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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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The knights were undoubtedly sent by the Emperor. Why else would they demand Aslan accompany them on the Emperor’s orders?
While the true motivations behind the summons were unclear, the immediate source was obvious.
Aslan looked at the grizzled knight, who glared back, his one good eye burning with rage.
The knight was Reynald, captain of the Imperial Guard, a man who had served the Imperial family since the previous Emperor’s reign, known as the “Dusk Spear.”
His presence here was significant.
It suggested, for instance, that the War Monks hadn’t even reached the capital.
And the War Monks’ absence meant that the interference from other gods was substantial.
It would be difficult for the War God to achieve his goals amidst such interference, and the risk of failure was high. The Emperor likely wanted to eliminate any unforeseen variables.
And Aslan was that variable.
A man claiming to be the vestige of the Old Gods amidst the current chaos.
While others might have dismissed him as a lunatic, Aslan was no ordinary man.
He was the Master of Battle, a figure who held the attention, and the ire, of all the gods.
One of the few humans who truly understood the gods.
And yet, this man had agreed to accompany Cornil Ashuld without resistance.
His intentions were unreadable, making him an unpredictable element.
Reynald’s presence here confirmed Aslan’s suspicions.
The plan was to subdue him preemptively, preventing him from making any moves.
Aslan smirked. He found it amusing that the Emperor had sent only a single old knight and a handful of cavalry to subdue him.
That’s why he had confidently refused.
He wasn’t concerned about the knight’s anger.
Even if Reynald was filled with killing intent and fully armed,
Aslan had already defeated him during the Emperor’s assassination.
He had no reason to fear a knight he had already beaten. Even if Reynald seemed to be itching for revenge.
Now, with mana at his disposal, Aslan didn’t believe he could lose. He stood calmly amidst the twenty cavalrymen.
“You refuse?”
Seeing Aslan’s arrogance and relaxed posture, Reynald raised his dusk-colored spear.
Aslan, instead of answering, reached for his belt.
He gripped the hilt of his newly acquired sword, its scabbard thick and sturdy. He hadn’t actually intended to draw it.
Just as Aslan lowered his stance, preparing to feign drawing his weapon, someone stepped forward.
“Hold a moment, Sir Reynald.”
It was a knight.
The knight who had been with Cornil Ashuld from the beginning, armed with a shield and a longsword.
The knight, who appeared to be in his early thirties, stepped between Aslan and Reynald. Reynald scowled.
“Are you defying the Emperor’s orders, Sir Milton?”
Reynald glared at Aslan as he spoke, his voice dripping with venom. Sir Milton, glancing at Aslan, replied,
“…You know that’s not true. His Majesty wouldn’t order Aslan’s execution.”
Reynald didn’t reply. Sir Milton continued, defending Aslan.
“I know you were defeated by Aslan before. I understand your desire for revenge. But Aslan is currently a guest, cooperating with the investigation.”
Aslan’s eyes widened in surprise.
He hadn’t expected the knight to defend him.
His efforts to cultivate a positive image and demonstrate good behavior had been directed at the soldiers.
A knight he had never even spoken to defending him was an unexpected bonus.
While pleased by this unexpected support, Aslan couldn’t ignore the soldiers, their eyes now filled with uncertainty.
He stepped forward, past Sir Milton, and addressed Reynald.
“I’ll go with you.”
“…What?”
Reynald stared at him in disbelief, but Aslan didn’t repeat himself. He simply pointed at the cavalry.
“But I expect to be treated as a guest. If you dismount and allow me and my companions to ride to the Imperial Palace, I’ll cooperate.”
Reynald’s face darkened at Aslan’s demand.
Aslan, seeing his expression, smirked.
“Are you offended, Sir Reynald? Let me assure you, we’re far more offended.”
Before Reynald could respond, Aslan continued, his voice laced with righteous indignation,
“I’m not a prisoner. I’m a guest, cooperating with your investigation. I see no reason to be treated like a criminal. You haven’t given me a single reason for this sudden arrest. So tell me, why shouldn’t I be offended?”
Aslan glanced at the soldiers. They remained silent, but their expressions were thoughtful, as if they agreed with him. Aslan pressed on.
“And this ambush outside the capital… What are you so afraid of?”
Suspicion began to brew among the soldiers.
Reynald’s face contorted as he surveyed his men.
“What do you want?”
“What I said before. Treat me and my companions as guests. Then I’ll go with you.”
“And if I refuse?”
Reynald gripped his spear, raising it slightly. Aslan, seeing this, reached for his belt.
“Then there will be bloodshed.”
Reynald glared at Aslan, his eyes a mixture of killing intent, rage, and resignation.
In the end, resignation won.
“…Imul, Ronan, Kal. Dismount.”
Three of the heavily armored knights reluctantly dismounted. Aslan smiled.
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The Imperial City, Belus Ma’kel.
The capital of the Calus Empire, the largest territory in the Northern Continent, and an ancient fortress dating back to the time when the worship of the Old Gods was widespread.
The Calus Empire, rising from the ashes of the old faith, had flourished under the protection of Belus Ma’kel’s sturdy walls.
Belus Ma’kel’s most distinctive feature was its walls.
Towering over thirty meters high, the massive walls, despite their age, remained flawless, untouched by time.
Fortresses built by a power beyond current human comprehension.
People called them Belus, an ancient word meaning “God’s Fortress.”
Within the God’s Fortress, nestled against the mountainside, stood the Imperial Palace.
And Aslan was there.
Specifically, in a guest room within the palace.
Aslan sat comfortably in a chair, lost in thought.
The soldiers, who had been part of Reynald’s escort, would have returned to their duties, spreading the word about the Emperor’s assassin.
That he wasn’t as bad as rumored, that he was, in fact, a decent person.
If everything went according to plan, rumors would also be circulating about the Emperor’s cavalry suddenly appearing and taking the assassin away.
Everything was proceeding as planned. Aslan relaxed, recovering from the journey.
Only Angie and Harod seemed uneasy.
Despite not being disarmed or threatened, Harod remained wary of the unfriendly knights and Reynald.
Angie simply frowned, as if sensing something amiss.
Harod, who had been fidgeting with his shield and weapon, glanced at Angie, then approached Aslan.
“Master, if you don’t mind me asking… why did you agree to come? You could have easily escaped.”
Aslan, instead of answering, turned to Angie, who shrugged.
“Yeah. We could have just left.”
While it wasn’t quite that simple, Angie and Harod weren’t entirely wrong.
If Aslan had wanted to, he could have easily brushed off their threats and escaped. He could have even refused Cornil Ashuld’s request and killed them all.
But he hadn’t.
He had agreed to accompany Cornil Ashuld, without killing him.
He had complied with Reynald’s demands and entered the Imperial Palace.
Normally, this would be a dangerous situation. The Imperial Palace was teeming with War Monks and soldiers.
And yet, despite being in the belly of the beast, Aslan remained calm.
Almost relaxed.
He rested his chin on his hand, a slight smile playing on his lips.
“Don’t worry. Even if things go wrong, I have a plan. And so far, everything is going according to plan.”
Harod’s expression was a mixture of confusion and disbelief.
“A plan…? I’d very much like to hear it.”
Harod’s fear of Aslan seemed to have lessened, replaced by bewilderment. It was understandable. Even with trust and suppressed fear, this situation was difficult to believe.
Aslan leaned back in his chair.
“I can’t tell you the details. But… if everything goes as planned, we won’t have to worry about being chased by priests for a while.”
Harod frowned, rubbing the scales on his neck. Aslan, understanding his concern, said,
“I understand you’re not happy about being dragged around against your will, but even if we parted ways now, you would be pursued by priests. Be patient until we’re safe.”
Harod hesitated, his frown deepening. Just then…
–Knock, knock, knock.
Someone knocked on the wooden door, clearly made of high-quality materials.
Before Aslan could respond, the door opened, and someone entered.
The newcomer paused, looking back outside before closing the door with a sigh.
It was a girl.
A girl smaller than Angie.
She wore a beautiful sky-blue dress, her eyes shimmering with the same color.
Her face was youthful, but there was a coldness in her demeanor. She was strikingly beautiful, even Angie’s eyes widened at the sight of her.
The girl, her platinum blonde hair swaying as she caught her breath, closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“I’ll be brief. You need to escape.”
Her words were unexpected, confusing. Harod and Angie stared at her, speechless.
Only Aslan smiled.
The girl, seeing their lack of reaction, opened her eyes.
“I know this is confusing, but you have to leave. You’ve walked into a trap…”
She paused, her sky-blue eyes widening as she looked at the man before her.
“…The… the Emperor’s assassin?”
Aslan, hearing the familiar title, stood up. The girl’s eyes flickered with surprise.
Aslan, ignoring her reaction, bowed his head respectfully.
The girl stammered,
“…Wh-what are you doing…?”
Aslan smiled.
“It’s an honor to finally meet you.”
“…Why are you…?”
The girl’s voice was filled with confusion. Aslan continued to smile.
“I’ve been waiting for you. I knew you wouldn’t be able to ignore this.”
The girl remained silent, but it didn’t matter.
Aslan was simply pleased that the final piece of his plan had fallen into place.
The girl’s name was Ileana Ma’kel.
The Emperor’s younger sister, and the daughter of the previous Emperor, the one Aslan had killed.
He approached Ileana.
“Will you help us?”
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