Ken let out a long, dramatic whistle, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Man, that is a lot of cash. Do you guys realize how many giant, family-sized bags of sour cream and onion potato chips we could buy with 10,000 Bels? I could build a literal fortress out of chip bags and live inside it forever. This is a tragedy for my snack budget."
Sayma took a deep breath, trying to maintain her polite, composed demeanor. She pushed her glasses up and placed a calming hand on Laxmi’s shoulder, pulling the angry fire user slightly away from the clerk’s desk.
"Please, everyone, lower your voices," Sayma instructed firmly. "Yelling at the clerk will not change the contract. Princess Hestia was well within her legal rights to set whatever price she wanted for the transfer."
"But Sayma, it is all of our emergency funds!" Naomi argued bitterly, running a hand through her red hair. "If we pay this, we will have absolutely nothing left in the unit's treasury."
Princess Iris stood quietly for a moment, listening to her team complain. She knew exactly how unfair it was. She knew Hestia was doing this intentionally to drain their resources and make their lives miserable. It was a petty, calculated political strike from a sister who hated losing.
But Iris also knew the strict mathematics of the Succession War.
She reached into her dark blue uniform jacket and pulled out a small, incredibly secure leather pouch. She stepped forward, placing the pouch directly onto the mahogany desk. It landed with a loud, solid clink.
"The fee is paid," Princess Iris said clearly, her violet eyes completely unwavering.
"Princess, no!" Laxmi groaned, staring at the pouch of money.
Iris turned to look at her team, offering them a gentle, resolute smile. "Money can be earned again, Laxmi. But if we do not pay this fee, we forfeit tomorrow's match. We lose ten points by default, and we drop to the bottom of the Imperial leaderboard. I will gladly trade every single coin in our treasury for the chance to step into that arena and fight for our future."
Sayma nodded in absolute agreement. "The Princess is entirely correct. The potential reward of winning the match far outweighs the financial cost. We have no other choice."
The bored clerk opened the leather pouch, quickly counted the golden coins inside, and nodded his head. He brought his magical stamp down onto the stack of paperwork with a loud, final THWACK.
A bright green magical seal instantly flared on the documents, indicating that the transaction was officially approved and legally binding.
"The transfer fee is accepted," the clerk announced, sliding a copy of the receipt across the desk. "Elma of the 16th Unit is officially registered as the ninth servant of the 13th Unit for the duration of the upcoming match. You are cleared to participate. Good luck in the arena."
"Thank you," Princess Iris replied politely, taking the receipt and tucking it safely away.
"Finally," Ken sighed loudly, turning around and immediately slouching his shoulders. He started shuffling away from the desk, his cheap shoes scuffing the marble floor. "The boring paperwork is officially over. Can we please go find a bakery now? Standing still for this long burns a ridiculous amount of calories, and I need a massive chocolate pastry to recover my strength."
Naomi shook her head, though a fond smile returned to her face. She walked after him, lightly grabbing the back of his jacket to guide him through the crowd. "You literally just stood there and complained the entire time, Ken. But fine. We can stop for a snack on the way home."
Elma followed closely behind them, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the back of Ken's messy head, a small, completely unhidden smile touching her lips at the mention of pastries.
The bureaucratic nightmare was finally finished. They had secured their roster, paid the exorbitant fee, and were officially locked in for the brutal tournament. But as the 13th Unit made their way toward the grand exit of the Upper Council building, they were about to realize that the political games of the capital were far from over.
---
The grand corridors of the Upper Council building were wide, pristine, and incredibly intimidating. Towering white pillars lined the walkway, and the vaulted ceilings were painted with beautiful, ancient murals of the Empire’s history.
Ken Eliot walked right in the middle of the group, happily ignoring the majestic scenery. He was currently trying to see if he could slide across the highly polished marble floor in his shoes without lifting his feet.
"This floor is practically an ice rink," Ken mumbled to himself, doing a goofy little slide forward. "If I got a running start, I bet I could slide all the way to the front doors. Naomi, do you want to race? I challenge you to a sliding competition."
"I am not sliding across a government building, you idiot," Naomi laughed, gently shoving him to keep him walking straight. "Stop playing around before you knock over a politician."
Laxmi was still grumbling quietly about the lost money, kicking at the air as she walked. "Ten thousand Bels. I am never going to get over that. I am going to imagine Princess Hestia's face on the training dummy tomorrow morning."
Zinia patted Laxmi’s shoulder comfortingly. "We will just have to win the match to make it worth it. A victory will feel much better than a full treasury."
As the group turned a wide corner, heading toward the massive glass exit doors, the bustling noise of the corridor suddenly seemed to quiet down.
The crowd of busy clerks, chatting nobles, and armored guards naturally parted, moving to the sides of the hallway as if an invisible force was pushing them away. The temperature in the corridor felt like it dropped several degrees, losing its warm, bustling energy and turning incredibly crisp and cold.
Walking directly toward them from the opposite end of the hall was a small, highly disciplined group of people.
At the very front of the approaching group was the 15th Prince, Hades Belmontia.
Ken stopped his goofy sliding and stood up straight, blinking his sleepy eyes. He watched the Prince approach.
Hades did not look like an evil, cackling villain from a comic book. He did not wear flashy, bright armor like the 1st Prince, and he certainly didn't wear grease-stained shirts like Prince Hephaestus. Hades wore an immaculate, incredibly sharp, dark, high-collared suit. The fabric was totally black, without a single speck of dust or lint on it.
His face was incredibly pale, his cheekbones sharp, and his dark hair was perfectly combed. But the most striking thing about him was his eyes. They were a piercing, eerie shade of pale green. When he looked at people, he didn't just look at them; he seemed to analyze every single detail, dissecting their flaws in a fraction of a second.
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