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It had been a beautiful day—sunlight draped lazily across the cobblestones, and the breeze carried the warm scent of baked goods and blooming flowers.
A simple excursion, Roswaal had claimed, meant to “strengthen bonds within the camp.” It was admittedly a bit strange, considering Roswaal’s plans usually came with strings attached. Still, this time the request seemed harmless enough, and so, more out of curiosity than trust, the entire Emilia camp had made their way to the capital.
The mansion had been feeling a little too cramped anyway—Subaru’s words, and the others hadn’t argued. Even Garfiel and Beatrice, one too irritable at the clown, and the other prickly in her own way, had gradually warmed up to the idea.
The capital greeted them with the usual, lively hum. It hadn’t changed much since Subaru last visited, but he wouldn’t complain. The busy streets and noisy reminded him of a home he wouldn’t be able to see again. It soothed his soul, a bit. From the stables, they were simply walking through the market district, where shops colourfully lined each side.
Otto and Garfiel meandered ahead, joking and nudging one another like overgrown kids. Ram, in an uncharacteristically awkward display, was trying—and failing—to discreetly ask Roswaal about his favorite flowers. Emilia was at a dessert stall with Petra, indulging the girl’s sweet tooth with a warm smile.
As for Subaru, he was walking hand in hand with Beatrice, their fingers loosely laced, sharing quiet laughs between bits of conversation, pointing out flocks of birds, or playing I spy —until something in the corner of his eye made him stop. A familiar stall stood just ahead.
“Oh, if it isn’t the broke kid again.”
Kadomon — Mr. Appa Merchant, Save Point Guy, or whatever ridiculous title Subaru had dubbed him this week — greeted him with his usual gruff tone, arms crossed but eyes glinting with recognition.
“You’ve been making a name for yourself, haven’t you?” He smirked at the boy, who had admittedly grown on him. “Heard whispers about you beating the White Whale and even the damned Cult.”
Subaru scratched his cheek with his free hand, flashing a sheepish grin. “W-Well, you know me. Can’t stay out of trouble... or out of your appa cart, apparently. Still the best damn appas I’ve had in both worlds.”
“Both worlds…? Hah! Flattery’s cheap, kid,” Kadomon chuckled, shaking his head. “And it won’t earn you a discount.” He commented, giving him an apple anyway. He had to admit, Subaru had grown on him despite only visiting a few times a month.
“Hmph! Betty’s contractor deserves more than one appa.”
It was exactly because they were distracted, talking about nonsense, that an incident that could have entirely been avoided was set into motion.
Subaru, for some Witch-damned reason, took a step back, when offered a celebratory apple for free. This action would have been fine, comedic, even, if not for the figure walking behind him.
If not for this chance, the figure would have continued walking past, shopping to their heart’s content, but one action - just one, sent them both tumbling into the uneven cobblestone path. Subaru let go of Beatrice - and caught his fall as best as he could, as the two stumbled into a mess of groceries and dirt.
“Agh—crap, sorry! You okay?” Subaru scrambled to his knees and offered a hand to the person he'd collided with.
Up close, the figure looked like the kind of person Subaru’s past self might’ve crossed the street to avoid. Tall and broad-shouldered, with skin of dark green and bronze scales. A jagged scar curved across the right side of his snout, and one horn was chipped halfway down. His clothes were worn, functional, and clearly patched more than once. He took Subaru’s outstretched hand and stood with dignity.
“It’s fine,” the lizardman muttered, brushing himself off. His voice was gravelly, but not hostile. “I’ve taken harder hits from ground dragons.”
Subaru let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, still, my bad. I should have looked where I was going.”
Together they gathered the spilled items—some dried herbs, a bundle of nanabas (Who would think of giving that sort of name to bananas? Subaru wondered), and some papers Subaru couldn’t even read. Subaru helped him pick them up, and apologized once more to the chagrin of the lizardman.
As the nameless figure was walking away, Beatrice turned to Subaru, an indistinguishable emotion lining her eyes.
It should’ve ended there. It could have ended there.
But—
“You shouldn’t have to apologize to that scalie, I suppose,” she muttered, barely a whisper.
And there it was.
Subaru should have known better—should have deflected, laughed it off, changed the subject—but sadly, as he would only later come to understand, some races weren’t held to equal standards to humanity. Not truly.
“Hey.”
A voice cut across the street like a blade, low and dangerous. A bit too intense for Subaru’s liking.
Standing just opposite the appa stall was a broad-shouldered wolf demi-human. He kind of reminded Subaru of Ricardo, in a way, but his smooth skin and sweaty, glistening fur were making it seem like he was glowing beneath the sun’s rays.
“That’s no way to talk to a lizardman,” he growled. His eyes locked on Beatrice, and there was no mistaking the heat in them—anger, not just at the insult, but at what it meant. Fury that burned like the sun he was now reflecting.
And the market air suddenly felt heavier. There was no way he should have heard Beatrice’s whisper. It was almost imperceptible to the human ear. The human ear - Subaru realized.
To the human one. Sadly, it seemed as though all of his luck disappeared as a demi human had been listening in to the conversation, and seemed to have a few choice words to say.
Shoppers slowed. Conversations hushed. The ripple of tension spread outward from the confrontation like oil in water. Even Kadomon, usually unbothered by conflict, stopped talking to a prospective customr and narrowed his gaze.
Subaru stepped forward instinctively, both hands raised in surrender as if he was at fault. “Wait, wait, it wasn’t like that—she didn’t mean—”
Beatrice didn’t budge. Her face was as composed as ever. Cold, almost.
“Betty said what she said, I suppose.”
Subaru turned back to Beatrice, exasperation and shock lining his features. What was she saying right now!?
The wolfman’s lips curled back in a snarl, revealing sharp canines beneath his furred muzzle. He stepped forward once… then twice, until the wolfman was sizing up Beatrice, despite Beako being not even half his size. Just a foot away from her, they stared down at each other.
“You got a lotta nerve, kid,” he growled, ears twitching with restraint barely holding. “Y’think bein’ small lets you speak like that without consequence?”
Subaru tensed. “Look, let’s all calm down—”
Beatrice’s eyes narrowed, but her tone didn’t change. She cut off Subaru, interrupting his attempt to defuse the situation. “Betty is not some kid. And you, presume far too much. Perhaps a flea-bitten dog like you should know his place, I suppose.”
The wolfman’s snout twitched, his hackles rising. “Tch. You think big words and a fancy way of speech give you the right to spit on people like that?”
Beatrice tilted her head slightly, arms still crossed. “People? You equate yourself to one, I suppose?” she asked, mock surprise in her voice. “How quaint. Perhaps Betty was mistaken. You're more delusional than you are mangy.”
Ouch, Even Ram would have felt that. Speaking of Ram, Subaru turned, searching for them in the crowd that was slowly lining up to witness the confrontation firsthand.
There. He could make the figures of his camp amongst the people. Otto winced. Frederica is covering Petra’s ears for her. Garfiel has this look of rage, Emilia is in a state of shock, and Roswaal - he seems vaguely resigned for some reason?
The wolfman stepped forward, claws flexed. “You say that again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
“Are you threatening Betty with violence?” Beatrice’s eyes flared, magic crackling faintly around her like static. “How typical. When logic fails, a beast bares its fangs. You prove Betty’s point for her, I suppose. No wonder despite making up only 13% of the population, you commit -”
That was it - the point of no return, Or at least, it should have been, until unnerving laughter could be heard from the rear end of the crowd.
“Kyahahahah! That’s rich, coming from a spirit who knows nothing of relationships, whatsoever!” The boisterous laughter came from the deep within the crowd that had gathered to witness this epic confrontation.
The crowd parted and lo, and behold, a weird lizardman emerged from within the crowd. Well, lizardman is an apt description at a first glance, but there’s something odd about her.
Her snout was a bit too flat. While there are certain… species of lizard folk with those characteristics, this just goes on a whole other level. She also took the term forked tongue way too seriously as could be seen when she licks her snout.
There was also a distinct smoke coming from her nostrils. Subaru couldn’t tell what was up with that.
“A dragonborn…?” Subaru muttered, remembering the appearance from old RPG games. That was what she was, right? But - he had never heard of dragonborns in Lugunica.
She stepped forward, confident and elegant, ready to challenge the racist spirit who was now unleashed within the capital. The wolf man stepped back, tension and anger being replaced by confusion at the words of this lady.
“I have never met a lizard folk as ugly as you. Perhaps scalie would be too kind for you” Beatrice deadpanned, clearly unimpressed and unintimidated by the appearance of this newcomer.
The dragonborn's eyes lit up, golden and slitted, and her grin stretched unnaturally wide.
“Ugly? Oh, please." The dragonborn rolled her eyes in disbelief.
"If I wanted validation from a pocket-sized talking doll, I’d go rattle one off a noble child’s toy shelf.” She leaned in closer, tongue flicking with exaggerated glee. “At least they know when to keep their mouths shut.”
If looks could kill, Beatrice would have incinerated her ten times over. “Betty didn’t realize the scales came with a comedy routine, I suppose. You must be very proud of yourself, showing up like some failed experiment between a kobold and a concubine.”
“So feisty! I can see why your little boy-toy finds you charming. But tell me —when did spitting venom at the less fortunate become a substitute for actual intelligence? Or are you just naturally inclined to be insufferable, I suppose?”
That was her mistake, Subaru knew. No one insulted Beatrice like that and got away with it, much less steal her catchphrase. “H-hey, Beako… Maybe we sho-“
That was then the Great Spirit of Yin - one who should have been above this entire debacle, exploded.
“The less fortunate? Is that how you see yourself, I suppose?” Beatrice said with a slight smirk, voice dripping condescension. “Betty apologizes. She thought you were just hideous. Considering your skin looks like the aftermath of a failed alchemy experiment, Betty should have probably expected that. This is why lizards shouldn’t have been expected to be reasoned with. If you’re done embarrassing yourself, Betty would prefer to go back to her day without having to smell the intense sulphur leaking off your scales, dry-skin.”
The dragonborn opened her mouth—but nothing came out. No retort. Nothing. And—Subaru could note—was that a hint of wounded pride in her eyes? If eyes were the window to the soul, then hers flickered like a cracked mirror: pride warping into doubt, bravado slipping through fractured reflections of someone who had never lost like this before.
“A new word should suffice for your stupidity, I suppose. I suppose… I suppose? … I know, I suppose!”
“Ka~ shi~ ra~ (I suppose),” Beako let the syllables drawl out longer than necessary, her sharp tone only accompanied by her icy glare. “You’re nothing but a filthy kashira.”
The dragonborn froze, trembling slightly—only for a second.
Then she turned, her form seeming to shrink from shame.
The dejected dragonborn, the only one of her kind in this world, shuffled away, dragging her feet with slumped shoulders. Her once-sinister presence now seemed pitiful, dimmed by humiliation. Her heart suffering the weight of rejection, she had no choice but to admit—perhaps her forked tongue had finally met its match.
“B-but… this lovely lady just thought dragons were cool…” she mumbled, voice cracking into a whisper as she disappeared into the crowd.
As the crowd parts for the defeated dragonborn, her aura of gloom infected the crowd as their cheers supporting her turned to depressed whimpers.
“What was her problem? Poor girl…” Subaru asked himself, before shaking his head and turning back to Beatrice, the menace she was. “Wait - that’s not the problem here! Beatrice, you’re going too far!”
“Subaru is right, Beako…” Emilia finally decided to speak up, holding her hand over her mouth in embarrassment at the verbal beatdown Beatrice just unleashed upon this wonderful world. Even for a confrontation in the Capital, this had gotten far beyond awkward.
She stepped forward, her expression a strange mix of concern and firm kindness.
“Beako, I know you’re upset. But I just think it’s reaaaaally rude to call others that. They didn’t do anything wrong. Subaru even patched things up with the lizardfolk he bumped into!” She smiled, hopeful. “I think it’s a gooooood thing it happened, actually. We all got to talk, and maybe learn something. Isn’t that… nice?”
Beatrice didn’t answer at first.
She slowly turned her head toward Emilia, the look on her face unreadable.
“Only Betty’s contractor may call her that, I suppose,” she said flatly. Her words weren’t fiery. They weren’t loud. But the venom in them was ice-cold.
“Betty does not have the energy today for your half-baked, half-witted, half-elf optimism.”
Emilia blinked, visibly wounded, but still held her ground. “I’m just saying, maybe it’s not about winning arguments. Maybe it’s about understanding others.”
“That’s my EMT,” Subaru said with a grin, trying—desperately—to lighten the mood.
“Of course a mud-blooded knife ear would make excuses for her own people, I suppose.” Beatrice didn’t smile. Her words were razor sharp. “If not tending to your garden, maybe continue catching up on your studies, girl.
“Maybe if your kind had spent less time hiding in the trees and more time taking responsibility for your role in the Great Calamity, this world wouldn’t be the mess it is now, half-devil.”
The words hit like a physical blow. Audible gasps rippled through the crowd. Petra clutched Emilia’s dress in confusion.
“Her people?“
“The nerve of that girl! Just because she’s a half-elf!?”
“Did she just call her a knife-ear!?”
“Have you heard what she’s been saying?”
“Mudblood? What even is that term?”
But Emilia was silent. It was clear who was the victor. Beatrice would’ve walked away victorious—smug, defiant, and unapologetically herself—if Subaru hadn’t stepped in.
“That’s enough, Beatrice.” Subaru, uncharacteristically silent ever since Beatrice started her remarks on Emilia, and elves. His tone is devoid of his usual playfulness - of the usual affection he would give Beatrice.
For a moment, there was a flicker—just a flicker—of hesitation in her eyes. But it vanished just as quickly.
“Hmph. What for?” she replied, voice sharp and indignant. “Mother always taught Betty that Half-Elves were the worst type of creature. Honestly, Subaru - it would be better off if -”
“I said that's enough!" Subaru's voice cracked louder than he meant to, startling even a few bystanders. "You’re acting like a brat. A racist brat. Do you even hear yourself?"
Beatrice blinked. Slowly. She slowly let go of the breath she didn’t know she was holding. The hurt and anger in her contractor’s eyes were real. “Betty is merely stating the facts, I suppose.”
“Oh, facts? Is that what you call flinging slurs at people the facts!?” he snapped back, stepping between her and the frozen crowd. “You don’t talk to Emilia like that. Not ever. Not after everything we’ve been through.”
Emilia flinched, her lips parting like she wanted to say something, but the words never came. A pale silence clung to her.
Ram scowled. Otto shifted uncomfortably. Even Garfiel, now returned with crumbs on his shirt, missing the entire interaction, didn’t know where to jump in.
Roswaal, of all people, was the one who finally raised a gloved hand and gently said, “I believe... we’ve had quite enough tension for one afternoon, yes?”
His lack of accent proved his sincerity, as well as his disappointment in Beatrice. His eyes moved from each camp member, from Garfiel - to Emilia - to Beatrice, and landing on Subaru.
Perhaps in another lifetime, he might have asked why had he not used his Authority to stop Beatrice’s… colourful rant, but this was neither the time nor place for it.
Subaru stared at him. "Roswaal. You're not about to defend that, are you?"
“No. But I am suuuuggesting we take the conversation somewhere more private, before we draw the ire of every creature, don’t you thiiiiiiink?” He gestured lightly to the murmuring crowd, their expressions twisting with scandal, interest, and unease. Everyone turned to Beatrice,
Beatrice, arms crossed, grumbled under her breath. “…Fine, Betty apologizes.”
It was the barest whisper of an apology, but it was there. Enough to make Subaru exhale through his nose, just once. Enough to make the crowd satisfied.
As the group began to disband, scattered and subdued, the sun dipped below the rooftops, casting long, blood-orange shadows over the cobblestone. They decided to go home.
And in the dying light of the market, as they were about to enter the stables, and prepare for their peaceful… Well, perhaps not so peaceful, but the probable uneventful ride home, Beatrice’s gaze wandered—just for a second.
She saw her again.
The dragonborn.
Crying, complaining, and probably raising a tantrum to a figure in a… well, there was no other way to describe that outfit other than scandalous. Yes, Beatrice nodded to herself. That was the correct term. A scandalous beauty with bushy brows and a massive - too massive, in Beatrice’s humble opinion, forehead.
It was an indescribable sight, really. A tall dragonborn crying, with her back being pat by that scandalous beauty. It would be so touching if not for Beatrice’s emotions seeing them.
Beatrice stared, an odd tightness curling in her chest. A gleeful victory cheer.
“Kashira.”