The next day, as soon as morning broke, astonishing news spread throughout the capital.
"What? Another ‘Emperor's Sword Mark’ has appeared?"
The wall where the first Emperor had left his sword mark had actually been one of the less popular relics among the people. Most commoners hardly knew what the wall was, and those who did generally showed little interest unless they had a particular fascination with swords.
Recently, young people had started to show up to challenge the wall in the name of 'the honor of the new sword' or some such thing, but their efforts had largely been ignored, amounting to little more than additional trash to be cleaned up.
But today was different. Since The Emperor's Sword Mark was made a thousand years ago, it was likely the first time so many people had flocked around the wall.
People craned their necks and pushed their way closer, trying to get a better look at the massive parallel sword marks engraved on the wall. Such was the level of interest that even the 'Emperor who had revealed himself after so many years,' who had been the focus of everyone’s attention just a day ago, was temporarily pushed to the background.
"Really, another mark has appeared on top of the original one! Could a human have done this?"
"Who could it be? Is there a knight capable of such a feat?"
"The only Swordmaster in the capital is General Mook, right? So it must be him!"
"What are you talking about? His mark is right there! It even has his nameplate attached! It's much smaller than the Emperor's mark! And if he did it, why would he hide the fact?"
People who claimed some knowledge of swordsmanship argued loudly among themselves until someone secretly passed on a rumor.
"I heard from the person who discovered it last night that when they felt an unusual vibration and came to look, no one was here. If you don’t believe it, you can ask the shopkeeper over there."
The individual who had suddenly left a sword mark on a wall that had shown no change until the previous evening had vanished like a mirage. Soldiers who had come to investigate, initially skeptical and expecting to deal with drunkards' nonsense, had promptly returned in total disbelief.
"Geez, if it's not General Mook, then who could it be? And why did they leave without revealing themselves?"
The evidence was there, but the identity of the person who had performed such an astonishing feat was unknown. It was unbelievable, but the reality before their eyes couldn't be denied.
"Make way, all of you!"
Just then, a few knights forced their way through the crowd. The commoners, upon seeing their gleaming armor and spotless uniforms, backed away in fear.
"My God, it's the Imperial Knights."
Leading the knights was a man with red-brown hair, his face as emotionless as ice. A few people gulped as they noticed the insignia on his armor, indicating he was the Commander of the Imperial Knights.
Commander Theorado of the Imperial Knights stood in front of the sword marks, seemingly indifferent to the throng around him. His gaze was fixed intently on the wall before him.
As if by doing so, he could somehow discern the identity of the one who had made the mark.
"Did he come to investigate the sword mark…?"
"Maybe, or maybe he's the one who made it."
"…Let’s go."
However, Theorado soon turned around. As bewildered as the crowd was, the knights who had followed him looked equally puzzled.
"Commander, have you already discovered something?"
"I don't think there's a need to investigate further."
"Ah, was it just magical trickery after all? I knew it. I thought it would be nothing more than a rude prank, not worth our attention."
"No, it's genuine."
Theorado replied in a subdued tone.
"It was drawn properly in one go using sword aura; it's a genuine Swordmaster's sword mark. That's why there's no need to look further."
The knight who had loudly speculated that it was fake closed his mouth, visibly chastened. Other knights, who had been quietly harboring similar thoughts, discreetly rolled their eyes, grateful they hadn't spoken out first.
As they followed behind Theorado, noticeably more subdued than when they'd arrived, the stifled voices of the onlookers erupted almost in unison.
"Did you hear that? It's genuine!"
"A mark left by a Swordmaster! Who on earth could it be then?"
—---
"Having given him a day off to rest, and he pulls off something like this?"
Leaning against the back of his bed and reviewing documents, the Emperor sighed and pushed his hair back.
"Ever since he was young, whenever he received an order he didn't like, he'd commit some outrageous and nonsensical act. No matter how old he gets, that disposition shows no signs of changing."
Spread out on his lap was a detailed report about the mysterious sword mark that had suddenly appeared last night. While nobody had yet identified the culprit, the Emperor instantly knew who it was.
There were, officially, two Swordmasters in the capital besides General Mook. One was the cautious and devoted knight who would never do such a thing. The other was that knight's master and, for whatever reason, someone entirely capable of this sort of stunt—the Emperor's own brother.
The Emperor thought he'd be more surprised if the perpetrator wasn't Kishiar La Orr.
"If Commander Theorado left the scene right after checking it out, it means he's already figured out who it is. Have others not come yet?"
"None so far," replied the chamberlain, refilling the Emperor's cup with freshly brewed tea.
"That's fortunate… He has no interests other than the sword, so he won't gossip about this. The situation in his family has conveniently settled down, and as for other interested parties…"
Muttering to himself as he sipped his tea, the Emperor's thoughts were a flurry of complex matters fusing and breaking apart in a continual cycle. Knowing well what state the deep-thinking Emperor would get into, the chamberlain skillfully interjected.
"Your Majesty, my apologies, but the tea will cool again. Her Majesty the Empress did send over the last harvested leaves of the year, and didn't you say you wanted to enjoy it while it was hot?"
"…Right."
The Emperor finally broke away from his train of thought and turned his attention back.
As he resumed drinking his tea, the Emperor's gaze, however, remained fixed on the same page of the report. But this time, he was not lost in thought; his mood had subtly but surely softened.
"…To think he'd protest in this manner to convey that he's perfectly fine. I really hadn't considered it."
"Yes, it's truly remarkable. A sword mark that can match that of the First Emperor himself. It's something nobody has achieved in a thousand years. It will certainly be remembered throughout history."
"Indeed, if the former Emperor and Empress knew about this, they would be both shocked and pleased just like me."
A faint smile touched the corners of the Emperor's lips before quickly fading away. The warmth of his smile was replaced by a chilling solemnity, as if touched by a winter wind.
"I had planned to showcase Kishiar's strength as soon as he returned anyway. Fortuitously, he took the initiative to act first, so that saves us some effort. Bring me fresh parchment. I need to write a letter to the Cavalry."
"Yes."
The chamberlain, who had been smiling, exited the room. The Emperor slowly rose from his bed and walked toward the window. A dull ache emanated from somewhere within his body, but it was a tolerable pain.
The view outside his window had changed somewhat from before. The palace grounds, once empty, were now bustling with people. Most were there to prepare for a party under the Emperor's orders, but among them were nobles who stood there every day, hoping to gain an audience with him.
They were curious about the Emperor’s health, how much he had recovered, whether he would resume direct involvement in state affairs following the Cavalry's welcome ceremony, and a myriad of other matters. Of course, the Emperor had no intention of indulging their curiosity.
'They must be incredibly curious. They thought I was quietly sinking into oblivion, and now, suddenly, I've made a move. They must wonder if this is the last twitch before death, or if something has changed.'
The fact that the nobility was not responding to this 'new incident' was proof enough that their attention was wholly fixated on the Emperor’s well-being and were unable to pay attention to anything else.
'How delightful it is to easily guess the inner workings of the enemy without even making a strenuous effort to infiltrate their core?'
Kishiar must have also acted with this kind of impact in mind.
'Even though it looks like he acts without thinking, he’s never actually done so.'
Their preoccupation with the Emperor’s condition would soon become an opportunity for the Emperor and those who followed him.
Soon, the chamberlain returned, offering up parchment infused with a pleasant fragrance. The Emperor sat down at his desk, dipped his pen in ink, and began to write his letter without hesitation.