Another day had passed since the news of Norbek's prison break became known.
It was the very day they had decided to leave Colin's fate to the Emperor.
Lucian came by in the morning to remind Glen once more, making sure he wouldn't let it slide.
"Sir Glen, please make sure you speak to His Majesty, as you promised."
"…I will do so. However, if I submit a report too suddenly in the morning, it may be an imposition on His Majesty, so I will speak to him this afternoon."
"Of course. Please do it at any suitable time."
Lucian smiled at Glen, who answered while forcing himself to remain calm.
As long as there was a result by today, what did a few hours matter?
With nothing urgent to attend to, he planned to wait leisurely for a response.
But even after the sun set and the stars came out, Glen did not come to the office.
'Did something happen?'
At this point, annoyance gave way to a creeping sense of worry.
He was a man who kept his knightly conduct impeccably.
Unless something serious had occurred, he would never have kept Lucian waiting this long.
Just as Lucian was about to go and check himself, even at the risk of breaching etiquette—
"Sir Glen, stop—!"
KWAANG!
"Y-Your Majesty."
Contrary to Lucian's worries, Glen burst through the door in perfectly sound condition.
However, unlike his body, his complexion was deathly pale, as if he might collapse at any moment.
Seeing how obviously different he looked from usual, Lucian's expression turned uneasy.
"What is going on? The promised time passed quite a while ago—"
"His Majesty wishes to see you."
"…What?"
"My room—no, never mind. I will make the preparations here."
Glen spoke as if he barely heard Lucian, saying only what he wanted before heading toward the corner.
It looked as though he intended to set up soundproofing magic tools there, just like before.
Uncharacteristically for Glen—who normally avoided exposing magic devices whenever possible—he didn't even seem to realize that the office door was still wide open.
"Your Majesty, if you give the order, I will subdue that rude fellow at once."
"That won't be necessary. Leave him."
Lucian shook his head at Felicia's icy voice.
He could more or less guess what was going on.
Instead, Lucian quietly closed the door and instructed Felicia to stand guard outside.
From this point on, whatever was about to be discussed was not something anyone but Lucian should overhear.
"Your Majesty, are you finished preparing? We must hurry."
"I've been ready for quite some time. You may begin immediately."
"Then I will establish the connection at once."
…Establish a connection?
Before Lucian could ask again, Glen took a red stone out from inside his robe.
As the red stone rolled around in his palm a few times, light flared—and a translucent figure appeared in midair.
"…Y-Your Majesty!?"
—Ah, yes. You're not too late. That's a relief.
The moment Lucian saw the Emperor's face, he froze in place.
It wasn't because of the magic tool's performance, but because of the deathly pale complexion that looked as if he might die at any moment—and the blood smeared at the corner of his mouth.
The Emperor seemed to be speaking while lying down, one arm resting across his abdomen.
—I'm sorry, but we don't have time. Let's throw away all the trivial formalities and get straight to the point.
"Your Majesty, what do you mean—"
—Sigmund is dead.
Lucian went rigid on the spot.
For a moment, he wondered if he had misheard.
Who was dead? Sigmund?
Surely he didn't mean that Sigmund Valdeck?
"…Father?"
—Yes. Your father. My friend. The man I trusted more than anyone else died this morning.
The Emperor spoke quickly, as if he truly had no time to spare.
But no matter how strong one's will, emotions do not obey so easily.
As he spoke of the Grand Duke's death, the Emperor soon clamped his lips shut, his body trembling.
—Khk! Cough! Damn it!
"Y-Your Majesty! Please, calm yourself! Take care of your condition!"
—Am I not even free to grieve, or to rage, as I wish? This wretched body of mine—khk!
"Your Majesty!"
At the sight of the clump of blood that burst from the Emperor's mouth, Glen let out a scream.
Shocked by the scene, Lucian regained his senses a beat too late.
'Father is dead.'
The most aristocratic of nobles, a man he had once respected more than anyone.
In a way, being able to call him his father had been the greatest fortune of his life.
And yet—his father was dead.
"What was the cause of death?"
"He suffered a fatal wound from an unexpected attack while suppressing a rebellion."
It was a commonplace cause of death.
No matter how seasoned one was on the battlefield, it was impossible to account for every variable.
A moment of carelessness, an unforeseen stroke of bad luck—people often lost their lives that way.
And yet, precisely because of that, Lucian could not understand it.
If Grand Duke Sigmund were to fall now, the one most troubled by it would be the Emperor himself.
Had the Emperor truly not even given him a single magic tool to protect his life, after already revealing the full strength of the imperial family?
"Your Majesty. Forgive me for asking, but may I inquire as to how my father passed away?"
"Now is not the time for—!"
—Enough.
The Emperor stopped Glen, who cried out in urgency.
Despite his clearly grave condition, and despite being so far away, that single word carried overwhelming weight.
—Every son has the right to know how his father died. This is also a courtesy to my dear friend, so do not interfere.
"B-But…"
—After coughing up the congested blood, my body feels somewhat better. I should be able to hold out for today. It won't take long.
At the Emperor's quiet yet resolute voice, Glen bowed his head.
Whether it was truly no lie or not, the Emperor's face as he looked toward Lucian seemed noticeably more at ease.
—I didn't witness it myself. I only received a report from the knight who was accompanying Sigmund…
Kwoong, ururur—
"It's collapsed!"
"Those damn bastards!"
"They're all dead!"
The soldiers cheered as they watched the walls crumble under the bombardment of the catapults.
It was Krepfeld, a state that had tormented the imperial army with all manner of underhanded schemes ever since breaking the Grand Pact.
Poisoning and assassinations, false surrenders followed by the massacre of prisoners.
For soldiers blinded by resentment, this was the long-awaited chance for revenge.
"It's over."
Hearing the soldiers' cheers, Grand Duke Sigmund muttered with a heavy heart.
Tristan, who stood beside him, looked at his father as if puzzled.
"You don't seem pleased."
"On the contrary, you look happy."
"Isn't that only natural? It's time to make those traitors, who forgot the basic duties of humanity, pay the price."
"Those who did not forget the duties of humanity will pay a price as well. Do you think their hatred will be directed only at soldiers and kings?"
At Sigmund's unexpected words, Tristan fell silent.
Perhaps he had not been seeking an answer in the first place— the Grand Duke let out a sigh and continued.
"The hatred has grown far too deep to be satisfied with merely annihilating the enemy army and killing the king. The soldiers will crave more blood, and the nobles will as well."
"From the moment they broke the Grand Pact, they must have been prepared for that outcome."
"The king and the nobles, perhaps. But I wonder whether the common people were prepared for the same."
"Your Grace."
A third voice entered their conversation.
It was Ludwig, vice-commander of the Crimson Wing Knights.
"I cannot help but admire Your Grace's insight, and the fact that your concern is directed toward innocent victims is truly merciful. However, at present…"
"I know. Anger that cannot be stopped anyway—playing the sage now would only dampen morale."
"That was a presumptuous remark. Please forgive me."
"No. It was timely advice."
With the walls fallen, the enemy must already have realized their defeat.
They would fight not to win, but to take at least one person with them before they died.
Nothing was more frightening than an enemy resolved to die—yet to make statements that would sap morale before such foes…
"Save the sentimentality for later. Sir Ludwig, is the Dragon's Fang prepared?"
"It is ready to be used at any time."
"Then let us go. It is time to take Eric's head."
"Yes!"
KWAANG—KURRUNG!
Another boulder hurled from the catapults slammed into the fortress walls once more.
Perhaps because so much of it had already collapsed, the entire left section of the wall began to crumble in a chain reaction.
Just as even the death squad was sinking into despair at the sight, Grand Duke Sigmund and the imperial army charged in.
"S-S-the Lion Banner!"
"It's Valdeck! Sigmund Valdeck is here!"
The rebels, who had been defeated by Sigmund time and time again, were thrown into utter panic at the mere sight of the lion emblem.
While the enemy fell into chaos, Sigmund and the Crimson Wing Knights pushed forward without hesitation, all the way to the heart of the royal palace.
Slash.
"Where is the traitor Eric!? Come out and offer me your neck!"
"I'm right here, you lapdog of the Emperor!"
As Sigmund cut down the royal guards, his head turned to the side.
Just as declared, Eric, King of Krepfeld, was glaring at them.
Shaking the blood from his blade, Sigmund spoke to Eric.
"It's over. Stop your futile resistance. Enough have already died—let this end with your life alone."
"And is that really possible?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'm asking whether it can truly end with my life alone."
At the question—spoken not in mockery, but in earnest—Sigmund fell silent.
Before the Grand Pact was broken, perhaps it could have. But now, after things had gone this far, there was no way it could end with Eric's life alone.
"Heh. At least you don't lie. Is that the honor of the lion?"
Eric twisted his lips as he spoke.
Rather than a sneer, it looked like he was forcibly holding back tears.
After letting out a deep sigh, Eric raised his sword.
"The children and the women have been evacuated to the west."
"Please… don't let them be harmed."
"…I'll try."
"So you can't promise it? Heh… heh…!"
Once again, a sound that was neither quite laughter nor quite sobbing escaped Eric's lips.
After choking back his breath, he stepped forward alone, releasing a deep sigh.
Schrring.
"Let's end this."
Eric pointed his sword at Sigmund.
It was the act of formally naming a duel opponent—but Eric's skill with the blade barely rose to the level of a novice knight.
To fight Sigmund, who was outstanding both as a warrior and as a commander, was effectively the same as choosing one's own executioner.
"As you wish."
Perhaps realizing that as well, Sigmund raised his sword and stepped forward.
The two men took their stances a few paces apart.
The outcome was obvious, so Sigmund intended to finish it in a single strike.
At the exact moment—without either moving first—that both swords swung.
Chwaak.
"…."
Everyone present widened their eyes in disbelief.
Eric's blade had sliced across Sigmund's throat.
By contrast, Sigmund was still unable to bring his sword down.
Black tentacles that had burst forth from the shadows were binding his entire body.
Clatter.
"Wh—what is this…?"
Eric staggered backward in horror at what he himself had done.
At the same time, the tentacles restraining Sigmund slipped back into the shadows.
Once freed from them, the runes on Sigmund's armor—dormant until now—began to glow once more.
"Father…?"
Thud.
Tristan blinked blankly and reached out a hand toward Sigmund.
Even though the touch was light, the runes on the armor repelled Tristan, acting to protect their master.
It was hard to believe this was the same armor that had not reacted at all to the black tentacles.
"…You bastards."
"No! It wasn't me!"
"We were fools to trust you. What could we have expected from someone who cast aside the duties of humanity?"
"I'm telling you, it wasn't me! Listen to me!"
No matter how desperately Eric screamed, his voice did not reach the others.
What ruled them now was nothing but the ceaselessly overflowing intent to kill.
Rising to his feet, Tristan glared at Eric with bloodshot eyes.
"Not a single rebel will leave this city alive today. Die regretting what you've done."
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