Dawn struck as the morning light streamed through the window of a hostel room. A boy sat at his study table, reading an old text made of leaves.
Suddenly, there was a knock.
The boy quickly hid the text, grabbing his sword and fastening it at his waist.
"Get ready, Sir Clave, or we will be late," said a slender boy wearing his university uniform.
"You go ahead, Smerin. I don't feel so well today," said Clave.
"Okay, sir, as you wish," said Smerin, walking away in his military style.
It's been quite some time since Zamean contacted me.
"Sclara, deliver this message to Zamean for me."
As he said that, a woman wearing a hood appeared, jumping in through the window.
"As you wish, Lord Clave," she said, and with the same agility and technique, she vanished out the window.
Suddenly, another knock was heard at the door.
Clave opened it, and the moment he saw the person before him, he jumped back—one hand on his sword, the other on its sheath.
A huge brute rushed at him with a massive broadsword.
Clave quickly unsheathed his blade and blocked the attack.
The brute overpowered Clave, forcing him to the ground.
Suddenly, a sword threatened the brute from behind—and another from the front.
Behind the brute stood Smerin, his sword aimed at the brute's heart. In front of him stood Sclara, her blade pointed at his neck.
The brute laughed loudly.
"It seems you really were sick, Clave."
"Mr. Decron, you can't attack a noble, even if you teach martial arts at the prestigious WNU," said Smerin.
Decron smiled and, with a single smooth movement, escaped the stalemate.
"I didn't know Vertin household servants had the authority to teach a knight about the law. If I were truly here to kill your master, the three of you combined would be nothing more than a mere inconvenience," Decron said, smiling—his expression clearly displaying his superiority.
Soon, he began moving down the corridor.
All three stood stunned yet relieved, knowing that if it had truly come to a fight, they might have had to call Zamean.
"My lord, why do you trust Zamean's strength so much?" asked Smerin.
"Because if it had been him instead of you, Decron would have had a sword jabbed into his heart."
Smerin stood there, unable to argue, slightly ashamed of himself.
Soon, Clave was left alone. He continued reading his book while Smerin stood at the door, guarding the entrance. Sclara disappeared as usual.
Clave continued reading the text. A line stood out:
"Those in authority must know when to use which card."
He thought of today.
Sclara was too mysterious—if confronted directly, she might stop following orders.
Smerin was too straightforward, bound by rules and morals, making him predictable but safe.
Then there was Zamean—a true trump card. But if misused or angered, he would become the greatest threat.
Today, I might have died if those two hadn't intervened. But if Zamean had been here, Decron would have died. His actions are always politically balanced—and that is what makes him the most dangerous. A servant stronger and wiser than his master spells doom.
And there was one more thing about him.
He acts independently—and always wisely.
"Those in authority must know when to use which card."