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Chapter 284
Predecessor
Arken Empire, Imperial Palace's Knight Training Ground.
Before the rooster's crow could wake the dawn, the Training Captain's roar erupted.
"You slug bastards! Can't you get up right now!?"
Those called slugs were all renowned swordsmen from across the nation.
They were people known to the point where not knowing them would make you a spy in their regions—whether facing monsters alone or winning swordsmanship tournaments—and they had high pride to boot.
Е̄n̈ u m ӑ. і̊ d̈
But once they entered here, they realized they were frogs in a well.
Training of an intensity that made one wonder if humans could endure it, and frustration that shattered their hearts time and again.
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"You must advance beyond your weak yesterday! Throw away your weak yesterday! Live today, advance for tomorrow! Understand!?"
"Yes!"
"Voice is too quiet! We'll start with a light 30-lap forced march!"
"Yes!!!"
Е̌nu ṁа̂
"I can see you screaming that you hate this to death! Start 50 laps!"
The Training Captain's discipline continued, not even allowing them to show dislike.
While he was grinding the soldiers like that, the Training Captain's adjutant hurriedly whispered in his ear.
An unhideable embarrassment crossed his tiger-like face.
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"Everyone halt! Fall in!"
A desperation far removed from the charisma he'd shown until now.
Е̃n uṁ a. і́ d̄
The cadets sensed the crisis and hurriedly fell in.
"Dress right, dress! Align properly! If anyone's out of line, I'll punish them severely!!"
They soon learned why he was so flustered.
An old man who didn't belong in this sweat-smelling place walked in.
"Unit, attention!"
He was the Great Grand Duke, Valdemar Golt.
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"Sir! Training Captain Lucas reporting! Total 72, excused 0, present 72!"
"You've had a hard time."
The knight cadets all tensed up.
He was the most respected Grand Duke in the Empire, and the usurper who killed the Emperor.
The moment they saw that man in whom the best and worst coexisted, they didn't know themselves how they'd react.
But there was no need for such worry.
W̆еb ňо ṽе̂l̂. Еǹu m а
Witnessing Valdemar directly with their own eyes, they realized how trivial their worry was.
Time is a flowing stream, and humans are stones settled on the riverbed, it was said.
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Whether the current is calm or fierce, the rugged stones are worn down and whittled away.
Becoming gentle, becoming small feels trivial, and such emotions are bound to show on one's face.
But on this old man's face, no gentleness could be felt.
As if the stream of years was merely water used for quenching heated iron, he became harder and sharper.
E n̆ù ḿ а .іd̄
Thus, they could clearly define Valdemar Golt in their minds.
He was a ruler.
"This batch of cadets has eyes I like."
He made eye contact with each one, wearing a satisfied expression.
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"Training Captain, can you pick the three most outstanding?"
"Yes! Number 5! Number 17! Number 52! Step forward!"
Ŵ e bṅо̂ vе l Е̄ñ ŭ m̂а
In order, 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place.
They moved briskly and stood before Valdemar.
He handed each a wooden training sword and said,
"From now on, you must fight thinking it's real combat."
Hearing just that, they would've thought he'd make them spar among themselves.
Valdemar, having distributed all the swords, also picked up a wooden sword and said,
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"All of you, come at me."
They couldn't help but be flustered.
No matter how straight he held his back, he was a Grand Duke, and an old man.
"You seem to be hesitating, so I'll show you first."
The moment he leaned his body forward, his figure moved nimbly.
He swung his sword at the top-ranked cadet.
Е n u mӓ
Tak!
A crisp impact sound rang out.
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Even though the top-ranked cadet blocked Valdemar's attack, he trembled.
The top-ranked cadet had definitely tried to smoothly deflect the attack.
But his defense was clumsy and dull, like a third-rate swordsman's.
It wasn't because he was careless.
Ӗn̂ ũm̊а̀ . іd
Valdemar's attack was just that sharp.
"Feeling like doing it now, you rookies?"
They realize how foolish their worry was.
Telling all three to come at once wasn't a petty whim born of arrogance toward authority.
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The 2nd and 3rd ranked also clung on, engaging Valdemar.
An unbelievable sound erupted as wooden swords clashed.
Е̇ n u̇ m̂а̌. í d̆
The three-on-one duel overwhelmed the onlookers.
The Training Captain was no different.
Training Captain, Lucas.
He, who was armed with absolute charisma among the cadets, instantly returned to his days as a novice knight.
When he was Novice Knight Lucas, he had been deployed to the Troll Legion battlefield.
Overwhelming size and strength, and regenerative power.
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With over a hundred such creatures, it was truly a calamity.
The fear that had been intense crept up again, a shuddering sensation.
Even the vigor of youth was suppressed, and taking even a step toward death was scary.
In the midst of that, one man didn't retreat.
Ironically, it was a cloak bearing the insignia of the supreme commander who should've been in the far rear.
He picked up the falling Arken Empire flag, held a sword in his other hand, and shouted thus:
Е n ū m̀ã.
-For the Empire!
A spirited first shout drew out a roar, uniting the army as one.
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The supreme commander didn't retreat a single step after that.
Such spirit overwhelmed the rising fear and boosted morale.
Thus the name given was simple yet great.
'War God (Jeon-sin).'
Ѐ ńu mа .ĭd́
War God, Valdemar Golt.
He has the face of an aged old man, but he still holds that position.
"Let's stop here."
While the three trainees breathed roughly, Valdemar didn't blink an eye.
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The trainees lowered their swords and bowed their waists.
"We sincerely thank you for the Grand Duke's teaching!"
Eṅ.û m̀a . іd
"Don't be too discouraged. You're still fine raw stones who can push through with vigor. Once you start forging experience into skill, you'll be able to become the Empire's Sword Masters."
Valdemar returned the wooden sword to its place and approached the Training Captain.
"My body's gotten dull lately so I did a warm-up, wonder if I did something unnecessary?"
"Not at all. Thanks to you, the kids would've learned the world is wider."
"This batch will definitely become good knights, Training Captain."
"Your words are too kind, sir."
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"Struggle a bit more."
The Training Captain placed a hand on his chest and expressed respect.
He swore once more.
If anyone cursed him as a dirty usurper, he'd cut their throat and make an example of them.
* * *
After sparring with the three knight cadets, Valdemar headed straight to his office.
E n̈.ů mӑ
His aides were busy briefing him at his sides.
"It seems Count Quarn's family fled in the night. We've sent a pursuit team and are awaiting Your Highness's will."
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"It's not nobles who fear their heads rolling, but deserters. The punishment for deserters is clear, is it not?"
"Understood."
With the Emperor dead, subordinates die too.
Since the usurpation succeeded, a blood wind blowing was only natural.
Ë.n u̇ḿ ä.. іd̆
However, unlike other usurpers, Valdemar absolutely never kept alive those who sucked up uselessly.
He placed everything under the name of fear, and didn't compromise even on the slightest deviation.
Thus, Valdemar succeeded in binding a massive army in his name.
Yet, a stifling feeling couldn't be erased.
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The reason was clear.
The army's purpose was still in the fog.
W е.ḃń оv̄е̂ l Е́ n̂ú_m̀ а̇
"From the Far East, a wagon—no, mana automobiles have arrived."
Far East.
The only part not absorbed in the unified Empire.
"Looks like weapons came. Show me the manifests? Curious what excuse they'll use to send how much this time."
"Here they are."
He was about to just skim them and say send them in, when Valdemar's steps stopped.
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What caught his eye was the name of the person in charge.
"Officer."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Has the person in charge here entered the palace now?"
"That is correct."
"I see."
Ẃ ėbnо̂ v̂ ӗ l̆ Еn̊ um а
Valdemar smiled faintly.
"Then it's proper that I go greet him personally."
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Valdemar turned his steps without a moment's hesitation.
At the collection point where 8 mana automobiles were lined up, one man stood out.
Gray hair, black uniform.
He stood with his back straight and hands behind his back.
Е̄n u m̌а̊
"It's been a while, Grand Duke."
A greeting thrown as courtesy.
Despite being green as grass, the only one who treated him, of high renown, like that was Ferda Valdrova, this bastard alone.
Valdemar received that greeting half-dismissively, and laid his hands on the items taken from the automobile.
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"A magitech rifle?"
It wasn't just touching them.
Е̄n̂_üm̈ а. і d
Valdemar skillfully operated and inspected the item.
His shouldering form and aiming method were skilled enough to be unthinkable for an old noble.
"It's a different shape from the items I received at first. Is it a new model?"
He asked, and Ferda answered.
"Yes. These are the items issued to the Far East infantry this time."
"Unexpected. Rumor has it you only give outdated models."
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"It's not rumor, it's fact."
"Honest."
Brazen behavior that deserved to have his head cut off.
But Valdemar only laughed.
Valdemar set down the rifle.
"Do you know what nobles call the Imperial Palace these days?"
Е n u̇ m̂ ã.id
"They say it's a grave site."
"Right. Because once you enter, you can never leave, they say that. What about you?"
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A subtle pressure seeped out.
"Then it'd be mutual regret, wouldn't it?"
Ferda countered as if such pressure was laughable.
It wasn't a bluff born of youthful recklessness.
Е̂ ñū m а́
Was that why?
Valdemar found Ferda more to his liking the more he saw him.
"Follow me. Let's have a talk."
* * *
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Valdemar Golt ascended to the Emperor's seat.
It became a famous incident known even in mountain villages where roads were cut off.
Ê ǹŭ_m̃ӓ
He doesn't call himself Emperor, but his status is equal to the Emperor's.
In that sense, a situation where he's alone with someone absolutely never existed.
If he dies, new chaos will begin, and no one will be able to control that chaos.
Having lost both arms now, Valdemar acted especially cautiously.
In that sense, Ferda was a bit different.
He was the only person with whom Valdemar could have a private audience.
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Paradoxically, because he was a certain enemy, he was more trustworthy.
"I'll skip the useless words."
Ferda went straight to the main point.
What he took out was a black bottle.
"Doppler Antidote Potion."
"Antidote potion?"
Е́ nů m̆ а . і̀d̀
"An item that forcibly undoes the disguise of demons transformed into Dopplers and returns them to demon form. Can sniff out the hiding rat bastards."
"Is the performance certain?"
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Ferda nodded.
"What kind of place is Blue Eye?"
"Indeed. Impressive. You mean to restore order?"
There was no need to doubt further at the words Blue Eye.
Е ňǔ_má.і̄ ď
"What do you want me to do with this item?"
"With the current quantity, we can't screen and process all Dopplers. So I want to use it in the most effective way."
"Effective... certainly, using it where I am would be effective for sifting out the big rat bastards."
Valdemar leaned his body forward.
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His age-spot-filled face wore a sly smile.
"But what reason would I have to do that?"
Ӗñ u m̃ а̀
Valdemar wasn't an easy person.
"Do you know my current situation? It's like a rogue blindfolded waving a sword. Swinging wildly, not knowing if it's friend or foe. What do you think that's like?"
"You'd be afraid."
"Exactly. They fear me. No one wants to keep holding fear. They do anything to shake it off. What would they do for that?"
"They'd try to prove themselves."
"Right. They try to prove themselves somehow. The form of that proof is what I want most."
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If they can't devote themselves through loyalty, make them devote themselves through fear.
"I thought your thoughts ran deeper, but you're not as much as I thought. A bit disappointed."
Valdemar picked up the bell.
Ring that bell, people come in, and the talk ends.
"My words aren't finished yet."
What Valdemar said was something Ferda already knew.
W̃ ëb̄ n о̄v̄.ѐl̂ Е̇n u m̆а_
"This isn't a simple request, it's a trade. Using this item effectively is my demand."
Ferda already knows why Valdemar acts like this.
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So he could be certain that Valdemar was the one who could use the antidote potion best.
"Olivia's location. That's the price I can give."
