The bright midday sun illuminated Brigantes, the capital of the Empire.
A city founded by Kihano Frausen, the founding king and Master of the Sword, symbolizing the end of the Age of Dragons and the dawn of the Age of Humans.
However, Brigantes, which should have shone with glory, was steeped in deep silence.
"…The young emperor has been sent back to his homeland."
In one of the opulent rooms of the imperial palace, decorated with great splendor, the courtier Armand stared at the teacup in front of him.
The room, seemingly dimly lit, remained dark save for a faint ray of light filtering through the window, landing on the cup.
"I wonder if that boy will live long enough to fulfill his destiny."
"…"
Timur, the Iron Duke, who stood by the window holding a teacup, paused at those words.
The imperial palace, in its solemn stillness, seemed frozen in time.
The sound of Armand's voice echoing in that silence wasn't just unsettling—it carried something deeply disturbing, something Timur couldn't ignore.
"…It would be proper to leave matters concerning the palace to the royal court."
With those words, Timur tacitly seemed to approve of Armand's plans, prompting the courtier to nod slowly.
"The war is over, and the false emperor has been dethroned. Now all that remains is an empty imperial palace."
Armand's voice was weathered by the years, rusted by the weight of time. Yet his eyes, fixed on Timur's back, gleamed with an almost feverish intensity.
"Restoring the rightful sun to the sky. That is my final duty as a courtier in this era."
Armand, tasked with protecting the throne and maintaining court order, had succeeded in expelling the false emperor.
However, the bloodshed that ensued instilled fear among the Empire's citizens.
Even so, the old man's gaze was now focused on a knight of the north, as if his mission was far from over.
"I beg you to help me. We cannot allow the line of the Empire to end here."
The Empire, which marked the beginning of the Age of Humans, had begun with one man.
And the legitimacy of its lineage could only endure through the blood of House Frausen and the will of the sword passed down by the Silver Knight.
"With your mastery of the sword and having earned the title of Master of the Sword, no one else in the continent holds greater legitimacy."
"Even if descended from the blood of the dragons you so despise?"
Timur cast a cold glance at the aged Armand.
Though the dragon's breath had corrupted the Empire, the courtier, worn down by time, had been powerless to protect anything on his own.
The mixture of disdain and pity in Timur's eyes toward Armand was almost instinctual.
"…That makes it even better. Being the child of a dragon, he chose to kill his own father for the sake of the Empire."
"For the sake of the Empire, you say?"
Timur let out a bitter smile as he placed the teacup back on the table at Armand's words.
"So that's what you saw in that duel."
It is natural for the same scene to be perceived differently depending on who views it.
But Timur disliked how Armand interpreted Vlad's duel to suit his own interests.
"Will you help me?"
The Empire's glorious continuity had to be preserved.
Even if its roots were rotten and its branches grew twisted, countless lives depended on the shelter the Empire provided.
"No."
Timur's response was clear and direct.
"…Why?"
Timur took a step back, away from the window.
"Because this isn't a matter we can decide between the two of us."
As Timur stepped back, the hidden light began to fill the room.
Little by little, the darkness receded, revealing an object that had been concealed: a white table.
It was round, designed so that all present could look directly at one another.
"Count Peter has decided to hand over the leadership of House Bayezid to his son."
"If that young man takes charge, the Iron Duke could easily…"
"The next imperial meeting will include representatives from Ausurin and Nidavellir."
Timur pulled the curtains wide open, letting sunlight flood the room.
The bright light forced Armand to shield his eyes as Timur offered a faint smile.
"We are transitioning from the Age of Dragons to the Age of the Empire. And now, we may be on the brink of a new era."
Armand opened his eyes and turned his head, but Timur was already at the door, his hand on the knob.
"Let the decisions of this new era be made by new people."
A new era, new people, and a new Master of the Sword.
Timur, who had opened the door for them, walked out of the room without looking back.
It was as though there was no place for him at this new round table that had been prepared.
"…Iron Duke."
As the cold northern wind faded, only Armand remained, unsure of where to turn.
With trembling hands, he looked toward the open door, feeling the breeze slowly filling the room.
Finally, he bowed his head in silence.
***
Now that the weather seemed to soften, the road to Sturma was completely filled with mud.
Goethe, seated at the coachman's perch, grumbled that they should have departed earlier.
However, Zemina, gazing out the window, seemed to enjoy the journey, smiling constantly.
"So, that thing that looks like a tower—is it a dragon?"
"Yes. Technically, it's a Death Worm. It lives in the west."
In the distant plains, Zemina observed something towering into the sky like a spire.
That enormous creature, visible even from afar, was a western Death Worm that had surfaced to breathe.
"When there was that tremor a little while ago, I got a real scare. It's the first time I've ever felt an earthquake."
"Really?"
Vlad smiled at Zemina's excited voice, still filled with awe.
Her reaction reminded Vlad of the first time he had seen a Death Worm years ago.
"They usually come north to bask in the sun at this time of year."
"But something that big must eat a ton. Doesn't it attack people?"
"They don't do things like that. They feed on minerals they find underground."
Except for the one that Vlad and Rutiger had to confront, Death Worms rarely attacked humans.
Perhaps that one, too, would have avoided disturbing the north if it hadn't been cursed with dark magic.
"You've learned a lot, Vlad. Where did you pick all this up?"
Zemina, leaning on the carriage window's sill, turned her gaze to Vlad.
Today, she seemed especially impressed by the way he answered everything calmly and precisely, projecting a maturity she hadn't noticed before.
"…It's not something you learn."
Walking alongside the carriage with Noir by his side, Vlad let out a small chuckle at Zemina's comment.
"I just heard it in passing."
In truth, he hadn't formally studied it but vividly recalled someone telling him about Death Worms.
Thinking that, if not for that man, he wouldn't now be seeing Zemina's bright, amazed eyes, Vlad couldn't help scratching his nose.
"Ah, I wish I had some whiskey."
"Don't even think about it. That's a special order for gifting."
"A sip wouldn't hurt. Even Rutiger would probably forgive that."
"Are you crazy? Absolutely not!"
Zemina reacted with alarm to Vlad's words, though he had no actual intention of drinking.
He only wanted to relive memories of times when he'd traveled that same path before, thinking of how whiskey had been a companion on those journeys.
"A sunny day like this would be perfect with a glass of whiskey."
The green plains and blue skies, with the majestic Death Worm in the middle.
Recalling the days when he barely knew how to ride a horse, Vlad felt nostalgic for the whiskey Joseph had given him back then.
***
"Whoa, wait, what the hell is this?"
"…"
Traveling by carriage from Soara to Sturma, Vlad and his group finally reached their destination.
However, upon arriving at the city, Goethe halted the carriage, unable to go any further.
"Captain, this is why I said we should've come earlier. Look at all these carriages."
Even after all these years, Sturma's walls remained imposing.
But what caught Vlad's attention was the long line of carriages stretching out from the city gates.
"….Vlad, look at that."
"What thing?"
"Apart from the carriages, they've brought loads of carts full of stuff."
If each noble house had only sent one carriage, the congestion wouldn't have been so severe.
But the people arriving were here to celebrate the succession of the new leader of House Bayezid.
Evidently, no one had come empty-handed.
They had brought carts loaded with gifts and expensive belongings, crowding the area outside Sturma.
"…Maybe we should've brought more gifts. We're looking a bit humble here."
"Humble? What are you talking about?"
Surrounded by luxurious carriages, Zemina began to hunch her shoulders slightly.
Though Goethe had made an effort to secure a decent carriage, it was a borrowed one.
And compared to the extravagant offerings from others, their gifts seemed modest, making Zemina feel self-conscious.
"Now that I think about it, all these people are nobles, right? Is it okay for me to be here?"
"…Of course it is. You're Lady Zemina."
It was Zemina's first time experiencing the world of high nobility, and her insecurity was clear.
Noticing her discomfort, Vlad began searching for a way to escape the endless line of carriages.
"Captain! Captain!"
"What is it?"
"Someone's coming from the front! The carriages are making noise!"
Before Vlad could come up with a solution, something began to stir in the line.
The carriages and their occupants appeared agitated.
"Could it be someone important? Everyone's stepping out to look."
"…Who could it be?"
Hearing that someone significant was approaching, Zemina quickly slid into the corner of the carriage, as if trying to avoid being seen.
Noticing her nervousness, Vlad remained silent, though unfortunately, the person everyone was anticipating seemed to have business directly with them.
"Get out."
"Huh?"
Dressed in elegant clothing but with a brazen attitude, a man knocked on the carriage door with brusque force.
"I said get out. Don't draw too much attention here."
The man wore a black patch over his left eye, making him appear even more intimidating.
Though Zemina swallowed nervously, the man simply gave her a smile when their eyes met.
"Jager?"
"You're late, as always. Still someone who needs to be watched over."
It was Jager, the new captain of the knights of House Bayezid.
Known for training the most honorable knights, Jager was renowned across the continent.
But, as usual, he regarded his former pupil with a stern and distant expression.