After delivering the support funds to both mages, Yuder made his way back.

The Cavalry headquarters, bathed in the morning sunlight, was unusually noisy—different from its usual calm.

“Good morning, Yuder! Did you hear the news? During today’s dawn prayer, His Holiness the Pope said that no matter one’s status, anyone who sins must be punished. Everyone’s saying he was talking about the Crown Prince from yesterday’s trial!”

“Seriously, that’s not even the shocking part. Big names from the magic community actually visited the Court Mage Office to formally express concern over the prince’s mental state during the trial.”

“This is insane. I heard both generals of the Imperial Army are planning to petition the Emperor for the Crown Prince’s official dethronement.”

“Now I understand why the Black Dove Hall is completely flipped upside down. The Chancellor suddenly showed up and ordered a full five-year audit of all documents from the Radiance Palace!”

“Look at this! A propaganda flyer someone scattered in the capital at dawn. It says the House of Diaka has truly abandoned the Crown Prince, and the owner of the Radiance Palace is about to change!”

“I went out to see the ‘Welcome Back, Swordmaster of the North Wind’ banner, and when I got back, I saw letters pouring out of the mail coach arriving at the Cavalry—taller than a person! They said they’re all from nobles addressed to the Commander!”

As Emperor Keillusa had foretold—the world was turning upside down.

All sectors of society had begun to voice their opinions, just as they’d promised, timed with Crown Prince Kachian’s appearance at the trial. Seeing the members now reading the flow of the political landscape with competence, Yuder quietly swallowed his satisfaction and passed them on his way to the Commander’s office.

Amidst the atmosphere brimming with excitement, only one remained calm: a small cat lounging on the central stair rail. Nipolen, the cat, lay basking in the sun on a red cushion newly made by Ever. As Yuder passed by, the cat lazily curled its tail around his wrist.

“Yes, hello.”

At his greeting, Nipolen gave a soft meow and uncurled its tail.

Yuder walked at his usual pace and knocked on the office door. Unlike normal, where the door would open on its own after a short pause, today someone opened it from inside.

It was Nathan Zuckerman, who had returned at dawn.

“......”

“......”

Yuder calmly met Nathan Zuckerman’s eyes, which were fixed on him with a look that suggested there was much to say. They stared at each other like they were in a staring contest, until the knight finally looked away. He let out a breath and spoke in a tone that wasn’t angry, but certainly puzzled.

“...It was a very memorable welcome. A first in my lifetime.”

“......”

“Next time, at least give a warning. I’d like to be mentally prepared.”

Yuder didn’t say he would. And Nathan didn’t seem to expect a response, stepping aside to usher him in politely.

Kishiar was seated on the sofa in front of what could only be described as a mountain of stacked letterboxes. He raised a hand with a smile.

“Yuder. You arrived at the perfect time. Nathan brought some of Shuseiner’s pastries. Let’s all enjoy them together.”

Turning his gaze, Yuder spotted a tray of familiar-looking sweets—ones he’d seen at Peleta Castle. He recalled the cook’s face, who had looked genuinely sad to see him go, having been the guest who appreciated her food the most. He took a seat.

Nathan soon returned with a teapot and joined them.

When he popped one of the pastries into his mouth—something he never thought he’d eat again in the capital—the familiar flavor spread over his tongue. Just a pastry, yet it transported him straight back to those peaceful days on leave at Peleta.

“Actually, she wanted to send only the ones you liked most, but you ate all of them so happily that she couldn’t tell. Instead, she tried to send as many different types as possible. Can you feel her effort?”

Kishiar laughed lightly. Yuder now understood why there were eight varieties stacked in front of him.

“...I think I should write a thank-you letter. Sir Zuckerman, you must’ve had a hard time bringing these.”

“Not at all.”

“What do you mean, not at all. Thanks to the Swordmaster of the North Wind, we can all enjoy them in perfect condition. I’m genuinely grateful.”

“...Your Grace.”

Nathan let out a sigh and closed his eyes. That expression was oddly reminiscent of Emperor Keillusa. Kishiar burst into full laughter, his face mischievous.

“The Imperial Guard sent ten letters, and five of them were from Theo, saying he wants to spar with you. Let me know if you’re interested.”

Said in full knowledge that he wouldn’t °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° accept—that was just like Kishiar. Nathan sighed again and glanced briefly at Yuder.

“I’m already familiar with the skills of the Commander of the Imperial Guard. Not interested. ...But I’d be willing to spar with Sir Aile.”

“Oh my.”

Kishiar covered his mouth with both hands, eyes sparkling like a girl who had just heard the most thrilling gossip.

“I’d love to see that myself.”

Now that he thought about it, hadn’t they mentioned having a match once they returned to the capital? Apparently, Nathan Zuckerman had been looking forward to it more than Yuder expected. Considering how much teasing had been done over the “Swordmaster of the North Wind” title, it seemed only right to agree. As Nathan looked at him, Yuder calmly assessed his own condition.

If he took off his clothes, the blackish-red veins spreading across his body from the Southern incident would still be an eyesore—but as long as they were covered, it didn’t matter. Internally, he’d long since felt completely recovered.

It wasn’t as if they were going to try and kill each other in the sparring match. It would be fine.

“All right. Since we’ve discussed it before, let’s pick a day soon.”

“I can’t believe it.”

Kishiar half-collapsed onto the sofa, still covering his face. Through the gap between his fingers, the corners of his eyes were flushed red with joy.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard today. I’ll make sure to attend, so don’t do it until I can find a proper date and location. I’ll have to get permission from His Majesty as well.”

Yuder’s gaze met Nathan’s. They both understood they were feeling the same thing.

“...Do we really need to go that far?”

“That’s exactly why I said it,” Kishiar replied firmly.

“If I left it to you two, you’d sneak off to some remote mountain no one knows about, do it quietly, and come back saying, ‘It’s done,’ without anyone knowing.”

What was wrong with that?

Still, if Kishiar truly wanted to watch the spar, there was no reason not to let him. Yuder met Nathan’s eyes again, then gave a slight nod.

“...I don’t care about the place or time. Do as you see fit, Commander.”

“Excellent.”

Kishiar beamed.

After the pastries were gone and Nathan had left, Yuder reported everything he had done. Upon hearing that Tais Yulman’s complaints had vanished the moment he saw the amount of funding, and that Alik’s new control device looked very promising, Kishiar smiled in satisfaction.

“Both are good news. Continue supporting Alik Felgin as you see fit. And I’m looking forward to how Melvern’s observation goes with both of them involved.”

“Yes. All that remains now is receiving permission from the Crown Prince.”

“I’ve already summoned his envoy. He should arrive soon.”

As expected of Kishiar—always fast to act. Yuder nodded and glanced around the room.

“He’ll be using his ability here, so we should clear out those letterboxes. Shall I burn them?”

“You already know what they are?”

“I heard enough from the others on the way here.”

The letters sent by nobles after yesterday’s trial—an avalanche of correspondence addressed to Kishiar.

He didn’t even need to read them to know what they said. The House of Diaka had abandoned the Crown Prince. The brilliant “Young Lord” of Diaka, Kironne, had allied with the Emperor, and the Emperor had rewarded him with a reinstated succession right.

A man who was a Swordmaster, a Cavalry Commander, and now possibly the next Crown Prince—everyone was dying to know what was going on in his head.

“Meaningless nonsense, no doubt. It’d do the paper more good being used as firewood.”

“Well said.”

Kishiar replied lightly and chuckled quietly.

“I was already thinking of doing that. The only problem was, there’s too much to fit into the mana stove. Then let me politely ask my dear aide.”

—Fwoosh!

Before he even finished speaking, a ball of flame appeared in midair and devoured the letterboxes all at once. Without so much as scorching the carpet or furniture, the fire precisely incinerated only the paper and boxes, reducing everything to ash in an instant.

As Kishiar gazed into the crimson flame—red as his own eyes—his face looked truly relieved. Once all had turned to ash, he turned and pressed a kiss to Yuder’s cheek.

“A kind soul. You have my kiss of thanks.”