113. Childhood Friend – Twin Princes

“W-what? Swordmaster?”

The two knights of Count Amus’s household gasped in horror. The red miasma emanating from the enemy’s sword. I had never seen it before, but it certainly looked like the Oblivion Blade.

The Oblivion Blade was the strongest testament to being a Swordmaster in the entire continent.

Unlike knights, who had no way to gauge their abilities until they clashed, Swordmasters commanded reverence and awe merely by concentrating mana in their swords.

The knights hesitated and started to retreat.

However, their feet froze at the deadly aura emanating from the Swordmaster.

“Haah… How audacious.”

As pleasure crested, Reb lunged forward. He swung his sword, intending to cut the pathetic lifeline of his prey. And he also wanted to absorb more divine power.

“Wha—!?”

But… he missed.

The Oblivion Blade couldn’t be blocked. With all the armor, swords, shields, and so on, the only option was to dodge it.

But how could we hope to evade the sword of a Swordmaster?

So, when the blade came flying, the two knights tightly shut their eyes and thought of a chariot, but in a twist of fate, their instinctive evasive move managed to avoid the strike.

“…?”

“…?”

The knights looked at each other, puzzled as to how their necks were still attached. Did we just dodge the sword of the strongest being in the world, the Swordmaster?

Reb swung his sword again. This time, he stepped back to move outside the attack range.

“What, what was that?”

The chariot had disappeared. As expected of a Swordmaster, his movements were extraordinary, but his swordsmanship seemed similar to ours…?

“???”

Questions arose in the knights’ eyes. However, they considered it fortunate rather than something to doubt, and one knight, reinvigorated by the situation, gripped his sword tightly.

“Pavel!”

As he shouted while stepping to the right, the knight named Pavel caught on to his friend’s intent and turned to the left. He intended to exploit the Swordmaster’s strange weakness.

The boss and the thugs, who were trying to flee in panic from the Oblivion Blade, halted and redirected their feet at the sight of the knights fighting back.

They were putting up a better fight than expected.

“Martin!”

At Pavel’s shout, Martin’s sword struck from the lower arc while Pavel’s sword slashed from above. The two men’s combined assault struck with no margin for error.

But,

“Ugh!”

Reb swung his sword broadly. From leg to head, the sword moved in an all-encompassing arc, severing the knights’ blades.

The broken sword tips fell with a clatter onto the ground.

“Damn it! Again!”

The knights gritted their teeth and attempted another coordinated attack with their shortened swords, but Reb’s dominance began to stand out even more.

Not being able to clash swords was a tremendous disadvantage.

In swordsmanship, no — in all forms of weapons training — the movements fall into four major categories: evade, block, slash, and stab.

There are various actions like kicking, invading distances, tripping, and grappling, but ultimately they all aim to achieve one of those four things.

But without the foundational movement of ‘blocking’ rendered obsolete, facing the opponent’s sword became a task of sheer evasion and trying to find an opening.

If the gap in strength were drastic, it might be possible to win that way…

“Ugh!”

In a moment of realization, disaster struck.

The Swordmaster suddenly slashed his sword with one hand, and the knight instinctively defended, only to belatedly recognize his mistake. The Oblivion Blade cleaved through both his sword and torso.

“Martin! No!”

Reb’s sword handle shot upwards. The handle was tossed from his left hand to his right in an instant, and he stabbed deep.

“Gah…!”

The flesh of his abdomen gave way smoothly. Pavel looked down at his own belly.

He had prepared for the day he would die by the sword. But to die by the Oblivion Blade felt somewhat glorious…

He attempted to lift his head to see the masked Swordmaster, but Reb had already vacated the spot.

“R-run away!”

The thugs began to scatter in every direction like mice. Reb momentarily considered casting [Target Hunt] on all of them but quickly changed his mind.

The Nevis Church was weighing on his mind.

He remembered how the bell of the Rutina Church rang madly when Prince Eric exhibited his power.

It seemed this was fine, but the filthy squires of the divine would undoubtedly discern Asin’s power from miles away.

Reb reset the divine power lingering on his sword and dashed forth.

It was time to hunt.

*

The Dorph Family had vanished.

Their hideout had turned into a brutal slaughterhouse that didn’t spare men, women, or children, and several stables on the outskirts of Nevis suffered a similar fate.

While the culprit was not caught, there were survivors — those who had fled blindly instead of hiding, screaming that some knight had attacked them.

Among them was a thug who ramblingly claimed that the knight was a Swordmaster, but it was hardly credible. There were only three Swordmasters in existence on the continent, and they couldn’t possibly be in the Orun Kingdom.

“Which bastard…”

Count Taradin Amus ground his teeth in anger. He had supported the Dorph Family for many years. While the money they provided was nothing much, it had been convenient for providing amusements for the wayward princes.

He called for his steward.

“Let the princes know I request an audience. I will prepare shortly.”

The steward hurriedly left, and while the handmaidens made preparations, Count Amus pondered deeply.

‘What kind of fool could it be? What is their purpose?’

What troubled him were noble houses aligned with the princes, such as House Pompiers, House Jermin, and House Nensota.

They certainly had reasons to envy and resent him. They were tight-fisted over the slave business in Nevis while catering to the desires of the princes.

Though he briefly thought of families like House Ogerton, Gaidan, and House Drazin, it didn’t last long.

Those high-minded families would have no reason to engage in such backdoor schemes, so he readily excluded them from suspicion.

He quietly assessed House Jermin as the mastermind behind it all. After all, only House Jermin knew of the efforts he was making for the princes.

Before he finished getting ready, Count Taradin Amus brushed past the handmaidens.

“Father…”

At that moment, his daughter appeared. Unlike her father, who had yellowed whites and broad cheekbones, she was a delicate beauty resembling her mother. Even though she was of age, her height and head were petite, and she wore her braided hair charmingly, yet her sparkling eyes held worry.

“I’m not feeling well today… about the evening banquet…”

“Go.”

The Count answered shortly and quickened his pace. Behind him, his daughter pleaded.

“Father, can’t I skip just today? I really am unwell… If I go there…”

“Go.”

“I already did what I had to do. I let you know there would secretly be a banquet with the princes today. It’s been so long; many young ladies will be there. So please… I-I’m in distress.”

The Count, who was walking ahead, abruptly halted. Taradin Amus hoped his father might change his mind.

– Snap!

What he got in return was a slap. The back of his hand grazed his jaw and neck gently to avoid leaving a mark.

“Ah! Father.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

The Count coldly replied and turned away, muttering, “Useless.”

For some unknown reason, the lecherous princes only toyed with his daughter instead of taking her to bed.

Surely, it was because she was deemed dull and unattractive.

Otherwise, how could the debauched princes leave a vulnerable girl untapped?

He, too, knew as a man. There was no enjoyment in embracing a girl who merely clung to him, whimpering instead of showing any playfulness.

Sure, there were some crazy fools who enjoyed such things, but he was not one of them.

‘Feeling unwell? Hmph. Isn’t that fortunate? She would have been dodging the princes until now, but this time she can just sit tight and wait.’

Count Amus resolved to send her to the banquet under any circumstances and left the estate.

He soon arrived at the residence of the First Prince, Aton de Lognum.

Though the princes typically lived in the royal palace, the twin princes had established a mansion on ‘Veda Road’ and frequently visited.

Accompanied by the steward, Count Amus wore a sly smile.

‘Fools. This is good for me.’

They were deeply immersed in women.

Though the princes held political power, he believed it was merely good luck that had played in their favor.

They had quarreled heavily in their childhood and later reconciled, but that was politically beneficial.

“Count Amus has arrived.”

As he stepped into the study, adorned with numerous paintings of naked women, the princes exchanged drinks in a room with more art than books.

Should these fools take the throne, there would surely be plenty of scraps left to fall to him. – He thought as his expression quickly changed to one of cordiality.

“Taradin Amus has come to meet the heirs of Lognum.”

“Oh! Count! Welcome!”

The princes looked flushed, perhaps from drinking too much in the daytime. Internally, he clicked his tongue and quickly delivered the good news.

“As I mentioned before, today there will be a banquet hosted by Baron Guanin. Will you attend?”

“Haha. Of course. When have we ever turned down a banquet? However, gatherings among nobles have become rare lately, and we are disappointed not to receive an invitation.”

Azelor de Lognum said with a tone of regret, and the Count echoed his sentiment.

“Indeed. The loyalty to the royal family is so faint… Quite a shame. Had it not been for Lognum’s generosity, these wouldn’t even have a place to stand in our kingdom.”

“Haha, don’t be too harsh on them. Surely they just want to have their own gatherings?”

It was the words of Aton de Lognum.

‘Then why don’t you stay away?’

The Count mocked him internally, then changed the subject.

“Since Your Highness has said that, I will also try to see them in a different light. Ah, and there’s some unfortunate news. You might not want to attend the auction next week.”

“N-no? What are you saying, Count? You know we’ve been eagerly waiting for that auction…”

“I apologize, but upon inquiry, it turns out there will be no worthwhile girl coming to this auction. While it will still take place… I’m afraid it might not meet Your Highness’s expectations.”

“Ah, I see. There’s no helping it, then. But thank you for letting us know in advance. It’s better to look forward to the next one than to be disappointed by attending.”

“Haha. You are absolutely right, Aton de Lognum. Sometimes waiting can also be enjoyable, can’t it?”

The Count spoke sweetly, like pacifying a child, and the princes laughed joyfully.

As Count Amus finished his matters, he said, “I hope you relieve the fatigue of affairs of state during today’s banquet. My daughter will also be attending; she’s quite shy, and she would consider it an honor if you could spare a moment to speak with her.” Then he left.

The princes, who had been smiling, erased their mischievous grins as soon as the door closed.

As if to say when they had ever been amusing, they pushed their cups aside and pulled out well-worn books from their drawers, their movements almost natural.

Aton de Lognum read ‘The Origins of Lightning War and Its Maxim,’ while Azelor de Lognum examined ‘Tactical Mobility Theory.’

Coincidentally, those two books were co-authored by the legendary King Maunin and Queen Retii, who had liberated the northern kingdom from the empire.

When the sun hung high and slowly began to decline, the intense silence of reading subsided. Azelor de Lognum closed his book and spoke.

“Brother. That author we just mentioned had some wise words.”

“…What did you mean? I only heard nonsense.”

Aton de Lognum, also placing a bookmark in his book, looked up.

“Didn’t he say that waiting can sometimes be a pleasure?”

Azelor smiled brightly.

The young man’s white teeth sparkled, and unlike the smile shown to the Count, there was depth to it.

“Ah, yes. That was indeed a wise word.”

Aton returned a smile, a beautifully crafted one across his face as if drawn.

“Our waiting brings us such joy that the author’s words hold some truth.”

Regardless of who ascended the throne, the princes declared their bond would remain unchanged. This was merely the execution of plans set in motion long ago.

The young princes, upon establishing their plan, struck each other in playful combat. Despite being bloodied, they exchanged meaningful glances as the royal guards separated them.

– We will not be ordinary kings.

The nobles, who considered their territories as honeyed pots, would soon learn of their grand designs to dominate them.

Azelor de Lognum extended his hand towards his brother and asked.

“More importantly, brother, how do you think Duke Harvey will respond?”

Aton de Lognum handed his reading material to his younger brother as he replied.

“Well, I’m not sure. But I doubt Marquis Gaidan will have any choices left. Ultimately, he will likely negotiate to marry Hirie off.”

“Haha. While I think you’re great, I secretly hope that lady comes to me.”

“Ah, that’s quite a predicament! To think that a woman could cause a riff in our relationship. But I wouldn’t want to give up on Hirie either. It’s not easy to find such an elegant lady.”

Noticing his younger brother’s jest, Aton promptly poked at his competitive spirit. Then, Azelor, who had been concealing a book in a corner of the bookshelf, slowly turned his head and smiled.

“I’m confident she will come to me. Marquis Gaidan would want to marry off his daughter to someone who’s unlikely to become king.”

Azelor’s confident response elicited peals of laughter from Aton.

“Haha! You’re right. It’s surely going that way! But whether she becomes a duchess or a queen is still unknown.”

“If you ascend to the throne, she would be a duchess, and if I do, she would be a queen. Haha, we’ll find out before this winter passes.”

The declaration that their relationship would remain unchanged and their plans had a promise hidden behind them.

Whoever ascended would vow to lift another onto the dukedom and actively support that duke until he could become a ‘king.’

War.

The one raised to the dukedom would become the spear to strike against the brazen Conrad Kingdom. The one who inherited the throne of the Orun Kingdom would be the shield, backing that war forth.

The ambitious two youths found the prospect of becoming dukes to be far more thrilling than yearning for the crown. Instead, they were all set to extend their sincere condolences to the brother who would take the throne.

Aton de Lognum, noticing much time had slipped by, rose from his seat as he glanced outside.

“Come, brother. Let’s prepare. We must make a splendid appearance at today’s banquet.”

Though a bother, it was essential to continuously display their fondness for women.

What noble would attach themselves to a proud and ambitious ruler?

If one genuinely wanted loyal subjects, it was wise not to do so, but the majority preferred flawed rulers.

Just as Count Amus had acted earlier.

“Brother. I’m all ready.”

However, someday they would come to realize that there were princes willing to dirty their hands to give birth to a great king who would unite the southern continent.

We will be etched into history.

As the two princes stepped out of the lavishly decorated study, their footsteps strangely took on a frivolous rhythm.