22. The Madman of War (2)

Hawthorn knew that his king was afraid. Rasman was the hero of Hashiya and Hawthorn’s own hero as well. However, whenever Rasman acted boastful, it was always because he was up against someone he feared. Having served by his side, Hawthorn was well aware of this.

Hawthorn also knew all too well about the fearsome reputation of the Emperor of Kazel in war. If the Emperor ever caught on to Hashiya’s plans, it was certain they wouldn’t survive.

“Will you go to meet them now?”  

“Yes, let’s go.”  

Rasman headed toward the tent where the Kazel Empire’s negotiation team was staying, with Hawthorn following close behind.  

As they approached, the suffocatingly heavy atmosphere made it clear that this was no ordinary group of people. The air itself seemed to dominate the surroundings, overwhelming everything nearby.  

—

“Jayden, even I feel crushed under this pressure,” Edward said inside the tent, sitting at the table with his chin resting on one hand, a look of exasperation on his face as he glanced at Jayden.  

Jayden shook his head firmly and replied seriously, “We need to exude this level of killing intent so that they won’t dare to underestimate us.”  

Before arriving, Edward had secretly instructed Ferma, the Master of the Magic Tower, to thoroughly inspect every corner of the enemy command.  

When the tent entrance grew noisy, Edward straightened his posture. The tent flap was drawn back, and a middle-aged man with a sturdy build entered. He glanced around the interior of the tent before bowing slightly to Edward.  

“I am Rasman, King of Hashiya. It is an honor to meet you. I was unable to attend your coronation due to internal turmoil. Unfortunately, we meet now under these unpleasant circumstances.”  

Edward raised a hand to cut him off.  

“That’s enough. Explain why Hashiya broke the peace treaty in a way that I can accept.”  

Rasman swallowed nervously before speaking.  

“You are likely aware that Hashiya was formed by uniting city-states where lords once claimed kingship. Recently, some lords have grown discontent with me, and in certain territories, peasants dissatisfied with their treatment have revolted and even killed their lords.”  

“And?”  

“I judged that, at this rate, even the monarchy could be at risk. To be honest, I made a reckless decision. I initiated the Kalia expedition to redirect internal dissatisfaction toward an external enemy, thereby solidifying the monarchy.”  

“So you dared to invade the territory of the Kazel Empire, breaking the treaty?”  

Edward let out a scoff, clearly unimpressed. Rasman, flustered by Edward’s reaction, quickly continued.  

“But this is purely for show. Our soldiers, having lived in peace for ten years, have forgotten how grueling war can be. They will lose sight of their purpose just by crossing the Kayaneuman Mountains. Please, grant me the grace to stabilize my kingdom’s monarchy. I have no intention of truly breaking the peace treaty. If I do, I will stake my life on it.”  

Rasman spoke desperately, occasionally glancing at the table and chairs in front of Edward as if pleading. Even though he was the king of a small nation, he was still a king. Yet, the young Emperor of Kazel didn’t even offer him a seat, forcing him to make his case while standing.  

Rasman thought that if he could just deceive Kazel this time and succeed, this humiliation would be worth it. A prosperous future Hashiya would never again suffer such disgrace from the Kazel Empire. Enduring the gut-wrenching humiliation, he suppressed his anger.  

“Your Majesty!”  

A frantic voice rang out as the tent entrance was flung open.  

An older woman rushed in, gasping for breath. She hesitated briefly upon seeing Rasman but then moved past him and stood between the Marquis of Argen and Count Winters, facing Edward.  

When Edward looked at her, she nodded with a resolute expression.  

Edward blinked slowly, letting out a dry laugh.  

He turned his gaze to Rasman, his eyes narrowing lazily. The moment their eyes met, Rasman instinctively realized something was wrong. His senses sharpened, and cold sweat trickled down his back.  

“Rasman, you must withdraw from the Kayaneuman Mountains immediately.”  

“…What?!”  

Rasman’s eyes widened in shock. His eyelids began to tremble as he stared in disbelief.  

“Did you forget that the Kayaneuman Mountains belong to the Kazel Empire? From today, the northern defensive line of the Kazel Empire will be reinforced at the border with Hashiya and the foothills of the Kayaneuman Mountains. In other words, your army has invaded Kazel territory. If you do not withdraw immediately, the Kazel Empire will declare war on Hashiya.”  

Panicked, Rasman dropped to his knees and begged Edward.  

“Your Majesty! Please listen to me. If you grant me time to resolve my internal affairs, I will repay your grace…”  

“And how will you repay me?”  

“Well, that…”  

“You’re not planning to repay me with the mana stone mine, are you?”  

Edward stood up as he spoke. The moment the word “mana stone” left Edward’s lips, Rasman froze in place like a stone. Edward’s eyes gleamed sharply as he rose.  

The Marquis of Argen let out a short sigh at the sight of Edward’s expression. He quickly stepped forward, intending to stop his liege, but it was already too late.  

“Get down!”  

The Marquis of Argen shouted, but Rasman, still kneeling, turned his head in confusion toward the Marquis. Unable to watch, the Marquis covered his face with his hand.  

Before Rasman could even scream, Edward’s sword flashed, severing his neck in an instant.  

Rasman’s head, still wearing a look of shock, rolled across the floor. The only sound in the now-silent tent was the dull thud of his headless body collapsing to the ground.  

Hawthorn fell to his knees, unable to scream. Rasman had been a warrior who could hold his own anywhere, yet he had died without even a cry.  

Hawthorn, regaining his senses, began trembling as he scrambled backward, fearing that Edward’s sword might turn on him next.  

“It seems I’ve been severely underestimated,” Edward said in a chillingly calm voice. Holding his sword in one hand and Rasman’s head in the other, he strode out of the tent.  

“That fool practically offered his neck to be cut,” the Marquis of Argen muttered, frowning as he looked down at Rasman’s lifeless body.  

“Can I hide somewhere? Please stop him,” Count Winters said, his hands trembling despite his attempt at a joking tone.  

The Marquis of Argen half-closed his eyes and shook his head, speaking in an exasperated voice.  

“It’s out of my hands now. Who calls His Majesty a god of war or a hero? To me, he’s just a madman of war.”  

—

“Add this to the records of the Emperor of Kazel: crazier than expected! Absolutely no assassination attempts,” Dean, who had returned as the Master of Four Seasons, instructed his subordinates.  

His lieutenant, Zahara, tilted her head, trying to determine whether he was joking or serious. She didn’t realize he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. 

Thinking of Edward sent chills down Dean’s spine. Wrapping his arms around himself, he shuddered.  

—

After carrying the Hashiyan king’s head out of the tent, Edward had killed several generals of the Hashiyan army who had lost their reason in the wake of their king’s death.  

‘At this rate, we’ll be annihilated!’  

Realizing their impending doom, the remaining generals and a trembling Hawthorn, who had crawled out of the tent, prostrated themselves and begged for mercy.  

Only after offering the lives of two more generals did they secure Edward’s permission to retreat.  

After hastily gathering their fallen comrades and leaving Hawthorn behind, the Hashiyan army fled back to their kingdom in a panic.  

The stench of blood lingered in the air.  

Dean, stepping out of the tent, quickly covered his nose with his sleeve. Even so, the metallic scent of blood seeped in.