In the courtyard of the former Thirteenth Imperial Prince Mansion—now a detached palace.
I was crossing swords with an old general.
Damian Noble.
He was a steadfast man who still reigned at the very pinnacle of the frontline as the Empire's strongest warrior.
Under the guise of a sparring match, I was trading blows with him.
Every single strike from Damian's sword landed with tremendous weight.
It was of the heavy-blade style, but went beyond mere brute force.
It was so heavy that the shockwaves threatened to seep straight into the marrow of my bones with every clash.
There was no flashiness to it—just one slash, one kill.
It was purely practical swordsmanship, forged through countless battlefields.
Having gauged his measure, I matched his strikes until we locked hilts, then broke away with a wide leap backward.
I ended the match right there, making it clear we were done.
"Truly worthy of the Empire's strongest general."
"You flatter me, Your Majesty."
Damian lowered his sword as well and dropped to one knee on the spot.
"It is Your Majesty whose strength has grown all the more formidable. To have a swordsman of your talent reigning at the peak of our Empire can only be called a blessing from the gods."
"You've grown quite smooth-tongued. I suppose even a veteran warrior loses his rough edges with age."
"Those are my unvarnished feelings, Your Majesty."
"Heh, I'm only joking. You were already well along in years when I first met you."
I chuckled, making sure to emphasize that it was a jest.
Damian's stern appearance perfectly matched his title of veteran general; he was solemn and upright to a fault, completely unable to take a joke.
It was always necessary to spell it out for him whenever I made one.
Catching his eye, I led Damian over to the garden gazebo and bade him take a seat.
"The reason I summoned you today is none other than the matter of Gyelwang's subjugation."
"Understood."
"To be blunt, I want Jessica to focus entirely on crushing Gyelwang. To that end, I need the border blockade, the transport of provisions, and the monitoring of other factions handled flawlessly. Naturally, I will consult with Henry as well, but I wanted to hear your perspective as the man at the head of the front lines."
"Understood."
"That said, military affairs are not my specialty. For me to meddle on the battlefield would only repeat the countless failures recorded in history. I have set the general direction. Do you have any tactics or capable personnel in mind to see it through?"
"If I may speak freely, Your Majesty."
Damian offered that brief preface before continuing.
"First, regarding the border blockade."
"Mm."
"My eldest son, Carl Noble, would be well suited. A border blockade requires a certain degree of inflexibility. If instructed to obey only Your Majesty's commands and permit no exceptions, he will fulfill his duty to perfection."
"I see."
So he was rigid and dead serious.
While that could be a double-edged sword, it offered peace of mind when applied properly.
"Next, monitoring the other factions. For this, I recommend my second son, Keel."
"And why is that?"
"Since childhood, Keel has possessed great tolerance for pain and is exceptionally patient. He is exceedingly unlikely to provoke hostilities in an unexpected situation, making him ideal for maintaining a firm containment."
"Is that so."
"Lastly, the transport of provisions. I humbly ask that you entrust this to my fourth son, Ale."
"Very well, I will leave it to him. Inform Henry of my approval and consult with him directly."
"I am deeply honored."
"I won't mince words. Above all else, I want Jessica to focus solely on her objective. Understood?"
"Yes, Sire."
"You may take your leave."
"Pardon me, Your Majesty."
Damian knelt once more, then rose and took his leave.
After seeing him off, I summoned Don.
"You called, Your Majesty?"
"Do you know the name of Damian's third son?"
"If I recall... it was Neil Noble, I believe."
"Look into this Neil."
"May I ask why?"
To Don, who tilted his head in bewilderment, I explained how Damian had recommended three of his sons.
"Those eyes of his were the exact opposite of Father's."
"Opposite the Retired Emperor's?"
"Yeah. The eyes of a doting parent. He wanted to use his own clout to somehow pull up his less capable children. His reasoning for each one was far too contrived. And when it came to his fourth son transporting provisions, he didn't even bother giving a reason—he just outright begged me for the assignment."
"Lord Damian did...?"
Don wore an expression of sheer disbelief.
I couldn't blame him; Damian was a veteran general renowned throughout the Empire for being strictly upright.
To learn he had such a side was completely unexpected.
"That's why I want you to look into the third son."
"The third son whose name was the only one left out, correct?"
"Yeah."
I nodded firmly.
"If my guess is right, he probably thinks the third son is the only one who can make it without favoritism."
☆
The next day, in my study.
Having completed his investigation, Don returned, his eyes filled with admiration.
"As expected of Your Majesty, it was just as you predicted."
"Oh?"
"Neil Noble. Rumor has it he inherited all of Lord Damian's talent for the sword. During a sparring session when he was twelve, he allegedly dealt Lord Damian a severe wound."
"To that Damian?"
"Yes."
The sole reason Damian remained a field commander at his age was simply that he was too strong.
Being so overwhelmingly powerful, Damian—who could easily be called a battle maniac—frequently achieved glorious military feats, but he was just as often punished for overstepping.
In situations where total annihilation was unnecessary, he would wipe out the enemy anyway, ultimately incurring the resentment of the local populace and prolonging both the war and the post-war cleanup.
He was disciplined for those excesses and stripped of rank.
Because of this endless cycle of winning glory and getting demoted for taking things too far, he had never been able to advance into the Ministry of Military Affairs, remaining on the front lines all this time.
And Neil had wounded that very same Damian at twelve years old, had he?
"I'm going to meet him. Do you know where he is?"
"Yes, I will lead the way."
☆
The man was inside a tavern in the castle town.
Sitting in a corner booth, he poured his own drinks, continuing to imbibe with a fearless grin on his face.
His clothes were not dirty, but they were remarkably haphazard.
He gave off a mismatched impression, as though he were wearing the clothes of a common street thug—freshly laundered.
Between his attire, his massive build, and the eyepatch covering his blinded right eye...
Despite the bustling tavern, people gave him a wide berth, leaving an empty clearing around his table.
I walked straight up and took the seat opposite him.
"You're Neil Noble, right?"
"Yeah. Want a drink, kid?"
Without even asking who I was, his first instinct was to offer a drink to the person addressing him.
I accepted the cup Neil held out and downed it in a single gulp.
"You're drinking some pretty cheap swill."
"As long as it gets me drunk, booze is top-shelf to me. It's just gonna turn into piss by tomorrow anyway."
"I see. You have a point."
"So, what's your deal, kid? Got business with me?"
"I'm scouting you. Any interest in serving the Imperial Family?"
"Me?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Is it not enough to say that I recognize your skill?"
"I see. Serving the Imperial Family means serving the Emperor, right?"
"That's about the size of it."
"In that case..."
Neil's lips curled into a smirk. He poured himself another cup and downed it in one go.
"If the Emperor comes to invite me himself, I'll think about it. Go ahead and tell him that."
"What, is that all it takes? Then think about it right now."
"Huh?"
"I am already standing right in front of you."
"...Eh?"
The cup slipped from his fingers, clattering across the table until it hit the liquor bottle and came to a stop.
Neil remained frozen in place, staring at the fallen cup.
"The... Emperor?"
"Mm."
"You're...?"
"What, did you not know my face?"
"Y-You're the Emperor—Your Majesty?!"
Neil snapped back to his senses and leaped to his feet in pure shock.
In an instant, he drew the attention of the entire tavern.
"Yes. I am the Emperor of the Empire, Noah Ararat."
Introducing myself, I drew upon Leviathan's power to manifest the crest bearing a ship's design.
It was an imperial identity confirmed through a magic sword, compelling anyone to believe my station.
The message was not lost on Neil.
"The Emperor in person? Right from the start?"
"Is that so strange?"
"...Did the old man put you up to this?"
"No."
I smiled faintly.
Picking up the cup Neil had dropped, I poured myself a drink, tossed it back, and grinned.
"Damian only recommended the other three."
"...Heh."
Hearing that, Neil regained his composure and let out a cynical chuckle.
"Sounds just like the old man. Those three, too... it's about time they learned to stand on their own two feet. The old man isn't getting any younger; they can't keep sponging off him forever."
It was a grumble tinged with a self-deprecating laugh.
It seemed Damian's parental coddling was truly something to behold.
"Heh."
"What's with the sudden laugh?"
"No, I simply found it admirable that you showed no hint of jealousy upon hearing that."
"..."
"Well, that hardly matters. More importantly, I came here in person. Think it over. Won't you enter my service?"
"Ah, forget it. I'm terrible with honorifics and court etiquette. Serving at the palace is just—"
"What, is that all? If that's the issue, you can stay just as you are."
"—Huh?"
"What is it?"
"Stay as I am? You're fine with me like this?"
"What's strange about that?"
"Everything's strange about it! You're the Emperor, aren't you? Aren't you supposed to care about dignity and tradition and all that nonsense?"
"Securing capable talent is far more important than any of that."
"..."
Neil was left utterly dumbfounded, his mouth agape.
Eventually, he collected himself, tilted his head back toward the ceiling, and roared with laughter.
"Hahahaha! You're amazing. I've never heard of an Emperor like you."
"Is that so?"
"I like you. If you're fine with me staying just as I am, then I'll serve you."
"Good. I look forward to working with you."
When I held out my hand, Neil laughed all the more heartily at the sheer absurdity of the situation and firmly clasped it.
―――――――――――― Name: Noah Ararat Emperor of the Empire Gender: Male Level: 17 + 1 / ∞
HP: C + B Fire: E + S + S MP: D + C Water: C + SSS Strength: C + S Wind: E + C Endurance: D + C Earth: E + C Intelligence: D + A Light: E + B Spirit: E + B Dark: E + B Speed: E + B Dexterity: E + C Luck: D + C ―――――――――――
And with that, another "+" was added to my status.