"Counterintelligence, Counterintelligence Command...?! I saw you leave Prizhenkaya with my own eyes! How...?!"

The darkness was not quiet. The tense breathing and frantically pounding hearts of the nobles filling the salon assaulted the ears.

Their heartbeats alone were enough to distinguish friend from foe. That was why Ivan preferred night raids. Sufficiently trained agents could identify their enemies without markers.

It was late at night, and with every light source eliminated, the room was so dark that even outlines were indistinct. It might not be enough to confound a superhuman's synesthetic perception, but anyone who had not regularly trained to adapt to darkness would inevitably suffer a loss of combat effectiveness.

And Ivan had personally "helped" every agent present with that training.

"Let us see the results of your training."

The agents flinched at his words.

"I place no restrictions on whom you may strike. In the name of the sacred royal house of Krasilof, I shall administer punishment for the insurrection and treason committed here. As of this moment, your guns and blades are blind."

SHING.

He slowly raised the axe blade high. In the darkness, he finished speaking in a flat, emotionless voice.

Their guns and blades were blind. In other words, they were to disregard differences in rank.

The instant he finished, the agents drew their weapons. The flustered nobles stumbled back toward the center of the banquet hall.

"Stop! You cannot do this! I am this country's Minister of Official Affairs! Such barbarity, without even a trial!"

"A trial?"

"Yes! Was it not mere days ago that the royal house declared itself equal before the constitution? If a crime has been committed, it must be dealt with in broad daylight, under the law! I demand a trial!"

"Granted."

Ivan stepped toward the shouting duke.

"With the sanction of the sacred royal household of Krasilof, I shall now pass sentence on the accused under Counterintelligence Command's emergency judicial powers. Do you wish to present a defense?"

"What are you...! Are you making a mockery of...!"

"The accused has concluded his defense. Witness, have you anything to add?"

Dmitry, standing beside him, answered with a broad grin.

"I stand witness! My verdict is death!"

"Stop! What nonsense is this?! What in the world...!"

"Witnessed by one Command officer vested with judicial authority, the proceedings of this trial shall be formally submitted to the royal household. I sentence the accused to death."

Ivan raised his axe toward the duke. Just as he was about to bring it down, a sword darted in from the side.

The sound of the blade tearing through the air was enough to tell him its direction. He quickly tilted his head back and retreated.

"Your turn has not come yet."

"Viscount Yeremov's third son, was it?"

Count Yelchinopov bit down hard on his lip without withdrawing his sword.

"Impossible. Your voice... I remember it now. Ivan Petrovich... Ivan the Executioner. You're alive?"

"The Executioner...?! That thing is alive?!"

The duke screamed in terror. Count Yelchinopov clicked his tongue and stepped back.

"I even checked the body. You were dead. I'm certain of it."

"..."

"Nothing to say? Of course. No need to talk to a corpse. Just like you."

Yelchinopov gave a dry chuckle and held his sword at an angle.

"I couldn't survive a fight with you. Yes, now that I see the axe, I understand. Let us negotiate."

"Negotiate?"

"Spare me. I don't want to die."

"That's called begging."

The count's composure cracked. He bit his lip and continued.

"What do you think will happen to this country if you kill us all? Hmm? Every noble here holds land. Do you think the nobles will sit idly by when word of our executions gets out? Do you imagine every sovereign who has ruled this country left the nobles alive out of stupidity?"

He was right. Nobles could not be executed without thought.

Not because of the law, but because their power came from their estates. That was precisely why the nobles of the Crown Prince's Faction had been spared even when the Crown Prince attempted his coup.

Assassinating a noble in the capital was easy. Concealing that death was not.

Every noble residing in the capital was a senior official in the administration. If they were killed and word got out, the provincial nobles would immediately begin to rise up.

This country could endure no more ravages of war. Even the military operated in divisions split among the noble factions. Without a true central army, the country could not withstand a civil war.

That was why none of the nobles present had imagined the Princess would dare do such a thing.

But this had been a diversionary operation from the start.

"Counterintelligence Command is outside Prizhenkaya."

"What...?"

"Surely you don't think the agents here constitute the entirety of our command."

There was no need to explain this. It was hardly the efficient execution of duties one expected of a trained agent.

But for some reason, Ivan wanted the nobles here to die tasting something more unpleasant... despair.

These traitors.

He had no desire to watch them smile as they delivered their last words, inwardly laughing, 'You're finished!' Their downfall deserved to be more harrowing than that.

"Count Yelchinopov. You have two sons and a daughter."

"Wh-why bring that up now...?"

"Apart from the son here in Prizhenkaya, you have a son and a young daughter on your estate. Congratulations. Your daughter has inherited your city... Nizgorod."

"What?"

"Henceforth, your daughter will rule the comital House of Yelchinopov in Nizgorod. It has been decided that our command's specialists will provide their services free of charge to fill the unfortunate administrative vacuum. Be grateful for the Crown's generosity."

Ivan turned to look at Duke Sheremov.

"Your children are all grown, but one son born to your illegitimate child is still an infant. Your son has now inherited the ducal House of Sheremov in Yelyabinsk. Close your eyes without worry. Your other two sons will follow you before long."

"You... you murderer! You filthy hired killer! How dare you! How dare you!"

"How dare I."

Ivan's eyes blazed blue in the darkness.

"You traitors who dared trespass on the authority of the royal household. You who dared gnaw away at the legacy the former King built by giving everything in the last war. You vermin who dared covet the privileges of peace without its obligations."

"I was on that battlefield too! Do you think you fought the war alone? Do you?! Everyone here is a war hero! We poured our entire fortunes into that war and earned the rights we deserve!"

"The only duty you ever showed was raising your wineglasses over the corpses of soldiers!"

Ivan snarled, baring his back teeth.

He remembered. He remembered what the nobles in the rear had done.

Because of this year's poor harvest.

Because the tenant farmers were lazy.

Because bandits swarmed the roads made dangerous by the long war.

He remembered the landed nobles in the rear who tossed them rotting provisions as though bestowing a favor, offering those excuses. He remembered the soldiers who had to take up their weapons hungry because even those supplies arrived days late.

He remembered the "victory banquets."

He remembered those lavish celebrations of the glory won in a single local engagement, even as an entire front burned at the hands of the Seven Dragon Generals.

He remembered the nobles' grease-slick lips. When even the Royal Guard had to survive on thin gruel, the "supply Lieutenant Colonel" who swaggered in had grease all around his mouth.

He remembered the greatest King in history.

He remembered the King who knew it all, yet mustered even the resources he might have used to punish the nobles in the rear and personally led them to the front.

He remembered that giant of a man who ate the same food as the lowliest soldier, who gave Ivan even the refreshments prepared as a small luxury for himself.

And yet they dared.

The nobles of a nation preserved by that man's sacrifice dared. They had gathered here, daring to covet his granddaughter.

A trained agent did not act on emotional impulses.

So, for this moment alone, Ivan acted not as a trained agent, but as one surviving soldier of the Royal Guard.

"I will ask one last time. Where does your loyalty lie?"

"With this country! With its royal house...!"

SLICE.

Ivan's hand blurred. The axe blade flashed out, cut into the duke's throat, and withdrew.

It moved too quickly for even the count standing directly before him to react. The blade swept past as smoothly as flowing water, without a single drop of blood clinging to it.

Ivan spun the axe back into a resting position and spoke.

"Even if it was a lie, you have been allowed to die a loyal subject. An end that brings no shame to your noble blood. Be grateful for the Crown's generosity."

"Ivan Petrovich!"

A blade descended toward his head. He leaned back out of its path and retreated.

He had not yet recovered from the exhaustion of his duel with Adel. His muscles screamed, his joints creaked, and his overloaded nerves rang shrilly.

But that did not matter. A trained agent did not halt an operation unless he died, and fortunately, Ivan was still alive.

He intended to stay that way longer than these men, at least.

CLANG!!

He caught the sword with his axe and turned the blade aside.

Count Yelchinopov's eyes tightened. How? The man's strength, mana reserves, physical condition—everything was so depleted that he could collapse at any moment. How?

Was the gulf between them really this vast? Impossible. He was a knight who had trained with a sword all his life, a great noble with a body enhanced by elixirs and magic items.

Nobles were not weak. Their bloodlines, built upon centuries of history, could never be weak.

Yet this half-dead man was pushing him back. His sword was being driven aside. He could barely keep pace with each swing of the axe.

Why?

CLANG!!

Sparks flew again. The momentary flashes as their blades locked made his vision flicker. Looking straight into the eyes of Ivan glaring at him, Count Yelchinopov understood.

It was neither a difference in mana nor a difference in strength. Only one thing was driving this man now.

Duty.

He was forcing a meager handful of mana to circulate, constantly accelerating nerves so overloaded they might snap at any moment, wrenching torn muscles and battered joints into motion.

The pain must have felt as though his entire body were shattering. And yet.

His axe swung faster than the count's sword, struck harder, and carried his offensive through.

In skill and in will alike, he had lost to this man.

CLANG!!

At last, his sword was knocked away. Count Yelchinopov gave a hollow laugh.

The axe blade slipped into his neck, then withdrew.

Ivan shouldered the crumpling count aside and looked around, axe in hand.

"..."

Even in the darkness, the sobs of the resigned nobles and the tense gazes of the agents were unmistakable.

Ivan loosened his neck with a crack and spoke.

"Are you waiting for me to finish? Or was your dark-adaptation training insufficient?"

Startled, the agents tightened their grips on their weapons and rushed the nobles.

There was no unexpected resistance. Everyone likely to offer such resistance had already been identified.

Ivan surveyed the room, occasionally shooting anyone attempting to use a dangerous artifact, heirloom, or spell.

Their training hadn't gone as badly as he'd thought.

That was the extent of his impression.

"This takes me back, sir."

"Dmitry."

"Her Highness has ordered me to bring both of you senior officers to her once this is finished."

"To the eastern palace?"

"No. The royal castle. She said she would grant you an audience before the King. Shall we go now?"

"Let's go."

Ivan turned and walked away. Falling into step beside him, Dmitry draped a coat over his shoulders.

"Chilly weather, sir."

"It's summer."

"Then loosen up a little. It's a fine day, isn't it?"

Outside the mansion, the sky was clear and utterly cloudless. A great moon shimmered overhead.

There was a faint smell of roasting meat from farther down the street.

The clash of weapons and the nobles' screams gradually faded. When at last silence settled over his surroundings, Ivan nodded as he walked the city's night streets, unchanged as ever.

The Crown Prince's Faction in Prizhenkaya would never rally again.

Every noble who had questioned the Princess's authority was gone. Their estates would be put to more "efficient" use under royal administration.

The peace this country had desired for so long had finally arrived. The threat of civil war was no more. It would have been good to find the missing Crown Prince, but even if he returned, he had already lost his power base.

So now, at last, this city was at peace. Prizhenkaya—the royal house of Krasilof—had succeeded in resolving its internal troubles completely.

"You're right. It's a fine day."

Only then did Ivan nod in agreement. Dmitry chuckled and whistled.

Soon, a carriage came racing up from the end of the street and stopped before them.