According to an ancient tradition, it was said that the sword was a bright silver color.
It was said to have a will of its own, choosing its owner and revealing its intentions through its vibration.
Vum-vum-vum.
Like the sword that was now approaching me.
Clang!
The winter ground could not withstand the pressure created by the swords and began to stir up a storm of dust.
However, Rodrigo, despite the blurred vision, could not take his eyes off the silver sword that clashed with his own.
'...It can't be!'
The sword was crying.
Along with the pure silver coins he had kept in his chest.
Rodrigo felt the vibration of the coins inside his armor and could not hide his surprise.
"Vlad Dragulia! Where the hell did you learn the imperial sword?"
"..."
Rodrigo's question about Vlad's origins was loud, but the person who really asked the question simply hid his body in the cloud of dust again.
The moment the thick dust swallowed Vlad's golden light, the knights' screams began to be heard from the front.
"Where are you?"
"Cover your backs! Reduce the blind spots!"
"Damn it! He's too fast!"
Bang! Crash! Crack!
A loud sound was heard every time a solid golden line was drawn in the blocked field of vision.
Each time that sound was heard, the surrounding buildings collapsed without fail, and the accompanying cloud of dust began to obscure the knights' eyes.
"...The Imperial Guard should have found him by now."
The trick to killing in a single blow involves controlling the battlefield.
A chilling voice came from the dust storm of the enemies who fought and outnumbered me.
"Isn't the real culprit still walking unscathed because of you incompetent bastards?"
Rodrigo and his men were trapped in the fog created by their enemy and could not see properly.
Vlad was more enraged by the injustice done to August than by the misunderstanding he was a victim of.
"Idiots full of blind spots."
From his blue eyes, a peculiar look began to form.
August's world was one that sought the truth hidden in the shadows.
Even in the dust storm, Vlad's sharp vision clearly came from the commander of the Imperial Guard, August.
"...!"
With the sword raised, Vlad's held breath stopped for a moment.
The reason it's hard to take the first step is because I don't know where to go.
However, there was not the slightest hesitation in the heavy steps Vlad was taking now.
Because he definitely knew where he had to go.
Swoosh!
With the sound of cutting wind, swords began to fly toward the knights from the dust.
A sword technique created by a duelist who was said to have faced the most perfect dragon in the past.
However, the beam of light approaching the knights was much closer to a circular form.
"Ugh!"
"Aaaah!"
Some in the chest, others in the wrist or the sword.
Following the weak points taught by August, lines of blood spread among the knights.
"Do I still look like a criminal after all this?"
The sword skills belonged to the ancient imperial family, and the gaze in the blue eyes belonged to the commander of the Imperial Guard.
And crying along with him was a silver sword that shone brightly.
Vum-vum-vum.
Even amidst the gushing blood, the Imperial Guard knights opened their eyes wide.
The most legitimate sword of all was passing by them.
"...My God."
With Rodrigo's sigh, the cloud of dust began to settle.
When the dust dissipated, all that was visible were the Imperial Guard knights who had frozen into stone statues and the tip of Vlad's sword passing by them.
"Where did you learn the imperial sword?"
Vlad wiped away the dripping blood and raised his sword towards Rodrigo, who stood still in shock.
"I learned it from him."
The extended tip of the sword was sharp, but the direction it pointed was not toward Rodrigo.
It only pointed to the Imperial Guard flag waving behind him.
"From whom?"
With Vlad's answer, the Imperial Guard knights began to fall one by one.
However, despite his men collapsing right in front of him, Rodrigo had no choice but to turn his head to follow the tip of the sword Vlad was pointing at.
"Flag?"
The Imperial Guard flag waving in the wind.
When Rodrigo asked where he learned to use the imperial sword, Vlad simply pointed to the white lightning engraved on the flag.
***
"...!"
There was a man moving busily through the halls of the imperial palace.
Despite his age, his steps were surprisingly quick.
However, his caution, aware of others' gazes, became evident in his effort to appear calm despite his rapid movements.
"Duke, may I come in for a moment?"
"...Enter."
Armand's weak voice was heard from inside.
The man, holding a small note, looked around to ensure no one was near before entering.
Now that the shadows of dragons filled the palace, every movement had to be made with caution.
"The report from Sir Rodrigo, who was sent on a mission, has arrived."
Perhaps because he tried to hide it while walking, the man's voice trembled slightly as he entered the room.
"Here."
"...Yes."
Armand probably could have heard the sound of his follower's labored breathing.
But at that moment, Armand was simply staring at the fireplace light, tilting his head helplessly, like a dying candle.
"Did he say he avenged August?"
"Duke, that's not the news."
Armand's magician, who had run there, placed a note in Armand's cold hands.
"We found it, Duke."
"...What?"
Armand was slowly dying like a cooling wick, but he opened the note he held when he saw the man's eyes looking at him.
"...!"
His hands trembled not from old age but from surprise.
The note Armand received was the same size as the note sent by August, the commander of the Imperial Guard.
"...This, now."
The noble bloodline of the empire had been broken, and the dragon's fragment had been stolen by the oldest dragon.
That's why Armand's life had no meaning, but the note he held now told him to burn the last flame within him.
- The white lightning continues.
No one in the imperial palace knew about the end of the founder, Kihano Frausen.
Because, in his last moment, he had removed the crown and left the palace with a silver sword.
- With the silver sword he carried.
"Oh, oh!"
From his aged body, uncontrollable joy emanated.
Rodrigo's note was the news Armand had been anxiously waiting for, almost losing hope of receiving.
"Eh..."
Fearing that his shout of joy would be heard outside, Armand quickly bit his sleeve.
The sigh between his clenched lips slightly warmed his cooling heart.
"...Come closer."
"Yes, Duke."
Armand's trusted man gladly heeded his careful call.
This was because Armand's eyes, which had regained their vitality, suddenly shone.
"Gather my knights. Slowly. As quietly as possible, without Sarnus knowing."
"Understood, Duke."
Armand, who saw the follower nod and leave the room, quickly threw the two notes he held into the fireplace.
They were all the same size, but one was wrinkled, probably because it had been kept for a long time.
"Thank you, August."
It was a note he had been holding to remember his knight who had been with him for a long time, but it was no longer needed.
Because his will conveyed by August was clearly received.
"Thanks to you, I can continue."
It is said that the imperial pact that bound the oldest dragon was maintained in two ways.
One through blood, the other through will.
August, despite being defeated by the Blood Dragon, never forgot his duty to the empire until the very last moment.
***
"Sh*t!"
Bang!
It wouldn't be an illusion that the faint sounds of an animal were mixed with the voice shouting in exasperation.
Mirshea watched as the table slowly split and quickly grabbed the wine glass that was on it.
"That's why you can't trust those damn pirates."
The letter, thrown with disdain, had an adorned golden seal.
Depending on one's taste, the seal might seem overly ornate, but it was clearly imbued with arrogance.
- The dragon piece that was supposed to be delivered to you has been stolen by someone named Vlad. Perhaps his valiant lineage explains how he managed to defeat the great dragon so easily.
"To top it off, you give the piece to someone with dragon blood!"
Perhaps due to his rejuvenated appearance, the fury of the Blood Dragon was palpable.
The movements of the Blood Dragon, unable to contain his rage, were filled with boiling heat.
"I was content with obtaining the one from the Empire, and now this one from the south is causing me problems."
The barely visible tattoos on Sarnus' chest were clearly visible through his unbuttoned shirt.
Looking at the thorn-shaped tattoo encircling his neck, Mirshea silently picked up the fallen letter.
"So now the only pieces left are the two from the north?"
Sarnus walked towards the window, turned his back, and began to stare at the northern land in the distance.
"You broke it into very small pieces. Founding king."
Sarnus, looking out the window, thought of the most perfect dragon that had fallen under the silver knight so many years ago.
And even the image of Kihano, covered in blood, tearing the most perfect heart that still beat into five pieces.
Sarnus, the oldest dragon, witnessed that legendary moment along with the knights of the Sword Master, and is the only living witness.
"What do you think, Mirshea? Do you still long for your father's arms?"
"…I don't know."
Sarnus had been a noisy man a moment ago, but when he turned around, his face suddenly seemed full of warmth.
Mirshea could only bow her head as she looked at her father, who had many facets as the years passed.
"I was curious about what it would be like to plant seeds in the mud to see what possibilities would arise, and look what has grown."
Surviving longer means having consumed a lot.
Sarnus, who had dreamed of the most perfect possibility while harvesting the seeds he had planted, realized that now was the time to make his own decision.
"We will attack the north. Gather the lords."
"Understood."
"And also."
Sarnus' finger pointed to the wine glass Mirshea was holding.
"Bring me another glass."
A fine glass containing bright red wine.
The glass Mirshea looked at was full of red drops that had not yet been drunk.
"Yes."
Leaving the room, Mirshea walked down a familiar hallway and opened the hidden door to the basement.
The smell of dragons floated along with the damp air.
Mirshea's steps in the darkness, carrying only a wine glass and no torch, were simply familiar.
"…Ha."
However, Mirshea, standing in front of the bars in the depths of the basement, let out a small sigh.
Roughly cut chains and manacles.
The place where the wine barrel with red hair should have been only showed signs that someone had been there and left.
____
Join the discord!
https://dsc.gg/indra
____