The Sword's Judgment
Violetta von Eberhardt was precisely as depicted in the novel.
Long golden hair, emerald eyes. The voluptuous figure that seemed to strain against her clothing. The moment I laid eyes on her face, I had no choice but to accept that the title of the Empire's greatest beauty was no exaggeration.
However, there was one thing the novel had omitted.
Dark circles that extended all the way beneath her eyes—the face of someone who had not slept properly for over three months.
“Killian? What is the matter at this hour?”
She turned her head naturally, as if trying to conceal the traces of her tears, and spoke. Seeing Stella beside her, she quickly composed her expression.
That resolve not to break down before the children was something I had to acknowledge.
“I need the key to my father's study.”
I said it bluntly. There was no time, so there was no reason to draw it out.
Violetta's expression was one of surprise.
“The study...? Why?”
“I wish to verify the things my father left behind.”
Of course, I had no interest in the study itself. The path to the secret training ground lay only within it. Among the items he left, I required the sword.
Violetta stared at me for a long time, her gaze as if trying to discern something.
Finally, she extracted a small key from the necklace around her neck.
“Handle it with care. That place is...”
Her words trailed off. To her, the study was the last remnant of her husband.
“I will not touch it. I will only check and return.”
A faint smile appeared on Violetta's lips. It was a smile laced with sorrow.
“You showing interest in your father. If he knew, he would have been overjoyed.”
If he knew, it would be a disaster. Because another person was using his son's body.
“Stella, it's time for bed.”
“I don't want to! I want to sleep with oppa—”
“See you in the morning.”
“Chii...”
Stella puffed out her cheeks, but after I stroked her hair once, she reluctantly turned toward her mother.
One head stroke and the child becomes obedient. A cost-effective investment.
The study was located at the far end of the east wing on the third floor of the mansion.
Turning the key, stale air rushed out, carrying with it the scent of dust, leather, and ink.
I recalled the novel's description: the passage hidden behind the inner wall of the study, concealed behind the shield engraved with the Eberhardt family crest.
In the center of the golden shield hanging on the wall was the snarling lion crest.
When my hand touched the family crest, a cold metallic sensation was transmitted. In the original story, it had said that it would react upon contact with Eberhardt blood.
I pressed my palm against the shield.
No reaction. Was the setting different?
After a moment, a faint light began to shimmer on the shield's surface. The lion's eyes glowed green, and with a dull mechanical sound, the wall split open.
A stone staircase descended below. Gemstones embedded in the walls emitted a blue glow.
“Hah, so it exists.”
I let out a sigh of relief and descended the stairs. If it hadn't, I would have been in dire straits tomorrow morning before the envoy, shouting naked and getting myself into a world of trouble.
At the end of the stairs lay a vast underground space.
Countless sword tracks were engraved on the walls. The scars from carving the stone varied—some shallow, others so deep they seemed to pierce through the wall. Traces of sharpening swords in the same spot for decades.
And at the very center of the training ground stood a single sword.
A sheathless longsword, its blade fully exposed. The blue light flickering along the edge was breathtakingly beautiful.
The Northern Grand Duke's Sword.
I extended my hand. If this works, good. If not... then I would think about it later.
The moment my fingers closed around the handle.
ㅡKRRRRR!
A vibration that shook to the bone accompanied the explosion of aura from the sword.
A blue whirlwind swept through the training ground, and I clung desperately to the sword with both hands to keep it from slipping away.
Something flowed into my mind.
The angle of the hand gripping the sword, the stance of the feet, the precise timing of arching the back. The basic form of the sword naturally seeped into me as if my body remembered it.
The aura gradually subsided, and the training ground fell silent once more.
“Hah, hah...”
I hadn't eaten anything, yet I felt like vomiting, and my entire body was drenched in sweat.
It felt as though someone had rummaged through my mind.
But it was confirmed. The bloodline awakening had truly occurred, and now I could wield the sword. With just the basic form, I could easily manage whatever would happen tomorrow.
Perhaps.
At that moment, a voice came from behind me.
“Hyung, hyung...?”
My heart nearly stopped.
Turning around, I saw a boy standing at the entrance of the stairs.
Platinum-blonde hair and softer features than mine. Felix von Eberhardt.
His eyes wide as he stared at me, sword in hand.
“You followed me?”
“Because I heard a noise from the study... Hyung, what is this sword now... Father's...”
Felix looked as if he might cry at any moment.
“Hyung is using Father's sword?”
His voice echoed through the training ground, filled with emotion.
Calm down. I only gambled for survival.
“Do not tell anyone. Especially not Mother.”
“...Yes. Yes! I understand, hyung.”
Felix nodded vigorously and clenched his fists.
Ah, misunderstanding.
The eldest son preparing for the family reconstruction through secret training. The loyal younger brother who would silently follow.
The image was appealing, but if we continued like this, it would be problematic.
But for now, I decided not to overthink it.
In the afternoon, the envoy from the Marquisate arrived.
When I had informed Violetta in the morning of the envoy's visit, as expected, her face turned deathly pale.
But it was far better than when she had worried all night. My judgment had been correct.
I showed the Marquis's party into the reception room, with Violetta, the Grand Duchess, taking the main seat and me beside her.
The envoy was a man in his mid-forties, his movements and face radiating an air of leisure.
But the manner in which he expressed that leisure was the issue.
This scoundrel did not even lower his head to Violetta. Greeting the Grand Duchess was the most basic etiquette in the Empire.
He had deliberately swallowed the etiquette whole.
Lucas standing beside him had roughened his breathing.
“The Marquis of Lawrence is concerned about the future of the Grand Duchy.”
The envoy spoke leisurely.
“The Marquis's meaning is this: with the Northern Grand Duke having departed, it would be difficult for the Grand Duchy to maintain the territory alone.”
Violetta's slender fingers trembled faintly. No doubt with anger.
The wise woman had protected her dignity.
“Thank you for your concern, Marquis Lawrence. However, the Grand Duchy—”
“It is not concern, but a proposal, madam.”
He interrupted Violetta.
“How about receiving the Marquis's protection? How many knights remain in the Grand Duchy's order? Thirty? Twenty? The monsters of the northern border grow more numerous each day, and to maintain the defense line alone...”
The pressure of the Marquis's trumpet continued.
I waited quietly.
The envoy stepped forward toward Violetta.
“Forgive my rudeness and speak frankly. It is different from when the Grand Duke was alive. The grandeur of the Grand Duke no longer exists in the current Grand Duchy.”
He rose from his seat.
“What did you just say?”
The envoy looked up at me. Not with tension, but with mockery.
“Grand Duke's son, adults are speaking.”
“Did I mishear? During the mourning period, in the presence of the acting head of the main family, you declared the family's dignity nonexistent. Was that what I heard?”
I lowered my voice calmly.
The important thing now was the reputation.
From my knowledge of the original novel. Imperial law, Article 44, Paragraph 3, mourning etiquette. Insulting the main family during the mourning period constitutes a grave offense against the family, and the acting head or eldest legitimate son of the main family may exercise immediate judgment authority.
The envoy let out a sly chuckle.
“Grand Duke's son. Even before completing your coming-of-age ceremony, you have a place to speak—”
“Even before coming-of-age, when the head is absent, the eldest legitimate son holds the authority of acting head. Imperial Nobility Law, Article 12, Paragraph 3.”
His mouth snapped shut.
Violetta looked at me with wide eyes of surprise. Lucas did too, as did the knights behind him.
An 18-year-old young master who could recite the law article was unexpected. I hadn't realized I could wield this. The point of staying up all night reading the novel would bear fruit here.
The envoy let out a mocking laugh.
“Hah, you know the law well. So what do you intend to do, Grand Duke's son?”
One of the Marquis's knights placed his hand on his sword. Openly threatening within the Grand Duchy's castle.
Violetta's face paled.
I retrieved the sword I had prepared since the morning—the Northern Grand Duke's Sword.
The instant I drew it, blue aura erupted from the blade.
ㅡSaaaa.
The Eberhardt family basic form.
Violetta swallowed hard, and Lucas's knees buckled.
“This is... the Grand Duke's...!”
Finally, the leisure vanished from the envoy's face. As an imperial noble, he could not have been unaware of the Northern Grand Duke's aura.
ㅡSwoosh.
The moment the sword moved, one arm floated into the air.
“Kyaaaaaaaak!!”
The envoy's face twisted, and his scream filled the reception room. His right arm was cleanly severed below the elbow and dropped to the floor.
The knights reached for their swords, but it was too late.
The aura extended out, freezing the four knights' swords in their sheaths.
Only the envoy's screams as he clutched his severed arm echoed in the reception room.
I took a step closer to him.
“For insulting the main family during the mourning period, I have punished it under the authority of acting head. If you have any objections, bring a complaint to the Imperial Court.”
The man looked up at me with eyes filled with terror.
“Convey this to the Marquis. If you wish to send an envoy again...”
I pushed the severed hand with my toe back toward its original owner.
Red blood lines spread in circles across the marble floor.
“...Send with proper etiquette.”
“E, this...!”
The envoy's mouth opened as if to protest. Probably curses?
So I cut his tongue as well.
“Kyuuu, krrrk...”
Even after the reception room had become a hellish scene, I remained calm. Rather than displaying a variety of emotions, killing seemed far easier. Inside, my heart raced wildly.
I had just cut a person's hand and tongue. The only things I had ever cut with a sword were vegetables and pork belly.
The surrounding people's screams appeared to me in slow motion. In my head, a beep sounded.
This was something I had to do to survive. This was only the beginning. I needed to harden my heart further.
The moment I set the sword down, my hand began to shake uncontrollably.
But there was something I had to do before turning away.
Looking at Violetta, she stared at me with both hands covering her mouth.
Her eyes wet with tears.
“Mother.”
I said it as calmly as possible.
“Clean up these people and please tidy the reception room.”
I picked up a teacup and took a sip.
Good. Even cold tea was enough to conceal the trembling of my hand.
Violetta slowly opened her mouth.
“Killian... you, when exactly...”
Before I could answer, urgent footsteps echoed from the corridor.
Lucas's urgent voice followed.
“Master! Twenty or so armed escort knights from the Marquisate were waiting outside the main gate. They are standing in formation in front of the castle gate!”
Shit, it wasn't seven?