To the Karl Territory
As we entered the imperial palace under Duke Brendel's guidance, the military band lined up on either side blared their trumpets in unison. Soon, magical fireworks lit up the sky above the palace in a riot of colors, and the young nobles who had come out to greet us cheered so loudly it made my ears ring.
Walking the red carpet behind Shura, I spotted a young knight standing guard and frowned slightly.
He was a nameless figure who had only brushed past my life in fragments of memory, but suddenly it came back to me. On the day the imperial castle fell to the monster horde, he'd died a gruesome death right before my eyes.
Memories like this are better off forgotten.
Once the dark recollection surfaced, it kept gnawing at my mind. The old noble cheering now was someone I'd abandoned during the escape from the capital, and even Duke Brendel ahead of us had charged bravely into battle only to be surrounded by monsters, never to be seen again.
Looked like going to Kara had been the right call after all. It had no ties to my past life, so I was free of these grim memories there.
The procession halted moments later. Snapping out of my reverie, I glanced toward the palace entrance. There stood my father, Karl Grand Duke, waiting to greet us.
"Yin-Yang Great Saintess, welcome. I am Karl Grand Duke, Grand Chamberlain of the Yosrahim Empire."
"Call me Shura. Looking forward to working with you."
Shura was more polite than ever. Guess it made sense—future father-in-law and all.
After exchanging greetings with Shura, Father turned to me with a beaming smile. It was the first time I'd seen him look so genuinely happy. Feeling awkward, I scratched the bridge of my nose.
"So you're Kaoyan of the White Mask?"
"Yes."
"I've heard all about your exploits. Defeating that Bastain Duke—what a feat."
"Just hype."
I kept my responses curt and flat, cutting the conversation short. He was my father, after all. No point dragging it out.
Father nodded approvingly and led us toward the throne room.
"This way, Great Saintess."
I followed with the most neutral expression I could muster. Passing familiar corridors, we reached the crimson doors adorned with sun and moon motifs in gold. As they swung open, the vast throne room unfolded like a grand plaza.
The assembled ministers and officials on either side bowed deeply in respect as we entered.
"We greet the Great Saintess."
I eyed the jade throne at the far end. It was empty. But soon, a knight's cry announced the emperor's arrival, and my uncle emerged.
He was quicker than usual.
Even if he wanted distance from the Yin-Yang Church, he couldn't keep a Great Saintess—on par with the pope—waiting too long.
"Glory to His Imperial Majesty! Long live the Yosrahim Empire!"
With the familiar chant behind him, Uncle settled onto the throne. As we moved to kneel on one knee out of courtesy, he waved us off.
"No need. I may be emperor, but I can't have a Great Saintess kneeling."
First time hearing that casual tone from him. Even as emperor, he had to treat her with utmost respect.
Besides, the Dalhahan's owner was to be honored as a great guest per the founding emperor's decree. Any slight, and Uncle would be seen as a disrespectful ruler defying his ancestor's will.
"Thank you for your consideration."
"I trust you rested well last night?"
"Yes."
"Good to hear. I instructed my ministers to tend to you, but I worried nonetheless."
"My thanks."
Uncle stuck to trivial, everyday chatter, avoiding any religious topics. He was tightrope-walking between shunning the Yin-Yang Church politically and showing proper deference to the Great Saintess.
But Duke Brendel wasn't one to sit idle.
"Your Majesty, with the Great Saintess gracing our empire, why not seize this moment for her blessing on Your Majesty's longevity and the empire's peace?"
Griffin Archbishop jumped in immediately.
"Your Majesty, all things have their order. It would be proper to first receive the Light Great Saintess's blessing before the Yin-Yang Great Saintess's."
"But the Light Great Saintess isn't here, is she?"
Griffin looked flustered at the duke's retort. They'd invited Ignes Princess long ago, but she hadn't arrived.
"It must be the gods' will."
"Heh. And the gods' will puts child before father?"
The duke's words highlighted how the Yin-Yang god Lumenox was father to the Light god Ru. Griffin narrowed his eyes.
"No. The Creator God Lumenox takes precedence, of course. But the Dalhahan is a relic of unknown origin, isn't it? How can it compare to the 7 Divine Artifacts created by the gods themselves?"
"What?! How dare you deny the Yosrahim Empire's history!"
The duke exploded. The Dalhahan was Emperor Siegfried's beloved sword and a symbol of the empire's founding. Denying it was tantamount to denying the empire.
"I'm speaking from religious principle."
"Is denying the Creator God your 'principle'?"
"There's no evidence linking the Dalhahan to the Creator God."
The throne room's atmosphere turned hostile. Uncle sighed in frustration, while conservatives and the Light faction mainstreamers pointed fingers and shouted over each other.
"Your Majesty! Exile Griffin Archbishop at once to restore the empire's dignity!"
"Your Majesty, we must not defy divine principles. Please rebuke their stubbornness!"
The bickering dragged on. Uncle scolded them repeatedly to restrain themselves, but it only lasted moments before they latched onto each other's words, spouting religious debates.
Armida Sis squirmed irritably, and Shura kept bending and straightening her knees to ease the ache.
Irritated by the noise, I bellowed at everyone.
"Jeez, let's eat first!"
"……"
All eyes turned to me in stunned silence. I'd just shut up the empire's entire court over something as trivial as dinner.
But no one dared challenge me. Sure, I'd borrowed Yojyo's power, but I'd destroyed Uroboros—the mythical colossus that wiped out the Isara Kingdom.
Seizing the opening, Uncle chided them like a father.
"The White Mask is right. Starving our honored guest over empire business is a grave discourtesy. Prepare the banquet at once."
"Yes, sire~."
The assembly dispersed, and we headed to the banquet hall.
The banquet was lavish. Amid refined music, we gathered at one table for the meal.
Duke Brendel, seated with us, grumbled at me.
"White Mask, wasn't that too much? How could you only think of food after their insolence?"
"What's the point arguing with hellbound fools? Total waste of energy."
"What do you mean?"
"The Dalhahan was a sword Saintess Prosia gifted to the Yosrahim founding emperor. Mocking it? Straight to hell if it exists—blasphemy."
I hyped the Dalhahan, name-dropping Saintess Prosia. Boosting its symbolism strengthened my influence in the empire. No reason not to; it wasn't even a lie.
The duke looked shocked.
"R-really?"
"Yeah."
"But the founding myth says it came from some mysterious woman..."
"Same difference."
"Certain? Any proof?"
I glanced at Armida Sis, who glared daggers back.
"A Valkyrie I met once said so."
"Hearsay isn't proof."
"Since when did faith need evidence?"
"Fair point, but..."
"If you're pissed, get stronger. The strong decide truth."
"True enough."
A flamboyantly dressed young man approached our table then—a blond beaming as he pulled up a chair.
My cousin.
"Greetings, Yin-Yang Great Saintess. Crown Prince Simon."
"An honor to meet you."
Shura responded politely, oblivious, but the duke's discomfort was obvious. Simon Bro owed his crown prince seat to Manfred Duke's unwavering support—a pillar of the Light faction.
Grinning brightly at the duke—who oversaw the empire's military as War Minister—he spoke up. The Yin-Yang faction had long dominated military bureaucracy under Cloud Grandpa's influence.
For an insecure crown prince like Simon, that power was crucial.
"Duke Brendel, well met?"
"Quite well. Ahem."
As the duke kept distance, Simon shot me a sly look, eyeing me as a potential ally.
"White Mask here too. Nice to meet you. I'm the empire's crown prince, Simon."
"Kaoyan. You too."
My casual tone twisted his expression—too big to anger, too casual for crown prince dignity.
Finally, he burst out laughing.
"Hahaha! Just like the rumors. Straight shooter."
"Not really."
"I like it. Skip formalities—brothers?"
He extended a hand.
Same old Simon, slippery as an eel in tough spots. That's how he'd climbed this far.
I shook it. We'd been bros in my past life anyway.
"Sure. Bro, let's get along."
"You got it."
He chatted me up for a while after. Once he left, the duke grumbled again, having watched sourly.
"White Mask, Prince Simon's faction are all hardline mainstreamers—diehard Light zealots blocking us at every turn."
"I know. But Simon's different. Once emperor, he'll treat the Yin-Yang faction better than anyone—to check Manfred Duke."
"What? Manfred's his bedrock."
"Exactly."
Simon carried the thickest Yosrahim blood. No way he'd cling to a supporter forever.
For reference, Uncle's pillar was Lupert Grand Duke, now feigning frailty to survive. No wonder Cloud Grandpa rebelled right after his "death."
As Yosrahim blood myself, I knew Simon well. First thing as emperor, he'd cut ties. The imperial line never tolerated seconds.
Father had held his No. 2 spot only as the sole check on Cloud Duke—otherwise, he'd have been discarded like a used rag.
After the first day's palace schedule, Shura visited empire nobles faithful to Yin-Yang doctrine one by one. It was a packed itinerary, but I skipped it.
I had my own: meetings with foreign affairs officials.
The Yosrahim Empire was eyeing Bastain Kingdom like old Lobros Kingdom—same essence despite the name change. Vast fertile lands yielding food surpluses and trade wealth.
Bastain would stabilize and reimperialize soon enough.
But now, a counter: Kara Kingdom.
Kara built powerful magic weapon legions from Chaos Pieces in the vast Great Desert and dominated sea trade for riches. Ally with them, and Yosrahim gained a strong card against Bastain.
I played it vague. No benefit for Kara in allying with Yosrahim.
Too distant for real military aid, and if Bastain got pissy over it, Kara's sea routes could end at Jores Island.
Plus, Yosrahim wasn't just anti-Bastain—they hated orcs too.
Kara, meanwhile, gained much from orc alliance. Orcs ignored money, saw Kara lands as worthless desert, and bordered them—perfect strong ally.
No need for Kara to tie to Yosrahim.
Time to head out, then.
Nearly ten days passed. With the commission deadline nearing, I set off for my home turf, Karl Territory. The excuse: scouting ahead of Great Saintess Shura's visit.
But I wasn't alone. An unexpected tagalong.
"Hey, Grandpa. Why're you here?"
"On inspection."
"Where?"
"Karl Territory. Told 'em to prep troops—gotta check if they did."
I sighed deeply.
"Even so, a grand duke going alone?"
"Incognito. Word gets out, they'll fake it."
"What if someone recognizes you?"
"Don't worry. Sixty years holed up—only palace folk know me now."
I scowled.
"Could've gone another day. Why today?"
"Hm. Trouble brewing in Karl soon. Handle it well, troops are ready; botch it, they're not. Clean and simple—no wasted time."
I gritted my teeth. He was tagging along for my commission.
"Fine. But don't interfere with my business. At all."
"Relax. I'll help, not hinder."
"Don't help either! Your 'help' is the hindrance!"
"Why?"
"You'll do whatever you feel like."
Cloud Grandpa looked genuinely shocked.
"How do you know me so well? Been digging into me?"
I rubbed my face.
A massive wildcard. With him meddling, who knew how it'd go? Plans could derail into bloodshed—and he might cause it himself.
Stronger than me, couldn't just smack him down. Infuriating.
To the Karl Territory. End