A weary historian dies and finds himself in a different world awakened in a life as the notorious young Duke of a southern state. His nation is weakened, his army underfed, and his neighbors revolve around his lands menacingly. No one believes his land is going to hold out until winter.

But this newfound duke is no naive simpleton his enemies recollect. He carries with him the experience of centuries of war and empire, of starting and ending monarchies. From Caesar to Napoleon, from the Mongols to world wars, he has learned from each of them—and his strategy is to make history his very own arms.

He organizes his smashed levies into well-trained formations, rebuilds his castles, and turns his villages into supply centers. Where others see defeat, he senses opportunity. As he triumphs, rumors spread: of a pennant red as winter snow that shall not go to ground, of a bloody duke who writes his name in gore and flame.

Is he a savior who's constructing a new empire, or a tyrant who's going to bring the world to endless war?

That was the first thing that was on Justinian's mind as he drifted to sleep.


It wasn't a pleasant dream, nor was it a nightmare; it felt more like... an illusion?


Justinian crossed his arms, taking in his own body.


Pale... disembodied, like pure light shining in the darkness, you couldn't even see skin.


"It's you... the one who gave me my unfair advantages."


"I've already lived my life; nothing you ask of me will faze me."


[Haha... that's precisely why I chose you.]


A sudden tear in the void interrupted the conversation, and beyond it, another figure made with pure light as well.


But it was different from Justinian's, significantly different; it was divine, powerful... terrifying.


[It seems my time is up... I look forward to how you rule.]


Chapter 41 - In the Dead of Night