A thickly drawn line stood out across the neck of the deeply illustrated dragon.

The flag, exuding a stronger presence than the countless corpses beside it, currently hung heavily, completely soaked in blood.

"... Who are you."

The painfully asked question lacked strength, as if his lungs were already filled with blood.

However, the knight sprawled on the ground in a battered state was glaring with wide eyes, as if he absolutely had to hear the answer to his question.

"Did the Court... Court Duke send you."

The members of the Dragon Slaying Knights, who had ended up being lured all the way to this distant place by a fake dragon carcass.

The one who had been their captain spat out the most plausible name he could deduce, but the face of the person listening did not show even the slightest twitch.

"Knights. When did I ever tell you to follow the words of a dragon?"

He merely raised the silver sword he was holding high with a bitter voice.

The man's sword, which had already drunk its fill of blood, was losing its color as much as the broken flag of the Dragon Slaying Knights far away.

STAB!

"... Did I not tell you to protect what must be protected?"

Along with the sound of flesh being pierced by the sword, the knight's finely trembling heart came to a stop.

As the last surviving man stopped moving, the battlefield that had been fierce just moments ago was filled only with a deep silence like that of a graveyard.

"You've worked hard."

"Perhaps because it's lived so long, the dragon's claws have grown too long."

Beside Frausen, who indifferently pulled out his sword, a pure white hand offered a handkerchief.

Perhaps because the clothes she wore were black, it was a remarkably conspicuous white.

"We must clip those claws first to finish it off."

Wiping the blood splattered on his face indifferently with the received handkerchief, Frausen noticed that the woman had something she wanted to say to him.

"What is it."

"One of my knights has failed to return."

"Why?"

A small question was forming on his face, which was gradually growing as cold as a corpse.

Because the headless ones, who had escaped from death and were thus not bound by the laws of the world, had no particular reason to be unable to return.

"According to those who returned, he was bitten by a dragon."

"A dragon?"

"Is there not a young dragon you let go? It is that child."

His heart began to beat again at the word 'dragon', but Frausen soon made a peculiar expression upon realizing that the word was referring to Vlad.

"... Then it makes sense he couldn't return. By nature, a dragon never misses a marked prey."

Unlike the other headless knights, the knight pierced by the weeping Dragon Slaying Sword had yet to return to Lamashtu's side.

That was due to a difference in standing, and also because of a perfection that did not even tolerate death.

"I'll have to go and pull him out myself."

Standing above the completely ruined, blood-reeking mire, Frausen turned his head toward a distant place.

"I'm also curious about how he's grown during this time."

That place was where the unreturned headless knight was, and also where that bizarre fellow, who could be a dragon or a knight, was located.

* * *

Perhaps due to the different climate, the ceiling was high, and the windows were wide.

Moreover, the vases placed here and there and the patterns on the walls were so bright that it was a space where one could feel the unique mood of the central region, different from the North.

"This room is quite nice. Seeing that it even has a reception room, it seems you're being treated rather well."

"..."

That is, if it weren't for the old man smacking his lips and picking at food in front of him right now.

An old man whose visible appearance was so shabby that it naturally evoked pity, yet someone who could absolutely never be called a welcome guest.

Vlad didn't bother hiding his complicated expression as he looked at Bishop Pierre, who had suddenly sought him out.

"By the way, you've been continuing to travel with that cat fellow."

"It's Nibelun. You know me."

"I don't know the names of beastmen. I only remember the names bestowed by God."

Nibelun shook his head side to side at Bishop Pierre's attitude, which still ignored him.

In the fog-filled Moshiam, they had been like comrades-in-arms, but to the faithful servant of God, a mage who handled mysteries still seemed off-putting.

"How did you find your way here."

Seeing Bishop Pierre carefully put down his cutlery as if he had finished his meal, Vlad's mouth opened heavily.

He had waited patiently until now according to the unwritten rule of the back alleys not to bother someone while they were eating, but it was now time to hear an answer.

"And who on earth is that old man you brought."

"... Hmm."

The end of Vlad's nod was directed toward the bedroom.

Bishop Pierre at least had some energy left to eat something, but the old man, who had been in a state of exhaustion from the start, was currently lying on the bed, sunken in a death-like sleep.

According to the doctor who examined him, he was currently in a very dangerous condition, so perhaps by tomorrow, they might have to clear away a corpse.

"That man is someone whose safety has already been guaranteed by the Northern Alliance. To them, he is like a precious witness."

"That's why I'm asking who he is."

Perhaps sensing an ominous presence, Vlad appeared somewhat sharp, unlike his usual self.

However, Bishop Pierre merely smiled meaningfully while looking at such a Vlad.

"That man's name is Radu. Radu Dragulia."

"..."

As the old man's name flowed from the tip of Bishop Pierre's tongue, the tips of Vlad's fingers, which were reaching for the teacup, faltered.

At the same time, the air in the room growing cold was likely not an illusion felt only by Nibelun.

"And he is also likely the person who happens to be your older half-brother on your father's side."

A strange silence began to settle in after the name Bishop Pierre uttered.

A name connected by blood, Radu Dragulia.

Hearing the old man's identity from Bishop Pierre, Vlad felt a strange emotion welling up that was hard to explain in words.

"... He looked more like a grandfather than a brother."

The single name Bishop Pierre uttered was causing a small ripple in his heart, but Vlad was trying hard to appear unbothered.

Because the conversational skills he had learned from observing Joseph were telling him that he must not show any openings right now.

"It seems Dragulia is quite rough in how they handle people. Seeing him age so drastically."

Finishing his words calmly, Vlad slowly lifted his teacup.

He was speaking with a smile, but along with a gaze containing a warning to not speak that name in front of him anymore.

"As you wish, you may stay here until someone from the Northern Alliance arrives. Although this is not my mansion."

"... Thank you. I didn't know I would end up benefiting from you."

His visible appearance was blond hair and blue eyes.

However, a knight whose sword strapped to his side was silver in color.

Seeing Vlad, who now showed hardly any traces of his former childishness, Bishop Pierre ended up clicking his tongue as if he had lost his enthusiasm.

* * *

Vlad was walking down the mansion's corridor toward Rodrigo's reception room.

Although it was someone else's land, the passing Arnstein knights greeted Vlad with their eyes, and the attitude of the bowing employees was imbued with politeness.

["Times like this are when you must become even more humble. No one will look at you as an inexperienced knight anymore."]

'I know.'

["Instead, hold your head higher. Do not forget that the absolute fundamental of a knight is confidence."]

'... I said I know.'

Quijano's nagging had noticeably increased since meeting Rodrigo, but Vlad just let it be.

Because he himself was now aware that it was time to pay attention not only to his sword but to other things as well.

Of course, having every single attitude interfered with was too annoying to just brush off.

"Sir Rodrigo."

"Oh. You've come."

In the place he entered after opening the door, the knights of the Imperial Enforcers had already gathered.

They probably didn't intend it, but the sight of the knights simultaneously staring at him made Vlad feel a bizarre sense of pressure.

Because the knights personally sent by the Court Duke to find the culprit who murdered Auguste were not merely knights in name only.

"Did you receive your guests well? From the looks of it, one of them seemed to be in quite a critical condition."

"Why are you asking when you already know everything."

"Asking when I already know everything is exactly my habit."

Why was everyone he faced today acting so sly?

Rodrigo, a competent investigator, had already grasped the identities of the old men, but it seemed he wanted to hear the situation directly from Vlad's mouth.

"I plan to protect them until someone from the North arrives. For I am also a knight of the Northern Alliance."

"Duty is important. As much as honor."

Rodrigo began nodding his head as if he liked Vlad's attitude.

However, seeing that, Vlad didn't hide his sullen expression.

Good or bad, he absolutely didn't like his attitude of seemingly evaluating him however he pleased.

"I'll say it once again, but I have absolutely nothing to do with the Founding King."

["Oh..."]

"The sword I am holding is also not his sword. So please shut off your interest in me."

For Vlad, who wasn't used to receiving expectations from others, Rodrigo's nodding was merely an annoyance.

Having vaguely grasped what he was expecting from him, Vlad intended to use this opportunity to draw a clear line.

"I hope you expect nothing from me. Because my life is one I wish to live entirely as I please."

"Of course I expect nothing."

However, Rodrigo didn't show any particular displeasure at Vlad's rough attitude.

"Do as you wish, just as you've been doing. Like when you chased the headless knights last night."

"..."

Because he was already satisfied.

Though he denied it with his words, Vlad's figure of striving to uphold the Swordmaster's Code more than anyone else was exactly the image the knights of the Empire had envisioned for a long time.

"I plan to return to the Court Duke now."

"That is quite welcome news."

"And I called you because there is one thing I must absolutely tell you before I head back."

Vlad was glad that the troublesome companion was leaving, but Rodrigo's gaze looking at him was only serious.

"Do not trust Joseph Bayezid too much."

The senior knight of the Imperial Enforcers responsible for the security of the Imperial Capital.

He, who found hidden truths with a sense of smell sharper than a hunting dog's, was leaving a heavy warning for Vlad.

"What does that..."

"The first person in the North to obtain that drug from the far, far East is exactly Joseph."

There was a green drug that had swept through the imperial family and the court nobles.

It was the elves' drug, which harbored a fatal poison amidst its excellent benefits.

The drug had been so remarkable that the capital Brigantes was still suffering from its aftermath.

"The Vatican definitely had good reason to make Joseph their target. Do not forget my words."

"..."

He wanted to firmly shout that it wasn't true, but the aura Rodrigo exuded naturally forced Vlad's mouth shut.

Vlad had lived his entire life rebelling against someone, but Rodrigo's words, warning him while holding onto the truth, were something thick and sticky that was hard to easily shake off.

* * *

Black powder was falling over the green tea water.

It was clear tea water that had been painstakingly brewed according to the basics of the tea ceremony, but now it merely became entirely black, as if that effort had been in vain.

"They say they are locked in the basement. The priests within the territory are strictly sealing it."

"Is that so?"

Joseph furrowed his brows as if he had a headache while listening to Jager's report.

Joseph, who liked moving according to meticulous plans, was currently feeling displeased by the suddenly occurring unexpected situation.

"Why couldn't they escape? By nature, they shouldn't be bound by the land they step on."

He was asking, but they weren't words expecting an answer.

Because Jager beside him was a knight, not someone who handled wicked existences.

"Is it because of Vlad."

Vlad of Soara, the only variable Joseph Bayezid willingly welcomed.

Thinking that guy had probably done something, Joseph merely threw the medicine pouch he was holding into the fireplace with a faint smile.

"Since the powder has run out as well, contact should be coming soon. I shall wait and see."

"Understood. Lord Joseph."

Down his throat as he finished speaking, the black tea water flowed in.

With every sip he swallowed, brilliance returned to Joseph's black eyes, and with another sip, his deep dark circles were somehow finding their original color.

"... I've taken many medicines, but this drug is truly bitter."

Having emptied the teacup entirely, Joseph ended up spitting out a complaint while squinting one eye.

Come to think of it, from some point on, Joseph had not been letting out shallow coughs.

It was unknown since when, but one could certainly no longer find any sign of obvious illness in the current Joseph.