It Cannot Be, Your Majesty!
Of late, Octavian had been in a thoroughly foul mood.
The reason was simple. Kyle Lowenheim — that thorn in his side.
…A mere captain of the Imperial Guard, and he dares…
Octavian tipped back his wineglass with a snarl of irritation, grinding his teeth.
Something about some great feat at the Imperial Banquet, or so the story went. For that alone the man had been granted a title, and a fine residence inside the palace grounds to boot. And as if that were not enough, even Victoria — proud, untouchable Victoria — was said to be hovering about the man for reasons no one could fathom.
Success upon success. There was simply no end to it.
…That galling bastard. Some mongrel bone who crawled in from God knows where.
Octavian could not bear to watch a mere retainer rise so high. He was the Crown Prince of this empire, and yet every eye in the realm seemed to turn toward that man instead of him.
Somehow, he had to pluck out that thorn. But no workable scheme presented itself, and that only drove him further toward madness.
It was then that a voice spoke.
"…Your Highness. What troubles Your Highness so deeply?"
A stranger's voice, soft and unexpected. Octavian turned his head — and found a man standing soundlessly in one corner of his study.
A face he had never seen before. Pale features of an indeterminate age, and a smile that was at once cool and utterly unreadable.
"…Who the hell are you? How dare you come this far?"
"…Ah. This humble servant has newly entered Your Highness's employ. I am called Noah Grim."
The man bowed with perfect courtesy. When he lifted his head again, that inscrutable smile was still in place.
"…I have heard that of late, Your Highness has been tormented by a certain thorn in his side."
"…What did you say?"
Octavian's eyes narrowed. How could this man possibly know that?
But Noah spoke on with easy composure, as though he could see straight through to the bottom of Octavian's heart.
"…Kyle Lowenheim. That man whose influence has grown so sharply of late — he grates upon you, does he not? And yet to strike him down openly would lack a proper justification."
"……"
"What say you, Your Highness? This humble servant happens to possess a rather elegant means of removing that particular nuisance without a trace."
Almost without realizing it, Octavian leaned forward.
"…An elegant means. Speak, then. Let's hear it."
Noah's smile deepened, as though he had been waiting for exactly those words.
"Your Highness. Are you aware of the grim rumors circulating of late along the empire's frontier?"
"…Grim rumors?"
"They speak of a Corrupted Dragon, Your Highness. A vicious beast that pours deadly poison from every pore of its body. Since its appearance, villages along the frontier have been vanishing one after another — silently, without a trace."
Octavian's brow furrowed. Come to think of it, he had glimpsed something of the sort in a frontier dispatch a few days prior.
"…And so? What of it?"
"The poison is so virulent that sending a great army would only invite wholesale slaughter before a single blow could be struck. Against such a beast, the wisest course is not a host of soldiers, but a handful of the absolute elite."
Noah paused, fixing Octavian with a steady gaze.
"…And so I ask you, Your Highness. In all this empire, who could possibly shoulder a mission so perilous?"
Octavian's eyes flew wide. The meaning landed with perfect clarity.
"The Sword of the Emperor… Kyle Lowenheim…"
"…As expected. Your Highness is most discerning."
Noah bowed his head in satisfaction.
"…Recommend him for the subjugation force, Your Highness. No justification could be more flawless. Dispatching the renowned Sword of the Emperor as the empire's finest to resolve a crisis — not a soul would dare raise an objection."
"…Heh. Heh-hahaha."
A thin, unpleasant smile spread across Octavian's lips.
It was indeed an elegant solution. Shove Kyle into that deathtrap of a mission. Even if the man somehow managed to slay the beast, there was no chance he would return whole from poison that virulent. And should he perish out there — well, he would simply be an honorable warrior who had fallen fighting for the empire.
…And even if he crawled back alive, reduced to a wreck with not a single sound limb left on him — that would hardly be unwelcome either. In a sense, was that not the greater success? Reducing that illustrious Sword of the Emperor to a half-dead husk.
If all went well, he could erase that thorn without so much as a speck of blood on his own hands.
"…Good. I like it very much. I shall put the proposal to His Majesty at once."
"…A wise decision, Your Highness."
Noah bowed deeply. Beneath that lowered head, a cold smile flickered past — one Octavian never saw.
These days, I was having an absolutely miserable time of it.
The cause? That damned rumor.
The Sword of the Emperor, Kyle Lowenheim — his true passion is cooking…!
Somehow, that particular piece of gossip had spread like wildfire through the palace and beyond. Of course, most people simply laughed it off. Young noblewomen and fellow knights alike waved the notion away the moment they heard it.
"…Come now. That terrifying Sword of the Emperor, tying on an apron and standing in a kitchen? Hahaha — what utter nonsense."
"…Honestly. Who even invents a joke like that?"
Everyone dismissed it as a jest and moved on.
But I could not laugh it off. Because it was not a baseless rumor — it was the plain and simple truth.
Yes…! I loved cooking. From my previous life straight through to this very moment, that passion had never once cooled. Call me whatever you liked — to me, cooking was as vital as life itself.
…The problem was that I had kept it locked away all this time. If it ever came out that the Commander of the Imperial Guard actually loved a ladle more than a blade, what would become of me? All the dignity I had so carefully built up would crumble into pure farce.
Ahh… if this ever truly gets out…
For days now I had been a nervous wreck, fretting myself half to death. The rumor only kept swelling, and I had no decent excuse to counter it with. I was well and truly trapped between a rock and a hard place.
And then, at that precise moment—
"…Commander. His Majesty summons you."
A summons from the Emperor. Nursing a distinctly ominous feeling, I hurried toward the audience chamber.
"…Of late, a vicious beast known as the Corrupted Dragon has appeared along the empire's frontier."
His Majesty the Emperor spoke in a heavy voice.
"…The poison it exhales has already claimed several villages. And the venom is so virulent that sending a great army would only invite massacre. It has been a considerable headache."
At that, Octavian stepped forward as though he had been waiting for his cue.
"…And so I offered a proposal. Against such a beast, the wisest course is to deploy a small force of the absolute elite. I hereby recommend Sir Lowenheim — famed as the finest blade in the empire — to lead the subjugation."
Octavian glanced sideways at me, a peculiar smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
…In that instant, I saw straight through the Crown Prince's design. The man had long regarded me as a thorn in his side. He fully intended to shove me into this deathtrap and erase me without a trace.
And yet.
…Hmm. This might actually work out rather well.
I turned the thought over quietly in my mind. Consider it. Lately, that wretched cooking rumor had made remaining at the palace thoroughly uncomfortable. If I could step away from this noisy court for a while, wouldn't the whole tiresome story simply wither and die in my absence?
Besides, dragon or no dragon, I had a rough working knowledge from the original novel. I would find some way to deal with it. Dangerous? Certainly. But it was hardly a risk I couldn't stomach.
…Right. I'll wrap this up quickly and come back. By the time I return, everyone will have forgotten that rumor completely.
Decision made, I stepped forward. Composing my features into something suitably resolute, I steadied my voice.
"…Your Majesty. I shall gladly accept this charge."
I placed a hand over my heart and spoke with the gravest solemnity I could muster.
"…While the empire's people fall to that vicious beast, how could a loyal subject think only of his own hide? Even if it costs me this life, I shall slay the Corrupted Dragon without fail — and deliver the suffering people from their plight!"
Of course, inwardly I was entirely occupied with the far more practical thought of ah, finally this rumor will quiet down a bit — but nobody needed to know that.
"…Ohh. Truly, you are Our sword."
His Majesty nodded with evident satisfaction. Around the audience chamber, looks of admiration poured in from every side.
"Indeed — the Sword of the Emperor. To step so readily into such peril…"
"That's Sir Lowenheim for you. Look at that loyalty — putting the people before his own life."
"…Aye. Where else in the empire would you find such a devoted servant?"
Praise flowed without end from every corner of the hall.
…Ahem. Well. This much was only natural.
I was maintaining my carefully stern expression and suppressing an inward cough of satisfaction when—
"…It cannot be, Your Majesty!"
A sharp voice cut clean through the warm, admiring atmosphere.
Its owner was none other than Princess Victoria.