The Imperial Capital of the Vant Empire still basked in its illusion of prosperity and pleasure. His beloved Majesty Shagru had scarcely spent three days in affectionate indulgence with his empress before turning his gaze toward Lady Green. Yet even she no longer held his full attention—his appetite now lay with the mature, alluring noblewomen of his court: the Duchess of this house, the Marchioness of that, the Countess of another… Were it not for the constraints of rank, he might have added merchants' wives to his growing list of conquests.
The court, however, remained willfully blind. "If His Majesty is pleased, then all is well," they whispered, some even secretly delighted at the thought of their wives sharing a night with the emperor—it was, after all, a swift path to favor. Had not Duke Green, who abandoned his fief for the capital, been rewarded with a splendid title as Imperial Inspector? All thanks, of course, to the charms of Lady Green.
Aside from a handful of true statesmen—the Ministers of War and State, and the Chancellor—the entire capital had sunk into debauchery. The court followed its sovereign's example: if Shagru delighted in his hunt for beauty, how could the other nobles lag behind? Amidst their revelry, who still remembered the southern front? The valiant Silver Wolf Legion was locked in desperate combat against the vast armies of the Smart Empire, trapped in a deadly stalemate—too perilous to advance, too disastrous to retreat. The enemy's sorcerers were too many; an assault would be suicide, yet withdrawal would fling open the southern gates of the empire.
In his residence, the Minister of War sat anxiously awaiting dispatches, his temper fraying by the hour. "Damn that Baru!" he cursed. "Does he not understand the urgency here in the capital? What in the abyss is happening out there? Not a single report! Even if he had crushed the enemy, he should have sent word! Has his entire force been wiped out? Impossible… The Smart Empire would need at least a hundred thousand men attacking without rest to annihilate the Silver Wolves! No—more than that! Baru should have been able to break through."
He tugged at his beard in frustration when suddenly the Minister of State burst through the doors, shoving aside the guards in panic. "By the gods! Damnation! Damn the Light Empire—they've refused us! They've rejected every demand! And these are our allies?"
The War Minister leapt to his feet. "What are you saying?"
Gasping for breath, the State Minister cried, "Those sanctimonious hypocrites claim divine instruction—to live in peace with all neighbors! They refuse to aid us, not even to feint along the border to pressure the Smart Empire. They say last year's poor harvest has left their armies starving, and they'll only help if we supply rations for a million soldiers—three months' worth!"
The War Minister roared, "A million soldiers? The Light Empire barely commands three hundred and fifty thousand regulars! Three months' rations? They might as well rob us outright! By the time we sent the food, the enemy would have achieved whatever they pleased!"
The State Minister said dryly, "Perhaps that is precisely what the Smart Empire intends."
The War Minister froze. "What do you mean?"
With a dark expression, the State Minister replied, "Our envoys—of the highest rank—were denied audience in every allied court except one. Only the Light Emperor received them, though his terms were absurd. The rest—silence. Such unanimity speaks plainly: the Smart Empire's diplomacy has already outpaced ours."
Before the words had faded, the Minister of Security stumbled in, drenched in sweat. "New intelligence!" he shouted. "The Second Princess of the Smart Empire is to wed the Crown Prince of the Light Empire! Four of their five princesses are now married off—curse it, my spies report this only now! Incompetent fools!"
The State Minister seized him by the collar. "And only now you tell me this? What of the treaties? What dowries or concessions were attached?"
The Security Minister stammered, "Unknown, my lord. All our infiltrators within the Smart nobility have been purged—sold into the lowest brothels. No information recovered. But…"
"But what?" the State Minister demanded.
The man hesitated, glancing helplessly toward the War Minister. Finally he forced a dry laugh. "There is one bit of good news—of our five allied nations, only four have been turned. The fifth remains untouched, for the youngest Smart princess refuses to marry their crown prince."
"So?"
"So," he sighed, "our northern ally, the Beast Empire, feels insulted—believing Smart looks down upon them. In fury, they've pledged thirty thousand heavy cavalry to aid us against the Smart advance. My spies confirmed it, though the formal decree will take three days to arrive."
The State Minister fell silent in thought, while the War Minister barked bitter laughter. "The barbarous worshippers of the Beast God keep faith better than our 'righteous' allies! The world has gone mad!"
The State Minister sneered. "Think, my dear friend—what if the Smart princess had agreed to that marriage? What then? Tell me, why would she refuse to wed the heir of the mighty Beast Empire? Does she not wish to be empress of the largest dominion on the continent—or does she dream instead of ruling as empress herself?"
The Security Minister bowed slightly. "My lord, she already has someone in her heart. The young commander who bested the Beast cavalry on our behalf—Lord Karlin de Edwards, seventh-tier Dragon Magus and son of the Smart Empire's First Chancellor. According to my spies, the princess once declared at a diplomatic banquet that the Beast Prince's body hair was too coarse—she would not marry an ape."
The War Minister burst out laughing. "An ape, she said? Ha! Tell me then—how many such banquets were there? And why, pray, were our own princes never invited?"
The two ministers turned pale, speechless. At last the Security Minister stammered, "My lord… all five of the most powerful royal heirs of our allied nations attended those feasts… and each time, all five Smart princesses were present."
"Useless fools!" the War Minister thundered. "Ah—but forgive me, gentlemen. Clearly your spies need… incentive. Perhaps a little budget tightening—or a reminder that their families still live within the capital. Yes, that should inspire better results. Still, I must thank Karlin; he's delivered us a lesson in treachery."
Just then, the Security Minister's tone brightened. "Perhaps not all is lost. Reports say General Baru has won five consecutive victories! The Smart armies are being driven back three hundred li—they're nearly off the Clearwind Plains!"
The two ministers rejoiced. "Splendid! Excellent news!"
Their laughter was cut short by the clash of steel outside. "Assassins!" the State Minister shrieked, diving beneath the table. "Guards! Where are the guards?"
A hoarse voice cried out, "My lords! I am Meromi, Bronze Knight under General Baru—urgent dispatch from the front!"
"Let him in!" the War Minister bellowed.
Moments later, a blood-soaked soldier stumbled into the hall, his left arm severed at the shoulder, bound tightly with a filthy cloth. He fell to his knees. "My lord… send reinforcements… Lord Karlin leads two hundred thousand men—'Ironblood Fortress' has fallen! Lord Baru faces him now, but the enemy's reinforcements—another two hundred thousand—are close behind! He cannot hold!"
A golden-ranked knight rushed forward, pouring his own battle aura into the dying man, but Meromi managed only one last cry: "The Greenfield Legion—fifty thousand recruits, three thousand private troops—all destroyed! The province of Sili lies defenseless! And… there are traitors within… our riders were slain by our own… I saw their corpses… please, my lord, cleanse the rot…"
He collapsed lifeless.
The War Minister stood frozen for a moment, then roared like a wounded lion. "You killed your own comrades!"
The knights knelt in terror. "My lord, he charged through the gates, half-dead already—we tried only to restrain him, not harm him!"
The Security Minister fell into a chair, gray-faced, speechless. The War Minister's voice turned cold. "A dying bronze knight broke through seven hundred paces of guard… commendable. Grant him the pension of a golden knight—ten thousand gold coins. Deliver it to his family personally. Issue a commendation across the empire."
Without another glance at his cowering colleagues, he seized Baru's sealed letter from the corpse and strode out with his retinue of knights. Behind him, the golden warriors bore Meromi's body away with solemn reverence.
Far from the capital, amid the smoking ruins of Ironblood Fortress, Karlin hovered above the battlefield, hurling searing crimson fireballs—the legendary Flames of the God of Fire. Each impact shook the earth, leaving gaping craters in its wake. "Damn you, Baru!" he roared. "You dare mock me? You think yourself mighty? Stand there and let me drop a hundred of these on your head!"
Across the sky, Baru floated in answer, shouting, "Come down here, you pampered brat! Let me cut you a hundred times and see if your tongue still works!"
Karlin stamped the air furiously. "Coward! Face me, if you dare! I'll turn your army into paste with my mages!"
Baru laughed uproariously. "Ha! You think I'll stand still for your spells? When my crossbows pierce your pretty jewels, don't come crying! How many forbidden spells can you even cast before wetting yourself?"
The Vant soldiers roared with laughter, their jeers echoing across the plain. Enraged, Karlin exhausted his remaining strength in a single forbidden incantation—Flame Annihilation. Ten pillars of black fire rained down, tearing the earth apart. Then, drained and trembling, he collapsed from the sky—caught only by his frantic mages.
Baru sheathed his sword, still laughing. "See that? He faints before my soldiers even swing! What a hero!"
But then, from the southern horizon, the deep beat of war drums rolled like thunder. Six standards rose into the sky—Red Scorpion, Black Serpent, Vulture, Direwolf, and the royal banners of Divine Wrath and Divine Roar. Baru's face blanched. "By the gods… all six of their elite legions—three hundred thousand men!"
His knights stared in disbelief. "Then the twenty we fought were but the Emperor's vanguard…"
Baru drew a sharp breath and pointed upward. The sky was dark with sorcerers—thousands upon thousands.
Meanwhile, in the Smart camp, Karlin staggered from his tent, half-leaning on a lovely mage. "About time they arrived! I nearly killed myself arguing with that oaf." He barked orders between groans. "Set camp around the perimeter. Archers and wind mages, prepare a volley—let's give them a taste of imperial discipline."
And thus the next clash began—the chaos of magic and steel, pride and folly entwined beneath the crimson banners of war.