The Sword of the Knight Commander
"..."
"..."
An awkward silence hovered around us, so heavy it felt like a thousand years.
'Did he just ask for an introduction?'
What a bizarre request.
If it were anyone else, the request might make sense—but this was Marquis Reut, a Sword Master renowned across the entire continent. He hardly needed introductions.
But these priests were different.
The Revolutionary Army were all wanted by the Empire—every last one of them branded as criminals.
To politely exchange names in such a situation was... well, absurd.
'No, hold on. They're assassins, for crying out loud!'
And he wanted me to introduce them, calmly, like old friends?
That was ridiculous.
But Marquis Reut stared at Bamilo with that shameless composure of his.
"...My apologies. It seems we've intruded where we don't belong."
"Hmm, perhaps I should go inspect the teleportation magic. Ha ha ha."
Bamilo and Igral muttered awkwardly, trying to slip away.
The marquis narrowed his eyes.
"Hm."
The Revolutionary Army almost never backed down from Imperial soldiers.
If the forces were evenly matched, their elite units usually outperformed the standardized Imperial troops.
But right now, they couldn't even consider a fight.
Because of who stood before them.
'He may have been embarrassingly defeated by me, but a Sword Master is still a Sword Master.'
So even if it bruised his pride, Bamilo Dimarc decided to back down.
In a situation where he couldn't exactly give his name or pick a fight, the best option was obvious—a tactical retreat.
But Marquis Reut wasn't going to let them leave that easily.
"Well then, if you've no wish to exchange names with me, I can't force you. But could I ask one small favor instead?"
"...?"
"Would you kindly deliver my regards to Archbishop Hendel of your church?"
"...!"
"And tell him I'll be coming soon to retrieve the arm I left him last time. Just a friendly greeting, you understand?"
...Oh, hell.
Bamilo froze mid-step, and I almost burst out laughing.
'You crazy old sword freak!'
He'd promised not to harm them if I won—and now he's striking verbally instead?
The name "Archbishop Hendel" referred to the highest-ranking clergyman of the Aeolem Church, commander of the Crusader Priests.
He was, in other words, Bamilo Dimarc's direct superior.
And a man with a painful past.
'He once reached near the level of a 9-Star Master, but lost an arm in battle against Imperial knights and retired.'
A devastating loss for the Revolutionaries.
And that victory? One of Marquis Reut's early achievements.
So Reut had just drawn out one of his old trophies—like a dagger—and plunged it into Bamilo's pride.
"Oh, don't misunderstand me. It's merely a greeting, nothing more."
Who in the world greets someone by threatening to cut off their other arm?!
"...Very well, I understand."
When Bamilo turned back, his face was twisted with rage.
"I'll be sure to deliver your greetings, Marquis. The Archbishop will be delighted to hear from you—and to know your magnificent swordsmanship hasn't dulled a bit."
"Hmph. Can't give your name, but at least you know how to throw a jab."
Sparks practically crackled between their eyes.
I sighed.
'An introduction, huh? What a joke.'
There was no need for it.
Marquis Reut already knew exactly which church they belonged to.
He only brought it up to provoke them—and me—on purpose.
A cunning old fox through and through.
"Ghh…"
Bamilo groaned, glaring at the marquis.
He was furious, but standing his ground against a Sword Master's pressure was no easy feat.
Grinding his teeth, the pale old man finally spun toward me.
"You have ten minutes. The teleportation gate will open soon. Third Prince, prepare for transfer to Aulrax!"
Barking the order, he turned and stormed off with Igral in tow.
This time, Marquis Reut didn't stop him.
Instead, he gestured for his knights to withdraw as well.
The ice-cold tension melted away, leaving just the two of us.
Having finished his little ritual, Elron Reut looked at me with a conflicted expression.
"...Your Highness, since you defeated me, I will not stand in the way of your decision, as promised."
"How very generous of you."
I let out a long sigh.
No blades were drawn, yet we'd both managed to stab each other a few times anyway.
If I hadn't won that duel, we'd all be lying on the floor in bloody chunks by now.
"Your Highness, I don't know how much you truly know about me," Reut said slowly,
"but I do love this country deeply. So even if I gain no answer, I must still ask."
"..."
Those eyes—just like Carse's—bored into me, piercing through to my very soul, as if trying to expose the mind inside Gilothian's body.
"Please, tell me. What exactly do you intend to do once you enter enemy territory?"
I forced my pounding heart to steady and smiled.
"That's your first question? You want to know why I'm going to Aulrax?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
Of course he was curious.
What business could the Empire's Third Prince possibly have in the Revolutionary city of Aulrax?
Reut's tone was grave.
"Your Highness, when I was younger, I carried out several secret missions there—about thirty years ago. So I know the place well.
Aulrax is... an extremely dangerous city."
…Oh great, here comes the lecture.
The classic 'back in my day' routine.
"You see, unlike our Imperial capital, Kertion—"
Sorry, but I had no patience for that.
"Yes, yes. It's the complete opposite of Kertion. I'm aware, Marquis."
"Eh? You already know Aulrax?"
"Yes, I do."
Before he could recover from his surprise, I began talking.
"It's a chaotic fortress crawling with thieves. The markets overflow with contraband goods you'd never even mention in Kertion. And in the black market, even life and death are up for sale."
Hey, I can play the 'back in my day' game too.
"In Aulrax, there are six armed factions, including two churches.
And above them all sits the Supreme Commander of the Revolutionary Army."
"...!"
"Let's see… if my memory serves, that man's name was probably—"
At that moment Marquis Reut recoiled and raised a hand.
"Stop, stop! Don't say it! That is not a name fit to come from Your Highness's lips!"
At his shout I fell silent.
In the Empire, merely mentioning that name was a grave crime—the Revolutionary Commander was that dangerous.
Some NPCs even said the name carried a curse.
Anyway, that was my conclusion.
"Marquis, I do know enough about Aulrax."
Why go there?
"And I also know that Aulrax holds a 'one and only chance.'"
When I said "one and only chance," the marquis's pupils trembled wildly.
"...No way? Do you mean the Lair of the Four Dragons, Your Highness?"
I nodded slowly.
"Yes. That's right. The single opportunity to tame a dragon. I intend to try."
"..."
Seeing the marquis's expression grow grave, I smiled quietly to myself.
"Perhaps a prince with nothing to lose could suddenly turn everything upside down."
In the blue mountain range around Aulrax there is a dungeon called the "Dead Dragon's Lair."
Sometimes violent dragons would kidnap rival hatchlings and abandon them there—a terrifyingly savage premise.
'And if you clear the special quest given there…'
You can literally gain the ability to tame a dragon.
Of course, it wasn't a simple process.
"Your Highness, challengers flock there every year. Yet those who succeed and become dragon riders are exceedingly rare. The last to succeed was—"
"Parel Karas, nineteen years ago."
"No, seventeen years ago."
Ah—right, that fits the current timeline. I'd mixed up the years earlier.
In any case, the occasional success shows it's not utterly impossible.
'It's actually a quest that's feasible for a player.'
Tough, yes—but not designed to be impossible for everyone. With proper preparation, one could clear it.
Still, the marquis—who didn't know what was in my head—was deeply pessimistic.
"After Parel Karas vanished in the Far East ten years ago, there have been no dragon riders on the continent. And you say you'll attempt it?"
His blue eyes were full of blunt skepticism—he looked as if he would sooner hope I trained to become a Sword Master instead.
But I only smiled.
"Parel did it. Why couldn't I?"
"Your Highness! You mustn't act from mere pride. Parel Karas was not an ordinary man!"
"He was human all the same."
"Think sensibly. The odds are vanishingly small and the danger extreme."
"That's true. Yet didn't I just defeat the marquis under circumstances that were, by all reason, absurd? Granted, it was a bit less dangerous than the Dead Dragon's Lair."
"..."
When I shot that back, Elron Reut opened his mouth as if to argue and then gave up.
"My word… the Lair of the Four Dragons."
He stared at some point in the air as if seeing something there.
Earlier he'd been intent on prying information from me with his gaze; now he was lost in thought.
From that handsome face I could almost hear the inner monologue:
—This is certainly not the Third Prince I knew. Not the wastrel rotting in the palace.
—How does he know about Carse?
—Where did he learn that swordsmanship?
—How could the Third Prince have obtained intelligence on Aulrax?
Questions flowed beneath his composed expression.
But I wouldn't let him wander with his speculations unchecked. I wasn't that kind.
"...Marquis."
I broke the silence.
"I am not waiting for your permission. I answered your questions because you asked as a subject, but my path is mine to choose, yes?"
Elron Reut nodded heavily.
"Yes, Your Highness. I understand. You have won."
I was not Gilroshan.
Though I wore the shell of that reckless NPC, inside I was a completely different person.
I was a traveler and a conqueror of this world.
And a player.
So my path would be the exact opposite of Gilroshan's.
"Now ask your second question. What else do you want to know?"
When asked what I intended inside enemy territory, I had replied I would challenge the Lair of the Four Dragons.
Now came the second question.
I had anticipated several lines of inquiry and prepared defenses in advance.
'How did you learn about the hidden son, who taught you the Sea-Sword Technique, how did you bait them… probably questions like that, right?'
I'd thought them over earlier while washing with Carse.
But the marquis surprised me completely.
"What shall I report to His Majesty the Emperor, Your Highness?"
He tossed out a question I'd never expected.
"...Pardon?"
I blinked stupidly; the marquis remained remarkably calm.
"After you cross into Aulrax, what is the content of the report I should present to His Majesty? We cannot simply tell the Emperor the raw truth, can we?"
"Oh—ah, yes? We can't tell him everything truthfully…?"
"Exactly. That is my second question."
My head went slightly numb.
That question was something I'd never thought to be asked—but it was crucial.
'If I don't properly persuade that lunatic, he'll surely pursue me.'
For the man who is the father of Gilroshan is among the most deranged in Shin.Beo.Se.
[Character] Valt, 44th Emperor of the Valt Mage Empire. A terrifying sovereign combining ruthless cruelty and genius—remembered as the "Demon Emperor" who sparked continental war.
…This was mountain after mountain.