“ Are we still far from the capital?”

“Not much farther now, sir. Please wait just a bit longer,” replied the subordinate.

The diplomatic envoy of the Arhan Empire.

At the forefront of the group, Duke Fael yawned widely as he spoke to his aide.

“It was fun until we entered Daman. All those entertaining guys coming at us.”

“I didn’t find it all that enjoyable,” the aide replied with a weary expression, having been the one to face off against countless powerful fighters, including master-level opponents, on behalf of the Duke.

“That’s all part of the training. If you don’t do things like that, your skills will dull.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“And you. Didn’t that guy what’s his name, Baek Joon-ji or whatever beat you? Haven’t you been training lately?”

“...How am I supposed to defeat the Black Swan?”

The aide grit his teeth as Duke Fael , for the umpteenth day in a row, teased him about losing to the Black Swan—one of the top five strongest masters on the continent, if not the absolute best.

“By the way, have you thought about what to say when you meet the king of Daman?”

“Oh, that? I’ll just go and demand that they hand over the Giore traitors or something.”

Sigh…

The aide let out a long sigh, already anticipating that his workload was about to increase.

“Well, I didn’t expect much. At least this time, it’s an issue where that kind of approach is acceptable. That’s a relief.”

A diplomat meeting a foreign king without observing proper etiquette and jumping straight to the demands…

It would normally be an unthinkable offense, potentially leading to war. But in this case, it didn’t matter much.

After all, the Kingdom of Daman had committed the outrageous act of harboring rebels from the Empire and even granting them noble titles. They were in no position to nitpick about manners.

“Ah, there’s the city gates,” the aide said, pointing ahead.

“Oh, finally, the capital,” replied Duke Fael .

In the distance, they saw the gates of Daman’s capital, surrounded by its imposing city walls.

As the 200-strong diplomatic envoy approached the gates, the nervousness of the guards on duty was palpable.

“H-halt! State your identity and purpose!”

“Hana.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the aide named Hana.

At Duke Fael’s command, Hana immediately drew his sword and infused it with aura.

“...!”

The blade, now glowing with an intense aura, came to rest at the throat of the trembling guard.

In a low, growling voice, Hana spoke, a stark contrast to the lighthearted conversation moments earlier.

“We are the envoys of the Arhan Empire. Representing His Majesty the Emperor, we have come to hold the King of Daman accountable for his crimes. Step aside.”

“...!”

A diplomat pointing a blade at the throat of a foreign guard while issuing threats to move.

Calling the opposing king by title alone and openly accusing him of crimes.

Under normal circumstances, such actions would be beyond insolent, bordering on absurdity.

But Hana, and by extension, the Fael family, harbored deep resentment against the Kingdom of Daman.

Rather than stopping his aide, Duke Fael encouraged him, even chiming in with approving remarks.

The other members of the envoy either cheered Hana on or glared at the Daman guards as if ready to slaughter them. Not one of them tried to defuse or deescalate the situation.

Terrified, the guard with the blade at his neck stammered that he would fetch his superior, retreating as quickly as he could.

“I may be myself, but you’re really something too…”

“It was the right thing to do.”

Not long after, a knight who appeared to be in charge and a noble arrived hurriedly to greet the envoy.

“Welcome, envoys of Arhan. I am Chadra , Captain of the Capital Guard.”

“I am Pron Ephid. His Majesty has ordered me to escort you.”

“I am Ron Fael.”

“Hana Fael.”

At the lackluster introductions, Captain Chadra  bowed his head, his expression stiff, though the noble Pron showed no change in demeanor.

“Then, please follow me.”

Duke Fael  and his aide Hana felt uneasy at the noble’s puppet-like, emotionless manner of guiding them, but they dismissed it as unimportant and followed along.

“His Majesty is waiting for you in the audience chamber.”

The duke and his entourage were escorted straight into the palace by the two guides.

‘We’ll confront the King of Daman, hear his excuses, pretend to accept them for now, then withdraw and decide with Hana how to handle things later.’

With such a complacent mindset, Duke Fael ’s expression changed the moment he stepped into the audience chamber.

“I heard Daman had only one master.”

What Duke Fael  saw was the King of Daman seated on the throne.

Behind the king stood a man wearing a gem-encrusted mask.

There was also the Platinum Knight, whose description matched the intelligence reports.

A master with a crimson greatsword and a silver-haired mage, likely those who had fought Giel.

Jer Giore, the eldest son of the former Marquis of Gior, stood with another master at his side.

“Well, well. Three masters, a mage… You’ve certainly prepared well.”

No sooner had the duke finished speaking than the entire envoy drew their swords.

“Drawing weapons in the audience chamber? How rude,” remarked the King of Daman, still seated on the throne, criticizing the envoy’s disrespect.

It might have been the ideal demeanor for a king, but Duke Fael felt a strong sense of incongruity. This composed and dignified figure was starkly different from the King of Daman he had seen and heard about previously.

“Hear me, envoys of the Arhan Empire. You…”

Swooooosh!

Before the king could finish his sentence, Duke Fael’s sword was already in his hand, and the King of Daman’s head had fallen to the floor.

“Sorry, but I don’t have a hobby of listening to dolls talk.”

“Well, there goes all the lines I had prepared,” said the masked man as he stepped forward.

“Lapdogs of Arhan, you’ve exceeded my expectations. To decapitate a king here in the capital of Daman, in the royal palace, no less. Truly worthy of Arhan, truly worthy of the Empire.”

“And who might you be?”

“Did your master not tell you? I am Roderon Edelvine, King of Edelvine.”

At that, Duke Fael finally recalled what the emperor had told him about the Empire’s enemies.

Lute, and Giore.

The shadowy mastermind behind the unprecedented rebellion of two vassals.

A survivor of a kingdom destroyed by the Empire three centuries ago.

“Had you been fortunate enough to survive, you should’ve lived quietly. Yet, here you are, daring to provoke the Empire, completely unaware of your place.”

Of course, the background of the masked man was of little importance to Duke Fael .

The critical point was that this man was an enemy of the Empire.

Judging further conversation unnecessary, Duke Fael charged toward Roderon, while Roderon’s masters simultaneously launched themselves at the envoy.

“Jer Giore. After betraying His Majesty the Emperor and fleeing, you’ve aligned yourself with nothing more than a survivor of a fallen kingdom? Truly, the name of Gior has reached rock bottom.”

“Shut your mouth, Hana Fael.”

“At least you have the decency to feel shame. That’s a small relief.”

Hana Fael mocked Jer Giore while crossing swords with Giore’s knight, Hosil.

“By the way, Sir Hosil. Have you improved significantly? Last I saw, you were merely an expert.”

“It has been a long time.”

The audience chamber of Daman’s royal palace had devolved into utter chaos.

The masked man Roderon, his masters, and the swordsmen of the Fael family were locked in fierce combat. The luxurious and ornate interior of the palace couldn’t withstand the intensity and was being destroyed in real-time—walls crumbling, decorations shattering.

‘Damn it, I need to finish this quickly and go help.’

Despite his calm exterior, Hana Fael was in a state of great anxiety.

The master before him, Hosil, wasn’t significantly stronger than the two masters he had already defeated during the journey to Daman, so he didn’t fear losing. The problem lay elsewhere—his fellow swordsmen.

If not him, there would be no one left to deal with the other two masters, especially the man with the crimson greatsword. That thought weighed heavily on him.

‘What about the lord…?’

Duke Fael  was fighting Roderon in a different part of the chamber.

Hana Fael didn’t believe his lord would lose to such an opponent. However, Roderon must have had confidence in his abilities to confront the duke directly.

If he wanted to hold out until Duke Fael returned, Hana had to defeat Hosil as quickly as possible and take on the man with the crimson greatsword himself.

The problem was that Hosil clearly understood this as well.

‘Damn it…!’

Hosil adopted a purely defensive sword style, as if determined not to fall easily.

The master before him wasn’t someone who could be defeated easily, nor could Hana afford to ignore him and turn his back. They were locked in a stalemate.

‘I’ll have to take a gamble.’

Tap.

Hana took a large step back and infused his sword with aura.

The blue aura that shimmered over his blade deepened in color, growing darker and darker until it reached an almost black hue.

The concentrated, unrefined aura writhed violently, as if threatening to tear apart anything it touched. Hosil, sensing the danger, quickly drew upon his own aura in response.

“What in the world…!”

Han Fael.

His epithet: Sword Wolf.

The wolf of the Fael family had bared his claws.