A Balkanian diplomat was blown up at the imperial border. Balkania lodged its protest, as expected, and the Empire sent back only a formal reply claiming it was "Mekerel's doing."

Balkanian Prime Minister Agento flew into a rage.

Naturally, the Empire's claim was never going to be true.

On the balcony of Jean Pierre's office at Prozen National University, Arthur Winston, a scholar and council member from Hyland, puffed at his pipe and declared, "War cannot be stopped. This is only the beginning. The Empire will set the continent ablaze without fail."

Fwooo. The smoke he breathed out scattered into the open air above the balcony.

"But the idiots in Hyland's political circles are misjudging the Empire completely. They seem to think the current Emperor is a ruler you can reason with. The man is deranged. Born wrong from the very start."

Arthur Winston spat vicious words about the imperial Emperor. Jean Pierre asked, curious, "Do you know the Emperor personally?"

"Very. Very well indeed. I've seen him with my own eyes. The man is a wreck, riddled with physical insecurities and every kind of inferiority complex you can name."

Arthur gave a contemptuous little twist of his lips.

"Blond hair, golden eyes, long limbs,every last symbol of the pure Aran that those imperial types shriek about, the Emperor doesn't possess a single one. That brutal contradiction,that he himself lacks the very proof of the bloodline he so fervently worships,is what drove him mad."

He knocked out his pipe and fixed his gaze on Jean Pierre.

"He's taking out his rage at being born wrong on everything else around him."

"......"

"But what about Prozen's defense line? Is it holding?"

The Aegis Defense Line, which Prozen had poured enormous capital into building during the western war years past, was still solid.

Yet its very existence had become a poison for Prozen.

"The fact that everyone places blind faith in that one line and feels safe,that is the biggest problem."

Jean Pierre answered with a bitter edge.

"The factional conflict is extraordinarily intense. Since Defense Minister Louis Marceau was assassinated, Prozen's political circles have still not recovered their mutual trust."

Arthur Winston let out a hollow laugh.

"Prozen, Hyland,it seems the situation is the same everywhere." 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

"Yes. Fortunately, the people on the ground are somewhat different. I've been receiving letters from soldiers lately."

Lieutenant Colonel Michelle, the core officer of Prozen's armored units, had sent Jean Pierre a letter warning of the Empire's military buildup and mass production of tanks. The message was a plea,addressed to Jean Pierre as one of Prozen's prominent figures, though Jean Pierre himself did not think of himself that way,to somehow persuade the politicians.

"Actually, Jean, I read your book with great admiration. I even sent someone to record your lectures and had them brought to me."

"That's illegal, you know."

"My apologies. But it means I agree with your thinking that much. And for that reason, the imperial Emperor doesn't concern me in the slightest."

Arthur's eyes grew heavy with something unspoken.

"Maximilian and Ebenholtz...... In a way, it is a deeply frightening thing. That Sebastian's son is Maximilian."

Sebastian and Maximilian. Jean Pierre drew a dry breath.

The two from Ebenholtz had already become part of history.

"Right now, the imperial military is undergoing a transformation under the shadow of Ebenholtz. Are you familiar with the incident where Maximilian shot several hundred corrupt soldiers at the eastern border all at once?"

"Yes."

The rumor of that purge had already spread across the entire continent, freezing discipline throughout the whole imperial military.

"Furthermore, the Gennen Autonomous Territory, which he administered directly, is now thoroughly stabilized. Have you ever been to Gennen, Jean?"

"Not yet."

"You should go sometime. People in the west seem terrified of Gennen, calling it a land of slaughter swept by bloody winds, but when I went there myself, I found no reason for that at all."

Arthur pulled several photographs from inside his coat and laid them on the table. They were recent photographs of Gennen.

"Feel free to use them in your lectures."

Gleaming new logistics warehouses. Factories running at full tilt. Roads paved wide and clean. Bridges linking river to river. Guard posts keeping watch, newly built military bases on the city's outskirts, and a massive commercial district that had grown up around them.

"......It's a proper metropolis."

"Indeed."

Gennen had been a critical bridgehead connecting east to west. So the Empire had poured in capital, attracted industry and military installations, abolished unjust tax burdens, and lifted the lives of the territory's citizens considerably.

"Elias Walter, who will soon become Gennen's governor, is a native son of Gennen. But he carries imperial noble blood. Thanks to his efforts, the people of Gennen have been officially and firmly recognized in law as holding a quasi-applicable bloodline. Honestly, I still have no bloody idea what that quasi-applicable bloodline nonsense is actually supposed to mean."

Arthur flipped through the photographs one by one and slid the last one across to Jean Pierre.

A man with light blond hair and golden eyes, wearing a gentle smile as he looked out over a lively marketplace.

Elias Walter.

"This Elias Walter, too, is a figure carved out by Maximilian. Maximilian controls the entire board from behind the scenes."

Arthur exhaled a long stream of tobacco smoke. The pale gray haze that slipped from between his teeth scattered along the grain of the wind.

"Jean. What do you think?"

At Arthur's question, Jean Pierre thought briefly but deeply before answering.

"......In the end, I believe we have no choice but to trust in people."

His gaze took on a resolute color.

"If a great evil exists, and if everyone in the world names it as such and stands together against it, people will surely overcome it and win. That is the current history has proven, time and again."

"......"

It was a fitting thing for a scholar to say, but it sat wrong with Arthur Winston. He smiled a tired smile and asked, "Even if that victory does not come in our generation?"

"Yes. No matter how long it takes."

Thud. Arthur knocked the pipe hard against the railing.

"Professor Jean Pierre. What you are saying amounts to the same thing as saying that in the long run, we are all dead."

A fighter's hard light burned in his rough eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have the patience to wait for that distant future victory."

Jean Pierre knew Arthur Winston.

He was a man like fire. The kind of person who would carve his own name boldly into a page of history.

"I want to beat them with my own hands and see the victory clearly with my own two eyes."

Certainly, here was a man capable of standing against the Empire.

"Yes. I hope for that too."

As a mere scholar, Jean Pierre could only cheer on their cause from where he stood.

Only pray for the victory of good.

* * *

Mekerel Royal Palace. King Batimus received word of the Balkanian diplomat's explosion.

"Publicly, it will be framed as an assassination carried out by Mekerel, but Your Majesty need only remain silent."

Either way, Mekerel was already bleeding from an unjust invasion. There was no need to plead innocence or make excuses to Balkania. Of course, Balkania would have known from the start that the Empire was behind it.

Everyone knew, and everyone played along.

"......Understood."

King Batimus nodded with a heavy face.

"The weapons and communications equipment that were shipped also arrived safely. People came with them as well."

"Yes. I sent instructors and interpreters to handle the equipment."

"There are more people in the Empire who can speak the Mekerel language?"

I gave a small laugh.

"The Empire is vast, and there are many who wish to learn."

More precisely, it was a case of imperial anthropologists who had picked up the Mekerel language as a side study while researching "tribal peoples," but there was no need to say that out loud.

"Well, then. Before you leave, please write out one copy of the formal secret pact document."

The contents were simple.

Cede the Izenheim settlement region of Rondor to the Empire.

The king's eyes flickered briefly, but he seemed to reach a decision and nodded firmly.

"Furthermore, this secret pact must not leak to anyone until the war is over."

"That is precisely what I want as well. I have sold a smaller number of my people for the sake of a greater number."

"......Yes. It was a difficult decision. Thank you."

"Now go and rest."

I left the palace and returned to my room.

A room set aside inside the palace complex.

Sitting at the desk there......

Honestly, there was nothing to do. I supposed I might as well start drafting the new [Knight Doctrine] to be issued to Empire Point and Sentinel.

I picked up my pen.

Scratch. Scratch.

- A knight shall always maintain polite honorifics and dignity. Any who let their emotions carry them into raised voices or crude language have no right to call themselves a knight.

Johann would clean it up into something much more elegant on his own later, so rough notes would do.

- In the execution of enemies, set aside all personal grudges, and hold only the Empire's safety and the greater cause as the standard of judgment.

- A knight's sword is not to be drawn lightly, but once drawn, it must always cut off the enemy's breath.

- A knight shall not publicize or make an excessive show of personal achievements.

There was no need to make pointless enemies out of arrogance and pride. Great power had to be matched by fitting responsibility. A knight had to embody that. In one's own heart, one had to carry a conviction and standard that never wavered.

Knock, knock.

A sudden sound at the door.

"Come in."

I already knew who it was from the presence alone.

Leon Askar.

He walked in holding a cloudy bottle of liquor and two glasses in one hand.

"Max. How about a drink? Apparently this is Mekerel's traditional spirit."

"Sure."

I nodded willingly.

A taste you could only find locally. Exactly what I'd wanted. Bring it on.

"Pour it."

"Alright."

Glug glug.

Leon filled my glass.

"But everyone here has such dark skin. And there's some kind of strange smell too."

Every bit of Leon's prejudice was packed neatly into that short sentence.

"Bear with it."

I lifted the glass and took a slow sip before speaking.

"What matters is what's inside."

Even if the outside was a little dark and rough, it was still a hundred times better than those Izenheim creatures whose insides were black and rotten to the core.

"You always surprise me, Max."

Leon gave a small smile.

"You hate Izenheim with everything you have, but then you stick up for people you'd call uncivilized. Sometimes it feels like there are several different people living inside you."

"......There's a concept called quasi-applicable bloodline."

I set my glass down.

"If you are willing to devote yourself in ways that benefit Aran, you can be treated as a bloodline equivalent to Aran."

"But you can never be truly Aran?"

"Right. Meaning that as long as you're not Izenheim, it's all up to what you make of yourself."

"Why is Izenheim excluded?"

"Because they are a counter-race whose history has not been proven."

Leon looked at me with an odd expression. I raised my glass toward him.

"This is good, actually."

"Yeah?"

Leon had not touched his own glass at all.

"Why aren't you drinking?"

"......I just don't, really."

"Drink yours too."

"Max, you like trying new things. I don't. This honestly smells strange right from the start."

He gave a strained smile and started slowly backing toward the door.

"Leon."

I called out to stop him from retreating.

"There's a place called Rondor. An Izenheim settlement."

"Oh. Is that right?"

Leon leaned his back against the wall.

I spoke.

"Tomorrow, I'm thinking of going there to have a look. Stay on standby nearby."

"Hmm. Alright. The food here doesn't agree with me, but it's only a day, so..."

......

I deployed Illusion magic to disguise my identity. My conspicuous blond hair became deep black, my pale skin took on the natural look of a tan, and I pulled a thick robe hood over my head.

The destination was Rondor. A basin fairly far from Mekerel's city center, and the Izenheim settlement.

I walked in alone.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The moment I stepped into the village, my heart beat in that familiar way.

Izenheim stood along the road, staring at me with guarded eyes.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Their reasons for suspecting or staying on guard were sound enough.

Nearly all of them had dark skin.

Woooong.

From somewhere in the village, a soft humming drifted on the wind.

Izenheim worshipped a closed religion all their own. A faith called Izent religion, one that stood apart from the mainstream beliefs of the continent.

Aaaaah.

A resonance like a hymn, somehow otherworldly.

Perhaps it was the melody they used to dress themselves up as sacred.

At any rate, I did not slow my steps. I moved toward the stone shrine tucked in the corner of the village.

"......"

The shrine was a tunnel leading underground. From below, a strange presence pressed upward. What could only be described as danger registered like instinct.

But knights were on standby nearby, close enough to call for support. No reason to pull back.

I stepped inside.

Crunch. Crunch.

Feeling the wind rising from underground, I went deep.

Deeper, and deeper still, until I reached the bottom.

Whooooo.

The inside was thick with damp air. Candles hung along rough stone walls, flickering dangerously, and within their light a faint purple glow wavered.

Whomp!

A candle flaring up tall now and then. Even so, on the stretches of wall the light could not quite reach, religious markings found in no text anywhere on the continent were carved deep into the stone.

Lines alive and breathing, knotted and tangled together......

"Excuse me. Who are you?"

Suddenly, from beside a shadowed pillar, a voice asked me in Mekerel language.

A boy with a still-young face stood there.

But without question, he was Izenheim.

A boy in human form on the outside,but inside, a seed from another world that would bring ruin to humanity.

"Hmm......"

I looked around.

Only the boy and I were here.

But Filty's All-Seeing Eye would be watching me even now.

"Hello."

First, I answered him in gentle Mekerel. The boy gave a jerky little bow of his head.

"Uh...... yes."

"......"

I gazed steadily at the creature and worked my lips silently.

The mana pulse Jacob had once unleashed. I rewound the "language of another world" in my mind.

[You dare steal our language? I'll tear your heart apart and devour it.]

Sometimes there are pieces you can only obtain by accepting the risk.

Some doors only open if you are willing to gamble.

Somewhere in this Izenheim settlement, there would certainly be an individual like Jacob,one with poor emotional control who could not hide what it truly was.

I hoped that the thing standing before me, wearing the shape of this boy, was exactly that kind of individual.

So I drew a deep breath, and mimicked their frequency using a register no human throat could produce.

- Hello.

I spoke to it in the "language" only they could understand.