When Lambdadelta finally summoned them to the chapel (borrowed, of course, from the wreckage of her Beatrice's fragment - she was quite partial to it), it had been quite some time. Had it been 100 years? A 1000 years? Hopefully it wasn't long enough for one of them to develop a vendetta against her.
... She hadn't promised anyone a pony too, had she? No? Good. That would have turned out nasty.
Lambdadelta stood on the balcony, overlooking the witches that had gathered to hear her verdict. Flanking her were presumably furniture, or at least neutral parties of equal status - a younger white-haired boy with a pair of wicked-looking black horns, a college-aged man with a rather absurd pompadour (was it supposed to form a huge spike like that?), and, finally, an older man in all black. His features were harder to describe - he wore a large hat and sunglasses, and his hair was so perfect it could only be fake. Lambdadelta, of course, would have rather had Bernkastel by her side. But she supposed there was nothing she could do...
She took a step forward and surveyed the crowd. In her hand, she had an envelope. Lambdadelta held it out in front of them, but it was obvious she was considering something. The look on her face was pained.
And then suddenly, she ripped it into pieces, and threw those pieces over the balcony.
"Bern won everything! She won everything spectacularly, marvellously, wonderfully! And that's the end of that!"
There was chaos on the balcony. Lambdadelta had leapt into the air and attempted to pop away, only for the two of her older 'bodyguards' to catch her by her feet. The younger boy had disappeared from where he stood - instead he was impossibly leaping through shadows to catch the fragments of paper as they floated in the air.
It was a rather wild show.
A few minutes later, it had resolved. The envelope and the paper inside had been restored to its former glory. Lambdadelta was sitting back on her throne with a rather large pout on her face. The oldest of her bodyguards had a hand gently but firmly on her shoulder; he held the envelope in the other. On her other side, there was a green konpeitou with a large point buzzing furiously in the air.
"Ms. Delta, if you please," he said. And then he handed the envelope back to her as if nothing had happened.
After all, her furniture would not be permitted action 'against' her if she did not allow it.
"Fine, fine," she said, with a sulky look on her face. She stood up again and, with a sudden grandiosity that she hadn't had mere moments ago, approached the edge of the balcony again.
"I hereby declare the Witches' Trolling Contest results to be finalized and ready for presentation! I, of course, am the great Lady Lambdadelta, authorized by the power of the Witches' Senate to judge this contest!
Of course, I swear to be an unbiased and impartial judge of the events! All participants - 'participants' referring to Bernkastel, Witch of Miracles, Erika Furudo, Witch of Truth, the two Beatrices - Beatrice, Witch of Illusions, Beatrice the Golden, and Sakana, Emerald Sorcerer of Epiphany - can be assured that there will be no favouritism in my verdict! I swear that on my own title, as the Witch of Certainty! My words are absolute and true!"
She paused as she waited for the applause of the spectating witches and goats to subside.
"Of course, it is a bit... overdue. But - but! It's not as if I could help it! The file got buried in my super important 'Magnificent Manipulations - Bernkastel's Foot-tastic Faculties!' report. 800 pages, you know? So you definitely can't blame me for that!"
There was a cough from somewhere behind her, and the green konpeitou collided against her shoulder. She swatted it away.
"Aaaa~aaanyway, without further ado - the moment you've all been waiting for! Here are the results!
"The winners of the best lines are... my beloved Bernkastel, Witch of Miracles, and Erika Furudo, Witch of Truth!" For a moment she looked like she'd swallowed a lemon, and if you were on the balcony, you would have heard her whisper, "It's not like she's equal to Bern or anything! It's more like Bern taught her well!"
"The best witch under pressure -Â Sakana, Emerald Sorcerer of Epiphany! Part of being a master is being hard to rattle, right? Though there was a moment of weakness, your performance was the best!
The 'No-limits' witch - the best use of vulgar language, truly deserving  the name 'Endless', is Beatrice the Golden! In a fight between witches, acknowledging limits is equal to death!
And the last of the titles, the best Witch of Tournabout -Â Beatrice, Witch of Illusions! For a fantastic display of 'turning the tide', and being able to use their words as a building block to your comeback! If you want to last in a witch's game, this sort of skill is essential!"
"And finally, for the best overall performance - dun dun dun dun ☆"
She drew out the pause for as long as possible, until finally -
"... Beatrice, Witch of Illusions!"
This time when she ripped up the paper into pieces and threw them over the crowd, the fragments exploded into brightly-coloured confetti fit for the occasion.
"And that's that! Please continue to practice trolling to the best of your abilities! If you have any objections to the ruling, you can direct them to my secretary Mr. Tetra, to my left; he'll answer them within five business days. Excluding holidays, of course!"
She clapped her hands. "And that's it! I'll see you all at the reception after in the banquet hall! ☆"
