It was early morning.

It was the kind of morning where the sky near the horizon was dyed yellow by the morning sun rising from afar, yet the sky above it still harbored the darkness.

RATTLE.

Inside the swaying carriage, Joseph was scribbling with his pen.

The palm-sized notebook he held was filled with tiny, densely written letters, and the quill that had just brushed past had crossed out one of the names written there.

“... That takes care of Baron Moldavir.”

Where Joseph's pen had passed, a thick, black vertical line was drawn.

It was unclear what that horizontal line meant, but Joseph's notebook was already full of nobles' names crossed out here and there.

“I wanted to talk with him a little longer, but it's a shame how things turned out.”

“It couldn't be helped, could it?”

Watching Joseph click his tongue in regret, Jager, who was sitting across from him, spoke up.

“Since that guy Vlad practically half-destroyed the marketplace in Kishinyor. It's no wonder Baron Moldavir was appalled and kicked us out.”

At the end of Jager's gaze, as he shrugged as if telling him to look over there, was Vlad, quietly following behind the carriage.

Riding atop a fierce-tempered black horse, Vlad could only smile awkwardly at Joseph's gaze looking back at him.

“True, even if I were the Baron, I would have kicked him out too.”

However, Joseph's black eyes were not looking at Vlad.

He was merely looking at the knights following behind him holding a flag.

“The Imperial Enforcers.”

A distinct white lightning bolt engraved inside the black-dyed flag.

Although their prestige had diminished compared to the past, the Imperial Enforcers, responsible for the security of the Imperial Capital, were still one of the knightly orders envied by the continent's knights.

“You're carrying a pretty impressive flag behind you now, Vlad.”

Joseph smiled brightly as he looked at Vlad following along beneath the dawn breaking from far behind.

It had been a thoroughly depressing journey, but the new winds Vlad brought seemed to give Joseph a little room to breathe.

* * *

“I heard the Bayezid Family's successor has already been decided as Rutiger.”

“...”

“Then again, I'd already investigated and found out that you have a special connection with Joseph Bayezid.”

An unwelcome voice came from behind him as he walked in silence.

It was the voice of the man who had been chasing Vlad ever since the city of Kishinyor.

“... Why on earth do you keep following me?”

As soon as the sound of the carriage window shutting with a clack was heard up ahead, Vlad immediately turned around and started growling.

“I told you to hurry up and go find the real culprit who killed Auguste.”

Other knights would have been honored just to make their acquaintance, but for Vlad, the Imperial Enforcers were nothing more than unwelcome company.

Not only had they mistaken him for the culprit, but they were the very ones responsible for getting him kicked out of Kishinyor.

“I'm looking right now, aren't I?”

“I keep telling you, it's not me.”

“I know that too, but that's just how the investigation procedure goes.”

When they had first met, Rodrigo had been filled with nothing but rage, but now he had become a completely sly investigator.

“After all, you're the witness who was with Auguste until the very end. We have to at least listen to your side of the story to save face.”

“Hah.”

Hearing Rodrigo's reply, Vlad shook his head and let out a short sigh.

There wasn't a single thing wrong with what Rodrigo was saying, but it was because Vlad knew his actual interest lay somewhere else entirely.

“Don't get the wrong idea. I'm telling you, this isn't a Swordmaster's sword. It's just my sword.”

VMMMM.

Vlad casually showed his sword to the knights, who had firmly misunderstood something, and confessed the truth, but the Dragon Slaying Sword that emerged merely hummed cluelessly, contrary to its master's thoughts.

“Ooh!”

“As expected of the silver knight!”

Entities that welcomed each other because they originated from the same metal.

At the resonance of the echoing metals, the knights of the Imperial Enforcers took out the coins they possessed and began to exclaim in awe as if deeply moved.

“... I told you, it's not like that.”

“Even if it really isn't, my subordinates have good reason to think so. Coins bought with honor only react to the same true silver, after all.”

“That's what I've been saying this whole time. It just became like this because the coins you were holding melted.”

True silver coins were the price of honor given only to knights who had laid down themselves.

It was a precious, rare coin that could not be received unless one was Lamund, who wandered the continent to foster the next generation after retiring, the Iron Duke, who was the Guardian of the Pact, or the current knights who had laid down their family surnames to join the Imperial Enforcers.

“No, this coin is incapable of melting, Sir Vlad.”

Because the coin was so rare, Vlad inevitably didn't know much about its inner details either.

Nor did he know how illogical his current words were.

“True silver is an unchanging metal. It does not rust with time, nor does it break under coercion.”

“...”

Rodrigo smiled and replied quietly to Vlad, who was bursting with frustration in denial.

“Of course, it doesn't melt from heat either. Even the last blast furnace of the dwarves said to have existed in the ancient past merely persuaded the true silver.”

“... But a blacksmith even sharpened the blade on this thing.”

“Then that blacksmith must have persuaded the sword well.”

Doing what it must in the place it should be.

True silver was a noble metal that knew the form it had to take in the place it belonged.

“Anyway, this sword isn't the Founding King's sword, it's really my sword.”

“Let's say it is, then.”

Rodrigo, who had steered his horse to approach alongside him, looked down at the Dragon Slaying Sword that was still humming and continued speaking.

“Regardless, it's undeniable that you've been chosen by true silver.”

What had to be passed on was not the form, but the name.

An Imperial Swordsmanship close to its original form, though it was unknown where it had been passed down from.

And even a silver sword blessed by true silver.

Vlad adamantly denied it, but Rodrigo was absolutely certain that His will had been passed down.

“By the way, was His sword actually in the forest of the elves? Auguste once reported that there was someone who had drawn a sword there.”

“... I really have no idea about that.”

Vlad could tell that Rodrigo's eyes, which had been watching him since earlier, were engulfed in a bizarre longing.

And that if he were to admit that he truly had drawn the silver knight, the heat lingering in those eyes would only intensify.

“Well, we have plenty of time, so let's investigate slowly. We're almost at the next city, too.”

“Do you plan on following us all the way there?”

Ahead of Joseph's carriage, which was leading the way, a towering city began to come into view.

It was a massive city, incomparable to the city of Kishinyor they had passed through earlier.

“It would be best for you to stick with us until there. The city of Valletta is like a supply base to us.”

The city of Valletta.

The city with the sturdiest walls even in the central region.

And the city that was also the capital city of the County of Arnstein.

“Count Arnstein, the master of Valletta, is on very close terms with the Court Duke, you see.”

Rodrigo was saying that he would make up for them being kicked out of Kishinyor at Valletta, but Vlad wasn't paying much attention to his words.

“... Arnstein.”

The approaching city of Valletta was tightly surrounded by massive walls, just like Sturma in the North.

Vlad thought that Valletta's appearance, looking solid without a single opening to exploit, closely resembled a certain knight he had faced in the past.

* * *

On a night illuminated by a bright full moon, there was a carriage moving alone under the cover of darkness.

Escorted by headless knights, the carriage moved while treading only upon pitch-black shadows, as if even the moonlight shining in the night sky was unwelcome.

“It's still not beating, as expected.”

The woman, whose hair began blue but ended in black, placed her hand on the chest of Frausen, who was sitting across from her, and smiled sweetly.

“Even though it beat so fiercely when you faced the dragon.”

“...”

The woman's smile was so benevolent that anyone would want to fall into her embrace, but Frausen, completely drained of color, merely sat there like a corpse.

As if no smile could ever make Frausen's heart beat again.

“... Are the preparations you spoke of going well? Finding a land to take root in.”

“Thank you for showing interest in unworthy me, Your Majesty.”

Frausen's brow twitched briefly at the title the woman used, but he soon returned to his stiff expression.

“It is going well. We even acquired quite a useful talent this time.”

The fallen saint Lamashtu bowed her head as if humbled by Frausen's interest, yet her hands were mercilessly tearing at his chest.

This was because her magic formula engraved into the fragment was necessary for the Emperor who had returned from death to move as he intended.

“Is he someone you can trust?”

“I am not sure if he is someone who can be trusted, but.”

Following her elegantly moving fingers, a red fragment began to beat atop the darkly congealed bloodstains.

It was the pulsation created by the most perfect fragment, which had originated from the most perfect dragon but had now become Frausen's heart.

“I believe that no matter how clever a person is, they will fear their approaching death.”

“...”

At the gradually beating heart, Frausen's focus was slowly returning.

The very first thing he looked at was the jewelry box that the dark woman was keeping so preciously.

“If I keep taking steps forward like this, one day I will surely find a land to share with my children.”

The woman who had fled from death was mad, and the Emperor who had returned from death was exhausted.

Yet, inside the carriage where the two faced each other, there was only a lingering silence.

“Unlike in Moshiam, I hope you accomplish what you intend to do this time.”

Inside the woman's jewelry box that Frausen was looking at, there was an abundance of the now-cold teardrops of the trees.

They came from the fragments of the Mother World Tree that Frausen himself had transplanted long ago, back when he still possessed a beating heart.

“... Because only then will I be able to finish what I intend to do as well.”

For a world without the pain and anguish created by adults, so that children could smile.

For a world where no possibility would be trampled by the most perfect dragon.

“...”

To create such a world, Frausen forced himself to look away from the crying jewelry box.

The young knight Quijano would not have done so, but the old Emperor Frausen was a man who had ended up learning how to compromise with reality.

The carriage was running.

The carriage, which did not tread upon the world created by God, merely continued to glide forward toward some land in the central region even now.

Frausen closed his heavy eyelids as he stroked the silver knight, which no longer cried.