In the wide courtyard of Abehorn Castle, where green moss clung elegantly to each brick, rows of white canopies had been set up since midday.

People moved in and out through the open castle gates, while those seeking relief from the harsh sunlight gathered beneath the tents, seated in small groups.

“Alright, then! We will now begin the wooden sword matches! Those who wish to participate, please gather at the center of the arena!”

Louisys Serva, a young count from the former Kingdom of Tylutan and the host of the event, shouted as he held a makeshift megaphone carved from thin wood.

Since the event had been arranged so suddenly just the day before, many of the gathered citizens still appeared somewhat awkward and uncertain.

Under different circumstances, they might not have responded at all but the very idea of a swordsmanship match had stirred something within them.

True to the spirit of Tylutan, the land of warriors, they could not simply sit and watch.

In an instant, a large crowd surged toward the arena.

Perhaps, having just suffered defeat in war, they longed to reclaim even a fragment of their honor through such a contest.

“If you planned it, you should lead by example, Cal.”

Seated beneath the largest canopy, Ahazan tilted his head slightly as he spoke to Cal Regerson standing behind him.

After hearing Clodine’s words two days prior, Ahazan had realized the need to ease the anxiety and wariness of the captured citizens.

Although the event had been planned together, it would have disrupted the atmosphere if the emperor himself who had led them to victory stepped forward too lightly.

Thus, it was far more appropriate for Cal to take up the wooden sword.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Without hesitation, Cal stepped forward, striding confidently into the arena where the participants had gathered with wooden swords in hand.

Watching from Ahazan’s side, Clodine fell into brief thought before turning to Valoran, who stood behind her.

“For a swordsmanship match, you can’t possibly sit this one out, can you, Sir Lord?”

Valoran bowed with the same unwavering loyalty as Cal and stepped forward with steady, dignified strides.

In truth, Ahazan and Clodine had deliberately sent their closest subordinates into the match to ensure the event proceeded smoothly.

Although there were many willing participants among the prisoners from Tylutan, the imperial forces greatly outnumbered them.

This event was meant to mend the strained relationship between the Empire and the former kingdom.

Therefore, anyone who might let reckless competitiveness ruin the occasion had to be carefully excluded.

With Cal and Valoran stepping forward at their masters’ command, the Pantheon Knights naturally joined the match as well.

Each side formed groups of seven, raising their swords toward their opponents at the same time.

“What do you think the outcome will be?”

Ahazan asked, lazily swirling the wine in his glass as he tilted his head toward Clodine.

Furrowing her brows, Clodine considered the question.

“Let’s make a wager. Whoever guesses wrong must grant the winner a wish.”

“A wager?”

She frowned slightly at his sudden suggestion.

“We might choose the same answer.”

“Whatever you choose, I’ll pick something else.”

Ahazan replied generously, a relaxed smile on his lips.

With that advantage offered to her, Clodine found herself unable to refuse and gradually became interested in the wager.

To be honest, even setting aside Cal and Valoran, the Pantheon Knights alone made it difficult for the Empire to lose unless they were overwhelmingly outnumbered.

They were the elite among elites, selected from the very best graduates of the Ranmore Training Grounds.

Even excluding Rekri Alexia, who had been brought in as an exception, there were still six exceptional swordsmen.

Naturally, Clodine had no choice but to side with the Empire.

“I’ll bet on the Empire’s victory.”

Ahazan smiled, as if he had expected nothing less.

After his quiet laughter faded, he spoke with deliberate mischief.

“Then I shall…”

Though there was only one logical alternative the Empire’s defeat

Ahazan took his time, as if weighing his options.

Clodine watched him with growing unease.

“…bet on a draw.”

“What?”

I knew something felt off.

Clodine frowned deeply, staring at him as if he had deliberately chosen an option she hadn’t even considered just to provoke her.

“Is there a problem?”

“So this was your plan all along when you suggested the wager.”

Her brows knit tightly as she voiced her displeasure.

At that moment, the host rang a small bell loudly, signaling the start of the match.

Ahazan simply smiled, letting her complaint pass as he turned his attention to the arena.

Even as Cal and the Pantheon Knights crossed swords with their opponents, they kept a close eye on Valoran.

It was their first opportunity to assess whether he truly possessed the skill worthy of serving directly under the imperial couple.

Perhaps due to years of training and fighting together, Cal and the Pantheon Knights moved as one as if bound by an unspoken understanding overwhelming their opponents with seamless coordination.

And yet, they carefully controlled their strength, ensuring the match did not end too quickly or too one-sidedly.

They pressed their opponents relentlessly but never without restraint.

Valoran’s swordsmanship was clearly far removed from formal technique.

Unlike the knights, who had learned structured skills through systematic training from the way they held a sword to the way they wielded it Valoran had taken up the blade from the very beginning simply to survive. His style was visibly rough and unrestrained.

And yet..

despite his rugged and sharp appearance, his surprisingly delicate nature showed through at the tip of his blade.

Because of that, his free-flowing movements did not feel reckless, but rather lively and spirited.

“The match will soon come to an end! Everyone, give it your all!”

As the host announced the approaching end, the heat within the arena intensified.

The citizens of the former kingdom who had been scattered about, whispering among themselves and the imperial soldiers in plain clothes soon found themselves mingling together, fully immersed in the match.

Before anyone knew it, the atmosphere had grown lively and loud.

“So, you gave them instructions after all.”

Clodine spoke with a look of disbelief at Ahazan’s thoroughness.

Without an order to drag the match out and end it in a draw while preserving both sides’ dignity such an evenly prolonged contest would have been impossible.

“Your knight noticed long ago, yet you only just realized it. Hardly fit for a master, Clodine.”

Just as Ahazan said, Valoran had already aligned himself with Cal and the knights, manipulating the outcome even without direct instruction.

More than once, Clodine had seen him nearly overpower his opponent only to step back at the last moment, allowing them to regain their balance.

“I hereby announce that the match has ended in a draw! The next round will begin shortly, so participants, please prepare!”

With the first match concluding exactly as planned, the selected imperial soldiers and randomly chosen citizens of the former kingdom continued the contests freely.

Winning just enough.

Losing just enough.

Sharing victory equally it became an event where no one felt slighted.

The swordsmanship festival, which had begun under the high midday sun, continued well beyond its scheduled time lasting until the red glow of sunset spread across the sky.

“Next, the banquet will begin! Please enjoy the prepared food and drinks to your heart’s content!”

As the final match ended and the host’s voice rang out, dishes prepared jointly by imperial chefs and the kingdom’s people began to pour out into the courtyard.

Countless individuals rolled up their sleeves and emerged carrying trays of food and drink, as if they had been waiting for this moment.

It was no exaggeration to say a second festival had begun.

“At some point, the people from the former kingdom began helping in the kitchens, so the variety of dishes increased.”

Merian, who had seemed unusually downcast for the past two days, spoke with a smile at least for that moment, she appeared as she normally did.

Clodine turned to her with concern once more.

“Merian… you weren’t unwell all this time, were you? If anything is wrong, you must tell me honestly.”

“It’s nothing like that, Your Majesty. I’m fine.”

Though she smiled as she said it, something about her expression still seemed unsettled.

Clodine felt a lingering worry but sensing that Merian was trying to hold herself together, she chose not to press further.

And at that moment, Ahazan spoke, offering her a glass.

“Shall we have a drink, Your Majesty?”

Feeling a slight thirst, Clodine accepted readily and clinked her glass against his.

The tea table before them had, at some point, transformed into a banquet spread, filled with an abundance of dishes.

As more people gathered around, it soon became a lively, crowded table.

Among those who boldly chose to dine with the Emperor was Harbat Kesen.

On the first day they arrived at the territory, Harbat had greeted the imperial couple stiffly, his expression hardened.

Even now, he maintained a serious demeanor but with alcohol already coloring his cheeks red, the authority he once carried had noticeably softened.

“If I had to say it plainly, Your Majesty the Emperor is quite the sly one.”

Clodine could say with certainty she had never seen a general so weak with alcohol.

This was the Prime Minister of Tylutan, a nation of warriors, and the commander of a great army yet after only a few cups, his speech had already become slurred, his words spilling out without restraint.

“You can’t tell what’s going on behind those yellow eyes, can you? Am I wrong, Your Majesty the Empress? You know what I mean, don’t you?”

“I do, Kesen. I understand perfectly.”

Clodine responded with a smile, playing along.

Even Ahazan, seated beside her, was clearly amused though he made no sound, his expression was that of someone openly laughing.

At this point, Harbat’s somewhat rude drunken ramblings were simply taken as entertainment.

“That is why… the reason I decided to accept the Empire’s proposal… is not because of His Majesty the Emperor but entirely because of Her Majesty the Empress.”

But the words that followed carried a weight that cut through the haze of drunkenness.

Each syllable was clear. Precise.

And as Harbat looked at Clodine, his eyes were filled with such certainty that he no longer appeared drunk at all.