Sank raised his head, shaking it slightly to clear the hubbub of the nobles from his ears.
As a clerk, he had been working continuously for ten hours, yet he felt no trace of weariness. From sunrise until now, every single entry he had made in his records was exhilarating good news.
The rebellion in the southwest had been quelled; the war in the east had secured another victory; the north remained as stable as ever. The empire's power and territory had expanded once again. Slaves, population, cities—each piece of spoils was meticulously recorded on the parchment before him, filling his heart with surging pride. As an imperial citizen, nothing thrilled him more than watching the empire grow stronger by the day. Though his hands were already trembling slightly, the elderly clerk paid it no mind. He set down his quill, picked up a warm towel beside him to soothe his hands, then dried the moisture from his fingers—and just then, the raucous chatter of the nobles abruptly ceased, as if those portly men had been silenced by an invisible hand clamping down on their throats.
Sank was far from surprised by this scene. He lifted his gaze, and there, walking through the great hall's doors, were four figures he knew all too well.
Leading the group was a delicate, slender girl, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders, swaying gently with her movements. Her amber eyes held a calm, detached serenity, unlike the pampered noble ladies of the court. She wore a suit of silver armor, a white cloak fluttering in the wind behind her, and a plain, unadorned longsword hung at her waist, its pitch-black scabbard seeming somewhat out of place. But the girl paid no heed to this. She simply held her head high, looking evenly at the assembled crowd before her. Under her gaze, the nobles who had been loudly expounding their opinions just moments ago all lowered their heads in unison, showing their respect in their own ways. Rumor had it that the girl's beautiful golden hair was like a crown—and now, seeing her in person, it was not hard to believe.
Following closely behind the girl was a burly, imposing old man. His bronze skin and rock-solid, resolute features exuded an overwhelming aura of authority even as he stood motionless. He stood over two meters tall, his body encased in pitch-black heavy armor that glinted like the fangs of a ferocious beast, making him look like a mobile mountain. A massive steel shield, tall enough to reach a man's chest, and a one-handed sword hung at his back, yet they did not hinder his movements in the slightest. Though his graying beard and eyebrows betrayed his advanced age, the sharp glint in his eyes warned that no one dared to underestimate his strength.
Next to enter was a handsome young man. His striking features, paired with eyes as captivating as sapphires, had long made him the most admired man among all the noble ladies and damsels in the royal capital. Unlike the first two, he wore no armor; instead, a crisp, exquisitely tailored noble's tailcoat perfectly accentuated his tall, straight figure. The ornate silver rapier at his waist looked more like a decorative prop for noble pastimes than a weapon—but nearly everyone present knew that its true power far exceeded its elegant appearance. At this moment, he stepped into the room with a grace that bordered on inhuman, and his slightly pointed, triangular ears betrayed his true identity without a doubt—half-elf.
Last to enter was a girl who appeared quite young. Unlike the other three, she wore no luxurious garments or gleaming armor. Instead, a tight-fitting black leather suit clung to her underdeveloped figure. Three wide leather belts bound her arms firmly behind her back, and a black blindfold covered her eyes completely, leaving her sightless. Even so, her movements were as ethereal and ghostly as a phantom as she drifted into the hall. She tilted her head from side to side, her chestnut hair swaying gently, giving her an air of fragility. But anyone who caught sight of the four longswords strapped to her back, their hilts also bound tightly by leather belts, would never mistake her for an easy target.
The appearance of these four figures instantly silenced the hall's previous commotion. Hardly any noble dared to utter a word. They exchanged glances in unison, then most of them turned and departed, leaving only a small group behind. It made no difference how noble their lineage or how great their power—for the four figures before them were the empire's **Scourge Four Generals**—whom the citizens of the Sith Empire proudly hailed as the **Four Pillars of the Empire**.
"Report the current situation."
**Lindilot, the Silver Princess**, wasted no time with pleasantries. After sweeping her gaze over the assembled nobles, she spoke in a calm, steady voice. At her words, two nobles stepped forward immediately, bowing respectfully.
"Your Highness, everything in the occupied territories is operating smoothly. The reserve troops and officials dispatched by the empire have entered the occupied zones safely, and there have been no issues with the territorial handover so far. Of course, privately, the Oult resistance forces have not ceased their activities. But in accordance with your instructions, we have reduced taxes in the occupied territories, made corresponding adjustments, and guaranteed a certain degree of self-governance for the local population."
"Good."
The silver-armored girl nodded slightly.
"See to it that our troops are disciplined. Under no circumstances are they to engage in conduct that would sully the empire's reputation. Additionally, I want you to send envoys to negotiate with the resistance forces once more. The war is drawing to a close, and we have no desire for pointless bloodshed. If they are willing to lay down their arms, we can sit at the negotiating table and offer positions of authority to the resistance leaders. Inform them that we hope they will act in the greater good. The outcome of the war is already decided, and the people can no longer bear the burden of further conflict. If they truly have the best interests of Oult's citizens at heart, let them abandon this futile resistance. Should they reject our peace terms... then we will have no choice but to resort to other means."
"As you command, Your Highness!"
"What of the situation on the western front?"
"It remains stable for now. Though intelligence reports indicate that Faris has sent envoys to the Darknight Forest, the Elven Queen has yet to issue an official response."
"Given the elves' typical stance, it was never likely that they would offer any meaningful support," said a soft, amused voice.
The speaker was **Kael, the Wind Messenger**. He turned with a graceful flourish, bowing deeply to the princess before him.
"Your Royal Highness, if you will permit me, I would gladly lead the Wind Wolf Legion to the western front to stabilize the situation there."
"While I appreciate your eagerness, I must decline your request, Lord Kael," Lindilot replied, letting out a faint sigh. She lifted her head, her beautiful eyes fixing on the burly old man standing beside her.
"Lord Nahias, could I entrust this task to you? The empire is not yet strong enough to wage war against the Elven Kingdom. Though those reclusive elves are unlikely to interfere in the affairs of the human realm, we must proceed with the utmost caution—especially along our border with the Darknight Forest on the western front. I have no desire to provoke a conflict with the elves, but we must also be wary that our enemies might resort to underhanded tactics to drag the elves into the war. Thus, Lord Nahias, you are the only one capable of navigating this delicate situation. Will you accept my commission?"
"Without hesitation, Your Highness," Nahias replied, raising his right hand and pounding his fist firmly against his chest.
"Rest assured, I will do everything in my power to ensure the stability and security of the western front!"
"That is a great relief," Lindilot said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Just then, a voice as ethereal and wispy as a ghost drifted softly through the hall.
"Lindilot... what about Hedwig? Where is the war? I want to fight."
Addressing the princess by her given name in such a public setting was a grave breach of etiquette, yet none of the Sith nobles present dared to so much as frown. They had long grown accustomed to the eccentricities of this particular general, and none wished to incur her wrath. Among the Scourge Four Generals, the Silver Princess and the Guardian Knight were widely beloved and respected. But the Wind Messenger and the Puppeteer were another matter entirely—especially the latter. Though she appeared several years younger than Lindilot, she exuded a terrifying aura of bloodlust and brutality. While she was often the quietest of the four in peacetime, anyone who had witnessed her on the battlefield knew that her ferocity was enough to chill the blood of even the bravest warrior. Moreover, the Puppeteer was infamous for her volatile temper; once provoked, she would not hesitate to kill without mercy. Thus, even when the young girl's behavior bordered on the inappropriate, the nobles simply turned a blind eye—after all, their own lives were far too precious to risk.
Or rather, precisely because their lives were precious, they chose to remain silent.
"I apologize, Hedwig, but there will be no more battles for the time being," Lindilot said, a touch of helplessness in her voice as she turned to face the last of her generals.
"The truce agreement with the Oult royal family still has over two months to run. I hope that during this period, you will lead the Construct Legion alongside Lord Kael to continue the siege of the Oult royal capital. We must not leave any unstable seeds to fester for the future—thus, the two of you bear a vital responsibility. As for the Wester Kingdom..."
Lindilot paused, then lifted her gaze to fix on one of the nobles standing before her.
"What is Father's stance on this matter?"
"His Majesty's position remains unchanged, Your Highness," the noble replied hastily, bowing deeply.
"As you hoped, His Majesty wishes to forge an alliance with the Wester Kingdom with as little bloodshed as possible. Of course, Wester V is a timid and cautious man—thus, this matter may not proceed as smoothly as we anticipate."
At these words, the Silver Princess lowered her eyes, a flicker of helplessness and sigh fleeting across her face. Then she spoke again.
"What response have we received from the Mage Association?"
"The Mage Association has maintained its previous stance, offering no official comment on the matter. Like the Holy Grace Church, they remain neutral... but it is difficult to say how long they will be able to uphold this neutrality. We have also negotiated with the Mage Association regarding the Source Converter, but they have refused to accede to our terms."
"...In that case, our strategy shall remain unchanged for the time being," Lindilot said, her voice growing solemn. "Continue to make it clear to the Mage Association that we have no intention of provoking conflict with them, but we also expect them to refrain from interfering in our war efforts. Should the Mage Towers launch an attack against us, the forces of Sith will be forced to retaliate in self-defense. I believe this is an outcome neither side wishes to see."
"Understood, Your Highness."
With that, the Silver Princess let out a weary sigh, pressing a hand to her forehead and furrowing her brows slightly. Just then, a gentle voice sounded beside her ear.
"Please do not overexert yourself, Your Highness."
Along with the words, a clean white handkerchief was held out before Lindilot. She looked up to see Kael's elegant, warm smile.
"You have been leading the charge against the barbarians for days on end—surely you must be exhausted. In my humble opinion, you need to rest and recuperate your strength. After all, you are the second most important figure in the kingdom after His Majesty the King. Should you fall ill from overwork, it would be a great misfortune for our empire. Moreover, in my view, the lowly barbarians are hardly worth your personal attention."
At the young general's gesture, the expressions of everyone present turned somewhat awkward. Even the ever-silent Nahias's face darkened with a hint of displeasure—not to mention Hedwig, who stood behind them, letting out a cold, disdainful snort. Though the Scourge Four Generals were all renowned throughout the empire, their reputations varied greatly. Lindilot the Silver Princess was brave and decisive, a peerless leader among her people. The Guardian Knight Nahias was impartial and just, earning the deep trust of all. But the Wind Messenger Kael's reputation was far from sterling. Rumors abounded that he was a notorious womanizer, having seduced countless noble ladies within the empire. There were even whispers that this gifted knight's true affections lay with none other than his fellow Scourge General—the imperial princess Lindilot herself. Though Kael had confessed his love to Lindilot numerous times, it was clear that the princess had never considered him as a potential suitor.
Lindilot did not take the handkerchief. She merely shook her head slightly, her tone remaining calm and composed.
"I seek to achieve victory with the least possible casualties—for the sake of the entire empire, and for the sake of my soldiers and subordinates. This is my duty as a commander. Even against the barbarians, if we possess sufficient patience, time, and strength, I believe we will ultimately be able to reach a mutually beneficial agreement with them."
With that, Lindilot waved a hand, clearly indicating that she had no desire to continue this topic. Undeterred by her refusal, Kael merely shrugged his shoulders, flashing a charming smile before tucking the handkerchief back into his pocket.
"What of the current situation in the Wester Kingdom? Have there been any unusual developments?"
"One of the kingdom's three elite legions—the Shield of Protection—has already stationed itself at the Crimson Fortress and begun constructing defensive fortifications. The movements of the other two legions remain unchanged for the time being. In my humble opinion, there are no particularly noteworthy issues to report. However, there is an interesting rumor that has been circulating in the Wester Kingdom recently."
"A rumor?"
At this, not only did Lindilot's eyes widen with curiosity, but the two other generals who had been maintaining their silence also turned their heads to look at Kael.
"What kind of rumor?"
"It is said that a new prodigy warrior has emerged in the Wester Kingdom—a man who achieved the rank of High-Rank Swordsman at the tender age of twenty... that is the gist of the rumor."
"If such a man truly existed, how could we have received no intelligence about him whatsoever?"
Lindilot's eyes narrowed, her expression growing thoughtful. A High-Rank Swordsman at twenty was undoubtedly a prodigy—one who might even possess the potential to become a Gifted Knight. But this raised numerous questions. After all, the Sith Empire had spared no effort in gathering intelligence before the war, priding itself on having a comprehensive grasp of the situation in every nation. If such a talented warrior truly existed in the Wester Kingdom, they could not possibly have heard nothing about him until now—reduced to relying on mere rumors for information.
"According to the rumor, this man is a noble lord hailing from the Twilight Forest, born into a declining aristocratic family—a truly fascinating tale, is it not? I imagine such a story would certainly capture the attention of the common people. Perhaps, in the wars to come, this young prodigy will rise up to lead the masses against us."
Unlike Lindilot, who regarded the matter with caution, Kael appeared quite nonchalant, clearly not taking the rumor seriously. He saw it merely as an amusing topic for idle conversation after the meeting. His reaction was hardly surprising—after all, with the Oult Kingdom on the verge of collapse, the Wester Kingdom was naturally growing anxious. Yet the three legion commanders of the Wester Kingdom were only High-Rank Warriors, far from the level of Gifted Knights. Clearly, the Wester Kingdom did not wish to concede the moral high ground to its enemies—and thus had fabricated this tale. Their goal was to give the common people something to hope for. After all, a twenty-year-old High-Rank Swordsman was a rare sight indeed; anyone with half a brain would connect him to the possibility of becoming a Gifted Knight. With the right propaganda, even if the Sith Empire secured initial victories, it would not deal a fatal blow to the morale of the Wester people—who would cling to the hope that this young High-Rank Swordsman would one day become a Gifted Knight and lead them to victory.
"That makes perfect sense," Lindilot said, a look of understanding crossing her face. She had naturally arrived at the same conclusion. But to the princess, this trivial ploy posed no significant threat.
"However, if the Wester Kingdom intends to rely solely on such petty tricks, it will only be a matter of time before they are defeated. We need not waste too much energy concerning ourselves with these rumors. Rather than focusing on Wester, I hope all of you will direct your attention to the Oult situation at hand. After all, this war is not yet completely over—we must remain vigilant to prevent any unexpected developments... Now then..."
With that, Lindilot raised her right hand, placing her palm flat against her chest.
"All for Sith!"
"All for Sith!"
The resounding, solemn cry of the others echoed through the hall in response.