Some knights fervently believed that a swordsman who had attained true mastery did not concern himself with the quality of his sword. They considered only victories won through pure skill, without borrowing a blade's keen edge, to have any worth.

They deliberately insisted on ordinary swords, as though doing so proved their mastery. To my mind, they were nothing but posturing idiots.

The warning against obsessing over one's sword meant not relying so heavily on its keen edge that one neglected to hone one's own skills. It certainly did not mean deliberately insisting on an inferior blade.

["My own power shall serve in place of a keen edge. What need have I of a fine sword?"]

Even among the Masters of old, some had proudly spouted such nonsense. They were immensely proud of their ability to cleave sturdy iron armor and cut through stone with blunt training swords, and took enormous pride in exchanging hundreds of blows with cheap longswords made of scrap iron. Their faith in the power of the Aura Blade was excessive.

They even disparaged other Masters who wielded fine swords as frauds dependent on their blades' keen edges. And every last one of them died—at the hands of the very Masters they had mocked as frauds.

With equal skill, it was only natural for the better-equipped fighter to have the advantage. Even with the same amount of mana, the Aura Blade sheathing a scrap-iron sword did not shine as brightly as one sheathing a fine blade.

Where a cheap scrap-iron longsword barely produced one measure of force from a handful of energy, a fine sword could easily produce two. That difference was far from trivial.

In a contest where a paper-thin margin separated life from death, one good sword was more than enough to provide that margin. And if it was not merely a good sword but a fine dwarven blade, that margin could easily grow to four or five sheets.

The swords in the chest were precisely such masterpieces. No, they were better still. The blades tossed haphazardly into the chest were not the work of ordinary dwarves, but masterpieces among masterpieces, specially forged by Meisters. These treasures could not easily be cut even by an Aura Blade.

Once Maximilian saw the chest's contents, he could scarcely tear his eyes away. For once, longing shone in the eyes of a man who normally hadn't a scrap of material greed.

"So you went to fetch these..."

He finally came to his senses and breathed an exclamation. I nodded.

"Once those Teuton bastards learn that the kingdom has a source of dwarven arms and armor, their eyes will pop out. In any relationship, the one who needs something has to bend. Relations between nations are no different."

Maximilian's eyes widened at my words.

"It sounds to me as though you intend to sell these to the Teuton Kingdom."

His face was filled with disbelief, as though he had heard something utterly bizarre.

"I do."

My tone asked what the problem was.

"I thought you had brought them as betrothal gifts."

My face hardened.

"What utter nonsense!"

Betrothal gifts, my ass. I hadn't even considered getting married.

"A sucker I can overcharge finally comes knocking, and I'm supposed to give these away? Why would I do something that stupid?"

I had gone to all the trouble of securing a supply of dwarven arms and armor, only to find nowhere suitable to sell them because the Empire had blocked our trade. Now a customer had come to me all on his own. Only the greatest fool alive would let this opportunity slip away.

My unapologetic attitude seemed to leave Maximilian speechless for a moment. He closed his mouth, then eventually began rambling with a rather bewildered look. In short, he had never imagined a nation's crown prince would personally fetch merchandise to haggle over like a tradesman.

I smiled coldly.

"A nation's duke has come all this way to buy and sell people. What's the big deal about selling a few swords and suits of armor?"

Calling them a delegation exploring a royal marriage made it sound grand, but in the end, they had come to sell their princess as security for their political aims. If that was their purpose to begin with, there was no reason I couldn't do the same.

"Brother! How can you say such a thing!"

Maximilian was appalled. He launched into a lecture about how improper it was to speak so crudely of a marriage between royal houses. Naturally, I didn't listen to a word.

"Enough. I have no intention of marrying into a lot who look down on our kingdom."

To be precise, I had no intention of marrying at all. My fury at the Empire's tyranny had made me resolve to become king, but I had never once forgotten my original ambition: to attain true stature and ultimately reach Transcendence. That was what I wanted most desperately.

It was a goal I could never achieve by lingering on a throne. Sooner or later, I would have to leave the kingdom. For someone like me to marry would be utterly irresponsible.

"How can the crown prince have no intention of marrying? You are the one who must carry on the royal line."

"You make it sound as though I'm the only member of the royal family."

"What do you..."

"Exactly what I said. I'm not the only one. Is there any need for me to produce an heir as well?"

"Brother!"

Maximilian finally grasped my meaning and let out a shrill cry.

"I'm not deaf."

"Why on earth are you doing this? Isn't it time you recognized your position as crown prince?"

His face stern, he poured out an endless stream of admonitions.

"You're desperate to sell me off, aren't you?"

After listening for a while, I picked at my ear and cut him off.

"That is not what I mean! Your marriage is not merely a personal matter! Do you still not understand how important this alliance is to the kingdom?"

I answered indifferently as Maximilian shouted with rare agitation.

"So you are trying to sell me off."

"Brother!"

"If you feel that strongly, you could always marry the princess of Teuton yourself."

Once I said it, the idea sounded rather plausible, and I began to consider it seriously.

Maximilian had originally been betrothed since childhood. But because I, the royal family's eldest legitimate son, remained unmarried, his own wedding had been put off again and again. Then a sweeping purge had taken place in the kingdom.

As ill luck would have it, his betrothed's family had been among the nobles I purged. The engagement had consequently been dissolved, leaving Maximilian still unmarried past twenty—an unusual situation for royalty. A truly unfortunate affair.

"What on earth are you thinking? I have absolutely no intention of becoming a shameless scoundrel who interferes in his brother's marriage!"

"We haven't even begun marriage talks. What's so shameless about it?"

"Brother!"

Maximilian practically jumped in outrage.

"If all they need is a token of the alliance, anyone with Leonberk blood should do. They'd probably be happier with you than a good-for-nothing like me."

"Brother!"

"Why are you shouting so much today? Enough. Just come here."

Taking Maximilian by the hand as he verged on a fit, I forcibly dragged him over to the chest. Then I pulled out a suit of armor buried deep inside. It was a full suit of iron plate, complete with a helmet.

"Try it on. It's yours."

"What do you..."

"A dwarven Meister made this especially. Even an Aura Blade won't split it easily. Think of it as a spare life, and make sure you wear it whenever you go out."

The unexpected gift left Maximilian looking dazed.

"Brother..."

Then his eyes suddenly reddened. His usual gentle expression returned, as though he had completely forgotten our earlier exchange.

"I cannot accept this. Wear it yourself. Or give it to His Majesty."

"I've prepared another for His Majesty."

As I spoke, I pulled a second suit of armor out of the chest.

"I can't live with all this worrying."

With this, even the king, who kept taking to the battlefield despite his unimpressive skills, would not die some senseless death on a sword. Maximilian continued to refuse, but in the end, he could not overcome my stubbornness and accepted the armor.

"I will treasure it as dearly as my life."

"Tsk. However precious it may be, it's still a lump of iron. Nothing could be stupider than valuing something meant to protect your life above that life itself."

Though my words were nothing special, Maximilian looked at me with renewed emotion.

"So even a treasure that could fetch any price is merely a lump of iron compared to my life."

"Of course it is."

"I shall take your words to heart, Brother. Always."

I smiled in satisfaction as he cradled the armor like a peerless treasure.

"Off you go, then. I'm tired after such a long journey."

Only then remembering that I had traveled all the way to the distant North, Maximilian hastily took his leave. He seemed to have no recollection whatsoever of what we had been discussing earlier.

"That's quite a price to pay to stop a lecture."

I chuckled as I looked at the spot where Maximilian had stood. Despite my words, I didn't begrudge the gift in the slightest. I was simply relieved that members of the royal family would no longer die such needless deaths.

"Ugh. I'm exhausted."

Having more or less chased away every unwelcome visitor disturbing my rest, I headed straight for bed.

"Your Highness. Let me prepare your bed."

Adelia appeared almost the instant Maximilian left and straightened the bedding.

"Thank you."

She smiled softly at my thanks.

"I shall remain by your side. Sleep well."

I watched her sit beside the bed, then closed my eyes. Her quiet humming reached my ears.

"What song is that?"

I opened my eyes a little to ask, and she answered apologetically.

"A song I often sang when my younger sibling couldn't sleep. You haven't seemed to be sleeping well lately..."

With so much to think about—the emperor's true identity, Teuton, and everything else—I hadn't been sleeping well lately. It seemed she had been worried.

"Did my singing keep you from falling asleep?"

"No, it wasn't that."

Touched by her thoughtfulness, I reached out and gently stroked her head before closing my eyes again.

"Keep singing."

At my request, Adelia began humming once more.

A lullaby, at my age. Even I found it absurd. But her singing really did put my mind at ease. Listening to her hum, I soon fell asleep.

Your Highness.

Your Highness. Please wake up.

A quiet voice reached through my drowsiness and woke me.

"Your Highness."

Arwen was looking at me.

"Is it time for dinner already?"

A modest dinner had been arranged to welcome the Teuton delegation. I was supposed to attend as well.

"The dinner was postponed. It is morning now, Your Highness."

Apparently, that dinner had been postponed.

"Why?"

"I am told it had to be delayed because the princess of Teuton is unwell from her journey."

I frowned involuntarily. First she had stayed shut inside her carriage without showing so much as her nose at our initial meeting, and now this. She certainly knew how to make herself scarce.

"Completely self-centered."

I could only laugh in disbelief. Just how little did they think of our kingdom to behave so high-handedly?

"I meant to inform you at once, but you were sleeping so soundly that I could not bring myself to wake you."

As Arwen said, I had slept deeply for the first time in a while. Adelia's lullaby seemed to have worked.

"I'll have to ask her more often."

"Ask what?"

"No. Nothing."

I brushed off the question and sprang out of bed.

"So what's the delegation doing?"

"They have not left their lodgings at all. The princess appears to be quite unwell. I hear she has never been particularly healthy and has never even ventured beyond the palace. After a journey of over a month at sea alone, it is understandable that her health has suffered."

"If she's that frail, she should stay in her own damned country. Why come all the way to someone else's just to be a nuisance?"

I disliked their behavior so much that even her frailty now rubbed me the wrong way.

"Does that not show how committed they are to this marriage?"

"Then why were they so damned rude from the moment we met?"

As I grumbled, Arwen gazed steadily at me. She looked as though she had something to say. Only then did I realize she must have had a reason to wake me so early, and asked what she wanted.

"What is it? If you have something to say, say it."

"I would venture to make a request."

Arwen asking me a favor? The sun might as well rise in the west.

"What is it?"

At my question, she answered with unprecedented solemnity.

"Might you arrange a sparring match, provided it would not cause diplomatic offense?"

Only then did I notice the yearning in her eyes. Being overpowered by a foreign knight's presence must have stung badly.

Normally, I would not have refused her request. But not this time.

"No."

Arwen looked taken aback. She evidently hadn't expected me to refuse when I had even arranged sparring matches during our journey to the Empire.

"Why not? Are you afraid my inadequacy might tarnish the kingdom's honor?"

"No."

I shook my head.

"Because you won't get a turn."

She stared at me, then flinched. I couldn't say for certain, but the fire in my eyes now had to burn at least as fiercely as hers, if not more so. My fury surpassed even her resentment over yesterday's events.

We had finally driven out the Empire, only for these absurd bastards to show up and throw their weight around in the kingdom's own front yard. It made my blood boil.

"They call him the Finest Knight in the West, don't they?"

Teuton's strongest knight. The Finest Knight in the West.

I could promise this:

"I intend to show him personally just how worthless that paltry reputation is."

That title would count for nothing before me.

"He's so arrogant because he trusts his own abilities. Once I show him they're nothing but a few cheap tricks, he'll be a little more docile."

Disappointment flickered in Arwen's eyes.

"Would your personal involvement not escalate matters, Your Highness?"

She must have hated losing her chance to avenge the insult, because she even ventured a mild objection—quite unlike her usual self.

I chuckled and shook my head.

"I'll bet they want it too."

Arwen wasn't the only one seeking a chance to redeem herself. Having watched his presence unravel strand by strand before his very eyes, Duncan Seymour Tudor was surely gnashing his teeth over me as well.

"I guarantee they'll bring it up first before long."

My prediction proved correct.

After one postponement after another, dinner was finally held without the princess. Duncan Seymour Tudor rose from his seat and began speaking with a show of courtesy.

"First, Duke Seymour wishes to express his admiration and congratulations on your kingdom's remarkable victory, on behalf of Teuton."

The kingdom's interpreter stepped forward to translate the Teuton language into our own.

"He also says that mutual understanding is our most urgent task in fostering harmony between our two kingdoms, which have had no prior exchanges."

"Keep it short."

The interpreter flinched and did his best to summarize the duke's words.

"He says that just as the Leonberk Kingdom was once known as a land of knights, so too is Teuton. And that there is no faster way for knights to understand each other than crossing swords."

"I don't think he spoke for quite that long."

The interpreter broke into a cold sweat and avoided my gaze.

I looked at Duncan Seymour Tudor. As if that arrogant knight would couch his words so delicately. More likely than not, he had swaggered through his proposal as though bestowing some great favor.

"Well, it doesn't matter."

It changed nothing either way. Whatever embellishments the interpreter added, the substance remained the same: he wanted a match with the honor of the West and the North at stake.

Maximilian looked at me uncomfortably. He even signaled with his eyes for me to decline tactfully rather than stir up needless trouble. Meeting that pleading gaze, I spoke.

"Tell him I think it's an excellent idea."

Maximilian squeezed his eyes shut.

This time it was the delegation's interpreter who sweated as he explained my words to Duncan Seymour Tudor at length. After hearing a translation full of flowery phrases I would never have used, the duke looked at me and curled his lips upward. I smiled back. For both of us, the smiles went no further than our mouths.

The interpreter asked me when it should take place. Apparently, Teuton's knights would defer to my wishes.

"Tell him we'll wait until the delegation has had ample rest. I have no desire to hear excuses about how lingering fatigue from the journey kept them from giving their all."

Teuton's interpreter flinched at my words, then began translating again, sweating profusely. And so dinner ended with us doing nothing but baring our teeth and growling at each other.

"Ah... Is this really a gathering for peace, or a declaration of war?"

I heard Maximilian lament beside me.

"What the kingdom needs is a comrade to stand shoulder to shoulder with, not an arrogant neighbor who wants us underfoot, ready to obey."

My reply was indifferent.

"Why not show them those dwarven arms and armor? As you said, wouldn't seeing them change their attitude?"

"That comes after we've taken them down a peg."

Showing them the dwarven equipment now would do little to change their low opinion of the kingdom. At best, they would see us as a weak little country that had gotten lucky enough to acquire dwarven arms.

"And don't worry so much. Isn't there a saying that men become friends through fighting?"

Of course, that wasn't always true. This was one of the exceptions.

The next day, and the day after that, we did nothing but growl at one another. The atmosphere at dinner showed no sign of improving. It seemed unlikely that anything short of something extraordinary would change it.

But I was wrong. The moment the princess of Teuton, who had missed every dinner because of her poor health, finally joined us, the sharp tension enveloping the dining hall melted away. So easily. Without a trace. As if by magic.