The Imperial messenger entered the castle with a lofty gaze, as if looking down from above.
He was holding something wrapped in red cloth and tied with golden thread — probably a letter from the Emperor.
Yuri met the messenger together with his close aide, and the lord of Bezos Castle.
"I have come bearing a message from His Imperial Majesty."
"All right."
Since Yuri was not a king, he simply sat slouched in his chair.
Knights wearing swords stood around, watching the messenger closely.
For a meeting meant to receive the Emperor's letter, the setting was far too plain.
The messenger blinked slowly, then handed over the letter.
"Wait."
Yuri did not take it.
"You should pay your respects first."
His tone was like coaxing a child. His voice was so calm that, for a moment, the messenger didn't understand what he meant and froze.
When the messenger remained still, Yuri spoke again.
"Not going to?"
It was neither scolding nor an attempt to feign authority. It was like returning a forgotten item — just a glance telling him to hurry and do it.
The messenger stayed silent for a moment before speaking.
"The Empire intends to go to war with Briol."
"And?"
"It means we will no longer respect the royal authority of Briol."
"Hmm…"
Yuri nodded.
"I see your courage."
"My job ends once I deliver this letter."
"You know you'll die if you don't, right?"
The messenger blinked.
It seemed he had never been treated like this before. Naturally, an Imperial messenger was given the highest of honors. Especially if he came bearing the Emperor's letter — even a king of another country would be cautious.
But Yuri didn't care.
Because he already knew just how madly the Empire would rampage.
"We're at war already, aren't we?"
The Empire never compromised.
The more one yielded, the more they demanded, until they plunged the entire continent into flames.
There was no benefit in treating the messenger with honor.
No, doing so would only leave room for hesitation among allies, preventing them from committing fully to the battle.
Just as he had once united the Allied Army by beheading an Orc on the grasslands, Yuri was ready to kill this messenger if necessary.
Yuri rose from his seat.
"I have no personal grudge. You and I are just doing our jobs."
He reached for Guilty, which was leaning nearby.
"I'll keep it short, since I feel bad. Pay your respects, or die."
As Yuri tapped the hilt of his sword, the messenger's eyes faintly wavered.
There was no bluff in Yuri's demeanor.
It meant he truly intended to cut him down, purely from a rational judgment.
"Th…"
The messenger rolled his eyes.
Normally, there would be retainers to intervene. Such was the prestige of the Empire.
But none of Briol's knights stopped Yuri. On the contrary, they lifted their chins at the messenger, as if urging him to submit quickly.
"I, I heard Briol was a nation of knights, but this is far too discourteous."
He had tried to speak calmly, but ended up stammering without realizing it.
Yuri smiled.
"What do you think a nation of knights means? Just that there are a lot of people good with swords. Nothing special. Right?"
At that, laughter burst out from the surroundings.
They looked more like ruffians than knights.
The messenger closed his eyes, then opened them again.
He had not come with a particularly solemn heart. As always, he had planned to deliver the letter and leave arrogantly.
But here, his usual way did not work.
"Jared."
"Yes."
"Seems he has no intention of doing it. Bring him here."
"Understood."
Jared strode up to the messenger. Without a hint of hesitation, he reached out, as if handling a petty street criminal.
The messenger was grabbed by the nape and dragged forward.
The messenger spoke.
"W-wait!"
"Hmm?"
Everyone in the room froze and looked at the messenger.
He hesitated for a moment, then slowly lowered his head.
"As the Imperial messenger, I… I pay my respects to the Prince of Briol."
And he bowed his head.
It wasn't a particularly strenuous show of respect.
"Ah, too bad."
Yuri said that, then took out some money from his pocket and set it down.
Gold coins passed hands among the knights of Briol.
The messenger realized they had placed bets on how he would react.
"Th-this…"
His face flushed with humiliation.
Yuri didn't care.
"Leave that here."
"How very rude of you. For a petty kingdom to dare treat the Imperial messenger like this…"
At that moment, the atmosphere changed completely.
Everyone stopped laughing and stared at the messenger.
When the gazes of all the knights in the room bore down on him, the messenger felt the pressure so strongly he forgot to breathe.
Yuri rose from his seat.
"Just because you bowed once doesn't mean rudeness is forgiven."
He drew Guilty.
The messenger took a step back.
"What's wrong? Dying takes just a moment. Nothing to it."
This was the voice of experience. In his past life, Yuri had been beheaded by Laurent, and he remembered that moment clearly.
It was only an instant.
"Now then…"
"I let my emotions get the better of me."
The messenger quickly lowered his head. He valued his life more than expected.
"I will take my leave now."
"Mm…"
Yuri sheathed his sword.
"All right, I won't let it slide again. Go."
"Yes. Thank you."
And the messenger left the room without looking back.
The knights burst into laughter.
"Judging by the look of him, that one must've pissed himself."
"No wonder he was waddling when he walked."
Their tone was like drunken old men in a tavern.
But they were all nobles with titles.
Those who had rolled through battlefields tended to grow rough in nature.
They seemed quite satisfied with Yuri's handling of the matter.
"Your Highness the Third Prince, well done. Arrogant ones like that need to be properly put in their place."
"We're going to be shedding blood against each other anyway — no need to be polite."
"Truly the son of His Majesty."
Laurent and Jared wore expressions that seemed to question if this was really okay, but the rest showered Yuri with praise.
"All right, then…"
Yuri untied the string on the letter.
"Let's see what the Emperor has to say."
Yuri removed the cloth and read the letter.
But there was really nothing to it.
It was so trivial that Yuri gave a hollow laugh as he read.
"Is this all?"
"What is it?"
Yuri unfolded the contents inside and showed them.
Everyone who saw it wore a strange expression.
"Hmm…"
The contents were short.
"Surrender."
That was all it said.
But the reason for their unease wasn't the wording.
"The Emperor…"
One of the knights beside him spoke.
"He must be very ill."
The fact that the letter was wrapped in red cloth and sealed with golden thread meant it was a personal letter written by the Emperor himself.
Yet, the handwriting was odd.
Some letters sprawled weakly and crookedly, like a child's scrawl, while others were pressed heavily into the page, as if written with a clenched fist.
The atmosphere shifted with each character, giving the reader an unsettling feeling.
It was, quite literally, the handwriting of a madman.
Yuri gazed down at the letter.
His eyes had, before he realized it, stepped into the realm of the heart-soul.
The remnants of black magic were so thick that its dark shapes could almost be seen with the naked eye. Yuri suspected that the Emperor had been completely consumed by black magic.
The Emperor, Ibarra.
In this life, the Emperor he had met did not seem like such a bad man.
On the contrary, he had shown a candid side, even tossing around trivial jokes.
But that Ibarra would no longer exist.
Silently, Yuri offered his condolences in his heart, and folded the letter again. Looking at it any longer was unpleasant.
"He won't last long."
He muttered so.
The next Emperor would be Eugen, a formidable beast of black magic.
"I did think something was strange."
One knight standing behind spoke.
It was Einzer Eustam, lord of Matterhorn.
Though he had a bit of a belly, his frame was massive, and his experience vast. The Eustam family was one of Briol's most prestigious houses.
"I met the Emperor once before. I thought he was quite decent at the time. When he suddenly began doing mad things, I wondered if he had eaten something bad."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. They said his mind went from being poisoned — looks like it was true."
"It can't be helped."
Yuri rose from his seat.
"Some things just happen."
"That's true."
"Now, get ready."
Yuri spoke in a lively tone.
"Since we treated the messenger this way, they'll respond. They might start the war immediately. Some of the people here might not see tomorrow. Has everyone had their wills notarized?"
Laughter broke out all around.
Jared, standing nearby, shook his head.
It was hard for him to understand their jokes.
Not only Yuri, who made such remarks so naturally, but also the old knights who enjoyed hearing them — they were all strange.
Einzer played along with Yuri's joke.
"No, Your Highness. A will is unnecessary."
"Sir, you must have good brotherly affection?"
"No. Not at all."
"Then why don't you need one?"
"Well, if I die, won't the loser in the fight over my inheritance come to see me early? Isn't that the mark of a truly filial child!"
"You, it turns out you're a very wise father."
"Hahahahaha!"
Laughter blossomed again.
For being on the brink of war, the atmosphere was good.
Jared, who had been quiet, wanted to join in and opened his mouth.
"Well, tomorrow, I guess I'll be able to eat more food."
Everyone turned to look at Jared.
One knight asked,
"And why is that?"
Jared grinned and tossed out a line.
"Because there'll be fewer mouths to feed. You can't exactly put food into the mouths of the dead, can you? Hahahaha!"
Jared laughed alone.
His laughter slowly faded.
"Ha… ha…"
The air had gone cold.
The knights' icy stares pierced his chest like daggers.
"So, you're saying, we'll be dead tomorrow? Is that it?"
"Well, I—"
"If half of us die, you'll be so happy you'll eat twice as much tomorrow. Is that what you mean?"
"No, I just—jokingly…"
"Sounds to me like you're just waiting for us to die."
"No, that's not—"
Jared's face twisted in distress.
"If I offended you, I apo—"
At that moment, everyone burst into laughter.
"Wahahahaha!"
"Twice as much, this fellow's got guts!"
"If I die, I'll leave you my share of the feast. Wahaha!"
"Young man, you've got spirit. No matter who dies or doesn't, I'll make sure you drink twice the amount."
One knight standing nearby slapped Jared's back so hard it nearly broke, laughing the whole time.
"I thought you were a stiff, but you've got some grit!"
This too was a joke.
Jared gave a relieved, awkward smile and laughed along.
Truly, they were difficult people to be around.
How could the young Third Prince get along so well with them? When Jared glanced at him, the prince was smiling quietly, giving him a subtle wink.
Yuri rose from his seat.
"Enough with the serious talk, now let's joke for real. Make sure to take care of yourselves tomorrow — not just you here, but the rest of the troops as well. The war will probably drag on. Who knows, maybe we'll end up planting Briol's flag in the Imperial Palace and drinking there. When that time comes, let's all be alive to share it."
"Yes!"
Yuri's words lifted everyone's spirits.
The whole room boiled with energy.
But there was one man leaning against the wall, lost in thought.
"…"
It was Laurent.
Because of the Flandre family's nature, this kind of atmosphere was unfamiliar to him, and he was still filled with worry for Cedric.
From a third party's perspective, it might seem like excessive concern.
If someone else had acted like he was now, Laurent would have told them not to worry.
But Laurent couldn't shake this unknown sense of unease.
"Lian, that fellow is lucky, to have such a handsome son. As for me, I worry whether I'll ever get to see my grandchildren."
One of the knights approached and spoke to him.
He was acquainted with Laurent's father, Lian Flandre.
Laurent smiled.
"Yes. Thank you for saying so."
"How is Lian?"
"He says it's nothing serious."
"That's good to hear. Laurent — or rather, Sir Laurent, you take care of yourself too."
"Yes, I'll keep that in mind. You can speak freely."
"All right, Laurent. I saw you often when you were little."
"I vaguely remember."
Saying that, Laurent suddenly looked out the window.
A bird was flying by.
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