The next day—the day of the coronation.
A day seemingly awaited by all.
The ceremony took place in the grand garden square before the main hall of the royal palace, residence of Londinium's lord.
Long tables draped in white cloth lined the flowerbeds, covered with an array of sumptuous dishes. Once the ceremony concluded, the guests would indulge in a lavish feast.
The royal guards stationed around the garden and beyond went unnoticed, taken for granted by the fairies—though each one was armed to the teeth.
From morning to dusk, the lord's attendants bustled about in preparation. By evening, the garden was crowded with fairies eager to witness the coronation. Apart from the King Clan, chieftains and envoys from all six clans had gathered as well.
Though their kind had endured countless wars, so long as the fairies were not completely annihilated, they would reincarnate elsewhere as the next generation.
Thus, the number of fairies across Britannia had never truly diminished—if anything, it had grown.
As night fell, the vast garden grew even livelier. Every gaze turned toward the ceremony's long-awaited protagonist.
As for the true reason behind their anticipation, only the fairies themselves knew.
Then, as some began to sense that something was off, suspecting a delay or mistake, a murmur rippled from one corner of the garden.
The Lord of Londinium—rumored to be human, yet seemingly ageless—appeared, accompanied by Wryneck and pairs of attendant fairies. Moving at an unhurried pace along the garden's colonnade, they ascended to the platform at the front.
There stood the throne of Britannia's new king, and beside it, a banquet table meant only for the monarch.
"Huh? Only the king? Wasn't there supposed to be a queen crowned alongside him?" one fairy asked.
The question spread quickly, whisper to whisper, until it rippled through the entire crowd.
Standing on the steps above them all, Shiomi raised his hand, signaling for silence.
"The queen who will be crowned with me will be chosen afterward, from among the six clans," he declared. "This is for the sake of Britannia's greater prosperity and lasting peace."
His words drew waves of astonishment. Fairies began murmuring in surprise, their voices rising and falling like wind through leaves.
From the palace bell tower, chimes rang out. Instruments began to play. Brilliant flower petals drifted down from above, falling like a gentle snow.
When those petals are stained with blood, their color will be even more beautiful, Shiomi thought to himself.
The coronation ceremony was brief. A page approached, carrying a velvet cushion on which rested a newly crafted crown.
Another page came from the opposite side, bearing a tray with a golden jug and crystal goblets. One of them was already filled—with a colorless wine.
According to the original plan, Shiomi would place the crown upon his own head, then set another upon his fairy consort's.
Afterward, the new king and his queen would raise their goblets together. The coronation would then conclude, followed by seven days and nights of feasting and celebration across Londinium.
At least—that was how it was meant to go.
Shiomi's eyes flicked toward the goblet. In that instant, the answer came to him.
He had long wondered how the fairies intended to sabotage the coronation. Now, the method was clear.
There was no simpler, more elegant means than poison.
The king and queen would, by custom, drink the first cup of wine.
Among Britannia's fairies, certain clans occasionally produced individuals gifted in the art of toxins—especially among the higher-ranking fairies. Their poisons could be so refined as to be entirely colorless, tasteless, and scentless.
Yet such fairies were inevitably seen as threats by their kin. No matter their intentions, they were executed without mercy or warning.
Realizing this, Shiomi lifted the goblet. Even with the use of mana, he couldn't probe for poison without revealing his suspicion.
Unless he used a more overt form of Magecraft.
Or—
Out of the corner of his eye, Shiomi noticed a Wind Fairy among the front rows watching his every move a bit too closely.
Holding his goblet, he gestured toward her. "Come forward. If I'm not mistaken, you're the chieftain of the Wind Clan, yes?"
"Yes." Her tone was calm and poised. "We've met before."
"Lady Minerva, wasn't it?"
"That was the name of my predecessor. I am Vera," the chieftain introduced herself.
"Oh, I see. The previous one perished in the calamity two generations ago," Shiomi said with a look of feigned regret. "I intended to invite the chieftain of the Wind Clan to become the consort of Britannia's new king—to rule this land by my side. What do you say?"
A murmur of surprise rippled through the gathered fairies as Vera smiled gracefully.
"I'm honored, truly. But wouldn't such an offer earn the wrath of the existing consort?"
"That is not something you need to concern yourself with," Shiomi replied evenly. Pouring another glass, he handed her the first one. "Please, drink. Once you do, you shall be the Queen of Britannia."
Her expression froze. "This..."
She held the cup but made no move to drink.
"What's wrong?"
"Surely... our king should drink first—" she began, trying to stall.
"I said you first," Shiomi interrupted with a smile. "Why hesitate? Are you reluctant to be queen—or is there something wrong with the wine?"
"H-how could that be—"
Her voice faltered as Shiomi raised his hand, knocking the cup from her grip. The liquid scattered through the air before shattering on the steps below. Her face went pale, horror spreading across it.
"Why not? You knew exactly what was in it."
Shiomi laughed, the sound sharp and cold. He released his own goblet; the crystal struck the stone steps and splintered into glittering shards.
The single, crisp sound echoed across the suddenly silent garden.
A heartbeat later, the guards drew their blades.
"You dared plot against the new king! Cut them down—no mercy!"
Wryneck's voice rang out, hard as steel.
The fairies froze where they stood, stunned, until the first head fell—then the second, then the third.
The garden erupted into chaos. Fairy attendants who had carried the crown and wine fled in panic, dropping everything as they ran.
"Forgive me, Lord of Londinium—no, Your Majesty!"
The Wind Clan's chieftain stumbled backward, falling at the base of the steps. With a flick of Shiomi's hand, she was thrown aside. She crawled backward, trembling, staring up at him as if death itself were approaching.
"Why should I forgive you?"
"I—I was wrong... it wasn't my plan, it was—"
"You weren't wrong. You're just afraid because you know you're going to die."
Shiomi cut her off, gripping her chin and forcing her mouth open. He tilted the flask and poured the poisoned wine down her throat.
She tried desperately to spit it out, but it was too late.
As she choked, blood spilling from her lips and her body convulsing on the ground, Shiomi watched impassively before letting out a low, mocking laugh.
"So this was all it was... such a dull poison. I was hoping for something more creative."
...