Chapter 38: The Emperor’s Sword and the Lion’s Shield

“What? Who did you say?”

Emperor Beltar shot up from his seat, only to sway unsteadily.

“The culprit… it was the Second Empress?”

His clenched fist trembled violently.

“Four men, all former archers or scribes, attempted to kidnap Lady Allong, but they were either captured or killed by Bertion. Furthermore, it’s been confirmed that the ringleader was none other than Head Attendant Alfredo, who served Empress Emilia.”

Kneeling on the floor, the captain of the knights reported crisply.

He was Drake, Captain of Bertion’s Order.

“Is there evidence she gave the direct order?”

“It’s been confirmed. Head Attendant Alfredo has confessed to everything.”

The Emperor’s gaze darkened.

“Emilia. How could you do such a thing!”

He let out a lament.

The true culprit who had sickened Amanda.

To find that it was Empress Emilia, the one closest to him, made Beltar’s breath come short.

“So it’s true—like father, like daughter, after all.”

He felt nothing but loathing. It was despicable.

A marriage he could not refuse, forced upon him for the sake of ascending the throne.

And the relentless pressure to produce an heir—he’d had no choice but to accept it all.

That’s why Beltar despised the Fabian Marquess’s entire line.

He was the Emperor, yet things could never go the way he wished.

“Perhaps. Just perhaps…”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Could Empress Emilia… have also laid a hand on Rohan?”

“Shall I investigate?”

At Beltar’s question, Drake’s eyes flashed.

“Look into it. Who knows what else she might have done.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Then, Sire, what of Empress Emilia?”

“Confine her to her chambers. I shall go and interrogate her myself soon enough.”

“Understood.”

The Captain of the Knights withdrew from the Emperor’s chambers.

“So this is why Rohan urged me to act.”

With a heavy sigh, Beltar rubbed his brow.

“That boy knew already.”

He knew exactly whose hand had forged that letter.

Rohan had surely known it all along.

---

At night, please visit Boronia Palace in secret, Father. It would be even better if you met with Mother as well.

—Why is that?

—Because with even the slightest movement, the one who forged the letter will act. What other reason could there be for forging it in the first place? Was it not to drive a wedge between you two?

---

Rohan had guided Beltar, telling him what to do—and after much deliberation, Beltar had moved as his son suggested.

Just as Rohan had said, he stationed the Bertion Knights at Lady Allong’s residence.

‘Just as expected.’

The enemy had responded at once, and Beltar was able to uncover the culprit’s trail with ease.

“…That child, truly…”

Beltar slumped into his chair and gazed at the ceiling.

A single old chandelier swung quietly above him.

“It should have been I, as his father, who dealt with all this.”

It was not Rohan, but himself who should have noticed the forged letter and acted from the start.

He should not have been so quick to misunderstand and become angry over a few letters, but gone to speak face to face.

‘How shameful.’

As a father, and as a man.

And so, by granting him this chance, Rohan had allowed him to fulfill his role.

The son he’d thought was still a child.

Now, he was calmer and wiser than anyone.

When the prince’s exam was first suggested, and when the Gerald territory was resolved—

Rohan was always at the center.

Beltar slowly clenched and unclenched his hand.

“…Kazin Fabian. Now it’s your turn to react.”

He sat quietly at his desk and closed his eyes.

In his hand was a small slip of paper Rohan had left him.

And so the night deepened, silent and inexorable.

---

The small training yard of Boronia Palace.

It was still early morning, and the air was brisk.

Dry leaves were strewn across the ground, and the rising sunlight slanted across the yard, casting strange shadows of those within.

“Alright. Try to feel the flow inside you.”

Retina tapped Martin lightly on the forehead with her finger.

“Aura isn’t ‘strength’—it’s ‘breath.’ It’s a flow. If you can’t read that flow, you can’t control it.”

Martin closed his eyes.

In his hand was Sunfire.

Following Retina’s words, Martin tried to trace the flow within his body.

His pounding heart, the hot coursing blood, the cold air in his lungs.

Yet something snagged in his mind.

‘…Just like back then.’

He recalled the scene of his lord’s body being thrown back.

The aura that had run wild from his own sword.

And Rohan, who’d been in mortal danger for a split second.

If not for her—no, if not for Retina—Rohan might truly have died.

To kill his own lord with his own hand?

As a knight, nothing could be more humiliating.

“Stop.”

“…!”

When Retina placed her hand on Martin’s shoulder, he flinched.

“Something’s getting tangled up in your head again, isn’t it?”

“…”

Martin’s fist clenched tight.

“Because of me, His Highness was put in danger…”

“Yes, it was dangerous.”

Retina said firmly.

“But that’s all. If you stop here, then it truly becomes a sin.”

Martin lowered his head.

He bit his lip and corrected his stance again.

Then, from a distance, Rohan slowly approached.

“Martin.”

“Your Highness.”

“Don’t blame yourself too much. I’m completely ignorant when it comes to swordsmanship, but…”

Martin’s eyes wavered.

“There’s one thing I do know. Everyone has a moment where they fall, but only those who know how to rise again remain.”

“…!”

“So keep that memory, but there’s no need to let it weigh you down. See? I’m perfectly fine, aren’t I?”

Rohan raised his arm as he spoke, and Martin let out a shaky breath.

“Your Highness…”

But before he could be overcome by emotion, Retina spoke up.

“Among humans, your aura is strong. But since you don’t understand ‘why’ it’s strong, it runs wild. You lack deep insight, you could say.”

At Retina’s words, Rohan gave an impressed “Oh-ho.”

“Simply put, you’ve been using your sword with ‘strength’ up to now. But aura isn’t about strength—it’s about ‘intent.’ If your intent has a clear direction, the flow will follow it.”

“…Intent.”

Martin quietly drew his sword.

The hilt in his hand trembled ever so slightly.

“I’ll try again.”

“Good.”

Retina stepped back, and Rohan crossed his arms, observing the scene.

Martin raised his sword and took a deep breath.

Then closed his eyes.

Inhale.

What filled him was not ‘fear,’ but ‘resolve.’

A vow never to make the same mistake again.

And the burning desire to become a sword that would surely protect.

Ssssss.

Only then did his aura begin to flow.

Not the explosive force of before, but a clear, calm current gliding across thin ice.

The sword seemed almost alive, quivering lightly as the air around him began to gently vibrate.

‘It’s flowing.’

For the first time, Martin truly felt his own aura ‘flowing.’

It was not about unleashing force, but about a current shaped by his will to protect.

As he focused deeply on the flow of aura, cold sweat trickled down his back.

How much time had passed like that?

With the aura limit of Sunfire drawing near—

“That’s enough. We’ll stop here for today.”

Retina spoke sharply.

Martin slowly opened his eyes.

The thin blue haze surrounding his body quietly dissipated.

“…Already?”

He asked, his voice tinged with regret.

‘Even though there was so little left before the limit.’

Martin unconsciously furrowed his brow, and Retina chuckled softly.

“You still lack control over your aura. At this rate, you’ll end up blowing this place apart again.”

“…Ah.”

“And as for ‘already’—it’s been an hour, you know.”

“…?”

At Retina’s words, Rohan, who’d been sitting, chimed in.

“Standing in one stance for an hour. You really do have amazing stamina.”

Rohan finished speaking with a smile and rose to his feet.

“Since today’s training is over, I’ll be off. It was an interesting session.”

“…”

Martin hadn’t sensed the passing of time at all.

So he was startled and confused.

For him, that had felt like only a brief moment.

It was then—

Clack!

The door to the training yard was thrown open with a bang.

“Huff, huff…! Y-Your Highness!”

It was Jennen.

His pale golden hair, damp with sweat, clung to his forehead as he dashed in, panting for breath.

“Jennen?”

Rohan turned and asked.

Bending halfway over, Jennen called out.

“Empress Emilia has…! She’s been placed under arrest!”

“…What?”

Retina’s eyebrow twitched.

Martin also turned his gaze silently.

“By direct order of His Majesty. Head Attendant Alfredo of the Second Empress’s palace has confessed, and… Bertion has moved, as well…”

Before Jennen could finish, Rohan had already closed his eyes and nodded.

“…So you’ve made your move, Father.”

A faint smile crossed his lips.

---

“…Under arrest?”

The hand setting down the silver cup trembled minutely.

Marquess Fabian glanced at the attendant standing by the door, then slowly rose.

“By whose command?”

“By His Majesty’s direct order. Bertion has moved, and Alfredo has confessed…”

“Hah, so careless it’s laughable.”

The Marquess gave a cold chuckle.

“They bear the blood of my family, yet truly, the only person I can trust is myself.”

That the Emperor’s hand had turned toward Emilia—

It meant the Emperor had resolved to stand against him.

“So, you mean to drag out that matter as well, Your Majesty.”

Marquess Fabian stood and calmly donned his coat.

“Prepare the carriage. I’m going to the Imperial Palace at once.”

.

.

.

Imperial Palace, before Empress Emilia’s chambers.

“This area is off limits. Even for you, Marquess…”

When the Bertion knights blocked the door, Marquess Fabian’s face chilled.

He didn’t back down a single step, but instead snapped coldly,

“Do you truly not know who I am?”

His voice was low, but the authority within was like that of a man commanding ten thousand cavalry.

“Emilia is my daughter, Kazin Fabian’s, before she is the Empire’s Empress. Try blocking me one more time. If you draw your swords, do you think His Majesty will be so pleased?”

The two Bertion knights exchanged glances.

“Just one visit. We cannot permit any more than that.”

Clack.

The door opened, and Marquess Fabian stepped inside.

Within, Emilia knelt pale-faced on the floor.

“Father…!”

Emilia tried to rise, but collapsed at once.

“I—I was wrong. But… I couldn’t help it either…! That woman, she was just so shameless…!”

“Emilia.”

Fabian cut her off.

“Failure can happen. But you should have cleaned up after yourself. And didn’t I warn you before? Don’t act rashly.”

At his words, Emilia bowed her head.

“Stay put. If you keep your mouth shut, you can still survive. But if you open it… not even your child will be safe.”

There was not a shred of emotion in his voice, and Emilia bit her lip hard.

“I’m going to see His Majesty now.”

“Father…! Y-you don’t mean—!”

Emilia, her face flushed, grabbed his wrist, but the Marquess coldly shook off her hand.

“I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for myself.”

With her hand thrown aside, Emilia’s complexion turned ghostly.

Click.

The Marquess took a pocket watch from his breast.

Strange symbols were engraved upon the lid.

His eyes glinted coldly.

“I’ll touch upon His Majesty’s old weakness. Yet, even so, Rohan will become Crown Prince. That’s the best I can manage for now.”

“…C-Crown Prince? Father! That’s Elliot’s place!”

“Silence, Emilia! Did you truly not realize that your foolish actions would come back to trip you up?”

The Marquess’s brow furrowed.

“Or will it take a harsher lesson for you to finally come to your senses?”

At her father’s words, Emilia clutched her arm and trembled all over.

“I—I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

Marquess Fabian clicked his tongue and turned away.

“Wasted effort, giving you that position. To think you’d act so carelessly.”

Swish.

With heavy footsteps, Marquess Fabian left Emilia’s chambers.