Chapter 163

The boundary that divided the Empire’s central region from the south—the Southern Desert.

Over the land that had been scorched all day by sunlight so warm it bordered on pain, dusk settled, and darkness arrived.

If it were an ordinary day, only pitch-black darkness would have pressed down upon the open wilds. But today, with the Imperial Army stationed there, it was different.

Tents of a seventy-thousand-strong army stretched on endlessly. Between them, scattered campfires and torches cast a faint glow over the Imperial encampment.

All throughout the camp. Beside the crackling campfires, people gathered in small clusters. They were Imperial soldiers assigned to sentry duty.

“Who would even dare attack a force this big… They tell us to stay alert from above, so we can’t not do it, but still… tch.”

In the middle of the night, when everyone else slept, standing idle was no easy task. Perhaps simply killing time while standing around was unbearably dull, because among them were soldiers who, unable to endure it any longer, quietly chatted with the comrades beside them.

These two men were private soldiers from a certain territory who had joined the Imperial Army during its southward march a few days earlier.

“Ugh… it’s cold. It was nice and warm during the day, but nights are scary like this. Guess we really are getting close to the desert now, huh?”

“So I’ve heard. Those sharp-eyed scouts said you can see the desert way off over there. Thinking about it, we’re basically here already. Once we cross that desert… it’s the South.”

The low-ranking soldier who continued speaking shuddered, as if imagining what awaited beyond the desert. It was not the cold that made him tremble, but the fear born from a war that had suddenly crept right up to his doorstep.

“Yeah… the South we’ve only heard about. But… will a real war actually break out?”

“It will. A guy with the rank of Count Valaris drew his blade against the Empire in his own name. Even with the difference in strength, he won’t surrender easily. He staked his name on it—but really, he must have staked everything he has.”

“Hah… I thought after Lord Gion took power, everything would be resolved peacefully. Guess things only went well for us… And then suddenly the Fifth Prince, and those ridiculous rumors too. That Lord Gion assassinated the Former Emperor—”

“Shh! What if someone hears you?!”

The soldier who had been listening quietly beside him stopped his companion, making as much of a fuss as possible while keeping his voice low.

“Hey, friend. We’re private soldiers from Yepein Territory who joined the Imperial Army. All we have to do is carry out the tasks we’re given. Everything else is for our superiors to handle. Don’t try to know more than you should, and don’t talk about this or that. Even if you hear things like what you were just saying, plug your ears and don’t listen. If you flap your mouth carelessly, you might disappear without a sound.”

Perhaps irritated by his companion’s excessive reaction, the stopped soldier spoke up even louder, trying to laugh it off.

“Ah, come on. It’s just gossip floating around. What’s the big deal? It’s nothing but rumors spread by busybodies who go crazy for juicy stories.”

At that response, the soldier who had tried to stop him frowned deeply and snapped his gaze away.

“Seriously… I told you to be careful. I’m done. I warned you. Anyway, if you’re going to talk like that, shut up and just stand guard. I don’t want to get dragged into it.”

“What, you think someone’s going to come arrest us or something? Didn’t take you for such a coward. Fine, fine, you’ve killed the mood. Shift change is in thirty minutes anyway, so I’ll just stand here and—”

The talkative soldier suddenly fell silent, as if by a lie.

“You mad? Why’d you stop talking all of a—hngh!”

Thinking it strange, the other soldier turned his head to where his companion had been standing. At that moment, he too failed to finish his words and sucked in a useless breath.

“Th-the enemy…!”

A sudden sense of dread wrapped around the back of his neck. The startled soldier raised his voice to warn of an enemy intrusion—at that instant, a shadow rose silently behind him. A shadow that was not his own.

“Mm—!”

The shadow, as if it had sprung forth from the darkness itself, instantly covered the soldier’s mouth and subdued him. Of course, a shadow could not do such a thing. It was not a shadow, but a person dressed in pitch-black clothes, like a shadow given form.

Thud—

The subdued soldier collapsed to the ground like a doll with its strings cut. His unconscious body was quietly dragged away to a place the firelight could not reach.

No one remained where the two sentries had been standing moments ago. Only the campfire that had warmed them crackled softly.

Deep within the encampment of a seventy-thousand-strong army—an area where enemy intrusion was unthinkable—an uninvited guest had slipped inside.

Flash—!

Beneath the dark blue sky, within the camp where all slept, a cold blue glare flashed. The gaze of a snake hunting its prey.

The King of the River, Yurion Aphahiel, stood upon the desert sands.

—

At the same time, at the heart of the Imperial Army’s encampment.

At its center stood a rather impressive tent that did not suit the open wilds at all. It was the residence of Marquis Carson, positioned at the center of the camp so that, in an emergency, orders could be relayed swiftly in all directions.

It was already well past one in the morning. Yet a faint light leaked out from the wide tent where the marquis stayed alone. The glow of the magic lamp inside showed no sign of being extinguished, even so late at night.

“Hoo…”

Before a solid-looking desk set inside the tent, the marquis let out a deep sigh, as if weighed down by heavy 고민. He repeatedly picked up and set down the unfortunate pen before him.

Perhaps he had made up his mind. Soon, the marquis completely set aside the quill and pushed away the paper before him, now filled with nothing but blotches of black ink—the traces of his indecision.

Creak—

The ordinary sound of a wooden drawer closing rang to the marquis like the closing of his last lingering attachment.

With the desk neatly cleared, the marquis drew a bitter smile.

‘At this point, what lingering regret would there be to leave last words? I’ve endured this far. Leaving a record now would only risk ruining everything. His Highness will understand even if I say nothing. If there is one small wish…’

His family and descendants, cast into a dead end by his own choice. If he succeeded in what he had chosen, then all who bore the name “Carson” would likely meet a miserable end.

Yet if the marquis had informed his family in advance and sent them away early, then not only Gion, but even the pig-dogs adorned with pearls—whom the marquis looked down upon—would have grown suspicious of him.

‘…It is all my greed. One cannot have everything. Sacrifice is unavoidable.’

He agonized and reconsidered countless times, but in the end, the marquis’s choice remained the same as it had been from the start.

At that moment, a presence could be felt outside the marquis’s tent. He first assumed it was merely soldiers rotating guard duty, but the presence drew closer.

“Pardon me, Your Excellency. May I enter for a moment?”

A voice heard at an unexpected time, in an unexpected place. The visitor was Colbus Seral, who had risen in an instant to the position of Vice Commander of the Imperial Army through Gion’s radical appointment. It was far too late an hour for a visit unless it was truly urgent.

‘Hm… This is unlike him. Why now…?’

At the uninvited visit, the marquis immediately sensed something subtle amiss. Still, he did not avoid it.

‘He is originally a man strong enough that Gion chose him as his Guardian Knight. If he came to kill me, there would be no avoiding it. In that case…’

All that remained was a head-on confrontation.

“Come in.”

Permission was granted. Though countless thoughts flashed through the marquis’s mind in that brief span, less than two seconds passed between Colbus’s request and the marquis’s reply.

“Yes. Then I beg your pardon, Your Excellency.”

Slip—

Colbus pulled back the entrance of the tent and stepped inside. The marquis naturally went ahead and sat at the desk, gesturing to the seat across from him.

“Ah, thank you for welcoming me so kindly despite my sudden visit at such a late hour. Then I shall sit without ceremony.”

Colbus quietly pulled out a chair and took his seat.

“Since an important guest has come, it would be proper to offer at least a cup of tea, but given the circumstances, please forgive me for not doing so.”

“Your welcome alone is more than enough. I do not particularly enjoy tea myself, so it is quite all right.”

Before a plain, makeshift desk that would have been hard to see outside of a battlefield like this, the marquis and Colbus sat facing each other, observing one another.

‘He usually keeps his face covered, so I could not see him well before, but now that I look—he truly is a handsome young man. Perhaps four or five years older than His Highness? To have that level of skill at such a young age… At the age when I should be dying of old age, there are so many who still manage to astonish this old body.’

‘…Those eyes. This is something one must be born with, regardless of sheer martial strength. The marquis is truly a great man who would defy anything to uphold his convictions. Compared to him, I am nothing more than a skilled executioner. For my lord to truly claim the Empire as his own, he needs men like the marquis.’

Five seconds. Long if long, short if short. After a silence so awkward that onlookers might have frozen to death, the marquis spoke first.

“What brings you here at such a late hour, Vice Commander Colbus?”

“Well… it is a bit embarrassing to say, but perhaps with war approaching, my heart has been restless. I could not sleep despite the late hour, so I came out to get some air. When I saw that the Supreme Commander’s residence was still lit, I wondered if perhaps we might share a drink.”

As if his words were not empty, Colbus reached into his coat, took out a bottle of liquor, and set it on the desk between them. The marquis looked at the bottle with a flat gaze.

“Liquor during wartime… I do enjoy drinking myself, but I believe liquor is best enjoyed after the victory cry. This is merely my personal view, so do not take offense. If you wish to drink alone, I will not stop you.”

A polite refusal. As if he had expected it, Colbus hid the bottle again with a bitter smile.

“It is unfortunate. There was something I wished to discuss with you over a drink, Your Excellency.”

The marquis pressed forward without hesitation.

“It sounds as though you have something to say to me.”

Roughly gauging Colbus’s strength, the marquis knew well that if Colbus sought his blood, there was no avoiding it. In such a situation, rather than resorting to petty tricks to buy time, the marquis was the sort of man who would fight with all he had, even knowing it was futile.

“Very well. Speak. What do you want from this old body?”

“Marquis. I want you. My lord needs someone like you.”

Colbus, like Carson, showed no hesitation. His tone was forceful enough to be mistaken for a command rather than a request. But his opponent was Astasil Carson.

“If that is your intent, then draw the sword you carry and cut me down. That will never happen, even if I die. It seems your so-called lord desires not me, but my head.”

Even as he spoke of having his head taken, the marquis’s expression did not change in the slightest.

“…”

Shing—

Colbus fell silent. Instead, his sword made a sound.

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