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When Felt said the drinking age in this country was 15, he wasn't really that surprised. Germany had a drinking age of 16, after all.
Then he remembered that elves become adults at 100.
They can't have a law that lets toddlers drink, right? There's no way they forgot about the race that lives for centuries, right?
"Hey, that isn't for all races, right?" he asked. According to her, the law was in fact for all races. What. The. Fuck. "You guys let 15 year-old elves drink here? Holy fucking shit." If he were a middle aged man during the 1900's, he would have taken his glasses off and held the bridge of his nose. He couldn't do the glasses bit, but he did hold the bridge of his nose.
"What? What's so different 'bout elves that you gotta change the drinking age for 'em?"
"...Aren't they toddlers at that age?"
Felt stopped walking suddenly. She simply stared off into the distance for a moment. "—Ohhh shit. Right. That's fucked," came the late reaction.
"—I think 'fucked' 's a bit of an understatement, don't you think?"
They arrived at the loothouse an hour later. Felt said the password and Subaru carefully took note. He didn't know if he would need it in the case that Elsa came early. No. He wouldn't need this information, he would get past this loop and get his happy ending. He would make sure of it. "Hey Old Man Rom, d'ya know if elves can drink at 15?" she asked the giant after their banter.
He gave a reaction of shock at her words, though it was for an entirely different reason than the two before him— "Ya' only just realized?!" he drunkenly bellowed. His voice bounced off the walls of the wooden loothouse. He took another sip of his beer. It was ale, of course—only nobles could buy lager. "'s been a thing since they made th' law. Nobles don't like talkin' 'bout elves so they ignored 'em, th' law's stupid like tha'."
When Emilia arrived at the loothouse and Rom mistakenly identified her as an elf, Felt cut in before the half-elf could correct him. "—Ah, sorry 'bout the insignia. Usually I woul'n steal from some'on with brain damage, but um, didn't clock you as an elf. Sorry, lady."
Subaru gasped next to her. "Felt, you can't just say that!"
"Brain damage?!" she exclaimed, offended. "Also, I'm only half!" Felt looked on with fear at that.
"—Real sorry 'bout that, she's just talking about the legal drinking age. We don't mean to assume," Subaru glanced back, "yeah?"
Felt gulped. "Y-yup! Sorry 'bout the trouble Miss Sa—"
"—It's only a passing resemblance!" she interrupted. "Besides, what's this about the drinking age?"
"Well, um," Subaru began confidently, "the legal drinking age is 15 for every race, yeah? Including elves?"
She stared at him. "Well, yes, that is what the law says— ah. I see the issue," Emilia stated, the revelation displayed clearly on her face. "That will certainly be something I will have to correct when I— erm, haha, I mean when Lord Mathers next meets with the House of Lords, of course!"
"Holy shit, you know the Margrave?" Felt said with shock. There was certainly no shortage of shock, on this day. Subaru watched with confusion, because he didn't know what a Margrave was, only being able to assume it was a noble title from the context of the conversation. He still didn't really know what was going on and what Not-Satella was hiding.
"I reeeeeally shouldn't have let that slip, I'm such a dunderhead," she muttered. Subaru was about to retort when he saw a glint of metal behind the half-elf. Thankfully, he was close enough to grab her arm and yank her below the arc of the blade. He held her close to his chest, his soft hand shielding the back of her head.
Emilia blushed furiously.
"Elsa," he hissed with truck-fulls of vitriol.
"—But ignoring this would be the greatest crime of them all," Reinhard finished.
"—Is this some noble thing?" Felt questioned.
Reinhard realized that, in his panic, he forgot to explain the situation to the girl. "This dragon insignia proves that you are the fifth Dragon-Candidate for the throne." When she refused, he unconsciously gripped her arm tighter and told her, "I'm afraid you cannot, not until you show yourself before the Sage Council."
"There's so much politics going on that I can't understand right now," Subaru muttered. He turned to Reinhard, "Hey man, ease up on the grip, you're hurting her!"
He released her arm like he'd been electrocuted. "A-ah, my sincerest apologies, Felt-sama!" He bowed in apology, even though it wasn't necessary. The guilt still compelled him to do so.
She rubbed her arm. "'s fine. I guess I got stuff I wanna do as queen. Like changing the drinking age."
He tilted his head. "...Changing the drinking age?"
"Yeah. Toddlers can drink if they're elves," she responded.
Reinhard looked blankly at her in reminiscence. "Ah, yes. That issue. It's been brought up with the national legislation a handful of times, but nothing has ever been done with it."
"Ya 'spose they'll listen to me as queen, then?" she responded rhetorically.
"...They'll certainly have to, Felt-sama," he replied anyway.
Subaru picked up the club that protected him from Elsa's attack, "Damn, it's pretty impressive that this thing stood up to her—" the club fell apart, the heavier half hitting the floor with a loud, damning noise. Subaru stared at it, and so did everyone else in the former-loothouse. "Aw shit—"
His gut burst open, spraying blood everywhere.