Compared to the imposing grandeur of the massive black fortress, the Commander’s residence was cramped and shabby.

It was an ordinary room, devoid of any gaudy ornaments. In such a place, knights clad in shining armor were seated.

They murmured amongst themselves and sometimes glanced around, but mostly, their attention was fixed on the old man at the center who silently observed them. Milon was no exception.

‘… So that person is the Commander of the Watch? Quite unexpected.’

It was understandable. The Commander of the Watch was the leader of the largest military force in the Empire. The organization was so rough that it could be mistaken for a penal battalion.

Yet, the kindly smiling, hearty-faced elder in front of him radiated none of that overwhelming presence. Moreover, he was a renowned swordmaster—August von Franz.

For Milon, this was his third time meeting a swordmaster in his life. The other two were the pitiless grand duke of Krupp, and his deceased ‘lord’, Erich.

When with the grand duke, he always felt as though he was standing on a knife’s edge. However, the aura of August, the Commander of the Watch standing before him now, was pure tranquility itself.

Soon the murmurs of the knights subsided. As everyone watched August for a reaction, he opened his mouth.

“First, I would like to extend our deepest gratitude for coming all this way. So many have rendered aid that I cannot call out every house by name, but the Watch is truly thankful.”

“Sir August. On behalf of Leonor, we are always grateful for your dedication in defending the North. But I hear the body of the hero has returned, is that true?”

It was Abe, a knight of Leonor, who swiftly spoke up. August answered, wearing a bitter expression.

“That is correct, sir Abe of Leonor. During a search in the central area north of the Great Wall, we discovered the body of Erich von Krupp and recovered it.”

“That is good news. It seems Incensus has bestowed his grace. No doubt the House of Krupp would wish to conduct a hero’s funeral. Let us grant them time for that. As for heading North, Leonor shall take the vanguard.”

Abe’s eyes shone as he finished speaking. At the same time, Milon’s brow furrowed.

‘Leonor… these sly cat bastards.’

In this official gathering, representing the most distinguished houses of the Empire, they had spoken of a House member on behalf of the Krupp family regarding their own.

It could easily have been taken as an insult. Still, Milon calmly rose to his feet. Then—

― Kwajik!

A longsword was drawn from Milon’s waist. Instantly, a chill swept through the Commander’s quarters. The sword, its cold blue blade glinting, was embedded in the table.

“What is the meaning of this, sir Roland?”

“This is the answer of our grand duke, sir Abe.”

Abe narrowed his eyes, focusing on the sword stuck in the table, and then his eyes snapped wide in shock.

The crossguard gleamed golden; a living, breathing dragon adorned the pommel; the blade was the elegant ashen color of auramite, complete with sinuous patterns. This could only be one sword….

“… Is this, Dragon Fang?”

“It is. The treasured sword of His Grace the grand duke and an heirloom of the grand ducal house of Krupp. One of the rarest of all legendary blades. His Grace entrusted me with this sword for my journey here, and said only one thing.”

Milon cleared his throat, then continued.

“Slaughter all the barbarians. And slay anyone who interferes.”

When he finished speaking, silence fell upon the commander’s residence.

This was the will of the Empire’s greatest grand duke—his killing intent nearly tangible in the air.

Even Abe swallowed from the weight of the words bearing the grand duke’s will. Without a word, Milon reclaimed his sword and sat down again.

“… The grand duke of Krupp remains as unflinching as ever.”

August spoke slowly. At the same time, Milon glanced at the other knights in turn.

“However, sir Roland. While you are in this place….”

Suddenly, Milon’s expression stiffened. When had it started?

The peaceful atmosphere of the quarters had been orchestrated by August’s aura. But now, all warmth had vanished from him.

It was as if winter’s frost had struck him head-on—a chilling, murderous intent that felt as though it might slice his skin at any moment.

Milon’s eyes hastily searched August’s face, but his expression remained unchanged.

“Please remember to act with caution at all times.”

“Ah, yes—they are understood.”

A bead of cold sweat ran down Milon’s forehead. And then August’s demeanor reverted once more.

“Very well. Sir Abe is not wrong, and I understand Sir Roland’s intent perfectly. However, it is impossible for any of your houses to lead the vanguard into the North.”

“And why is that? You must be well aware of Leonor’s strength.”

“I am. But the harshness of the North is not something that can be overcome with might alone. The Northern campaign—in other words, the cleansing of the barbarians—must be conducted in organic cooperation by all houses.”

Abe looked as if he wanted to say more, but quickly shut his mouth, perhaps realizing what August was capable of. He must have decided that there was nothing to be gained by provoking him further.

“And Sir Abe. Have you not come here, not to slaughter barbarians, but to honor the sacrifice of a great hero? Therefore, knights from other houses should naturally join the funeral as well.”

“… That is….”

Abe opened his mouth, then closed it again. At the same time, Milon’s lips twitched.

‘Trying to sneak in your dirty schemes.’

Leonor’s desire to take the vanguard was obvious—they wanted to accumulate merit.

Due to Erich’s sacrifice, however unwittingly, the House of Krupp gained a great deal.

Their heroic knight had become the talk of the entire Empire, attracting a flood of new knights to the house just by name alone.

Except for personal vassals of the grand duke, like Abe or Milon, most of the fighting force was made up of ordinary knights.

Chasing honor, or just chasing money, but the crucial point was that all of them flocked to wherever the “reputation” was.

In that respect, Leonor, standing on the opposite side from Krupp, had lost out on countless freelancers right before their eyes. They must have been trying to make up for it by taking the initiative in this operation.

“… Understood. I shall attend the hero’s funeral.”

“Then, I consider that consent from everyone else as well.”

August’s lips curled into a faint smile. Thus the knight’s conference ended, and Milon, with clanking armor, left the quarters.

‘… But just what is the grand duke planning? I cannot comprehend it.’

Milon scratched the back of his neck for no real reason, recalling the words the grand duke had spoken before his departure.

*

“Take this sword.”

“Y-Your Grace the grand duke….”

Milon’s knees hit the ground as if collapsing. He bowed deeply and respectfully received the grand duke’s sword in both hands.

“I will surely avenge the house.”

“Milon.”

The grand duke stared coldly at Milon Roland, who had accepted the sword.

“Why do you think I am giving you this blade?”

“… Pardon?”

After a moment of hesitation, Milon replied to the grand duke.

“To avenge Young Master Erich, is it not…?”

“What good is avenging the death of a mere bastard son?”

Milon’s eyes widened in confusion.

“Pardon…?”

“If he is alive, deliver this sword to him.”

“Your Grace—’he’… are you talking about Young Master Erich? But he is…….”

The unspoken words, of course, meant ‘Is he not dead?’

But the grand duke only looked in silence at Milon, who then bowed his head once more.

“Understood, I accept your command.”

Back to the present.

That memory was still lingering in Milon’s mind when—

“Sir Roland?”

Shane, a knight dispatched from Heinkel, watched the absent-minded Milon. Jerking out of his reverie, Milon shook his head.

“It’s nothing.”

Their attention soon turned away, for they heard a majestic sound.

― Bwooooooo

Trumpets began blaring in succession, their blasts echoing everywhere. Shane looked around and asked,

“What could that be?”

“A trumpet call. It likely means the funeral service is about to begin.”

“Then we should go.”

“… Yes.”

They slowly made their way toward the place where the trumpets were gathering.

————-= Clacky’s Corner ————-=

【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】

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