The flippant attitude of Deacon Regis, known as the stubborn blade bearer, is nothing new.

  Contrary to the insouciant Deacon Regis of last time, the one seen advocated for rebellion?

  Was the man blackmailed or… something else?

  “...Ha.”

  A quiet chuckle left my own mouth.

  The man-at-arms that just twenty years before was unknown.

  Now a banneret.

  Intriguing.

  The Barlindos kingdom…

  I can’t say I haven't heard the new flames of war that started down south.

  Doesn’t have anything to do with us.

  If anything, it’s just a buzz of a bug.

  However… the situation is useful.

  Since the clans of the alliance started deteriorating without a head, one stayed fine.

  The Exabet Clan.

  Though there's the ones far in the mountains, they hold no sway over the land.

  Hm.

  Hmm.

  A smile grew from my lips.

  Fortune looks down on me and gives me two choices.

  And my answer comes easily.

  The mask of the loyal servant molds over my face.

  Sharp breaths from forcing his body to move make the man's bloodshot eyes all the more apparent. Including the state of the body and it’s a miracle how the man is even moving.

  “Sir! You need to see the physician!!”

  Yet nothing plays in the ears of the man.

  It must be reported to the lord.

  The legs shimmered with ice of red all over.

  Servants try to stop and help the man. Yet even now, strength that was nothing still was there.

  The armor worn was cracked and split apart. Torn like paper. Ice deeply touching bone. Grinding it as it spreads. Breaking it with ease.

  The parasitic ice grew the longer the man hobbled towards the doors of the lord.

  The red ice devoured and held the body together.

  Servants that got close felt a chill harsher than winter.

  The ice on the man's right cheek, dug into the eye above.

  Popping it and crushing the remains as it settled deeper in the skull of the man. The fluids freezing with a lighter shade of red.

  The excruciating pain all over would force anyone to make a guttural scream.

  Still the man trudged onwards with visceral groans mixed with gasps.

  He must tell of the threat.

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  The coward of no chivalry.

  The disgrace of humanity.

  The mad bastard.

  The vicious animal.

  Slowly the ice could be felt with it’s chill nearing the man's brain.

  ‘The day when your boss has his throat ripped out will be my merciful gift.’

  ‘Show me! Show me!!!! SHOW ME!!!!!!!’

  ‘Always back up your claims, friends. Or the end fate won’t be pretty.’

  ‘It was fun but not entertaining… oh well. They’re not watching. So I can b█ as █v██ █s I W██t. Or I c█n be █oo█! ██t. Wa███ ███?’

  It was no frail human.

  The man finally reached the door.

  The guards that saw him had no idea what to do.

  “W-What is your business?”

  “...I need..to… see…” the man hoarsely responded. “The…Lord…”

  The red ice obstructed the breathing the man kept doing. Freezing any blood that came to flow towards the punctured lung filling with ice.

  —What is the commotion out there?

  “My…m…y lord…!”

  —....Open the door.

  The guards pulled open with hesitance.

  In the chamber, the lord looked at what's happening in the hallway.

  “What–”

  The man kneeled instantly.

  “M...y lord! There'sss a ma..n…! A man in gr…e….y…….”

  “You–”

  “Th…r….e…a……..t…….”

  The man's voice went silent. The jaw moved up and down. Becoming slack.

  Eventually stopping.

  The man's remaining eye dilated.

  The body fell forward.

  “W-W-What is this? All of you standing there!”

  ““Yes!””

  “What were you doing letting this man reach here?!”

  The servants bowed their heads.

  A roar of fury echoed from being interrupted and the now deceased knight.

  In that rage the lord's tolerance lowered.

  The lord, Ermantus Ercen though he wished not to, distinctly remembered the knight's last words as he sat down.

  The servants hauled away the knight's deceased body.

  Only after being ordered to do it.

  Something about a man in grey and threat.

  Threat?

  To whom?

  Him?

  Frankly impossible logically.

  Though for the knight end up like this, it’s partially worth investigating.

  Ermantus Ercen thought differently.

  A waste of time.

  In this land, none are a threat. With imperial backing even the Republic would hesitate.

  If that ‘man in grey’ appeared, simply order the knight orders to execute that ‘man in grey’.

  As simple as that.

  Though a bit of precaution is fine.

  Soon Ermantus would order more guards.

  Of course, after that he picked out a maid for the night.

  — —

  The lands of the Empire are prosperous.

  As it should be.

  The farther from it and the more barren in between.

  The hooves of horses sound our presence.

  In that barrenness traitors of the Empire fester incessantly.

  For those that are, the heavens decree their punishment.

  “Ack–!”

  Swinging the polaxe, the fingers of Akelia are cut in droves.

  Winding my arms backwards, I thrust forward.

  “Euaaaaaaaghhhh!!!!”

  Raised high, for any that start to think of it.

  The end is of only one.

  Twisting into the gut of the finger, their blood washed me.

  The citizens watch the retribution at hand.

  With my other hand, I cut them in half with my blade.

  The scream ends and another begins.

  For the righteous hand delivers judgement.

  That hand will reach the head of the enemy that forgoes the mercy of the Empire.

  Dismounting, I step into a corridor unfit for a horse.

  The silver grey of those cloaks sullied with blood as I swung my poleaxe.

  Glory to me and my comrades. Glory to the Empire.