"Sir Lancer…you seem to be in good spirits today."
After laying down his pen, the Emperor stretched languidly, casting a playful glance at Lancer standing behind him.
"Was it that obvious, Your Majesty?"
"Haha! Of course! Although you look the same as usual, today you're far more energetic. Something good must have happened, am I right?"
"Your Majesty…"
"Oh, relax. It's not a criticism—I'm simply curious. Besides, I'm tired from work, so why don't you share your good news and cheer me up too?"
Though the Emperor currently lacked any regal airs, his words held undeniable weight. Every casual remark from him could stir a storm in the Empire. Lancer hesitated briefly, then decided honesty was best.
When he confessed he was happy because he'd finally improved relations with his slave, the Emperor momentarily froze, unsure how to respond.
As the Empire's ruler, he saw slaves merely as property, with no need to form emotional bonds or mutual understanding. Lancer's behavior was utterly unnecessary. Yet, faced with Lancer's sincere, heartfelt smile, the Emperor couldn't bring himself to rebuke him.
In truth, he'd always kept a careful eye on Lancer. Initially, it was simply gratitude for saving his life, but later genuine curiosity developed. Indeed, Lancer's fame had partly grown due to his own subtle support. From all he knew, Lancer shouldn't behave this way.
Have the intelligence agencies failed me? Or is he hiding his true nature too well? No…he doesn't seem to be hiding at all.
What began as playful teasing soon had the Emperor sitting straighter, suddenly serious.
Despite being called a "wise king" among the common folk, he knew he wasn't especially gifted; his only real strength was heeding the opinions of others.
Yet, as Lancer continued speaking, the Emperor gradually relaxed again.
In his view, Lancer was still too naive—too straightforward. His words revealed glimpses of a life in a place with minimal class distinctions, perhaps a place of schooling and camaraderie. He was ruthless enough toward enemies—likely shaped by his experiences—but deep down, he wasn't cruel enough.
Indeed, the very man feared by foreign tribes in the western borderlands as a nightmarish demon wasn't yet ruthless enough in the Emperor's eyes. But perhaps that shortcoming was also his strength…
"So, what do you think should be done?"
He'd asked a question he probably shouldn't have. Lancer simply shook his head.
"Apologies, Your Majesty, but I truly don't know."
Lancer had considered voicing some radical ideas before. But while his political insight was lacking, he was far from foolish. He understood clearly what he could safely say and what would be pointless. Every political system required specific conditions to flourish, and the Empire's soil wasn't ready for grand ideals. With his limited abilities, silence was safer. He wanted to stop Honest and save more lives, not throw his own life away in reckless idealism.
The discussion ended inconclusively, but a seed of doubt planted itself deep in the Emperor's mind. When it might germinate—no one could say.
...
Though Lancer's duty was protecting the Emperor, he wasn't among the personal guards closest to the throne. No matter how much the Emperor trusted him, Lancer remained an outsider who joined midway. For Lancer, this was preferable. Protecting was one thing—being bound permanently as a personal guard would be unbearably dull.
Yet, returning home today, Lancer stumbled upon an extraordinary scene:
Leone stood trembling nervously at his doorstep, locked in a standoff with… Esdeath?
If both had reached their peak states, this confrontation would have been quite a spectacle, the sadistic queen versus the lionhearted tomboy. Now, however, things looked starkly different.
One was a timid, underdeveloped girl with a slave's collar around her neck, and the other a proud, bandage-wrapped young woman fresh from injury.
The contrast was amusing, yet Lancer didn't have the luxury to stand back and watch. Leone was currently just an ordinary girl, utterly powerless against Esdeath. While he certainly intended to recruit Esdeath, Leone wasn't an acceptable sacrifice.
Moreover, another question nagged at him: How had Esdeath found his home?
He knew better than anyone just how vast and complex the Capital was. It was impossible for a newly arrived girl to pinpoint his exact location in a single day.
"What are you doing here? Are you looking for me?"
"I'm here to challenge you!"
Exactly as he'd predicted. After losing once, this battle-maniac wouldn't simply let things go. She'd merely arrived far sooner than expected.
"That's fine—but first, tell me something. How did you find me? Don't tell me you followed your instincts or got lucky."
Even Lancer occasionally benefited from inexplicable intuition during battles, always eerily accurate. But that was only in combat. Finding someone's home by intuition alone was practically prophetic.
"A man who tried recruiting me earlier told me."
"Who?"
"I don't know him. He called himself Honest."
"!!"
Lancer's eyes narrowed sharply, his mind immediately wary. Had Honest already turned his attention to him?
Did this mean Esdeath was sent by Honest? No—that was impossible. Esdeath's twisted pride was unbreakable. Even later, when Honest puppeted the young Emperor and effectively ruled through him, Esdeath never truly bowed her head. Although weaker now, her stubborn pride remained unchanged. She'd never become Honest's pawn willingly…
Lancer hadn't uttered a word, but his sudden seriousness made Esdeath, previously indifferent, slightly curious.
"Is that Honest your enemy?"
"No, not really. We've only met a few times—"
Mid-sentence, Lancer realized he didn't owe her any explanation, quickly moving past the slip.
"Anyway, thanks for the info. We can fight anytime you like, but right now isn't good. How about joining us for dinner first?"
"Dinner? In that case, thank you for the hospitality."
Esdeath accepted casually, following Lancer straight into the villa without hesitation…
---
T/N: huh oh wow she just accepted that
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