joke. "I don't condone any disrespect to our boss, ya hear?!" He warns while fixing his monocle. He must uphold the standards, even if his sister is laughing loudly at Meili's words and his brother is too occupied working overtime to waste any second admiring Reinhard's work. And even if Tivey would've bet his glass that Hetaro would laugh with Mimi as well if he weren't working so hard.

Anastasia has whores all over the team, and Tivey is willing to rat out his own family if it meant he could be promoted in the food chain. Such is the life of monocle-wearing bastards like him.

But luckily, only Ram, Anastasia herself, and Reinhard can't hear the commotion in the back.

"Ya poor poor boy, Reinhard… Don't ever let the world talk down t' ya. Ya gave yer best play and brought me the perfect results!"

The knight almost chokes at the heartfelt words from the candidate. It was a little embarrassing for him (and if you ask Ram, everyone else involved in this situation too) that there were tears in the corners of his eyes after hearing her say that to him; he'd lost the battle with his tears.

"...I appreciate the kind words, Anastasia-sama," he whispers.

"I'm glad ya dropped that 'Hoshin-sama' one. It was gettin' on my nerves~." Anastasia teases him, making the happy and emotional man chuckle.

Slowly, they pull away from each other. Anastasia takes his hand in hers to raise it in the air.

"Ya're officially my champion of decoration! Felt-chan can share ya if she wished, but I wouldn't lose this talent for any price… This is masterful!"

"I cannot tell you how much of an honor this demand of yours is… It has really made my day, Anastasia-sama." Reinhard nods and stares at his decorations with a proud smile. "It's been… rough… getting to understand where I can help best…"

"But now, ya are here. Showing yerself a talent no person across the four kingdoms can compare with."

"Funny enough, I always hated being the best at something… But if it made you all happy…" Reinhard turns from the ground to Anastasia. His smile is a little unsure but still very much brighter than it has ever been today. "I'd like to be the best at this…"

After the honest confession and the emotional overflow of happiness, Anastasia can only realize that his words are from the heart. She recognizes that he has needed this moment for a long time. And the merchant queen thought not to take advantage of him like she usually would have, but she felt compelled to support this genius with her everythin—

"Ah. Why is there an off color in yer braids here?" Tivey points to one of the decorations with a suspicious stare, earning the attention of everyone in the room. Including Anastasia.

As soon as a mistake is called out in the decorations, the hand lifting Reinhard's drops and Anastasia moves toward her mercenary triplets with a cold expression.

There it is: a small blue braid in a spot where a red one should've been placed. It's a small mistake, but a terrible one; if it isn't indicative of poor design taste, it shows that Reinhard wasn't paying much attention to what he was doing.

"Reinhard. No. Sword Saint-sama."

The knight flinches at the cold and overly formal tone in the western lady's voice. It is clear that Anastasia has lost all attachment to the earlier emotional atmosphere, instead replacing it with a serious, colder one.

"Y-Yes, Anastasia-sama?" Reinhard pleads inwardly that his mistake wouldn't bring his newly acquired friendship with her to an end.

Surely his one mistake doesn't mean he was to be replaced and thrown away? Right?

"I'm a true believer in the efforts of people. It's the backbone of every economic structure in our world." Anastasia turns to him, her lips thin and eyes no longer having that warmth she covered him with passion.

Reinhard feels useless. Exposed. Worthless.

"My economy doesn't have time for such mistakes and con men like ya. Kindly, leave the rest to us."

Reinhard looks like he was about to shed tears of a different kind than before. He wants to prove her wrong, to show Anastasia that she can take him back into her economic structure and he wouldn't disappoint again.

But as he is shunned, the triplets along with Mimi and Petra begin to quietly change his decorations to a more fitting look. It's too late for him.

Anastasia does not look at him a second time. Instead, she starts pointing and barking orders for Garfiel and a miserable-looking Petra.

In his anguish and heartbreak, Reinhard is pulled by Ram off in a different direction.

"Priscilla-sama said she needed help in the dressing courters. Your final lesson begins there," Ram says mysteriously. Reinhard doesn't respond to her or question her words. He just follows her as she pulls on his arm, like a hollowed-out shell of a man.

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Emilia plucks a blade of grass and strips it, slowly. She's thinking.

Subaru sits perched on a stump, staring out at a slow-moving river. The water burbles up in clear soft gushes over rocks; it pools in shallower beds of stones. It's a peaceful scene. It accents nicely the tragic hang of Subaru's head. Above him, appropriately, a vulture circles against the cloudy sky. But Subaru cannot appreciate the thematic relevance of his surroundings—he's too busy wishing that lightning would strike him down and send him back in time so that he can actually look cool in front of Emilia instead of looking like a wimp.

Actually, he's not really wishing that. He doesn't genuinely want to Return By Death right now. But—maybe he does? Subaru is not in the mood of considering his emotions deeply; instead, he is in the mood for being moody. And be moody he does.

Emilia isn't sure what to do. She can tell that Subaru is being moody. She feels perhaps that this is her fault. It was her, after all, who told Subaru to fight the bees in the first place. It was she who told Subaru to find a flower. It was she who told Subaru to fight the bee for a flower.

She sits in the shadow of a tree and chastises herself. Emilia should've known better! She shouldn't have gotten caught up in her own desire for a flower! Emilia has hurt Subaru because of her foolishness.

But fortunately, Emilia does not fall fully into self-recrimination. This is solely because her environment is not fitting for it. The tree above her indeed encourages solemn reflection instead of despair, and the golden light falls in sparks across the grass in a way that invokes, although Emilia does not know it, lightbulbs.

And thus Emilia has a lightbulb moment.

Emilia shouldn't be focusing on herself! She should be focusing on Subaru!

But how can she make Subaru feel better?

What does Subaru like?

Again Emilia has a lightbulb moment. She knows exactly what to do. She gathers herself, then rises to her feet.

Subaru does not look up at her approach. She pauses for a moment, taking him in; he looks so melancholic. This is more than a simple failure to fight a bee.

Again Emilia feels a stab of guilt. Subaru shouldn't look like this on his birthday—shouldn't look like this at all.

Emilia sits on the stump next to Subaru. He listlessly scoots over. Emilia gives him a hug.

There's a moment where he's stiff in her arms, and then he melts into it. His head tucks under her chin. His arms wrap around her.

They stay like that for a while.

It's peaceful. The river babbles, the tree waves, and across the bank, birds flit through the forest. Emilia takes deep breaths, content. Subaru is caught in the odd position of feeling very relaxed and also exploding in romantic panic.

The sun lowers in the sky.

Subaru is halfway to following asleep when someone screams. He blinks and opens his eyes fully. He tilts his head to make eye contact with Emilia.

Emilia stares back at him.

Simultaneously, they both think to themselves, I don't want to deal with that shit. This is the third occasion Emilia has cursed, even internally; it will go entirely unremarked on, because, having had that thought, both Emilia and Subaru close their eyes and go back to relaxing.

Subaru and Emilia stay there until Emilia decides that it's time to go check on the surprise party. When they leave they hold each other's hands.

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Being the strongest means a lot for a boy like Garfiel. He had no friends in the Sanctuary except for the Reyuzu clones. He didn't need any friends. All he needed was his belief in his amazing self and his books and the strength to achieve the impossible shall follow. He didn't need friends.

But then Garfiel met his captain—his hero and best friend. Dare he say, his brother.

Garfiel wants to help make this day as special as he can. And he knows that wherever he was lacking, someone else would make up for it so he can focus on another area.

Garfiel thought he would have friends in such a task. Seeing as his captain is quite popular with everyone in the mansion right now (especially women) it would've been easy to gain new comrades in arms, right?

Wrong.

Super duper fucking wrong.

Because, by the Od, if this is what it means to have friends in your hour of need, Garfiel did not miss anything special in his fourteen years of isolation.

"Garfiel-san! I see another out-of-place stripe towards the left! Not that left, Meili's left!"

"Tehehehe~ I may have missed up with the ones on the right… Go fix them Onii-san!"

Garfiel's blood vessels are pulsing as he goes to finish what Petra and Meili pointed out. Anastasia's change in plans caused a lot of details in the decorations of the room to look out of place. As the tallest and most agile one there, the task of changing higher directions at the whims of Petra and Meili has fallen to Garfiel.

Needless to say, Garfiel is at the finish line of his patience and wits.

But Garifle is strong. He's powerful. He's focusing on unwrapping a certain set of mismatched colored stripes. But then he hears the faint, far away scream of a woman.

He looks out of the window and into the deep forests surrounding the estate. The woman had sounded scared, haunted. Garfiel's hero senses demand a rescue! Especially for someone who seems very weak and fragile!

More questions fill his head about the woman. Is she alone? Did she die after the scream or not? Does he have a chance to look for her throughout the terrain of thick trees?

As Garfiel continues to stare at the window, pondering if it would be worth it to jump from the second floor of the mansion… a set of lips appears beside his ear.

And their whisper will forever chill his spine.

"If ya don't wanna scream like her… Ya better start workin'."

"..." Garfiel immediately jumps towards the next spot Meili points at. He doesn't spare a second glance at the forest nor a thought for the helpless damsel outside the mansion.

Who cares about other people anyway? Anastasia's system has no use for such things. And Garfield is a very big supporter of Anastasia now. He'd never cross her. Never!

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The source of the screams across the forest is currently running away from a horde of terrible beings that chased him with more malice than anything he'd ever faced down before. (This is, of course, an assessment made with the knowledge that Otto has been kidnapped by the Witch Cult once.)

"WHY DON'T YOU LISTEN TO ME?! WHY DIDN'T EMILIA-SAN LET ME KEEP MY CARRIAGE INTACT?! AAAAAHHHH PLEASE DON'T HURT ME I BEG YOU!" The minister of Interior affairs does not display the bravery nor the regality of his title as he runs. His clothing is tattered and his cheeks are smeared with dirt.

What is he running from?

A very angry, murderous swarm of bees that are looking to kill their first human tonight.

Otto would've done his best to talk the angry swarm to a standstill using his divine protection. Except for one small little obstacle—

"I'M SORRY THAT EMILIA-SAMA FROZE YOU! I REALLY REALLY REALLY AAAAAAAAM!" Otto is outright crying as he runs from the horde. He runs like the wind dragon that left him for dead. He runs like Subaru trying to find a stupid flower for Emilia. He runs like—

"PLEASE LEEEAVE ME ALOONE!"

"WHY ARE YA SCREAMING, YA DUMBASS?!"

Otto trips and falls to the dirt road.

"Is he ok, I wonder?" a distant voice asks. Otto's exhausted body starts falling into the darkness as the other voice that screamed at him replies.

"Would ya help me get this buffoon back into the cart without wastin' any more time with yer useless wonderin'?!"

Otto groans miserably before falling asleep.

Sometime later:-

It is horrible. The pain in Otto's head bangs like a mallet against a timpani drum, except that timpani is his brain. The blood circulating across his arms and legs feels like a sludgy mess instead of normal blood.

Otto parts sorrowfully from the darkness by opening his eyes.

"I'm in a carriage? Huh?!" The ex-merchant immediately sits up, looking around the small cart he'd found himself in. It has modest seats and windows. "Why am I here? What happened to those bees?"

While asking himself those questions, Otto sees that the door to the vehicle isn't locked. As nobody is around to explain things to him, the disheveled merchant heads for the door. Of course, he listens carefully for any distinctive buzzing sounds before he makes his move.

He's safe; he's in a back alley somewhere, free of bees or any insects beyond flies. Otto steps out and sighs to himself. He stretches his pained limbs from top to bottom. "ARRRGGGHHHH! That long escape took a lot of strength from my muscles…"

He looks back to the cart, recognizing it as one of royal designation due to the golden decoration all over the wood, as well as the expensive species of the dragon that pulled it.

"Hello there." Otto waves to the scaly beast and is promptly ignored. "That's a bit rude…" Otto comments. "I guess I don't have to ask you who saved me now. It must've been someone from the party in the mansion."

It made sense. No one would leave their carriage unlocked with a random stranger inside of it. Especially not a stranger in his condition. Otto takes a moment to lament his dirty and tattered clothes, noticing the mud and grime smeared all over his coat from his fall.

"Man… I was supposed to bring over supplies for Crusch Karsten-sama's cakes… Ram-senpai will be cross with me!" The boy holds his head in his hands. For a moment he considers acting with dignity, but then he decides that he's lost it all; he falls to the ground and curls up into the fetal position.

"What am I to do now… I don't have any money left!" Otto cries to himself. While he cries he notices that he's in Costule city, which was where he was supposed to go. But Otto's lost everything in the crash that Emilia forced on him a few hours before, so his mission might be an utter failure. Now all he has in the city is the clothes on his back, and a fatigued body to boot.

But then Otto hears a sudden noise that makes him look up.

"E~~very body wantsssss something but doesn't know the true value of it until they loooooose…"

"Huh?"

A strange man slurs on his words as he dances down the alley where the carriage is parked. Otto scrambles to his feet.

"E~~very body wantssss something, but doesn't know the price of it until they looooose…"

"Are you okay, mister?" Otto squints. The man is stumbling, not dancing. He's also heavily garbling his words to the point that Otto can barely understand them—which is impressive, because Otto is used to hanging around drunk people. "Do you need help?"

"..." The man stops listing around. He leans toward Otto. Otto is mildly concerned that he will overbalance.

"Do you want something?" Otto feels compelled to ask even though he's kind of creeped out.

"... Plaaaaay a game…"

"Huh?" Otto forces out as the man stepped in front of him. He can now see a happy smile on the person's face, and normal looking eyes—not at all what he expected after observing the man's strange behaviour.

"I'd like you to play a gaaaame… Just for me… Just for you~... A game that will make our dreams come trueeeeee~"

"... Th—Thank you… but no." Otto steps back as the man steps closer. Backwards and forwards until the ex-merchant's back hit the sturdy cart.

He is now inches away from the eccentric man with jet-black hair. Otto notes the little detail since black hair is a very rare attribute, and this could help identify this man if he ends up hurting anyone. Spirits know that this guy isn't right in the head, nor is his frozen smile endearing or comforting to look at.

Otto can admit it! He's already given up his dignity! He's terrified of this person's odd antics and wants to be anywhere but here!

"I'll go away if you play my game…"

That's it. Otto opens his eyes to find that the man has given him his personal space back.

"Play a game… Plaaaaaay a game… Please play a game…" The man's voice lilts like a child's.

"Uhhh," Otto stalls.

"I'll give you something reeeeeally cool," the man wheedles.

Otto blinks. His mind kicks into high gear. Obviously, the man could be lying, or his definition of really cool could be awful, but—Otto looks down at himself. He's still smeared in mud and missing everything, including his money. Otto needs to buy a gift for Subaru, and what reputable business owner would even let Otto browse their store?

The scales shift back and forth in Otto's mind. The man stares at him, puppy-like, if the puppy were on drugs.

"Please?" the man says.

The scales tilt; Otto is a pushover. "Fine," he says.

"Yay!" Swiftly, a deck of cards is pushed into Otto's hands. "We play the Canary game! Loser has to give something preeciooous to the winnerrrrrr!"

"Canary? That's an advanced level though!" Otto is immediately turned off by the man's bold attitude. And Otto doesn't want to give up anything precious! Plus, Canary is complicated! "I'd rather have played Shatranj…"

"Don't have a board, unfortunatelyyyyyyy!" the man yells.

"I'm not sure I—" Otto starts to say.

"Take it take it take it," the man bellows.

Otto winces and takes the deck.

"Hehehehehe!"

The man has obviously gotten more confident as soon as Otto agreed to play. He's trying to fleece Otto; it's an obvious trick.

Luckily, Otto is better at fleecing people than this stranger. No, wait. Too bad this stranger didn't know how good Otto was at Canary. Yeah, that's right.

The stranger deals.

Otto eyes his cards. He's got two smiley faces, five caterpillars, and a broomstick; it's a solid hand.

The man says, "I'll go first."

He plays a card. A blue fern—it's a stupid opening hand. Too stupid. Otto plays it safe and puts down one of his caterpillars.

"Ooh, strike," says the man, throwing down a pair of flaming horses.

Otto nods. "Ah, but I've got a field goal." He puts down one of his smiley faces.

The man rears back. "Straight flush," he declares, putting down a shotgun.

Otto winces and plays three more caterpillars.

The man grins, confident. "Check," he declares. He slaps down a caterpillar of his own.

Otto nods slowly and plays his broomstick. "I play the Hairless Dog," he says.

The man is forced on the defensive. He puts down one clownfish, then another. "Cowboy's duel," he hisses.

But they're in the endgame now! Otto goes all-out. He puts down his final smiley-face. "Uno!"

The man draws back. He has one card left. It's the final round. "Tweet tweet," he says victoriously, playing a canary.

Otto stares at the canary for a few moments. It's a killer move; in any other game, it'd be unbeatable. But Otto has a final trick up his sleeve. He plays his last caterpillar.

"No!" the man gasps in horror.

"That's right!" Otto nods proudly. "With this fifth caterpillar, all caterpillars on the playing field gain the poison attribute. This defeats your canary. Face it: You've lost."

The man writhes and claws at his face. "How," he rasps. "How could I?"

Otto is smirking wide. He opens his mouth to gloat, then remembers that he's covered in mud and really shouldn't be bragging about anything in this situation. "You said you had something precious for me?" he asks instead.

The man scowls. "Yes." Now that the game's up, he's lost his weird drawl. When he walks over to a doorway in the alley it's with an entirely normal gait. "Here."

He shoves something into Otto's hands.

Otto looks down at it. It's… a stick?

A stick with something wide on the end? It looks like a spatula. Otto stares at it. "What's this?"

The man puffs up. "It's a precious relic from a faraway land! It's hard to find and is a mighty weapon! You should be paying me millions for that, but because you defeated me… barely… in the game, you can have it for free!" He eyes Otto. "Of course, if you'd like something better, then we can play again."

"Ahaha no thanks this is good," Otto says in a rush.

"Are you su~~~~ure?" the man asks, leaning forward. "Are you absolutely ceeeer—"

"GET AWAY FROM HIM," shouts a little girl, kicking the man in the face.

"AHHH OKAY," the man cries. He turns tail and bolts.

Felt draws herself up and dusts off her hands. "Heh," she says. "Bitch." She turns to Otto, who's pressed up against the carriage with his hands up. "Hey, what're ya doin'?"

"Felt-sama," Otto gasps. Beatrice rounds the corner, and suddenly everything makes sense! Felt and Beatrice must've been the ones who picked Otto up and brought him to the village! But… "What are you two doing here?"

"Handing out invitations, I suppose," Beatrice says with a sniff. "Unfortunately, we only had ten to hand out."

"Yeah, it's tragic," Felt agrees shamelessly. "Anyway, we got 'em all handed out, so we gotta go back now! The sun's almost settin'!"

Otto squeaks. "What?! Really?!"

"Yeah…" Felt gives Otto a suspicious look. "Hey, did ya get yer gift for Big Bro?"

Otto quails. He should probably say no, right?! The ancient relic is probably useless—maybe they still have enough time to get a better gift! And Felt and Beatrice will make Otto look less suspicious, just like they make Subaru look less suspicious!

"It doesn't matter, in fact," Beatrice says. "It's time to go."

Otto looks sadly down at the useless relic in his hands. "I got this," he says.

Felt looks at it, then laughs in his face. "Get back on the carriage, ya idiot," she says. "You're gonna be the one drivin'. Let's go, Beatrice!"

"Betty is surrounded by incompetent," Beatrice observes cuttingly. She whirls away and climbs into the carriage. Otto throws the gift in back there with her and skulks over to the driver's seat of the carriage. He clicks for the ground dragon to get going, and this time it doesn't ignore him, which almost makes Otto feel better. But not fully.

Indeed, Otto is so depressed that, as the ground dragon trundles out of the city and into the woods, he doesn't see a little bee buzz over and land on the back of the carriage.

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"Al. Bring me that dress or I shall have your head under mine heel." Priscilla arrogantly points towards the dress she wants.

Her servant-knight's steps hasten. He's practically tripping over himself as he flails to the dress rack. "Princess, calm down! What's gotten into ya all of a sudden?!"

"I shall not be over shown by a pathetic clown and his dogs! You serve a goddess and a divine being as mineself deserves the best!" Priscilla glares at the mirror beside her with murderous intent.

"I get that, BUT HIS COSTUMES AREN'T EVEN THAT GOOD!" Al groans in despair as he pulls the heavy dress off its hanger. He's been doing this for five hours. His arms hurt SO MUCH.

"Oh~? I see…" Al and Priscilla look behind them to find a leaning figure against the doorframe. Al shakes in fear and loathing: it's the source of his misery, standing right there.

"It seems Barielle-sama hasn't learned that no one can be more fabulous than m~~eee~~."

Prixcilla's face sets; the determination she was projecting becomes even more intense. "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO US?! DON'T YOU KNOW THAT SHE'LL NEVER STOP ABUSING ME TO GET BACK AT YOU?!" Al cries in horror.

Priscilla turns away from the clown lord and brings her fan to her lips, covering them.

"Keep your distance, disgusting mongrel. I would not even touch an article of clothing that pleases you with mine shoe heels, much less compete with such absurdity!"

Roswaal simply lets out a laugh, stepping inside the dressing room. The closet space is too small for three people.

"Don't think so d~aaaa~~~ngerously of me, Barielle-sama~," he says. "I merely desire your respect."

"You can have it… By licking these heels of mine clean." Priscilla spits at the man with unmitigated disgust. It's an impressive amount of saliva.

The lord of the mansion holds a hand to his multi-colored eyes and rubs his temple. The jaded, fake grin remains plastered on his face; it'd make even a statue jealous. "Then I'll just have to win this war between us by any means necessary," he comments.

His voice is dangerous, and his smile widens impossibly. Al has to whimper. This madman is going to the depths of hell to beat Priscilla's pride and arrogance—an impossible task that not even old gods could hope to accomplish, much less this make-up-wearing lord!

As predicted, Priscilla cements the futility of Roswaal's objective with a scathing look of disgust. "Bring yourself mercy by groveling for forgiveness," she tells him. "Mineself does not have the time for your games."

"I'm afraid that Priscilla-sama's tastes have been lowered significantly." Ram appears behind her master with a smug smirk aimed for the pair in the dresser. "Looking at Priscilla-sama's knight, I can see the dress she's chosen… It's cute."

Ack! Al rears back. A sudden sneak attack!

But Priscilla is not phased. She gives the maid a once over, snorting with discontent. "Such a good dog you've brought with you into mineself's personal space," she drawls to Roswaal. "You should have her collared, lest she gets lost and is put down."

Al can't hold his tongue! "Princess, please don't go around making such threats!" Al hitches up the dress he's holding like it'll protect him from the three vicious lions surrounding him on all sides.

"There's no n~eee~d for anyone to take those words seriously, Al-kun."

"Don't call me that, dude, I hate how creepy ya sound," Al interrupts while shuddering in disgust, but the lord continues undeterred.

"I dem~aaa~nd to stop the competition here, Barielle-sama, with one final dressing between me and you."

"You guys went over fifty-five dresses and suits! Have some sympathy for the people dying of hunger right now!" Al shouts and bangs his one good fist on his helmet. This entire situation is waning on the knight's sanity more than any thousands of deaths from Priscilla could ever hope to. "I wanna go home~."

Ignoring him, Ram nods her head in support. "This is a brilliant plan from you, Roswaal-sama. Truly impressive."

Emboldened by his maid's hype, Roswaal puffs out his chest and faces Priscilla with a confident grin.

But the lady in red simply bellows terrible laughter. It was harrowingly belittling of the magi's respectable challenge.

"You two are but little children challenging the sun! Hahahahahahahaha~!"

Roswaal grins as the self-proclaimed goddess of the world smiles at him with pity.

"Thou shall receive your loss then, clown."

Al is on his knees, begging for this to end.

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A few minutes afterward, Priscilla and Roswaal come out of their respective dressing areas. For a moment all is silent as the two predators size each other up. The judge admires them carefully, knowing that her life in on the line. The verdict is announced, and then:

"Hahaha!" Roswaal explodes in the smuggest, dirtiest, bastardly laugh ever known to man.

"You shall pay for this farce with your life!"

Unsurprisingly, Priscilla quickly summons her flames and legendary sword to evaporate the blood of Frederica Boume—Frederica, the unfortunate elder maid of the household and the self-assigned judge of this impromptu contest between the baroness and the mighty Lord.

"I'm sorry, Barielle-sama, but I assure you there is no lie from my judgment. Roswaal-sama's suit is simply… the best." Frederica bows profusely to the enraged princess. "It's the most perfect design that I've seen in my life… I don't think anything you've picked from the Mathers closets would've ever beaten this…"

Roswaal's head was about as high as the sky, taking this win with no small amount of pride and cockiness. He turns to the crimson baroness with glee in his eyes.

Priscilla favores him with record-breaking wrath-filled evil eyes. Her dress is a beautiful scarlet; it was not enough.

But with one stroke of fate, to everyone's surprise, Roswaal's clothes began to shrink. The shirt and pants collapsed against the lord's hard-hitting muscles and tore themselves to shreds, falling at his feet.

Shult, a little helper following Priscilla around, had fallen face-first on the ground. Everyone had been ignoring him because he wasn't as important as Roswaal and Priscilla. But as he fell he dropped a small amount of water on the carpet beside the contestant, and an even smaller amount of that small water hit Roswaal's clothes.

The material is so faulty that, upon encountering water, the entire suit shrinks out of existence.

"This is some—" Standing there, half naked and exposed, Roswaal exercises great self-restraint in only finishing his sentence in his mind. Had he spoken it aloud, he would've instantly murdered everyone around him; his cursing was that vicious. Roswaal turns on heel and walks stiltedly away.

Even though this definitely cements her win, Priscilla does not gloat about her victory or humiliate her enemies. Instead, she lets the lord walk away with his dignity in shreds.

"I assume that Priscilla-sama is the winner based on that?" Ram sighs to Frederica, to which the blonde nods and holds a giggle. "Congratulate your mistress, Al-sama. It's a stroke of luck that should make you pray."

With that, Ram walks out of the dressing room after her salty master. Frederica leaves in tow, as she has better things to do than sit in a dressing room.

Al looks at his beautiful master with astonishment clear in his body language. "H-How… Did you know that would happen, princess?!"

Priscilla finally lets the mask slip as she laughs to her heart's content.

"Have you forgotten, Alderbaran?" She smiles bewitchingly toward the knight. The dimming sunshine from the setting sun clashes with the windows of the room and blows a thousand lines of shadows behind Priscilla; she is a glowing orange goddess, or devil.

"This world works in mine favor," she tells Al sweetly. "'Tis but a fact that I was going to win, no matter who was facing me. Especially a clown."

Al bows his head to her feet then and there. Priscilla just sighs and walks away, bored already.

Ram, on the other hand, is decidedly not bored. She walks up to where a now-dressed Roswaal and a dejected Reinhard are talking to each other. Ram has a few guesses as to what the subject of the conversation was.

She steps closer until she can hear them. She's obviously come at the end of the conversation, as her master is regally warning Reinhard about the economy for some reason.

"And if I ever find such clothing materials wasted on your pathetic talents again, I swear to the Od I shall not hesitate to bring forth a shitstorm that will bury your father in shame and misery. Do you understand you motherfu— Oh why hello there, R~~aaa~~m-chan!"

"Roswaal-sama," Ram greets. She has heard nothing wrong with what Roswaal was just saying. "I'm sure Reinhard-sama has apologized profusely for failing you in such a shameful way."

"He shouldn't have to worry about that anym~~ooo~~re. The fight is over because of such a thing as luck." The lord sighs and steps away from the knight, preferring to ruffle his blue hair rather than speak about the incident.

"Looks like using the Divine Protection for clothing was not a bad idea to win this fight after all…" Roswaal clicks his teeth and walks away.

Reinhard remains staring at the ground emptily. His own suit designs… failed in the end.

"I told you," says Ram, facing him with a cold look. "You will not please anyone by doing anything."

"But… What else must I do to help?" Reinhard croaks out. He looks like a kicked dog, and not at all the most powerful hero of their country.

He has learned his lesson, and learned it well, but Ram plays it cool; she simply huffs in response. "Hmph! Ram will take pity on the Sword Saint-sama just this once."

Reinhard glance toward the maid is hopeful.

"Prepare yourself to memorize Ram's words like a gospel of worship."

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The party is glorious. The table settings are perfect, the decorations are the perfect mix of festive and classy, and everyone's outfits are top-notch. The cake has Emilia salivating. Everyone is lined up at the front of the room, watching Subaru with varying levels of bated expectation.

When Subaru sees it all he smiles so wide that his face hurts. "This is—this is for me?" he asks Emilia. "This is for me?"

Emilia nods with faux solemnity. "Yes," she declares, "it is."

"You organized all of this… for me?" Subaru is awed and delighted in equal measure. He looks to Emilia with rapturous joy.

"Well, everyone helped," Emilia demurred, looking away.

"She's just being modest," Ana calls from the lineup, though miffed as her decorations still are not up to par with the standards she wanted to fulfill. She grins when Subaru looks at her, hiding the disappointment and rage of a thousand worlds. "So? What'd ya think?"

Subaru looks around the room again. His brain kicks back in; he dramatically feigns indecision. "Well," he says, slowly, "it's…"

Simultaneously, everyone leans forward.

"Perfect!" Subaru declares with a thumbs-up.

Cheers erupt, and the party gets started.

It's a whirlwind sort of party—Subaru is passed around the room and talks to everyone there. He gives compliments to Priscilla's dress and Julius' table dressing which are less begrudging than he pretends; he loudly admires the decorations while in earshot of Meili, Petra, Garf, and the cat triplets. Someone shows Subaru some invitations, and Subaru is impressed by their handwriting. Otto relays a terrible story of almost getting attacked by bizarrely frozen bees, which Subaru knows nothing about.

Throughout it all, Emilia comes and goes from his side.

It's the best birthday party Subaru's ever had. It's almost too good to be true.

When it's time to cut the cake, everyone gathers around it. The cake looks so tasty that the cat triplets are all drooling. Subaru is almost drooling himself.

Crusch draws out the knife. "Who would like to cut it?" she asks.

"Mmmbee!" says Otto, trying to swallow the food in his mouth but failing splendidly.

"You?" Crusch frowns at the boy's poor etiquette.

"No!" Otto shouts, pointing frantically. "There's a bee!"

Subaru gasps. There. There it is. There's a bee.

It's a single, lone bee. It's sitting on top of the cake. With a low buzz, it rises from its perch.

It stares straight into Subaru's eyes with its own bee eyes. It is thinking dark thoughts to itself.

This bee is on a quest for vengeance.

Subaru is abruptly entirely certain that this bee is the same bee that he has seen everywhere else. This is one of the bees that Subaru attempted to fistfight; this is the bee that guarded the flower. This is one of the bees that almost attacked Otto.

And this is true.

This bee is on a quest for revenge. This is the bee that hitched a ride on Otto's cart. It has been waiting for attention to turn to the cake, so it can strike with maximum effect. This bee has a nefarious goal in mind and it will stop at nothing to accomplish it; the goal in question is sting Subaru's face.

Subaru, staring down such terrible bloodlust, is paralyzed with fear. Every time he's tried to fight a bee so far, it's gone wrong. From the beginning of his childhood to right now, he has been plagued by bee-fighting failures. Now everyone—everyone!—will be witness to Subaru's bee-related cowardice.

But then Otto shouts, "Subaru! Take this! Maybe it'll help!" and he chucks his gift at Subaru.

Subaru catches it.

Emilia, by his side, sees what the gift is first. Her eyes widen. Horror steals her breath away. She has been studying everything extensively, and with her hard-earned knowledge she knows what that gift is. It's a bizarre relic from a distant land at best and a useless novelty item at worst. Emilia knows that it will not be of any help to Subaru.

And Emilia knows too that Subaru will be embarrassed in front of every single person that he treasures, and she despairs. It will go from his best birthday party to his worst. "Subaru…" Emilia croaks.

"Oh, hey!" Subaru hefts the relic. "A flyswatter!"

He whacks the bee out of the air. It falls on to the ground with a bee wheeze.

"Thanks, Otto!" Subaru says. "I knew I was missing something." He turns to Emilia with a self-deprecating laugh. "I guess the key to fist fighting bees was not using your fists at all," he says.

"Subaru," Emilia breathes. "You—you did it!"

Subaru blinks. "Huh," he says. "Yeah, I did."

He stares at the flyswatter in his hands for a moment. He smiles. He hefts it into the air and the party erupts into cheers.

Emilia cuts the cake.

A few steps away, Ram and Reinhard sit at a table. Their eyes are the fallen bee, which drags itself away from the festivities. Its entire body is buzzing with hatred, loathing, and the desire to come back and fight again.

Ram looks to Reinhard. This is the final test.

Reinhard looks at the bee. He looks at Ram. He looks back at the bee.

Reinhard turns to the cake crowd. "Excuse me," he says, "can I have some cake?"

He is passed some cake.

Reinhard eats cake.

Ram nods to herself. Reinhard has passed the test. She gets some cake too, and together Ram and Reinhard enjoy their lack of any real contribution to the party.

It truly is the perfect party.

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Author notes:

Turacoverdin:

thank yall for reading! this was super fun to write—it was nice to get a re zero fic out, and this one came together neatly. moe really pulled in for the crunch time! major respect and thanks to him for that, and for having the idea to give this to pidgie as a b-day gift—and speaking of, pidgie, i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this! which is a lot!

happy birthday, pidgie :D

Reactionist:

Hello! Gotta say, this was a refreshing break from the usual hard hitters I'm accustomed to try and write. It was fun for a while until I placed a count down on things haha. I knew this may have never came out if it were up to my stability and schedule, this was like, a few months ago ready in outline format. We just needed to write it. Kinda fell off since we both got busy and I couldn't stick to a timeline.

However, a very special occasion presented itself on the 10th of December that made this fic just about right to upload today.

Happiest birthday, big sis. You know who you are. For the longest time since me and Tura planned this fic, you were the prime reason for it. You keep nerding out about our writing and how much you loved Tura's works, I was compelled to try and surprise you in some form, and Tura was more than happy to help me prank your ass. Your birthday came at the perfect moment in both our schedules for that.

Working with Tura has been a blast and I learned from this experience about my writing a bunch. It got me excited to write longer shit though, for some reason that was impossible for me.

Thank you, Tura for giving me the time and platform to your readers. I hope mine are as good to you.

Happy bday :)