The Imperial Palace of Blanc Casa, located southwest of Yurahil, the capital of the Empire of Yustera.

Originally built on the site of a villa to display the glory and power of the previous Emperor Stephanus, the palace was closer to a vast city than a mere castle, housing central government departments that oversaw administration across the empire.

Constructed by the finest architects, Blanc Casa, with its main palace and annexes, luxurious interior decorations, and magnificent gardens, was bustling today as it opened its doors wide to welcome the incessant flow of visitors.

It wasn’t even ball season. It was barely the time when nobles were just rubbing the sleep from their eyes.

The long procession, joined by nobles who had packed their bags and come up from their territories to attend the banquet hosted by the Emperor, showed no signs of dwindling.

Since that day when His Majesty had beheaded Solas Moretti, the Imperial Knight Commander whom he had cherished more than his own flesh and blood, and hung the head high on the castle walls, the nobles had bowed their heads before the Emperor and held their breath.

His Majesty, who had allowed disrespect even to himself and the court officials, cherishing and favoring his right-hand man to such an extent, had turned him into eagle food overnight.

Whether he was still trembling with a sense of betrayal, or his mood was twisted by regret for executing him.

Or perhaps because the hole left in his heart by the Knight of Fire, whom he had never parted from except when sending him to the battlefield, was too great.

The young and beautiful Emperor Justin Della Ponti was as precarious and dangerous as a faulty bomb that could explode at any moment.

The luxurious carriages of high-ranking nobles first entered through the dazzling white palace gates.

The nobles heading towards the Golden Hall, where the imperial ball had been held for a fortnight, found the entrance path decorated with expensive magic stones emitting mysterious light to be as frightening and chilling as the gaping red maw of hell’s gate.

Who would be caught on some forced pretext by the Emperor today and spill red blood on the floor of the Golden Hall…

Under the dazzlingly bright jeweled chandeliers, nobles in colorful fine dresses and men dressed up like peacocks twirled in circles to the merry tunes of the band.

Gorgeous floral decorations, the scent of ladies’ perfume, passionate courtship from young lords, and the shy laughter of young ladies.

Although the ballroom seemed to be heating up despite it being midday, it was merely a desperate act to please the Emperor’s mood.

The air around the beautiful Emperor, sitting with his chin propped up and a bored expression on his face at the high seat in the distance, had settled colder than the perennial snow of the north.

Even high-ranking nobles did not dare approach close to greet the Emperor, who was radiating a cold aura, and only exchanged glances with each other.

With His Majesty frowning like that and then suddenly drawing his sword without warning. One could become a ghost while dancing or drinking, without even knowing why. So they had no choice but to diligently roll their eyeballs, trying not to meet his gaze.

Of course, the Emperor had a very valid reason.

The one who insulted Solas in front. The one who slandered Solas behind his back. The one who coveted Solas with dirty eyes. The one who busily spread vulgar rumors. The one who fabricated non-existent words to try to pull Solas down from his position as Imperial Knight Commander…

They all deserved to die.

Why was he digging up the big and small wounds that Solas had remained silent about now? Why were those wounds cutting up his own chest so painfully?

Why was he calling in people day after day to fill this spacious hall? What was he expecting as his eyes continued to anxiously look around, even though he knew he couldn’t find the face he wanted to see here…

The Emperor looked down at his hand, unclenching the fist he had been gripping so tightly his nails dug in. His palm, stained with blood, was as painfully pale as his face.

“Please brighten your expression, Your Majesty. Why don’t you ask one of the young ladies who have beautifully adorned themselves for a dance? Look, Lady Carina over there has been gazing at Your Majesty longingly for a while now.”

Empress Dowager Sophia, seated next to Justin at the high seat, spoke with what seemed like a gentle smile. Her elastic skin, unbelievable for someone over forty, and mysterious purple eyes sparkled seductively.

Justin indifferently turned his gaze to the lady the Empress Dowager was pointing at.

Among the pale-faced young ladies, Carina Pioni, who had uniquely flushed cheeks, twisted her body outwards, delighting in the Emperor’s gaze. Her ebony hair, sprinkled with jewel dust, cascaded in lush waves.

Lady Carina was a candidate for sainthood who had been under special care of the temple since her sacred power manifested at seventeen, and the Empress Dowager took particular interest in her.

Although she was scheduled to compete with other candidates in next year’s saint selection, it was a foregone conclusion that Carina would become a saint, as she had been confirmed to possess unprecedentedly great divine power.

“I don’t like her hair color.”

Justin’s favorite hair color is a vivid red like a luscious apple. Like Solas, that child.

“She’s short, and her body is thin like a thorn.”

Justin likes tall women. With a firm, toned body with well-placed muscles. Like Solas, that child.

“The Pioni family may have a short history, but they are loyal, and though they have little, they are full of potential. Above all, isn’t the lady’s brother, Sir Aaron, the Imperial Knight Commander who serves Your Majesty with utmost loyalty?”

Speak of the devil – Aaron Pioni crossed the hall and knelt on one knee before the Emperor.

“Your Majesty.”

Justin glanced at Aaron expressionlessly with his chin propped up, then turned his head away.

This bastard who isn’t even worthy of polishing Solas’s shoes.

“I’ve sent crows flying in the northern sky.”

While Solas had offered her shoulder to monsters in my stead, willingly enduring the pain of flesh being torn and bones being crushed.

“This time, the crows will surely return with the gold coin Your Majesty has been waiting for in their beaks.”

This traitor who exchanged his superiors and subordinates for merely the position of Imperial Knight Commander.

Recruiting only greedy and selfish subordinates just like himself to form the Imperial Knight Order. Shamelessly using his knights for assassinations that even mercenaries would hesitate to do. Hmph, crows indeed.

Tsk. As the Emperor sneered while looking away, Aaron prostrated himself on the floor, not knowing what to do.

“Your Majesty.”

Even at the desperate call, Justin did not turn back.

“Your Majesty…”

The nobles dancing and conversing far from the high seat shrank back at the sight of the Imperial Knight Commander suddenly prostrating before the Emperor.

Unable to watch any longer, Empress Dowager Sophia ordered Aaron to stand up, but Aaron remained frozen, unable to move an inch.

If he had known that the reason His Majesty was glaring at him so murderously was because of his betrayal of Commander Solas, he would have felt extremely wronged.

For it was Your Majesty himself who secretly planted false evidence of treason in the north and ordered the holy sword Flama to be turned into a demon sword behind the Commander’s back. And it was Your Majesty himself who beheaded Solas in a moment of uncontrollable anger.

But believing that the position of Knight Commander was His Majesty’s reward for his merits and a sign of firm trust, Aaron only trembled, thinking he was being rebuked for the repeated failures of the assassins sent to the north.

“P-please ease your anger, Your Majesty. This time, I will surely place the gold coin in Your Majesty’s hand!”

Justin snorted disdainfully while still looking away.

“To hell with gold coins. Just say Grand Duke Ielheim comfortably. Is there anyone here who doesn’t know that I’m dying to kill Brother Frost?”

The Imperial Knight Commander’s uniform caught in the corner of his eye as he looked away irritated Justin, and he bit the inside of his mouth. The taste of blood spread in his mouth.

He recalled when Solas first came for an audience after becoming Imperial Knight Commander, grumbling that the newly tailored uniform was too stiff and flashy, yet unable to hide the rising smile.

The lush red eyebrows that awkwardly brushed his sleeves and gently curved. The moisture quietly welling up under those eyebrows. The vow to serve loyally forever.

‘There’s nothing eternal in this world, Solas. You… you’re not here anymore.’

With a stinging in his solar plexus and his eyes feeling dry, Justin closed them instead.

“Your Majesty. This mother does not understand why you keep sending assassins to the north so busily.”

Empress Dowager Sophia dismissed Aaron with a glance and released her pent-up curiosity towards Justin.

“The north’s silence is just a pretense of taking one step back to advance two steps forward. You should push them completely before they regain their strength.”

“Is war some child’s play? Especially a civil war at that.”

Justin, who had been idly tapping his toes, got up from his seat and approached the Empress Dowager, holding out his hand.

As the Empress Dowager took her son’s hand and stood up, Justin led her to the center of the hall and signaled the conductor to change the music.

As the baton rose high, the music flowing through the banquet hall slowed down. The dress hems that had been twirling in cheerful circles all retreated at once.

Justin, leading the Empress Dowager, spoke in a tone as slow and leisurely as the music.

“We need to gather troops. We need to extort money from the nobles. We need to present a plausible justification to the temple.”

The Empress Dowager brushed back the brilliant golden hair that had fallen onto her son’s straight forehead and whispered in his ear.

“Is there any need for only our troops to be troops and only nearby money to be war funds when starting a war?”

There she goes again. Borrowing troops from barbarians and using their resources. As if there’s anything free in this world. How much blood and sweat did Solas shed to protect my land from them?

“I’ll think about it, Mother.”

“The north is barren and unsightly land anyway. We just need to give the land the barbarians covet and take the development rights for the resources we need.”

“Your words are wise, but I’ll think about it a bit more.”

Justin painted the same artificial smile on his lips as his mother’s.

“What’s the reason you keep thinking but can’t make a decision?”

Reason, huh.

“Are you still attached to that barren land?”

That can’t be. I have no lingering affection for the north. The barbarians can steam it or mince it for all I care.

“Frost Ielheim has become terminally ill, and the morale in the north is lower than ever after the last subjugation. One word from Your Majesty can finish off the north. Wasn’t the reason you beheaded Solas to lay the groundwork for sweeping away the north?”

Justin’s feet stopped right there.

The dance music stopped as well.

Sophia stumbled, but Justin didn’t catch her.

The Empress Dowager, barely regaining her posture, looked up at her son and gritted her teeth.

‘Still…’

It was clear what was holding her son back. Solas…

That girl who still completely captivated her son even in death had always been the problem. It’s not like she could kill a child who was already dead. Tsk.

“Forget Solas. That child’s usefulness has ended.”

Justin left the Empress Dowager behind and silently walked out of the hall.

His feet somehow headed towards Solas’s favorite personal training ground.

After killing Solas, the Emperor woke up more often on the dirt floor of that training ground than in his own chambers.

Taking off all the heavy formal attire and the suffocating cravat, Justin lay spread-eagled on the training ground floor and exhaled his pent-up breath.

No trace of Solas remained in the cleaned-up training ground.

‘Ended, huh…’

Yes… It had ended.

He had beheaded her with his own hands. He had hung the coldly stiffened corpse on the castle walls.

It was he himself who had shown pathetic lingering affection by ordering her face and body to be covered with a helmet and armor, not wanting to show them.

He had watched, and watched, and watched her every night under the castle walls where eagles had landed, trying to show himself that it was over now.

‘Why…?’

Why did it still not feel like it had ended?

Why did he feel this anxious feeling that he had to wait for something more?

Justin turned over and buried his face in the ground that Solas had tread every day.

“Solas…”

The Emperor’s tears wet the dirt floor.

“Solas… Solas…”

*

‘Justin, you damned bastard!’

Yuriella inwardly chewed on curses as she gripped Mars’s reins and lay flat on her stomach.

It was challenging to control Mars’s reins, which were pitching back and forth under the shower of arrows, but she managed to make the horse turn in circles while calming it down.

Frost leapt up from Mars’s back with his toes, spinning in mid-air to block the arrows pouring in from all directions.

‘Amazing! Not a single waver even though he’s poisoned with madok.’

Yuriella clicked her tongue in admiration at Frost’s skill in deflecting arrows without wavering as she made the horse turn in increasingly smaller circles.

But Yuriella wasn’t the only one who was impressed.

Even while blocking arrows with his sword, Frost’s eyes couldn’t leave Yuriella’s slender body clinging tightly to the horse’s back.

‘She’s controlling the horse at will…! Handling Mars, a wounded and rampaging horse, without any disturbance…!’

Frost’s eyes narrowed.

A strange sense of dissonance, as if the shell and the core were separate. A woman whose questions only multiplied rather than being understood each time he saw her.

‘My lady. Just what is your true identity?’