Clippity-clop.
The sound of hooves echoed through an old carriage.
In that carriage, a man stirred awake.
Upon opening his eyes, he found himself face to face with a man with ash-gray hair. This man sat leisurely in a chair, engrossed in reading a pile of papers.
The moment the man showed signs of movement, the ash-haired man turned his gaze toward him and spoke.
“Awake, are you?”
Taken aback by the question, the man realized he was bound. He lifted his head and began to scrutinize the stranger in detail.
Gray eyes, ashen hair, a scar on his face, and an aristocratic attire that could only signify someone of nobility. His face was impeccable, a visage that could be described as divine beauty.
Thus, the man immediately deduced the identity of his captor.
Abel Harthenberg.
The head of the Harthenberg family and one of the four dukes of the empire with the greatest influence.
Also known as the Ironblood Duke, he is a dangerous figure even within the royal household, considered someone to watch closely.
“You’re…?”
“I doubt you wouldn’t know me.”
The man nodded slowly at Abel’s words.
“Why am I here?”
“Better give up on slipping away. ‘The Emperor’s Sword.'”
“How…?”
The man’s startled gaze fixated on Abel.
The identity of “The Emperor’s Sword” was one among the most confidential pieces of information within the royal household.
Not only tasked with executing traitorous nobles, The Emperor’s Sword also carried out all manner of dirty deeds under the Emperor’s orders.
This was the reason such intelligence was kept strictly secret. So, how could Abel possibly know of it?
Confused by this revelation, the man’s eyes turned to Abel. Abel exhaled deeply before speaking.
“Luke von Schopenhaim.”
Upon hearing his name, the man recognized as Luke gasped and immediately tensed, attempting to break the iron chains binding him.
But the more force he applied, the tighter the chains grew.
Perhaps enchanted, the chains not only bound him physically but also suppressed the faint glow of his aura.
Abel continued speaking, unperturbed by Luke’s struggle.
“Son of Luka von Asrich, the Second Prince. After becoming a Sword Master, you were transformed into The Emperor’s Sword and declared officially deceased.”
Abel went on calmly as if mocking Luke’s resistance, reciting information with indifference.
“Ultimately branded by the Emperor who held your father, Luka von Asrich, hostage, you became the royal watchdog known as The Emperor’s Sword.”
“You… Bastard!”
Luke’s tone was laced with anger as he glared at Abel.
“Is any of what I said inaccurate?”
“Urg…”
Unable to break the chains, Luke suppressed the rising fury in his chest. Watching his futile struggle, Abel smiled faintly and continued.
“I’ll offer you one chance.”
“What?”
Luke frowned, confused by Abel’s offer.
“Are you going to remain the royal lapdog forever?”
“Then what? You’re telling me to abandon my family?”
“Exactly. It wouldn’t be such a bad option.”
At Abel’s blunt suggestion, Luke let out a derisive laugh.
What kind of person could so casually suggest something as extreme as abandoning one’s family?
Clearly, the nickname “Ironblood Duke” was well-earned.
“Preposterous nonsense…”
“It’s best to hear people out till the end, Prince.”
Saying this, Abel extended his hand towards Luke and asked.
“What’s the level of corruption of your brand imprint?”
“How do you…?”
“Would someone who knows about The Emperor’s Sword not know about their brand? Now answer.”
“Halfway…”
“Quite an impressive feat to resist that far.”
Abel’s tone conveyed admiration.
The brand of The Emperor’s Sword was powerful enough to drive anyone mad within a month.
To endure such infiltration for years would require an exceptional willpower indeed.
“Luke von Schopenhaim.”
“What is it?”
“I intend to overthrow the royal family.”
“What?”
Luke’s face contorted in confusion. For a man labeled as The Emperor’s Sword, revealing such an intent was audacious.
Surely, there must be some other reason behind this disclosure.
“Compared to outright rebellion, rescuing a noblewoman from the royal court should not be too difficult.”
“Do you mean this seriously?”
“If you refuse to cooperate, your life ends here. Imagine what will happen to your mother then.”
Abel’s voice carried no hint of deception.
“Decide. Either help me dismantle the royal family, or die here like a worthless stray dog.”
There was no real choice here.
The “option” Abel presented was nothing less than a coercion. Teeth gritted, Luke shot a glare at Abel.
“Did you plan this from the beginning?”
“Hmm. You can see it that way.”
“Fine. I accept your offer.”
“Good. At least we won’t spill blood here then.”
Saying this, Abel conjured a piece of paper from the air—a pre-prepared contract appeared before Luke.
Abel allowed Luke to read the contract floating there.
As Luke’s eyes scrolled down, he began to shake.
“Doesn’t this sound reasonable?”
“From the start, you were anticipating everything, weren’t you?”
Luke’s face revealed a chill as he looked at Abel, who simply smiled faintly at the question.
“Perhaps.”
Luke paused to gather his thoughts.
There was no way the royal family would free his mother. They were bound to use her as a lifelong hostage to manipulate him as The Emperor’s Sword.
Thus, aiding Abel could be a better option. Even if it was a threadbare chance, it might be better than living under the thumb of the royal court all his life.
“Fine. I’ll take a gamble with you.”
“An intelligent decision.”
Luke’s mana flowed into the contract, and simultaneously, Abel’s mana was also absorbed into the document.
The contract trembled for a moment as the mana clashed, then calmed down, signifying the completion of the contract.
Perusing this once more, Abel explained.
“So head back to the royal palace as usual. If you wish to exchange information, simply show this emblem at the Guild on your chosen day each month.”
Toss.
A medal shaped like a padlock, slightly rusted brown, appeared in the air.
“The chains are off, leave then.”
“What?”
Before Luke could react, Abel opened the carriage door. The carriage began slowing to a halt.
Luke confirmed that the chains binding him had been released and stood up.
“Remember that contracts must be honored.”
“Of course. That’s why we signed it.”
Luke sighed, stepped out of the carriage, and found himself in a carriage inn.
Did Abel stop here to urge him to return to the royal family quickly?
When he turned back, the old carriage had already departed.
*
Gilded pillars and chandeliers, the ceilings emblazoned with various crests, and resplendent golden carpets adorned the palace.
A statue of a man stood in front of the wall, with a massive throne positioned before it.
On the throne sat a blonde man, chin resting on the armrest, gazing down at the floor with an oppressive authority and a smug air about him.
This was Jude von Schpenheim, the 16th Emperor of Ariye Empire, also known as The Conqueror Emperor.
“So let me see… This mission was only half successful?”
At the emperor’s words, Luke gulped and bowed his head.
“My failure, your majesty.”
“Hmm… Is that so?”
With that, the emperor extended a hand towards Luke. At the same moment, the brand on Luke’s neck began to burn painfully.
“Aah!”
“Falsehood inevitably carries a cost.”
The emperor murmured and issued an order.
“Cut off your left ring finger.”
Luke’s body, no longer under his control, drew his sword and swung it mercilessly down on his left ring finger.
Snick.
“Ugh…”
The severed finger gushed blood wildly. Satisfied with the sight, the emperor smiled.
“You may leave.”
“Yes…”
Luke bowed and left the audience chamber. Watching his retreat, the chief steward questioned the emperor.
“Your majesty, may I ask why you did not extract the truth?”
“Hmm… Well.”
The emperor smirked before answering.
“Isn’t it interesting to observe even a tiny rebellion among the rats?”
A twisted smile surfaced on his face as he concluded his words.
