Gazef's expression had grown grave.
The man had asked to see the king. His purpose was unknown. Was it goodwill? Malice? Or some higher design beyond a mortal's understanding? Whatever it was, a being with power like this was not someone the Re-Estize Kingdom could easily withstand—or refuse.
Refuse to guide him, and you might enrage him, bringing disaster upon the Kingdom in an instant. Agree, and you'd be inviting a wolf into the fold—yet perhaps buying the Kingdom a sliver of room to maneuver, at least enough for His Majesty to be forewarned.
It wasn't really a choice at all. It was the only path—thorny, and leading into the unknown.
He drew a deep breath, the air heavy with blood. Forcing down the fear and humiliation that threatened to choke him, Gazef loosened his grip on Razor Edge. With a hard clang, he drove the national treasure—the symbol of his honor and might—deep into the blood-soaked earth.
Then he turned toward Rei Ao, dropped to one knee, and bowed the proud head of the Kingdom's Warrior Captain—a warrior's head.
"As… you wish."
His throat was dry and his heart at war with itself, lending his voice a rasp, but his words rang clear in the end.
"Gazef Stronoff, at your service. I will lead the way."
He knew that from the moment he lowered his head, personal honor no longer mattered. Perhaps the Kingdom's wheel of fate had already been wrenched onto a new, unknowable track the instant these three unknown visitors arrived—its destination impossible to predict, blessings or calamity unknown.
And the source of it all stood before him: the one called Rei Ao, and the force behind him—no weaker than the Sunlight Scripture.
…
The Re-Estize Kingdom lies in the west-central region of the continent's northwest. Mountains on three sides and seas on two make it easy to defend and hard to attack.
To the south: the Slane Theocracy. To the east: the Baharuth Empire. To the north: the Argland Council State. Hemmed in by three nations, the Kingdom also enjoys natural barriers that blunt demi-human raids and foreign armies. Its land is fertile—mostly plains—and rich in resources, blessing humanity with a comfortable environment that has long fostered talent.
But prosperity and stability without external pressure have bred rot. The upper ranks have grown decadent and corrupt. Commoners are scorned by their lords, crime spreads, and the nobility splits into factions locked in ugly political infighting.
Right now, a heavy, anxious mood suffused the throne room of Re-Estize. Under the lofty dome, the light through stained glass seemed dimmer, as if it too felt the weight in the hall. The king sat upon the throne of highest power, brow knotted, fingers tapping the gilded armrest without thinking. Fatigue and worry were etched on his face.
Below, the Kingdom's grandees lined both sides. The second prince—fat, shifty-eyed, with a hint of sleaze and greed—squirmed with impatience, plainly bored with the topic at hand. In sharp contrast stood Marquis Raeven, lean, crisp, his gaze keen; he stood straight, listening intently, deep thought on his face. A little behind and to the side of the king was the "Golden Princess," Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself—lovely of face, her pure eyes glowing gentle light, though a faint, hard-to-spot shadow lay deep within them.
"…Your Majesty, the reports from the eastern border of the Katze Plains have been confirmed multiple times," an elderly general in armor said, his voice echoing through the hall. "What we're seeing isn't simple monster unrest—the environment itself is changing.
The land is turning unnaturally ashen, vegetation is withering, and there's a faint, sickening negative energy in the air. Of the three scouting parties we sent, only one returned, and their account was vague. They all said they 'felt something watching them,' and their spirits were badly shaken."
The king drew a long breath, his voice weighty. "What of Gazef? He went to investigate that area—he's two days past his scheduled return. No word?"
The intelligence officer looked strained and bowed. "Your Majesty, the Warrior Captain's last message reported traces of Slane Theocracy activity. We then lost contact entirely."
"Hmph. Perhaps our 'strongest warrior' got careless and ended up face-down in a ditch," the second prince sneered, a note of schadenfreude in his voice. "I said there was no need to send him to deal with peasant border troubles."
"Barbro!" the king snapped, displeasure sharp in his tone. Marquis Raeven frowned slightly but held his tongue. Princess Renner gave her brother's sleeve a gentle tug, cautioning him.
At that very moment—when anxiety and unease braided tighter—the air in the center of the throne room twisted visibly without warning. A nameless pressure flooded the hall in an instant, mingling the iron tang of the plains with an overwhelming, sovereign weight—as palpable as a blow.
Light flashed.
Four figures stood in the center of the hall as if they had always been there.
At their head, robed in black and perfectly composed, was Rei Ao. His presence dimmed the light around him. At his left shoulder stood Albedo, smiling gently, eyes cold.
At his right, Shalltear licked her lips, scarlet eyes alight with excitement and bloodlust. A step ahead of them, pale and dust-streaked, bearing fresh marks of battle, stood the very man everyone had been worrying over—the Kingdom's Warrior Captain, Gazef Stronoff.
"W-who goes there?!"
"Guards! Guards!"
"Protect His Majesty!"
After a heartbeat of dead silence, the hall erupted into chaos and shouts. Ministers stumbled back in panic; some even fell to the floor in a tangle. The captain of the palace guard reacted first—his blade rang from its sheath as he barked, "Trespassers in the throne room! Seize them!"