Stories of the Creti Imperial Palace

On the other side of the Southern Continent, in the capital of the Creti Empire. Autumn had deepened, tinting the Vinci Freedom Memorial Palace on the west side of Brillda Royal Avenue with a coat of gold and crimson. Several months had passed since the decisive battle that determined the empire's fate. The atmosphere, once taut with the flames of war and turmoil, had finally relaxed completely in this season of harvest. In the quiet Morning Dew Courtyard at the southwest corner of the imperial palace, several tall trees stood like burning torches, their red leaves drifting on the wind into the rustic marble fountain pool at the courtyard's center. Originally a secluded retreat for monastery monks to meditate during the Free Federation era, it had been converted over the past century into a private lounge and informal reception area for the emperor. "..." Inside the semi-open glass conservatory along one side of the courtyard, Loren sat on a plush velvet sofa, holding a steaming cup of black tea. Although his gaze rested on the red leaves outside the window, his thoughts were drifting. Whenever he saw the falling leaves, he was reminded of his close friend who shared the exact same hair color. In the past, as clergy of the Church of the Goddess of Fate, they maintained regular contact. Now, half a year later, Florence seemed to have cut ties with him entirely, neither replying to his communications nor reaching out on a regular basis. Even now, for some reason, the person he missed most was always Florence. Perhaps it was because he could be around Florence without any pressure; they had been through far too many life-and-death trials together. Most importantly, Florence never expected anything from him, and her eyes when looking at him were never clouded with doubt. Especially now, stranded in foreign Creti, this nostalgia intensified inexplicably... Compared to the suffocating days right after his coronation, when he was buried under mountains of official documents day and night, life now, while hardly leisurely, had at least returned to a manageable pace. After more than six months of drastic consolidation and reconstruction, the colossal machine that was the Creti Empire had finally interlocked its gears once more, beginning to hum along smoothly amid the rising and falling roar of steam. Loren's workload had visibly decreased as a result, though that did not mean he had earned a vacation. Right now, he couldn't even manage a trip to the Kingdom of Canbera to see Florence. "Sigh." Loren let out a soft sigh. He sighed even more often now than he ever had in Ikerite. Perhaps the only thing that gave him some comfort was that the Imperial Ministry of Finance was thoroughly delighted with the security budget for their new emperor. As a rare emperor in history who possessed Tier 9 strength in his own right, the name Loren Crantel was itself the sturdiest of ramparts. He had virtually no need for elite high-tier knight orders. This not only saved the national treasury on capital defense expenditures, but also allowed the empire's transcendent forces to be deployed more flexibly across various regions to maintain order. Of course, that wasn't to say no would-be regicides had tried their luck over the past six months. Thinking back on the assassins he had encountered in recent months, Loren almost felt like laughing. Perhaps some simply refused to believe the rumors, or perhaps the concept of Tier 9 defied common sense; either way, certain border nobles doubted his strength and hired assassins who looked terrifying on the outside but were hollow inside. There were even rash hotheads who fantasized about making a name for themselves by assassinating the monarch, sneaking into the palace under cover of darkness. They had promptly been blown straight to the Imperial Special Operations Division by Loren's wind magic. On the other hand, Loren hadn't seen a single true master assassin. Come to think of it, anyone capable of becoming a master surely possessed a lucid mind. Loren reeled in his wandering thoughts and set the teacup back on the table. The reason he was sitting here today was to wait for an assignment— An informal meeting with this nation's true imperial royalty and the director of the Imperial Special Operations Division. Accompanied by light footsteps approaching from the courtyard entrance, several figures walked through the drifting red leaves. Imperial Princess Alexia of the Syros royal family was not wearing formal court dress today, but a dark-blue hunting outfit, showing no awareness of being an heir apparent. Behind her followed a maidservant and Nikolai from the Imperial Special Operations Division. "Good afternoon, Your Majesty Loren." Alexia walked into the conservatory with a relaxed smile, as if visiting a teacher. "This really is a wonderful place—far warmer and more human than the icy audience chambers of Saint Astri Palace," she observed, looking around. "Please, take a seat, Alexia." Loren gestured toward the seat opposite him and cut straight to the question that concerned him most, his tone even carrying a hint of anticipation. "So, did you come today to take the throne back? The situation is very stable now. As long as you nod, the War Gods..." "Ah, about that." The smile on Alexia's face froze for an instant before she smoothly averted her gaze, pushing the gift box in her hands across to Loren. "Why don't you try this first? It's a chestnut cake that's very popular at Saint Creti Monastery—they only make it in autumn." "Mr. Nikolai." Unswayed by the delicacy, Loren looked at Red Kestrel Nikolai behind her. "..." Red Kestrel Nikolai merely offered a faint shrug. To an onlooker, this scene might have looked like the rightful heir yielding ground out of fear that Loren was usurping the throne, concealing her ambition to reclaim it in order to lower his guard. In reality, anyone in the empire who truly understood the situation knew that Loren was the one most desperate to run away, while many high-ranking officials within the empire—including the War Gods and Alexia herself—were terrified of him running off. If Loren stepped down now, not a single person could completely hold this behemoth of Creti together. He possessed both prestige and absolute military might; such an emperor was practically impossible to find anywhere. Thus, not only did Alexia harbor no resentment whatsoever, she even respectfully addressed Loren as her teacher. "Your Majesty Loren, as you know," Seeing Loren's unmistakable attitude, Alexia simply threw up her hands. "There are still a great deal of historical legacy issues with the Silver Moon Restoration Society that I need to deal with. More importantly, dealing with those grand nobles exhausts me to the bone. Quite a few of them oppose you. If they oppose you today, they'll oppose me tomorrow, so wait until I gradually clean them out first." She looked back at Nikolai as she finished speaking. Nikolai nodded in agreement. "Then what did you come to discuss today?" Loren observed Alexia's imploring expression. "I've heard the autumn scenery in the Hutton Kingdom is extraordinary, especially in Ikerite. So I'd like to apply for royal travel credentials. I want to visit the Hutton Kingdom for a little vacation." Alexia blinked innocently. To legitimize Loren's imperial status and pave the way for Imperial Princess Alexia to smoothly succeed him later, the War Gods had defined Loren as the representative of divine will who reclaimed the imperial authority of Emperor Saint Bardo. In a certain sense, Loren was now Alexia's guardian. And for royal family members to travel to a neighboring kingdom, the emperor's permission was required. "..." The light in Loren's eyes died instantly. So she not only refused to take over, but wanted to dump all the work on him and run off on vacation to his hometown? "Can't you show just a shred of conscientiousness befitting the legitimate imperial family?" Loren pressed a hand to his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. Ever since Lanqi resolved the Creti Empire's crisis, Alexia had noticeably brightened up. Compared to the deeply burdened princess he had first met in the church within the Shadow World, she didn't take the empire's affairs to heart at all anymore. "It is precisely because I possess royal conscientiousness that I must personally serve as an envoy to a neighboring kingdom. Wouldn't it be too weird for you, a Huttonian, to serve as an envoy?" Alexia declared with utter conviction. "Has it ever occurred to you that the Emperor of Creti being a Huttonian is inherently weird enough?" Loren countered. "Uh, you are the High Priest of the Goddess of Fate, the vicar of the deity, an exalted emissary—in other words, an angel sent to the mortal realm by the Goddess..." "Divine herald," Nikolai supplied for Alexia. "Right! So don't be constrained by nationality—you are the Goddess's herald." Alexia nodded firmly in agreement. "...The question is, how long do I have to keep doing this?" Loren suspected he was being played back and forth, but he had no proof. Whenever the War Gods dropped hints that he could probably step down on schedule, Alexia's stance was that he still needed to stay on. And whenever Alexia showed an active interest in state affairs, the War Gods' rhetoric would turn vague again. "The contract we signed is two-plus-two. If the Church needs you back in two years, you are required to give us right of first refusal under the same terms," Alexia replied with the brisk demeanor of a bank clerk. Though Loren wasn't a knight, he was deeply chivalrous; thus, once a contract was signed, the War Gods never worried that he would break his word. "Can an emperor really get contract-trapped like this?" Loren muttered under his breath. "Don't underestimate the empire's legal department! Back then, someone even asked me if I wanted to go to the Hutton Kingdom and test my luck against the Southern Continent's Pizza Hut," Alexia said smugly, crossing her arms. "Don't tangle with him. It will not end well..." Loren somehow understood that this "Southern Continent Pizza Hut" referred to a certain Huttonian. Just like that, Alexia steered the conversation away from the heavy topic of the Creti imperial succession and toward breezy talk of international travel and catching up like old friends. Seeing Alexia's adamant expression of "no matter what you say, I'm not becoming emperor right now," Loren could only sigh helplessly, lifting his teacup to take a sip. Looks like he would have to remain this damned emperor for a while longer. The tea aroma curled in the air as their chat continued, but Loren's peripheral vision caught the two figures behind Alexia. The man standing like an iron tower behind the sofa was the new director of the Imperial Special Operations Division, Brigadier General Nikolai. He had now fully succeeded the former director's post. Military rank, however, held little meaning for him. His post gave him the authority to arrest anyone regardless of rank. Even in such a relatively private, informal setting, he still wore that imperial trench coat with the brim of his cap pulled low. He stood vigil without a word, his collar fluttering faintly only when a breeze passed by. Beside Alexia stood a petite maidservant. Her name was Sticella. Loren knew her story. This girl, once seemingly harmless on the surface but ruthless inside, had undergone a baptism of the soul after crossing paths with three clergy members of the Church of the Goddess of Fate. After receiving an imperial pardon from Creti, Alexia had welcomed her without holding a grudge. Back at Saint Creti Monastery, they had been friends. Just moments ago, Sticella had been gingerly refilling tea for Loren and Alexia. "P-Please enjoy, Your Majesty..." Her voice was faint and soft, and the hands holding the teapot trembled slightly. When Loren's gaze inadvertently swept over her, Sticella shrank back at once. The look in her eyes was less reverence than the terror of witnessing a dreadful titan. That shuddering dread rising from the depths of her soul was probably on par with coming face-to-face with Bishop of Destruction Ivanos. Loren felt a bit conflicted. He knew full well why Sticella was so terrified. Bishop of Destruction Ivanos had always ruled his subordinates through fear. In Sticella's eyes, even though she had been liberated from the Bishop of Destruction's grasp, the brand seared into her heart remained hard to erase. And Loren had always been a High Priest capable of confronting Ivanos head-on, so in Sticella's eyes, Loren was in some sense very similar to Ivanos. "Regarding Ivanos... I've heard a bit about it. In any case, there is no need to fear anymore," Loren spoke after a moment of thought, looking at Sticella. Sticella initially showed a look of surprise. Then, as if recalling something, she nodded blankly, glanced toward Imperial Princess Alexia, and nodded once more. Alexia also paused her banter with Loren. After a brief silence: "I am deeply grateful to Mr. Lanqi for saving me and freeing me from my shackles. I will spend the rest of my life making amends for my past misdeeds," Sticella curtsied to Loren. Right now, she looked much more like the ordained priestess persona she had initially feigned in the church Shadow World. "Save your thanks for Lanqi when you see him. Much of what he does wasn't taught by me." Loren couldn't help but shake his head. The more he learned about Lanqi, the more he realized how little he truly knew him. He hadn't fulfilled his duties as a good teacher, yet Lanqi had never blamed him; Lanqi only said that he had already found the best teacher. Not just Sticella—Lanqi had also saved another direct operative from the Destruction Branch. Phoenix, who had turned himself in over in Hutton, had rendered meritorious service and behaved well; it wouldn't be long before he was released and could live a peaceful life with his younger sister. Things that Loren's diligently nurtured students and priests—so many geniuses—had failed to accomplish had all been achieved by Lanqi. Lanqi had truly saved many people. After being rescued from the seal, Loren had heard numerous stories about Lanqi from those around him. That fellow was like an all-powerful wishing machine. In these turbulent times, whether the petitioner was good or evil, Lanqi listened to their wishes without discrimination. And then earnestly helped them. He protected the innocent and kind, granted them strength, and guided those with redeemable sins into heaven to begin anew; he also personally sent villains down to hell, fulfilling their ambitions in an alternate fashion. As for the price of granting those wishes, it was best not to ask. Loren looked at his own reflection in the cup. He hoped this world would move in a positive direction as much as possible, that the suffering endured by the people would lessen, even by a fraction. His wish had, to a great extent, been realized by Lanqi. And the price— Was that he was sitting here. Perhaps this was equivalent exchange. So Loren would not shirk his duties. All of this was a choice he had accepted. ... The afternoon chat concluded not long after. Having seen Alexia and her entourage off, quiet settled back over the courtyard. Loren sat back down on the sofa. Although Alexia had refused to take the throne in the short term, this brief afternoon tea had eased his frayed nerves considerably. In addition, an attendant had brought a piece of mail that had just arrived. Because of the meeting, he hadn't had time to look through it earlier. It was sent from Ikerite in the Hutton Kingdom. Having passed security inspections, it was the regular international correspondence from Ikerite Academy. "Let's see what we have here." Loren reached out and picked up the thick envelope. Breaking the seal, a red-covered publication slid out, carrying the faint, crisp fragrance of ink. It was the latest issue of the *Ikerite Academy School Journal*. Looking at the familiar campus scenery on the cover, a hint of nostalgia surfaced in Loren's eyes. With nothing urgent to attend to and his work temporarily paused, he leaned back against the sofa in the conservatory, flipping through the pages with keen interest against the backdrop of autumn leaves and the evening glow outside the window. Though the surroundings appeared utterly peaceful, with only the rustling of wind through the leaves, his magical perception told him that several distant gazes were fixed on this spot. They belonged to the imperial War Gods. Back when assassins had snuck into the palace, Loren could sense that the Second War God Saron, a master of swordsmanship, already had his hand on his hilt. Even from kilometers away, he was ready to strike down the intruders in an instant; it was only because of Loren's unique strength that they never rashly intervened over his head. Naturally, no assassins were attacking today. Merely hearing that a meeting involving the Syros royalty was taking place was enough to draw the attention of these War Gods. Now that the imperial situation had begun to settle, aside from Tenth War God Julius—who had recently taken over as Commander-in-Chief and was run off his feet every day—and Sixth War God Violet, who served as High Priestess, the other War Gods residing in the capital of Brillda were living lives that were frankly too idle. After all, most unstable regions had already been assigned War Gods, leaving the remaining high-end combat forces in the capital essentially in semi-retirement. "Those guys in the Administrative Department... still tear into their own people harder than anyone else." Loren looked at the school journal in his hands. Taking in the familiar layout and pungent headlines, he felt as if he hadn't been away from Ikerite for long at all. The media over there hadn't changed its style one bit. Being an emperor in Brillda wasn't all that different in experience from being dean in Ikerite: in both cases, he was swamped with troublesome chores, with outrageous people and absurd events cropping up constantly. "I'm off duty now. You don't have to worry—I won't be stepping down anytime soon," Loren finally closed the red-covered publication and spoke toward the distance ahead. Right then, the branches and leaves at the far end of the courtyard shook violently. "Heup!" A figure dropped lightly from the canopy, landing in a neat crouch on the lawn before Loren. It was Bianca, the Twelfth War God of the Opal Seat. Besides her, before long, two more figures arrived in the courtyard. The Second War God of the Obsidian Seat, Saron, whose eyes held only the empire and swordsmanship; and the exemplary noble patriarch, the Ninth War God of the Amethyst Seat, Marquis Ryan. Unlike Bianca, who had simply been lounging in the trees for fun, Saron and Ryan's intense interest in the meeting boiled down to one thing: whether Loren would stay or leave. Upon confirming that Loren had no urgent intention of foisting the throne off on Alexia, both War Gods breathed a sigh of relief. Just as the two were about to offer proper ceremonial greetings, they heard Bianca by the coffee table point at the school journal: "Can I read this book, meow?" "Be my guest." Loren didn't mind. In Ikerite, this was just casual reading; even local residents passing by Ikerite Academy could pick up a copy whenever they liked. "Meow? Meow-meow?" Bianca flipped open the school journal. Her brow furrowed at first, but soon her eyes widened, and before long she was reading with rapt fascination, her tail swishing unconsciously behind her. Her reaction piqued the curiosity of Saron and Ryan. What on earth was in there that had nearly made Loren lose his composure earlier, and was now making Bianca so excited? "Bianca, what does it say?" Ryan couldn't resist leaning closer. "Listen closely, meow..." Bianca had no desire to keep it to herself. She generously spread the red-covered publication across the center of the coffee table, cleared her throat, and began to read aloud with dramatic flair: "'The newly appointed Dean of the School of Sages, Lanqi Wilfort, publicly woos Miss Minier Aransal, daughter of the Aransal ducal house!'" There was even a photo sneaked by reporters showing them walking closely together at the Ikerite Crown Casino. Although the man and woman in the photo had their faces obscured by the casino's magic, their silhouettes and bearing closely resembled the two. "So Professor Landry was being serious on Valentine's Day?" Ryan asked in a shocked whisper. "As expected of the grand Hutton stage, meow." Bianca continued reading the columns that followed. "Actually, if the parties involved took it seriously, every single writer would probably get sued without fail. The school journal is already showing restraint now," Loren remarked from the side. "And what was it like before they showed restraint?" Ryan asked Loren. In the Creti Empire, not to mention making jokes about High Priestess Violet of Saint Creti Monastery, even gossiping about Headmistress's Secretary Naira would be met with an iron fist. "Do you know why Ikerite Academy's four branch schools only have three deans?" Loren cradled his forehead. To this day, many freshmen at Ikerite Academy still didn't know the name of the Dean of the School of Alchemy. He was truly serving a life sentence behind bars. "..." The three War Gods gathered a rough idea of what that meant. "Why are people calling Boss Loren a fake Tier 9, meow? Saying he never fought past Tier 9s, so he must be bottom-tier among Tier 9s, just a slightly stronger Tier 8," Bianca suddenly read aloud. Loren glanced over. It was a column in the Ikerite school journal that picked trending discussions from recent posts on the campus media community board. Now that he had the dual status of being 'one of our own' and 'emperor of a neighboring country,' he was being poked fun at with even less restraint. "Let me see." Saron grew curious as well and picked up the publication himself. Loren hadn't paid it any mind when reading it himself, and hadn't expected them to be so surprised. In this year's red book from Ikerite Academy, debates from the School of Alchemy over combat power tiers had grown even fiercer. Originally, it was just "ordinary Tier 8," "strong Tier 8," "quasi-bishop level," "bishop level," and "super-bishop level." Now that Tier 9 had appeared, a whole new dispute had erupted. A dedicated power-scaling section had even sprung up on the forum. Quite a few students who didn't know Loren well questioned this former head of the School of Sages. "That's because they've never faced Hyacinthus, so naturally they don't know just how terrifying Tier 9 is." Saron found this utterly baffling. Why did a bunch of people who were nowhere near the transcendent tier care so deeply about transcendent power, and what fun could there possibly be in arguing over such things? In fact, Loren currently enjoyed quite high approval in the Creti Empire, especially among high-ranking figures and Brillda citizens who had lived through the upheaval. Hyacinthus had shattered the old rules and fundamental logic: it was no longer about the Syros royal bloodline reigning supreme, but about whoever could command the War Gods being the one who secured the throne. Though Loren could not wield the [Syros Heroic Spirit Sword], ever since his accession, many had come to view the [Hutton Divine Beast Shield] as the new symbol of national defense. It was said to be a cat-shaped, red legendary shield that had already developed sentience. "There are discussions about Hyacinthus too, meow," Bianca said, pointing out the content for Ryan and Saron to see. Most of it was squabbling. A forum user nicknamed [Beloved Teacher Askson] consistently spoke up on Loren's behalf. Of course, his arguments were rather unhinged in their own right. For example: "Sigrid is a balanced character; Askson is the real stat monster." It was hard to tell whether this person was trolling or genuinely infatuated to say such things. When it came to Loren, however, user [Beloved Teacher Askson]'s statements were relatively fair and objective. Whenever someone claimed that "Loren is a fake Tier 9 and couldn't beat Hyacinthus," this user would reply below on the message board: "'You ask "why not look at yourself if you can't beat Hyacinthus?" Then let me ask you: Does Heavenly Judgment auto-lock on the head? Can it miss? What's the cooldown on Heavenly Judgment, and what's the cooldown on Imbalance Devourer? Even at Tier 8, being countered makes for a terrible matchup, and at Tier 9 that disparity is magnified exponentially. When you're completely counter-picked, you stand zero chance under normal conditions.'" Then someone asked him: "Have you ever fought a Tier 9? Talking like you know everything." "'There are ranks within Tier 9 too. Exceptional, off-the-charts individuals like Loren and Hyacinthus wouldn't necessarily lose to veteran Tier 9s right after reaching Tier 9. Peak Tier 9 is hard to say, but they definitely can't beat Limit Tier 9. A Limit Tier 9 in the Age of the Gods could trade blows with deities themselves,'" user [Beloved Teacher Askson] replied. And so Tier 9 also began to spawn labels like "ordinary Tier 9," "strong Tier 9," "peak Tier 9," and "limit Tier 9." The discussions on the community board gradually devolved into categorizing and arguing over every famous Tier 9 throughout the histories of all continents since antiquity. "Could this person be an actual Tier 9?" Ryan asked. "Or they've encountered a Tier 9 powerhouse in a Shadow World," Saron leaned toward that theory. "I think ordinary Tier 8 probably means Level 80 to 81, strong Tier 8 is Level 82 to 84, quasi-bishop level is Level 85 to 86, bishop level is Level 87 to 89, and extraordinary outliers among Level 89s are super-bishop level, meow." Bianca didn't care about Tier 9 at all; she had already immersed herself entirely in the Tier 8 breakdown, integrating seamlessly into the power-scaling forum. Of course, this was merely her personal view. "So as the weakest Twelfth War God, I'm probably a strong Tier 8, meow. Julius and Ryan, you two are quasi-bishop level, Violet is standard bishop level, and Saron, you're strictly speaking still bishop level, just the absolute ceiling of it. Only Hyacinthus back then was super-bishop level, meow." Bianca went through the names one by one, categorizing everyone according to the Hutton Kingdom's novel concepts. "..." Loren covered his face again. At that moment, he felt as if he had been transported right back to Ikerite Academy. Ever since Ikerite Academy cooked up these rigidly stratified tiers of combat strength, people obsessively fixated on them at every turn. Even transcendent combatants themselves couldn't help wondering which tier they belonged to. "So, Boss Loren, how did it actually feel fighting Hyacinthus, meow?" After running through her analysis, Bianca finally realized she could just ask the person involved—and the sole strongest being on the Southern Continent was sitting right in front of them. "Bianca!" Ryan hadn't even had time to stop her. Loren gestured that it was fine. "Strictly speaking, Hyacinthus and I were probably forty-sixty. The reason I was able to defeat him in the end was that my teammates were extraordinarily reliable." Truth be told, Loren had lacked confidence that he could defeat Hyacinthus. It was simply that, back then, he had to win. Their strength was not far apart; setting aside Hyacinthus's red sword, Loren's Tier 9 cat, and all external factors, the most likely outcome would have been mutual destruction. "Your assessment of Hyacinthus is that high?" Ryan asked, slightly stunned. In truth, over the past six months, political considerations had led these War Gods to avoid mentioning Hyacinthus whenever possible. Now that Loren himself spoke of him without hesitation, Ryan finally uttered the name once more. "Yes. Even as his opponent, I have no right to belittle him," Loren nodded. This answer reflected his truest thoughts. The five-o'clock afterglow over Brillda filtered through the glass dome of the Vinci Freedom Memorial Palace conservatory, bathing the courtyard in warm orange hues. It also illuminated the complex expressions of the War Gods, a tapestry of bittersweet emotion. Hearing Loren's words, Ryan fell silent for a long time, took a deep breath, and solemnly offered Loren a knight's salute. "Likewise, Hyacinthus is not a taboo name. Regarding his deeds, let the imperial civil officials evaluate him fairly, without inserting political bias." Loren knew the War Gods still held affection for Hyacinthus. It was like being betrayed by a friend while still clinging to lingering fondness in one's heart, foolishly wishing to ask them: Can enemies not still be friends? "To tell the truth, I can't bring myself to hate Hyacinthus, meow... He did terrible things and hurt Violet, but that time we spent together day in and day out—was all of it really a lie? Surely he showed some genuine heart toward us, didn't he?" Bianca slowly lowered the book, the cheerful curve of her lips softening into a tight line. Hearing Loren's words, she felt gratitude on Hyacinthus's behalf, and finally dredged up the bewilderment she had harbored deep within over the past six months. "If I had been the one in the Hall of Divine Descent back then, would he have spared my life the way he spared Violet's?" Ryan finally asked the question haunting him, one that had no easy answer. "Hard to say, meow," Bianca shook her head. "Though I'm sure he definitely wouldn't have spared Julius." Even she wasn't sure if Hyacinthus would have spared her—a cat posing a modest threat—had she been in that position. "Why?" Ryan asked Bianca. Tenth War God Julius was actually performing reasonably well as the Creti Empire's Commander-in-Chief—at least no worse than Hyacinthus had. "Hyacinthus rarely lost his temper, but the times he was driven to clutch his head and shout in exasperation were almost always because of Julius," Bianca gave her reason. Having partnered frequently with Julius and Simonro, she knew all too well the absurd messes Julius had gotten into. "Then I think Hyacinthus would have spared Julius after all." Saron, who had been silent all this time, suddenly spoke up. "Why, meow?" Bianca tilted her head in confusion. "Because the rare few times Hyacinthus laughed most genuinely were either when Julius made him laugh or broke his composure out of sheer annoyance," Saron said. This plunged both Ryan and Bianca into contemplation. "He really did make those expressions." "...Whether he once considered us tools, enemies, or friends—I doubt even he knew for certain. After all, he was broken a long time ago." "To quote Professor Landry... ah, no, Mr. Wilfort: what we must do is not dwell on regret for the past, but look forward." "Doing our utmost to ensure the tragedy that befell Hyacinthus never recurs in the Creti Empire—that is our duty as his friends going forward." A handful of imperial War Gods, whose names usually shook entire regions, were now chatting leisurely around the coffee table without a care. Watching this, Loren leaned deep into the sofa, the corners of his mouth curving upward unconsciously. In a daze, the scene before him seemed to overlap with his memories of Ikerite. Just then, Marquis Ryan noticed Loren's gaze. Seeing the emperor smiling at them, Ryan realized that such lax behavior might be unbecoming of a noble. He quickly gave a soft cough and straightened his back. "Your Majesty, pray forgive our discourtesy." "Boss Loren, why are you smiling, meow?" "No reason. Keep talking." Loren waved a hand gently, signaling Ryan not to be tense, and cast his gaze past the red leaves drifting across the courtyard toward the distant north. He had simply felt a sudden pang of longing for those peaceful afternoons of the past upon hearing them mention Lanqi. 'I suppose he truly is better suited to be dean than I am. Leaving Ikerite Academy in his hands puts my mind at ease.' Loren let out a long breath of relief, thinking to himself as he looked north toward home.