Geriant’s brows knitted together.
“In the land of humans.”
Gerald responded with an affirmative nod. “Through the tracking artifact, we discovered that she indeed is beyond the mountain range that separates our lands from the humans.”
Geriant rose to his feet, his aura suffocating. “Are you certain of this? Are you telling me that humans were the ones who abducted my child?!”
Gerald stayed silent for a while before answering. “…We are not certain of that, Your Imperial Majesty. The thief could have crossed paths with a human, and the child was taken.”
“That’s a flimsy excuse!” Jared roared from the back.
Being in the presence of three enraged members of the imperial family, each capable of taking the lives of wherever they desired in the empire with a mere word, was a daunting experience for anyone.
Yet, Gerald maintained his calm. As the most powerful knight of the four dukedoms of Cyrenia, he had dealt with cases more dire than this.
And he had the authority to speak against the emperor if the moment demanded.
This was one of such moments.
“You want a war, then?!”
His sharp gaze met Jared, glaring at the emperor’s firstborn and heir.
But in the true sense, he was speaking to all three of them.
“I want my daughter back. I don’t care if the human lands have to burn,” Argenta, the silver-haired fairy, declared coldly.
Her eyes didn’t quiver despite the fact that a word from her could cause the death of hundreds of thousands.
“If bringing back my sister would mean a war I would very well face it. The knights of Cyrenia will not cower from a fight against the humans in that land,” Jared added.
Gerald sighed deeply. “You speak like a child despite being over 200 years old. The knights in the human lands are not like those here. The ones here aren’t as shrewd or twisted in mind as those over there.”
Geriant shut his eyes for a long moment before opening them again. “War is not an option.”
“Your Majesty!” Stay connected via My Virtual Library Empire
“Father!”
Argenta and Jared both exclaimed, with expressions twisted in shock.
“A wise decision, Your Majesty,” Gerald said. “We the knights of the peacekeeper order and the mages will do our utmost to retrieve —”
“No.”
“Your Majesty…?” Gerald’s eyes widened upon hearing the emperor’s short yet firm retort.
“Send no squadron, no troop, no mage, or any nobles.”
At this point, Jared and Argenta had ugly expressions.
Even Gerald was confused. Did the emperor for the sake of the empire plan to abandon his daughter?
However, each member of the imperial bloodline had the power to form elite troops through their potent talents.
“I send you, Gerald, the nameless knight and Cyrenia’s anchor. Go and bring my daughter back to me.”
Gerald’s eyes grew wide.
“Y… Your Majesty, what about the abyssal creatures? The time for the prophesied apocalypse draws near.”
“I trust you will be back before then and with my daughter by your side.”
“Then, I shall go.”
With a final bow, Gerald turned on his heel and left with large strides. He knew why the emperor had sent him. Sending him was no different than sending hundreds of thousands of knights!
After all, he was the strongest knight in the empire.
And to be the strongest, one had to step into the forbidden realm of power.
The realm of the Awoken One!
_____
The rhythmic trotting of horses and the gentle creaking of the wheels of a carriage fell into the ears of the natives of Vale, the capital of the Dukedom of Mormonts.
On this broad, well-paved street, dozens of carriages could be seen rolling past, accompanied by men on horseback.
Inside one of these carriages, Asher leaned his back against the plush red cushion, his body sinking into the soft foam as he crossed one leg over the other.
He was dressed in the manner befitting a noble—a long silk trench coat, exquisitely made by his best tailor, Anna from the silk made by the silkworms gained as spoils from Zebulun.
Beneath it, he wore a black shirt, fitted pants and long black boots adorned with silver buckles.
Clad in such finery, Asher looked like the young prince from the Sacred Flame Empire.
Seated opposite him was Nero, his attire in stark contrast to Asher’s. He was clad in black gambeson over leather pants, with long boots and a pair of arming swords strapped to his waist.
His curly hair fell over his forehead while his eyes remained focused on the crowd outside, his demeanor tense and focused—nothing like Asher’s relaxed ease.
The crisp sound of a page-turning fell into his ears, followed by Asher’s deep voice.
“We’re here for a ball. Don’t be so tense.”
He averted his eyes from the book and gazed toward Nero.
The kid also looked at him.
“But my job here is to protect you, not to dance.”
Asher raised an eyebrow. “Who trains you?”
Nero was startled. “You and Uncle Alec.”
“Good. Then understand this—I brought you here to mingle with the young nobles. One day, you shall ascend, and take the position of a noble that your father couldn’t live to gain.”
Nero blinked, momentarily thrown off. This was outside his scope of understanding. Was he going to be dancing with some noble girl?
He would much rather spend the entire night swinging his sword at a tree.
Asher’s next words sealed his fate. “It’s an order from your lord.”
When Nero looked away, Asher smiled.
The boy reminded him of a young Alex.
Outside the carriage, twelve paladins, garbed in expensive clothes with their weapons at each side of their mount rode in formation.
Six rode before the carriage and six rode after. But what drew the attention of the public more than that was the golden helmets’ covering part of their faces.
Clip! Clop!
The hooves of the war mounts made sounds as they struck the cobblestones with a steady rhythm.
Moses gazed at the magnificent castle ahead, a structure leagues beyond anything else in their county, his expression solemn.
“I’ve never seen a black flag with the head of a white wolf before. Which House is this?” a passerby asked.
“I don’t know. Could be one of those small barons,” a man standing outside his shop replied lazily since he had no customers.
“Tsk! What kind of baron rides in such an expensive carriage and has soldiers dressed like that? Have you taken a proper look at the wood of that carriage or the material those men are wearing.” another man who had been watching the convoy the entire time scoffed.
The shop owner shrugged. “I’m neither a carpenter nor am I a tailor. Besides, why should I care?”
“Oh, you should.” The man’s tone darkened. “Inside that carriage is the man who beheaded Archduke Nubis’ son and ignited several wars in the north. His soldiers are all forged in battle, making him possess one of the strongest armies in these parts.”
The man turned to the frozen shop owner.
The man then leaned in. “Around him, you whisper—or he’ll remove your head as he did Count William. He favours beheading I hear.”
Chills seeped into the shop owner’s being.